Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  “But I have you, don’t I? You won’t let me do anything too stupid.” Stephen nudged Waltz.

  “True, but I may not always be here. I’m getting up there. I’m sixty-seven, you know.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m gonna need you around a little longer. Besides, if I gotta sit through church, so do you. So, you can’t go anywhere.”

  Stephen didn’t really try to pay attention in church. His mind remained distracted with thoughts of his parents. What were they like? What did his dad look like? Which one had abilities and what were they? Once, he had noticed Waltz looking at him, smiling. He realized then that he needed to find another way to find out about his parents. If he started pressing Waltz about them, it might hurt his feelings. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him again.

  Church service ended sooner than Stephen had expected. After meeting a few members, he went to the kitchen to join Waltz and Bernie, who were getting the lunch ready for the needy. They did this every Sunday. Stephen, however, felt a little awkward at first, which is why he worked extra hard to be useful. He really did want to help. And, although he had been feeling more and more like he should be out there using his gift, he tried hard to live in the moment.

  As people came in, Stephen tried talking to them and worked to make them feel comfortable. He took notice of an old woman that had come in. She wore a short-sleeved shirt. Stephen noticed how she shivered and how her sweater was worn thin. He set his mind on the woman, searching her thoughts.

  It’s so good of these people to do this for us. I wonder if it would be too much to ask if they have a sweater or jacket for my grandson at home. Stephen felt the woman’s shame and reluctance. She had been without work for some time, and tried many times to get a job. At her age, there wasn’t much that people were willing to give her. As Stephen continued to focus, he got a glimpse of a young boy with tan skin, brown curly hair, and large brown eyes. The boy and his parents had moved back in with the woman. They had all been working at the same place when it closed. The parents had started new jobs, which paid far less than their previous jobs.

  “Waltz!” Stephen motioned for Waltz to come over to where he was, near the end of the serving line. Waltz, who had been walking around, quickly came over.

  “Everything alright?”

  “What? Oh, yeah.” Stephen spoke softly and cryptically so that others wouldn’t hear what he was really saying. “I just heard that elderly woman down there talking about her grandson. She seems really cold too. Don’t you think we have some jackets and sweaters that might fit them? The boy is about nine and average size.”

  Waltz grinned ear to ear. “You’re finally getting it, aren’t you? You’re learning to understand.”

  Stephen hadn’t thought about it. He had just been bored by not using his gift to help. Yet, here he was, helping and beginning to understand. He smiled back. “Yeah, Waltz. I suppose I am.” Stephen started taking off his apron.

  “Whoa! Where do you think you’re going? I’ll run back to the shelter and get the jackets.”

  Stephen frowned. He had hoped running back to Bernie’s would give him a break from church stuff. “Fine, I’ll stay. You can go get the jackets.”

  Although he didn’t get away from the church building, Stephen felt pleased he could use his gift to help, and in a way that Waltz agreed was right. He watched the people as they came in. There were so many needs, so many that he couldn’t do anything about.

  After a while, Stephen noticed something seemed off. He wasn’t quite sure what, but the feeling that someone was watching him had returned. Now that he had trained his senses somewhat, he was more able to separate his emotions, feelings, and memories from that of others. He still felt them every bit as much, if not more than he had before. But he knew what belonged to whom. This feeling, though, felt much different. He looked around the room for something, someone out of place, someone that didn’t fit. Nothing. His head began to ache a bit.

  Maybe that’s all it is—a simple headache.

  Stephen turned to a young red-haired woman passing by. His head hurt so badly, his vision became blurry and darker. “Ma’am, do we have something for a headache?”

  “Sure . . . Uh, your nose! Oh, I’ll get something.”

  My nose? Stephen grabbed his nose and found blood. His head felt like it had split open. “Waltz! Bernie? Hey . . .” Stephen’s words trailed off as he began to plummet.

  “Stephen, you better be okay, boy. Waltz’ll kill us both if anything’s wrong with you.”

  Stephen opened his eyes to see Bernie standing over him.

  “You alright?” Bernie asked.

  “I feel like someone very large punched me in the head. Other than that, yeah, I’m alright.”

  “Well, you better be thankful that young woman was helping out today. She grabbed hold of you when you started falling. She’s a tiny thing. But man, she’s stout. Kept you from hittin’ your head on this hard flo’.”

  “Floor, Uncle Bernie. There’s an r at the end.” Stephen chuckled as he sat up.

  “Fine, pick on me if you want. I’ll just leave you lyin’ there till Waltz gets back.” Bernie slapped Stephen with a hand towel and walked off. One of the other men helped Stephen back to his feet.

  “You sure you’re alright?” the man asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good. I don’t know what happened. My nose started bleeding; maybe I stood up too fast. I’ve been organizing stuff on the bottom.”

  “Well, if you start to feel weak or dizzy, have a seat. Okay?” The man pulled over a chair.

  Stephen nodded.

  “Oh, and I’m Jack. If you need anything, just ask.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  Stephen noticed Waltz walking toward him in a hurry.

  “Hey, Stephen. Bernie just filled me in. You okay?” Waltz seated himself on a chair close to Stephen and motioned him to sit too.

  “Yeah, I’m good. But, Waltz, I think someone else was here, like me. Like us!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I had that feeling that someone was watching me, like I used to get before I came back. But now that I’m more trained, I could tell what it was. Someone was trying to get in my head, maybe looking for something, trying to do what I do. Only, I was able to fight. I think that’s why I passed out. I was fighting, but he or she is stronger than I am.”

  “I doubt they’re stronger,” Waltz stated as he looked around the room.

  “What? Why?”

  “Stephen, you have one of the strongest minds I’ve ever come across. I have some theories as to why. Now, they’re just theories and could be completely off. But that’s not important. If someone is getting into your mind, it’s because the person is better trained. Most will spend years training as teenagers, learning simply how to control the most basic abilities.”

  “Who would want in my mind? I know very little of the Mighty. You won’t tell me much.”

  “Yeah, and this is why. But I don’t imagine they want information.”

  “Well, what do they want then?” Stephen snapped. He noted the concern on Waltz’s face and felt the uneasiness grow inside his mentor’s mind. All sorts of thoughts raced around inside too. Before Waltz had a chance, Stephen answered his own question. “They want me, don’t they?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Waltz stood up. “Walk outside with me.”

  “Alright.” Stephen got up and turned back toward the line he had been working at earlier. “I’ll be back in moment. We’re getting some air. Then I should be good.”

  Jack yelled back. “Sure thing, man. I got this.”

  The two men stepped outside, looking at those they passed by. Stephen couldn’t help but wonder if it had been one of them that had attacked him in the building. He followed Waltz around the front of the church. Waltz stopped and stood there, looking up at the front of the building. “You see that?”

  “What? The cross?”

  “Yeah. It symbolizes a lot of things: hope, love, sacrif
ice, freedom, and the list goes on. I don’t need to tell you about the cross. You’ve learned about Jesus since you came to live with me. But have I told you what the first thing I see is when I look at the cross?”

  Stephen shook his head.

  “I see choice. The Son of God chose to come down to Earth as a man to love us. He chose to refuse Satan, to live a sinless life. He chose to allow man, his own creation, to take his life. And in fulfilment of God’s law, he chose to rise again.”

  Waltz turned toward Stephen. “Stephen, you were attacked because the enemy wants you. The Fallen have no good motives. Their goal is simply the destruction of man and to grab as much power for themselves as they can amass in the process. The members are deluded in thinking they can thwart God’s plans. Satan has pulled the wool over their eyes. Soon enough, you are going to have to make a choice, my boy. You will have to either accept Christ or reject him. You can’t walk through life without choosing a side.”

  “Why, Waltz? Why can I not just live my life? Why do I have to pick a side?” Stephen took a breath to calm himself. “It just doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t want to be part of this. Why can’t I just live a good and decent life?”

  “Well, how’s that working for you so far? By not choosing a side, you are choosing one. And the results can be catastrophic for someone with your ability, not to mention for your soul.”

  “I’m just not sure I’m ready to buy into all this. Some of it still seems a little out there.”

  Waltz picked up a pebble and played with it in his hand. “Yeah, I get that. I wasn’t so quick to believe all this either. I accepted Christ and all. But I was stubborn and continued to live a bit of a rebellious life when I was younger. I thought my gift made me weird. I didn’t want to be a Mighty.”

  “Really? How did that go over with the Mighty?” Stephen found this curious. Waltz never gave any prior indication that he had done anything other than play by the rules.

  “Not so well, at times.”

  “I bet with a gift like mine, you were able to read minds and steer clear of trouble though.”

  “What?” Waltz looked at Stephen, his face contorted. “Oh, no. I don’t have your gift. I’m not a prophet.”

  “But the training, and the little girl?” Stephen was confused. How could Waltz see things and understand being a seer if he wasn’t a prophet?

  “I’m sorry. I’ve kept you in the dark a bit. I suppose I should tell you just a little more.” Waltz tossed the pebble into a nearby flowerbed. “When we complete our training and fully realize our potential, we can come together with two others into a group of three—a triune. One group, three members—one from each class. Once that has happened, you’re interconnected. To a very small degree you share the abilities of the others, for the purpose of allowing you to understand each other’s abilities and burdens. Each ability comes at a cost. It’s useful for each member to know and understand that. It helps them work as a team. For example, the emotions you get from others and constantly having to carry those around is a cost. If you don’t control it, it seems you can lose yourself. The interconnectedness in a triune also helps you not only to protect one another but to train new Mighty.”

  “So, your triune’s prophet can see thoughts, similar to me?”

  “Similar. But I don’t think the ability is as strong as what you’re describing. You’re still understanding your ability. But the things you’re able to do already, without much actual training, is really amazing.”

  “So, who’s your seer? Why don’t you go do Mighty stuff?”

  Waltz sighed. His demeanor changed. Stephen could feel a sadness fall on Waltz. “A member of my triune became one of the Fallen.”

  Stephen felt sorry he asked. He couldn’t decide whether or not to press or just let the matter go. Before he decided, Waltz continued.

  “We never saw it coming. We tried to undo it, to turn Elizabeth back. She was our warrior. But it didn’t happen. Not soon enough.”

  “She? Your warrior was a girl?”

  “Oh yes! And a very good one. We were on a roll, doing all kinds of good. Before we knew it, she was a Fallen. One moment of weakness was all it took. After that, our triune broke apart. When you form a triune, your powers increase. You’re stronger, more focused together. Well, we couldn’t have a powerful warrior going around wreaking havoc. So, I got Bernie to help me dampen our gifts. Bernie was a prophet from another triune, but a close friend.”

  “Your prophet was okay with that?”

  “No. But my job was to protect. And I did that. He understood, but left the triune. Bernie took his place to help. He and I retired after that though.”

  “Did Bernie’s triune take in your prophet?”

  “Yep, he held on to his powers, and Bernie was willing to lose his. Like me, he basically lost his heightened triune ability. We’re back to being normal Mighty.”

  “So, you are a priest and Uncle Bernie is a prophet. What ended up happening to your warrior?”

  “The short story is that not long after she lost her powers, she got into some stuff—drugs and things. Several years ago, she straightened her life out. Almost as soon as she did, something happened to her that shook her up. I hear she kind of lost it. It’s a shame she didn’t straighten out sooner. She might have still been sane. Maybe the drug abuse damaged her. I don’t know.”

  “Well, at least she finally made her choice, right?”

  Waltz smiled. “Yeah, I guess she did.”

  “Couldn’t you three form a triune? Get your powers back?”

  “It doesn’t work like that. Besides, we’ve been retired. And Elizabeth’s bloodline was retired.”

  “What does that mean, her bloodline was retired?”

  “When someone becomes a Fallen, the council of Mighty retire the direct bloodline. There’s a ceremony and stuff. Basically, they can have no children—at least none with powers like Mighty. It’s a curse handed down by the council.”

  “Is that why you never had kids?” Stephen asked before he thought. He worried that he might have hurt Waltz’s feelings. Waltz had never talked about not having kids and had avoided the subject when Stephen had been younger and inquisitive.

  “That’s exactly why I never wanted to have kids of my own. I felt any child of mine would be deprived of a proud heritage because I had failed to protect Elizabeth.”

  Stephen heard sadness in Waltz’s tone. He placed his arm around him. “In the end, you didn’t fail her though, did you?” Waltz looked at Stephen, who gave his best half-smile. “Besides, you got me for a kid. I guess you get to continue your bloodline—in a way.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do.” Waltz walked toward the door. “Now, this bloodline needs to get back to work.”

  Stephen followed, understanding that was Waltz’s way of changing the subject. “What about my attacker?”

  “Well, there’s really no way to track them at this point. We’ll have to be vigilant. Besides, my guess is, whoever it was got hurt a bit. Your mind is strong.”

  Chapter 4

  Stephen turned his head away from the blowback mist of the bleach and water mixture he sprayed on the siding, an effort to remove the mildew growing on the shady side of the shelter. The weather had changed. The sun felt warm, and a spring breeze blew up from the south. It was a good day to be outside. From the top of the ladder, he saw the neighborhood. Many people in the area also worked on their houses and lawns

  The front door slammed, startling Stephen and causing him to grab tight to the ladder. The sprayer nozzle swung by his side after letting go of it. Good thing I have this sprayer strapped on my back. Although a month had passed since his mind was attacked, he still felt as though someone watched him, causing him to wonder if the feeling had ever really gone away.

  He watched people come and go. Stephen knew they soon would sleep on the street again in warmer weather. A tall, slender man walked across the lawn toward the porch. His black hair hung long enough to brush the top of his
collar. The man’s goatee appeared neatly trimmed, and he wore what appeared to Stephen to be an expensive suit that the man didn’t look at all comfortable in. He stopped and looked at Stephen.

  “Excuse me,” he called . “Is Mr. Stockton in?”

  “Waltz, you mean? Yeah, he’s in. You want me to get him for you?”

  Before Stephen finished speaking, the gentleman was already walking toward the porch again. “No, thank you.”

  Stephen became curious. He climbed down the ladder, searching for the man’s thoughts as he went. There were so many people inside, down the recreation room, the dining room, living room, he had a hard time singling out the stranger. He walked around the flowerbed and up to the porch just in time to see Waltz and the guest walking back toward him.

  “Stephen,” Waltz called out, “I’d like you to meet someone.” They continued out to the porch. Stephen’s clothes dripped from spraying. “This is Vincent, a friend of mine.”

  Vincent didn’t appear much older than Stephen—late twenties.

  “Nice to meet you,” Vincent said, extending his hand.

  “Yeah, likewise,” Stephen replied. He looked at Vincent’s hand and back up. “Oh, I’m covered in bleach. You really don’t want to.”

  “Understood.” Vincent looked around at the porch and yard. “Waltz tells me that you are the reason Bernie’s shelter is looking better than it has in years.”

  “Oh, right. Waltz has been a dad to me, and Bernie’s kind of like an uncle. I just came back in town. I grew up here. They’ve let me stay on the couch. So, I figured helping out is the least I could do.”

  Waltz nudged Vincent, who raised an eyebrow in return. “Ah, yes.” He turned toward Stephen. “I would like to put you on the payroll.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Stephen replied.

  “Actually, it is. Insurance will only cover you doing maintenance and repairs of this type if you are on the payroll. Plus, since we are a charitable organization, it would not look good to have a volunteer get hurt and not be able to pay his own medical bills. Besides, it could leave us open to a lawsuit. Which, as chief legal counsel for the shelter, I cannot allow.”