Kindred (3 page)

FOUR

Hannah

Why do people do what they do? I look at Jason and see him acting normal, doing his day-to-day activities, but he's clearly hiding a deep pain. He needs to talk to someone, yet he goes to no one. We are his friends, and we can see the pain he's still in after what that Monster put him through. Jason had not uttered a word of complaint through his entire ordeal, and had only broken down once.

The concern I feel as he hides his feelings is nothing compared to my near panic attacks when he becomes non-responsive. Each time it happens I worry that he's slipping further into himself… further away from me. That concern is what kept me from speaking up when Dustin pushed him into a corner. His urgent tone told me all he wanted was for Jason to get help, and I couldn't deny that I did too.

Jason's soft confession came after several minutes. "You might be right." I could hear the fear in his quiet acceptance. "I'm not trying to scare you," he said, "but I can't tell when it happens until it ends." He hid his face in his hands. "I slip away, but I can't stop it, and I don't know why it keeps happening."

Dustin spoke up again. "I'm no expert, but what you went through last fall was hugely traumatic. I would be surprised if this wasn't some form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder." He hesitated before continuing. He obviously didn't want to push Jason right now, but knew it was necessary. "Jason, it's only going to get worse if you don't get help. PTSD doesn't just go away."

"He's right," I pitched in. "Each time this has happened, it takes longer to pull you back." The desperation I tried to hide showed all too clearly, and Jason cringed.

"I'm sorry," Jason said. He seemed almost surprised by our concern, but didn't shy away from it as he'd done in the past. Instead he turned to Dustin and asked, "Can I come to you?"

That he asked for help was a wonderful first step. I was happy with it. But it didn’t stop me from feeling like he’d punched me in the gut. Why? Why did he feel he couldn’t come to me? He’d come to me before, and had seemed better, if only briefly. Dustin hesitated. "You know I want to, Jason. And I know I offered, but I'm not qualified…"

"I won't go to a shrink," Jason said firmly. "I will not talk about this stuff to a stranger."

Dustin shrugged. "All right." He'd been given little choice in the matter. Jason wouldn't go to someone else. I should have guessed that. My attention went back to Dustin when he added, "I'll just have to do more research and talk to some of my professors. Don't worry," he assured Jason when he noticed the worried look on his face. "I won't tell them who I'm talking about. Even though I'm not a doctor yet, I'll give you confidentiality. No one will know about this unless you tell them. I won't talk about our sessions to anybody."

I could see Jason relax at that, and realized he'd gotten very tense at the possibility of anyone else knowing about him. Dustin and I exchanged a look and he gave a small shrug and a half-smile. It looked like he was going to become an expert in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, whether he wanted to or not.

I jumped when Jason clapped his hands together. "All right, that’s taken care of. Now, what should I do about this?" he asked, holding up the note.

"Talk to Alice," I said automatically. My sister would know what to do, or she'd figure something out. "Make it a problem for the police. You have enough to deal with."

Dustin was shaking his head. "Hate to say it, but I agree with her. As much as you want to help, right now you shouldn't get involved. Get yourself right, and then you can go back to being a superhero."

Superhero. With his power, I guess it was an appropriate term. But unlike other heroes, he had no superhuman strength or bulletproof skin. He was as human as the rest of us… more than some. Jason had power that scared even him, and he hesitated to use it even before Mason had gotten a hold of him. It was worse now, and the fact that he used it, even just to check for footsteps, surprised me.

I looked at Jason, expecting him to seem upset that we wanted him to sit this out, but he seemed… relieved. I frowned. He'd wanted to go after Kindred before, so what had changed?

FIVE

Kindred

Warm liquid splattered my face, and the last struggles of another violent man ended in futility. His wife would be pleased. Not that I did it for her pleasure, but if she was pleased, I would get paid. If she wasn't, well… let's just say I always get paid—one way or another. Blood payment may not spend well, but it was an acceptable option.

The camera snapped a picture of the man's face, wide-open eyes seemingly staring into me accusingly. I shrugged away any thought of guilt, surprised at the unfamiliar emotion. He'd been abusive. Plus he worked for Mason. Those were two strikes against him, the third being that he'd been part of Mason's inner circle that had kidnapped and tortured the Tracker. He had eluded the police, but I was much harder to avoid. The tiny flutter of guilt flitted away and I allowed myself to forget it as I washed the man's blood off my face. The rest I wouldn't worry about until I reached my apartment.

Anyone who saw me wouldn't see the blood soaked into my clothes. The illusion I had broadcast would make sure of that. I walked back into the living room and thought for a moment. He had helped hurt the Tracker. The kid would want to know that another of his tormentor's was off the streets. Besides, it had been a couple days since I'd checked on him. I took an envelope and note card from the shelf near my victim's phone and snapped a second picture with my Polaroid camera. I watched it develop, unconcerned when a neighbor knocked on the door and peered through the window. The woman was looking right at me, but would see nothing amiss in the house until after I left. Before I'd entered I'd set up a field of my energy that held the illusion of a quiet, empty house. Anyone who came near it would have that image in their head.

It had been a trick Mason had made use of on several occasions. It still surprised me that he hadn't made sure I'd set it up at the Farm after he caught the Tracker. Even then, there had been something about the kid that told me to help him. So, I had. When the undercover cop had requested a visit, I had allowed it, knowing full well that he'd be bringing a couple dozen of his closest friends.

I wrote a note on the card, and slipped it into the envelope, and in block letters wrote: TRACKER on the envelope. After receiving a couple notes from me already, he would know who it was from. Perhaps at some point, he would begin responding to my notes. I hoped he'd get the note after I returned to my apartment, so I could see his reaction. If not, I'd just have to watch the recording.

Without another look, I walked out of my prey's house and got into my car. I felt my illusion dissipate as I drove away, taking a deep breath through the slight discomfort. I'd always preferred my illusions to be one on one. It took less of my concentration and energy. But the mass illusion was definitely useful.

As I pulled closer to the Lady Cop's house, I could feel something was off with the Tracker. He seemed agitated and scared, but I sensed no direct threat. He was in the house, and the only other people there were his brother and his friends… I felt my lips turn down as I thought. Whatever they were doing, his friends were causing him pain. I couldn't allow that to continue. I would deliver my note, and then go back to my apartment. I had some planning to do.

SIX

Jason

Deciding to talk out my issues and actually talking out my issues are two completely different things. It had been pretty easy to tell Hannah and Dustin that I would talk to Dustin, but doing it—especially with a delay so Dustin could do some research—was much more difficult. We retreated to my basement room two days after I'd agreed. Hannah had decided we should start right away, probably afraid that if we waited I'd change my mind. But Dustin had requested a couple days to get prepared before we began. She had remained anxious for those days even though nothing happened, so when Dustin came again, she had practically ordered us to my room.

"So…" I started, looking around my room, pacing until I annoyed myself into sitting down. I forced myself to look at my friend… my therapist. "How do we do this? I start talking and you nod and go 'hmm…' like you understand exactly what I mean?" Okay, so I got a bit defensive right off the bat… so sue me.

Dustin shook his head, keeping quiet and calm. "No. We talk, I admit that I can't know how you feel because I haven't been through it, and then we talk more so you can make me understand."

The corner of my mouth went up in a quick half-smile. "Sorry. I just… I don't really know where to start."

"I honestly don't know either," he admitted with a shrug. "But how about we just start talking, and see where the conversation takes us," he suggested.

"Sure." I looked around from my perch at the edge of my bed. What could I start with? I could tiptoe around my issues for ages and Dustin wouldn't say a word, but that wasn't the point. I looked up at my friend who was patiently watching me think. "Did I ever tell you how I discovered my powers?" I asked absently.

"No, and from what the others have said, you haven't told them either," he said. His voice was more curious than accusing, so I nodded in agreement.

"That's true. I found out shortly before I ran away, after I got out of the hospital. My father was… unhappy about my recent hospital stay, and wasn't afraid to make his displeasure known. While he yelled and… did other things, I could hear the ground under our house rumbling. He was too distracted to notice, and I put the incident out of my mind until the next week when I was mowing the lawn and I felt him coming up behind me."

I met Dustin's eyes and continued, "His were the first footsteps I was able to feel, and when I rescued Sam, I stored them away for future warning," I took a breath, staring at the floor as I spoke. I wasn't ready to see Dustin's reactions yet. "As he approached, I could feel some of myself—my energy—flow into the ground and raise the earth in front of him and he tripped. It wasn't a conscious choice," I admitted. "He was already drunk and angry, the last thing I needed was for him to get even more upset," I stopped, still staring at the floor.

"Jason… what did he do?" Dustin asked after giving me a few minutes to compose myself.

"He dragged me into the house and beat me until I was unconscious. I tried faking it, but he just kept hitting me. He was gone when I woke up, and that's when I decided to leave. Unfortunately, I was in no shape to stay on the streets, so I waited until the bruises began to fade, and stayed out of his way as much as possible until about a week later, when he was at work. I grabbed whatever food and clothing I could fit in a backpack, and I left."

"Where was your mother in all this?" Dustin asked. He was trying to sound disconnected, like a casual observer, but I could hear the anger in his voice.

"She wasn't around. Got sick of how he treated her and ran shortly after Sam was born. She took him with her actually. It was when Sam was about five that my father got him back. My mother had been arrested for drug abuse and prostitution, and the courts sent Sam to live with our father. She died of a drug overdose not long after that. She never hurt me. Sometimes even tried to get him away from me, but it was always worse for me when she tried. Eventually, she gave up trying to protect me," I paused, taking a drink of water and just breathing for a moment.

"He never touched Sam in a harsh manner, not while I was there anyway. I thought he'd be safe…" I trailed off and looked around the room again. I hadn't told anyone any of this before. It felt strange to talk about it. I still felt ashamed of myself for naively believing that my father would leave Sam alone in my absence, but I'd needed to get out. Once I'd discovered my ability, I'd wanted nothing more than to use it against my father, to punish him for how he'd treated me, and then to make him disappear… forever.

"Hey, Jason. Come on back, bud," I blinked at him and cringed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you, but…"

"I was out again. Sorry."

"It's okay. Can you tell me what you were thinking about before it happened?" Dustin looked concerned and curious.

"I… uh…" I shook my head. I didn't
want
to tell him, but wasn't this the reason we were doing this to begin with? If I couldn't tell him, then what was the point in continuing? Dustin waited patiently, allowing me to think it over. "I was thinking that I needed to get out of my father's house, because I was afraid I'd become like him. I was afraid that the next time he came for me, would be the time I'd let my power loose and destroy him." I saw Dustin lean back slightly at the venom in my voice, but continued. "But I should have brought Sam. He never should have been stuck with that monster." I shook my head again, this time in disgust at myself; then I looked up at Dustin curiously. "That only took a few seconds to think about, how long was I out?"

It was Dustin's turn to hesitate as he rubbed a hand over the back of his head. "About ten minutes. I was about to get Hannah. I could tell when you were gone, because your face went from thoughtful to completely blank."

"Did you hear or feel any rumbling? Any sign that my power was in play?"

He shook his head. "Not that I noticed."

"Good." The blackouts were bad enough without my abilities escaping. "Can we be done now?"

"Sure. I think you did a great job today, Jason. Thank you for opening up to me. If I may, I'd like to suggest that at some point you tell Hannah and Alice at least some of what you just told me. You don't have to do it right away, but they really care about you, and would be able to understand you more if you tell them."

I hesitated, but nodded in agreement. Sometime, I would tell them. Not today.

I watched Dustin leave the room and I sat on the bed, wanting only to hide from everyone for a little while. I glanced up at the clock on my wall and was surprised that it was just past noon. Alice would be home for lunch soon, unless she had a case, and Hannah would be going to her afternoon classes. My class with them was the next day, as were my other two. All of my classes were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and even that was pushing it some weeks.

I felt a familiar set of footsteps walking slowly around the house, and I tensed. It was one of the guys I'd noticed at the park a couple days ago… but what was he doing here?

Concentrating any part of my ability through concrete is much harder than it is through loose dirt, but it is doable. There are some occasions where I can even manipulate the ground outside from my basement room. It was something I was hesitant to try, especially with all the emotions I'd just released, but I wanted… no, I needed to know why this guy was hanging around.

I knelt on the floor; one hand resting on my knee, the other laying lightly on the cool concrete. I closed my eyes, focusing all my energy on one target and pushing the earth to do my will.

It moved. Slowly at first, but it gained power as it rushed up to the surface, and I both heard and felt when my prey was trapped. He was near my window, and yelled when the earth suddenly rose up to his knees and solidified into nearly rock-solid boots. He wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. I could feel a smile forming on my lips. I felt powerful and in control, something I hadn't felt for some time. The smile died as I wondered: what do I do now?