Ashes (20 page)

27

 

THE EARTH WAS SOFT beneath his feet. The new sneakers still hadn't worn in yet.
A birthday present from his baby sister.
Lana never forgot. She'd gone off to ride the Ferris wheel, but he stayed behind. Adam didn't much care for heights. “I'll meet up with you after,” he'd said.

A brisk wind tossed his hair. It was a perfect night for the carnival. He loved their bright lights and colors and sounds. He loved the loudness of the crowds. He enjoyed the uncertain weather and the grungy-looking carnies. This place made him feel normal.

Adam was sure his sleeves were hiked up so he wouldn't get too hot. One thing about Mom was that she always saw to it that he was warm. But she didn't really understand how his body worked. No one did but Lana.

Sometimes he was warm; other times he was cold. His body changed like the weather changed. No rhyme or reason; it just changed. It was challenging, near impossible, to make it stop or slow down. But he'd survived these last few years with it. Wasn't sure how long the changes would last, but in some ways he was grateful for them. It wasn't a normal, everyday occurrence that allowed a sixteen-year-old boy to taste real power.

And tonight, he'd show
them
what that meant.

 
Adam pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head and felt his two bony shoulder blades sink. The material fitted nicely around his small back. He swore his muscles were growing too, even though there wasn't any actual evidence to support his theory. Tiny hands, dwarfed by the extra
cloth
of the sweatshirt, absorbed most of the night's chill. His spine snaked as he walked, shaking off the persistent cool breeze as best he could. Beneath it all, he was wearing his favorite shirt, the shirt of the phoenix rising up out of the ashes. Its colors—black and orange and red and white—were much like the colors of this carnival, the one that rolled into Bethpage every October.

Adam looked to his right. He saw a father cradling his son, who was trying to devour an entire caramel apple on his own. There was such love there, a joy he liked to see but didn't really believe in. His eyes moved to the left, and there was a group of friends playing with a hacky sack, betting on who'd drop it first. Some bent the rules to slant the odds in their favor while others swore at the ones shouting do-over. Kids were funny.

Straight ahead there were cattle races and sports car auctions. He could hear men hollering out in anticipation. Then he listened for their wives, the sounds of disapproval and even worry pouring out of their voices.

Where is
it?
Where are
they?

 
Adam hoped that wherever Lana was, she wouldn't see or hear. Upon their arrival, Lana asked that he make a promise to her, a promise that he wouldn't do anything
supernatural
; that he wouldn't react to the taunts or the rants of the boys and the girls who, just one week earlier, had given her belly bruises she refused to show Mom and Dad.

“I promise,” he'd said, easy enough. She believed him too. He could see her faith in her eyes, those heartwarming, pretty eyes that found some sort of redemption in every human being. She hadn't become calloused or distorted, like him—not yet. There wasn't an ounce of hatred inside her. Adam didn't understand how a girl who'd been treated so harshly could find enough compassion to offer it freely to those who didn't deserve it.

Children of ruin, that's what he called them. That's what Mom called them too. Dad was too busy to deal with it, the spears of ridicule,
the
taunts Adam had told him about time and time again.
Too busy.
Too concerned with better things. His children weren't a priority. “You'll be okay, son,” he was assured. “And your sister will be okay.” But what was okay?
 

Adam scanned the crowds, the food cabins, the game stations, and each and every sly vendor eager to make a buck off naïve adolescents. He studied their eyes, their hands,
their
mouths. He moved from person to person, looking for his sister's tormentors. He knew they were here. He'd find them.

The smell of cooked sandwiches and cold sodas filled his senses. He'd polished off a hot dog minutes earlier. Didn't have a whole lot of money and Lana wanted to go on rides, so that didn't leave much to spare.

About twenty feet away there was a group of high school kids. He finally found the ones he was looking for. The one he assumed was their fearless leader had just torn open a pack of smokes. Adam saw the flicker of light that consumed the tip. The boy inhaled a breath of smoke as his face violently sized Adam up, the creepy way it always did. Seconds later, the entire group turned to look at him.

“Hey, check it out,” he keenly heard the smoker say. His name was Derek or Devin or something like that. “Look who came
out.
Hey, freakwad, what do you think you're looking at?”

He hated when they called him
freakwad.
Adam just stood there, his eyes focused on the cigarette, the smoke,
this
douche bag's greasy hair.

He blinked, and the kid started choking. The more he tried to breathe, the scarcer oxygen became. The wind circled the group, but still he couldn't breathe because Adam had constricted the kid's throat from a distance.
 

Adam blinked again, and the kid was allowed to breathe. He watched the smoke slip out through the holes in that tormented body.
Like a retreating viper.
After his enemy got up from his knees, he saw the smirk on Adam's mouth and gave him the finger. No words. The cigarette had burned the smug leader's hand, but he didn't have a clue what had just happened to him, and no one would be able to explain it.
 

“Let's lose the freakwad, huh?” one of them whispered.

“Yeah, I'd like to lose him for good. Look at him smiling as I'm choking. Little puke. I oughta rip him apart.”

“Let's lose these tickets first, baby,” the kid's girlfriend said, rubbing his chest. “Then you can have your fun. I wanna ride the Ring of Fire.”

She noticed Adam out of the corner of her eye, it seemed. And she blew a dark-lipped kiss toward him. Not inviting but mocking. Her wrists were tattooed, and an ear full of piercings often left Adam slightly uneasy. The crowd walked around him and his enemies, but Adam stayed where he was. He was completely in his element, connected to the force within his body. It rushed and spread. He breathed in. Exhaled. Breathed in. Exhaled. The people scattered. The group moved.

Then he moved finally. He was hidden enough. The starless sky hung over them. A few city lamps glided upward nearly fifteen feet and provided the carnival space with a golden, artificial glow. The night fell colder. He could see his breath as it escaped tired lungs and reentered. His teeth clenched. His fists were almost bleeding. Something was awakened in him.

And he liked it. It was time to pay them back.

Out of nowhere, a gloved hand reached out and grabbed him. Pulled him close. “Are you two kinds of crazy, boy?”
 

Adam was rigid, uncertain how to respond. Who was this stranger?

“I've seen that kind of look in a boy's eyes before. I'd get on outta here if I
was
you. They'll peel the flesh right off your skinny bones if they get the chance.”

“That's not going to happen, not to me.” Adam shook free of the man's grip. He defiantly turned to find the group he was after. “They will pay.”

“Puny thing like you. You're either crazy or stupid.”

“I'm special. I'm different.” Adam clenched his teeth together, and the man's wrist snapped. A curse flooded out of the carnie's throat.

With every step closer, Adam began to savor the excitement of what was to come. He didn't really know how to control all of it, whatever dark message was inscribed on his blood or in his head, but whenever he thought something strong enough or felt something powerful enough, it happened. It was like a voice haunting him from within, something he was called to.

The group's sick leader sat in the ride first, along with his girlfriend, who clung to his waist like some needy pet. They were making out before the ride director even closed down the lock to their seat. The remainder of their small clan sat behind them, loaded in nice and tight. They were eager to take a spin on the Ring of Fire.

The breeze tickled Adam's eyes as he looked up, hands in his pockets, sweatshirt pulled open. He briefly glanced down at the fierce bird etched into his t-shirt.
So fearless and alive.
He felt known by it and accepted. Then his eyes returned to the ride, how it glowed and sparkled in all its strangeness and attempted uniqueness. His jaw slackened, and just then, one of the screws to the ride twisted slightly out.
With a twitch, another.

The ride director stepped back after assuring every rider was locked in.
Unable to move.
The leader of the group mouthed a string of curses at Adam.
A few more bolts
and screws came loose at that precise moment, flinging hotly out into the grass. Adam was controlling it. The careless crowd was an easy audience.
 

Deep
breath
.

Are you sure about this, Adam?

Yes.

You can't take it back.

I don't care. I have to fix it all. I have to change this world. One. Sick. Scum.
At a time.

Without warning, the ride began. The next thing Adam knew, he had caused the metal shoes on the carts to spark. With his next breath, the lights sitting upon the plastic and the sheet metal boiled to a loud pop. A few teenagers waiting in line jumped at the noise of what sounded like a gunshot.

He was shaking. He was afraid. The memory of them punching Lana in the chest, in the belly, stormed his mind. How they hit her to cause him to react. How she screamed, praying he wouldn't. He remembered most how he just stood there watching it all take place.
Like a god who didn't care.
Able yet unwilling to unleash
it
.

But tonight was different.

The insides of his ears sounded like waves crashing. All of this took no more than ten seconds, but this hurricane came so violently and so strong, it was as if time had ceased to exist. Suddenly, he lost his nerve. Suddenly, he felt unstable.

Never turning back.

But I have to. What if I die?

Can't turn back.

His eyes burned to a hot black. The eyelashes seemed as though they would disintegrate and smelled like something burnt. People swarmed. Their voices climbed high into heaven. A stream of smoke slithered out from Adam's nostrils and open mouth.

This wasn't a game, or anything like it. It was revenge. It was…justice. Silently, the huge, hollow disc was consumed in flames. The fire crawled from chrome piece to jagged edge, the screws and bolts and metal washers melting and popping as the cart, which held the group of tormentors trapped inside, flipped upside down. Their screams of horror descended, and their eyes even met Adam's for a brief skip in time before the tail of the cart was dragged backward. It rapidly spiraled off the magnetic track. Splashes of blood decorated the lawn.

Terrified screams consumed the night. People from far away froze to watch the fire advance. In seconds, the flames had devoured most of the ride. Glass from the shattering light bulbs showered down over they who now longed to escape. Anyone too close to the Ring of Fire fainted from the heat. Dread danced through the swarm of bodies.

 
Flakes of ash slowly fell to his feet. The huge, hollow disc cracked at the apex and dropped with a violent noise and returned to the earth, disintegrated. Adam lost motive. Conscience abandoned. But of all the things in the world, sorrow never came once. The bodies of those who'd ridiculed his sister, who harmed him with their wicked actions and corrupt hearts, were buried underneath the metallic remains. They were gone.

The crashing waves ceased for a moment. He recognized a voice in the chaos. Unmistakable. So precious it was almost painful to hear.

“Adam!” the voice shouted. “Adam!” it shouted again. But he could not find her face. He knew whom it belonged to, but where was she?

“Adam!” It was Lana.
Sweet, precious Lana.
Where had she come from? How did she find him? What had she seen?

A black cloud rose above the lost ashes of the ride's disintegrated frame. The flames, upon her arrival, were sucked back into the cold October wind and removed from the carnival, from her. Adam scraped the soot that had dried on his cheeks like tears.

Lana's eyes found his. “You promised me,” she said, crying. “You promised.”

28

 

SUDDENLY, LANA WAS RIPPED away from him. Something was pulling him out of the carnival, out of the past. Sirens. Thick drops of rain spilled onto his face.

“Adam! Wake up. Adam!”

“I promised…I…promised,” he said weakly. He breathed in the night, the smell of Emery's skin. Her touch was smooth on his chest. His lips split, chapped. His throat was dry, and his eyes wouldn't stop spinning.

“Wake up! Adam!” It wasn't Lana. Emery's voice called him out from the
dream,
brought him back here, where he had to stay. He had to get up. There wasn't much time. The sirens came closer. Closer.

His face felt torn open, cut, bruised, but he didn't have a scratch on him. “I swear your face smacked against the windshield,” Emery said, doubling over. “You had cuts. Where did they go?”

“They don't all stay. C'mon, Emery,” he replied slowly. “I have to get you outta here.” He stood up then fell back over.

“Easy, Adam. Your
body's
still in shock.”

He groaned. “There's no time for it to be in shock. We can't linger here too long.” He took her hand, and pulled himself up.

The sirens in the distance vibrated the air. Emery shook slightly, but there was a hairy knuckle digging into her bellybutton. The hair from Bruce's hand tickled her in a way so vile she couldn't put words to it.
 

“Adam,” she breathed out slowly. “Adam. What happened?”

“I made them stop.”

“What?” she said, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Huh?” He returned, the faces of Emery and Lana fading in and out. “Whoa. I hit him. I hit him, Emery. He's not waking up.” Adam's voice sounded calm, but when he caught a glimpse of her in considerable pain, he seemed regretful. “No.”

She quickly shot a glance over at Bruce's throat. Unnatural stains like tar and black blood created a gruesome scar.

Adam kept dabbing Bruce's throat, searching for a pulse, but his efforts were more for her than him. Bruce had already gone cold, and he didn't want to fix it. It was better this way. It was good to keep this villain silent. Better off dead. His forehead had an open gash crusted red, and one of his teeth was jammed into the steering wheel.

“He's gone. How long was I…?” Adam said.

“I don't know…three minutes, maybe,” she quickly replied.

“It felt like so much longer. Emery, we need to disappear, and fast. Someone's
gonna
call the wrong people, and they're gonna want to take us back. I'm not going back.”

Adam shoved Bruce's grizzly wrist off Emery's abdomen and reached inside the man's pant pockets. In a few moments, he emerged with a wallet and some cash.

“We're thieves now?” Emery asked weakly.

Adam held up his hands with wide, determined eyes. “We're fugitives. They won't see it any differently.” His face was already soaked, the color of his skin scrubbed almost clean by the drips seeping in from the cracked windshield. Chips of rock scattered the hood of the Mack truck, one of the
side lights
gone completely and the other flickering like a summer lamp.

He shoved the money in his pocket, and went back to digging for anything else. He found a pack of smokes, a couple lottery tickets, a condom, and…

“A stiletto,” Adam said. “Baby doesn't play well with others.”

“A knife? What kind of trucker was this creep?”

Adam raised his brow and Emery didn't reply. She kicked Bruce once in the chest, propelling herself off the seat as soon as Adam had pried open the passenger door and slipped out. One last glance at the incisor sticking out of the steering wheel made her rethink how brutal his beating seemed moments earlier. But the pity for such a low-life pig was gone almost completely.

“Gross,” she said under her breath as Adam dragged her by the armpits off the seat and into the mud. “I need a shower.”

“Yeah.” Adam shrugged.

“Ahh, my leg fell asleep.” She winced, limping while the circulation and blood flow bloomed inside her calf muscle, her feet still aiming for balance.

“Well, they better wake up quick. It's a few miles left to Bethpage.”

“Adam, why are we going there? What's in Bethpage?”

Adam was quiet. “The past. My home.”

“Your home? What makes you think it's still intact? Not to mention, what if we get there and those maniacs are waiting for us?”

“They won't be. The one who found me and discovered my powers removed my address from the files. No one knew where I was from.”

“What is this, Adam? I'm not in this for the thrills and the mystery and intrigue and all that crap, okay? I want to go back—”

“Where, Emery! Back home? Think again. Life as you once knew it is gone! They took you. You're a pariah, just like me.”

“Yet you want to run back to your past?”

“We'll stay together,” he said, ignoring her. “We're safer that way.”

“Safe, sure we are.”

“Stop it. Don't you see? They'll come find you. They'll always find you. Nowhere is safe.”

“And Bethpage is?”

They started walking in silence.

“I have to try, Emery. I have to see it again, just once.”

“You're not making any sense, Adam.” The mud creeping up her ankles didn't sit well with her, but it was only a few hours ago that they were climbing through sewage.

“Save your breath and jog.”

“Whatever, fearless leader.”

“Emery. I'll protect you no matter what.”

“Yeah, stellar job so far. Can you trust me too?”

He was frozen.

“Didn't think so. None of this is clearing right now. What you did in there, where we're going, that messed-up place we took off from. One big shipwreck, and I'm just drowning out in the middle of the sea. Alone.”

“You're not alone, Emery.”

“Says the boy with a million secrets.”

“Sorry I let this happen to you,” Adam tried.

She just nodded and began running with him. They quickly vanished into the night, the call of sirens and bright lights like violent raiders in pursuit.

“Bethpage,” Adam panted. “We'll be there before dawn.”