Read Savior (The Savior Series Book 1) Online
Authors: A. King Bradley
Savior (The Savior Series Book 1) (2 page)
I WAS SURPRISED WHEN WE PULLED UP TO AJ’S STORAGE. I knew this was one of the many businesses that Jason’s dad owned, but I couldn’t figure out what it had to do with the surprise that he was so eager to show us.
“Isn’t this your dad’s storage facility?” Howie asked as Jason stopped his SUV at the front gates.
“Brilliant deduction, Detective Howard,” Jason quipped as he let down the window and punched numbers into a nearby keypad.
Howie rubbed his chin and pondered. “Detective Howard. That actually has a nice ring to it.”
We drove around the massive storage facility for a few minutes before Jason finally stopped the SUV at the very back of the lot.
“All right, boys! This is it!” Jason exclaimed, as his face flushed with excitement. The equally excited Howie was out of the truck before Jason could finish his sentence. I wanted to be just as excited as them but I simply didn’t have the energy. It had hit me during the ride over that skipping school also meant skipping the only two opportunities that I would have to eat that day. My friends had no idea, but my family was extremely poor. So much so, that the breakfast and lunch provided by our school were the only meals my older brother PJ and I ever ate.
I tried not to focus on my growling stomach as Jason led us to the last storage unit. From the outside, the unit appeared to be easily the size of a three-car garage. I knew that whatever he had planned had to be huge if he was keeping it in there.
Jason punched a code into the keypad to the right of the storage unit and turned to Howie and me as a low hum began to emanate from the door. “This is it, boys!”
As the door retracted, Howie and I stood frozen in disbelief. From the outside, the storage unit looked like just an average unit, however, Jason had converted the inside of it into what appeared to be a fully furnished apartment. The right half of the room was lined with several plush chairs and an oversized couch that sat in front of a monstrous flat screen television. To the left was a beautifully crafted glass conference table along with an enormous projector screen mounted on the wall in front of it.
Coming to his senses, Howie sprinted into the unit and went straight for the sleek computer positioned against the wall to the far left. I don’t think I have ever seen Jason smile as brightly as he did on that day. Making people happy was sort of a hobby of his. He always said he got that from his father, who apparently spared no expense when it came to charity. Jason and his family had moved to our small north Florida town from California back when we were fourteen. I had never met Jason's family but I figured they must have been perfect given how well-mannered and upstanding he was. They were obviously rich, so I always wondered why they had decided to move from California to a tiny east coast town like Lexington, Florida and enroll their son in a public school. Jason never really mentioned a reason, and Howie and I never asked. At the end of the day it didn't matter; we were both simply happy to have him as our friend.
“I must say, Jason,” I said as I admired the entertainment system in front of the couch. “You really outdid yourself this time.”
“How long have you been working on this?” Howie asked, as he powered up the computer system.
“This has been in the works for a while. Believe it or not, I got the idea from that superhero movie we all watched last summer,” Jason said as he sauntered around marveling at his masterpiece. “I’ve even come up with a name for it.”
“Oh yeah?” Howie said as he finally looked away from the 65-inch computer monitor.
Jason smiled but remained silent for a bit in order to build suspense. “Gentlemen… welcome to the Third Dimension.”
JASON HAD NO IDEA HOW HAPPY I WAS THAT HE DECIDED to buy us fast food on the way home. There was never anything for my brother and me to eat after we got home from school. Therefore, if we skipped our meals at school, we usually went hungry.
Jason is such a great friend,
I thought as I practically inhaled my food. Somehow I couldn’t help but wonder why, despite everything that Jason had done for me in the two years that I had known him, Howie was always the one whom I considered to be my best friend. I never said it aloud of course, but I think we all sort of knew. The same way the kids always knew who their parents’ favorite child was even if the parents never said it.
As usual, Jason dropped me off at the beginning of the long dirt road that led to my parents’ house. I once fed him a lie about my father not wanting us to be friends because he thought Jason’s family considered themselves too good for the “common folks.” My father was a notorious jerk and a drunk, so it didn't take much effort to sell Jason on that lie. The truth was, neither I nor my father had ever seen or interacted with Jason’s father or any other member of his family. I simply didn't want Jason to see my parents’ house because at the sight of it, he would have been able to tell that my family was extremely poor. Even Howie had never actually been to my place. Howie’s family wasn’t nearly as wealthy as Jason’s, but they were definitely better off than mine. I suppose I kept this secret because I just didn’t want anyone to judge me— not even my friends.
As I approached my shack of a house, I noticed my older brother PJ sitting on the porch. “PJ” was short for Phillip Reaper, Jr. Though he was named after our father, PJ was nothing like him. Phillip, Sr. was a tall, broad shouldered man who was built like a middle linebacker. PJ was as thin as I was and he only stood around 5'8” tall. He hid it well, but he was also a lot smarter than he let on. When he was 14 years old, he had managed to build a computer from scratch in the basement of our house. As he got older, he started spending most of his time down there on his secret computer, doing God knows what.
He glanced at me through his long, stringy hair as I neared the front steps. His hair looked terrible. He had only started growing it three months ago but it was already touching his shoulders. Mom asked him to cut it countless times, but he had gotten to a point where he listened to very little of what my parents had to say. He wouldn’t argue or shout with them, though. Most times he would just ignore them until they gave up and left him alone. On some days, he would even ignore me.
“Hey, PJ,” I said as I reached the first step. I opened the front door and entered the house after he looked away without responding. As small kids, we had been very close. Before I met Howie four years ago, I used to consider PJ my best friend, but I guess things change. I suppose his business in the basement had become more important than me.
I greeted my parents as I entered the front room and pretended not to see the fresh bruises on my mother’s left forearm. My father never hit her in the face when he got angry. I suppose he didn’t want to leave a mark in a place that couldn’t easily be covered by clothing. Mom would usually hide her bruises before we got home; therefore, I guessed those must have been fresh.
I trudged up the stairs without looking her in the eyes because I couldn’t stand to see her hurting. What hurt me the most was that I was so powerless to stop it.
My room was just as junky as I had left it but I didn't care. Why bother cleaning a shack? That’s what I would always say whenever Mom would get on me about not taking better care of my room. I could see in her eyes that it hurt her whenever I said that, but I was too young and dumb to realize that I shouldn't have given her a hard time just because she wasn't in a position to give us everything we needed.
It was early, but I started getting ready for bed. I always went to bed early on the bad days because doing so made it seem like the next day would come sooner.
“Tomorrow will be better,” I mumbled as I flopped down onto my twin sized bed. That’s what my mother used to say. Despite anything that would happen, she would always have that outlook.
I still wonder if she really believed that to be true.
MY HEART POUNDED SO VIOLENTLY THAT IT SEEMED AS if it wanted to escape my chest. As I looked downward, I realized why that was the case. Not only was the ground miles beneath my feet, but I was also holding a young lady in my arms as I soared through the cool night air. Her long, dark hair whipped wildly in the wind, covering most of her face, but I didn’t need to see it. I already knew who she was. This wasn’t my first time having this particular dream, nor was it my first time dreaming about her.
Maybe this time it will be different,
I thought as the ice-cold air nipped at my face and we continued to soar through the moonlit sky. As I reached the peak of my ascension and the force of the wind lessened, as always, her hair fell from in front of her face, allowing me to stare into her lucid, amber colored eyes.
I loved her. I had loved her since the first day I saw her, which is why I could not bear to see the hatred that burned in her eyes as she glared back at me.
The dream had not changed. No matter how desperately I wanted her to love me back, she still hated me. But how? How could the love of my life hate me before we had even properly met? We had been in some of the same classes together, but we had never had so much as a conversation.
It wasn’t fair.
As always, we did not speak as we continued to drift through the frozen midnight sky.
THE SCHOOL CAFETERIA WAS PACKED AS USUAL DURING breakfast the next day. All the cliques and sub-cliques had their own de facto designated tables in the center of the room. The nobodies like Howie and I usually occupied the outer tables. A few years ago, our school officials attempted to integrate the tables but the staff got tired of breaking up the countless fights that resulted, so the unspoken seating arrangements were allowed to resume. I didn’t really care, to be honest. I actually enjoyed our little corner of the universe at breakfast and lunch.
“I guess Jason is skipping school again today,” Howie said as he adjusted his glasses and took a bite of his sausage biscuit.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s hanging out at 3D,” I replied. Howie smiled, no doubt amused that I used his nickname for the Third Dimension.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m thinking about going there as well after school. What about you? Do you have any plans?” Howie asked as I scanned the room for Fat Pat and his minions.
“Adam?” Howie asked after I failed to respond.
“Sorry, Howie. I was looking out for Fat Pat. With Jason not around, I am sure he’ll want to exact his revenge for yesterday.”
Howie’s eyes widened with fear as he wondered if he, too, would suffer the same fate as me if Fat Pat were to catch up to us.
“You’re right. We should probably head to class,” Howie suggested, trying hard to mask his fear.
I looked at my plate and bit my bottom lip as I considered leaving without finishing my breakfast. I was so worried about Round Two with Fat Pat that I had not touched my food. That was one of the only two opportunities to eat that I would have that day, so I knew I couldn’t afford to skip it.
“Let me finish my food, then we can go,” I said as I quickly stuffed a spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth. Howie nodded and continued to nervously look around the room as I dug into the rest of my lumpy oatmeal. It tasted terrible but I was so famished that I could have eaten a ten-gallon drum of it at the time.
I almost choked as I noticed Fat Pat and his goons enter the south entrance of the cafeteria. I instantly pulled the table cloth up and ducked underneath the table before Pat could notice me. I tugged on Howie’s pants leg but he remained completely stiff.
“Howie, we have to get out of here!” I whispered as I tugged his pants leg again. Howie said nothing.
“Howie?”
I repeated.
“They’ve already seen me, Adam. I don’t want to give you away. Just get the heck out of here,” Howie mumbled under his breath.
I turned and started to crawl away when I heard a loud smack. “Aw!” Howie cried. Fat Pat must have slapped Howie in the back of his head. I knew this because I was all too familiar with Fat Pat’s usual choice of greeting.
How can I run away and leave Howie behind to be tormented?
I thought as I paused to contemplate my next move.
“Where is he?” Fat Pat growled.
“I don’t kno-”
Smack! — Howie’s words where cut off by another slap from Pat.
“I don’t have time for your games, dork! Where is he?!”
Suddenly, Howie was violently lifted from his chair as I remained underneath the table, still searching for the courage to stand up for him.
Why can’t I save Howie like Jason saved me?
I thought, feeling pathetic for having to rely on Jason for everything.
I peeked from under the tablecloth when I heard a loud noise suddenly ring out. My heart sank as I witnessed Howie’s face slam to the ground. The pain in his eyes intensified as Fat Pat sat his 340-pound body on Howie’s head and shattered the lenses of his glasses. I clenched my jaw and gritted my teeth as I watched blood trickle from Howie’s nose and drip onto the floor.
That’s when it happened. Something inside of me just snapped and a burning anger suddenly emerged from within me. I knew I could possibly suffer a fate far worse than Howie’s by revealing myself, but I couldn’t continue to allow my best friend to endure such torment.
A tidal wave of adrenaline suddenly rushed through my veins. As the rage within me smoldered, for the first time in my life, I decided to fight back. I had never felt a rush of that magnitude before, but I instantly knew that I liked it. The adrenaline seemed to fuel my rage as well as my body. Suddenly, I didn't feel so feeble and weak. Suddenly, I felt powerful.
I burst from beneath the table, flipping it on its side as I revealed myself. The nearby students scurried away as the table and the breakfast trays that once sat upon it crashed to the floor. Fat Pat and his two goons grew tense with fear for a moment until they realized that it was I who had emerged from beneath the table.
“What do we have here?” Fat Pat snarled as he stood and approached me. Within seconds, he and I stood nose to nose as the crowd of students clamored with anticipation. There were no teachers present to break us up, as most of them were off smoking or doing whatever it is that public school teachers that don’t give a crap do before class.
Pat smirked as he grabbed and twisted the collar of my shirt. “Hiding under the table as your dork friend gets the beat-down— I didn’t think it was possible to be that big of a wimp.”
My adrenaline rush increased as my anger intensified. All that I could see was my fist and Fat Pat’s face, and all that I could think about was how badly I wanted to punch through it.
It was Fat Pat who threw the first punch. The incoming right jab seemed to creep through the air in slow motion as if he was submerged in water when he threw it.
Catch it!
My brain screamed at my hand, but I was frozen with shock. An incoming blow was heading toward my face, and I was too shocked to do anything about it because, for the first time in my life, I felt that I could actually do something about it.
Catch it!
My brain fired the impulse at my right hand again as Fat Pat’s massive fist neared its target. Finally, my hand snapped into action and grabbed Fat Pat’s fist, stopping it mere centimeters away from my face.
The crowd stood frozen in silent awe as I stood with Fat Pat’s failed punch within my grasp. I too was frozen with the disbelief of having successfully defended myself for the first time in my life. The feeling of triumph that followed was interrupted as one of Fat Pat's goons cracked me over the head with a breakfast tray.
I released Fat Pat’s hand and fell to the floor as he and his minions attacked me in unison. As always, the kicks and punches did not hurt, but this time, to my amazement, nothing hurt. Not the laughter from the crowd. Not the insults from Pat and his gang. Not even the fact that I was being beaten. As the “beat-down” continued, I shielded my face with my arms and smiled.
“Break it up!” yelled Dr. Kathleen “Kate” Stripling, our new high school principal. Fat Pat’s friends scampered away as she forced her way through the crowd. Pat ignored her command and continued to punch me as she approached. Dr. Kate finally grabbed Fat Pat’s shoulder and yanked him away from me.
“Ms. Kate, you can’t put your hands-”
“Shut your mouth this instant, Patrick, before I have you expelled!” Dr. Kate snarled. Fat Pat instantly fell silent. Dr. Kate helped me to my feet and glared at us both.
“I want you both to report to my office, immediately,” she ordered.
Fat Pat sulked. “But Ms. Kate-”
“That’s
Dr. Kate
, Patrick, and this is not a negotiation!” she snapped. Fat Pat hung his head and finally trudged away, headed toward her office.
I was barely able to stand by the time I made it to the office. My adrenaline high was long gone and the only thing left was an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion and the dread that I felt as I contemplated the punishment that was sure to befall me once my mother found out that I had been sent to the principal’s office. I tried to force myself to be happy about the fact that I was able to somewhat defend myself for the first time in my life, but as I sat there waiting for Dr. Kate to call me in for sentencing, I couldn’t help but focus on the two troublesome questions that were racing through my mind:
How was I able to do what I had just done— and most of all, why did I suddenly feel so exhausted?
