Of Royal Descent (9 page)

"Where are we going?" I managed to get out as my father hoisted me upright, to my feet. 

Once righted, my stomach lurched again, as if my body was having a
delayed response to what had just happened.  I realized my blood was broiling.

"You'll find out soon enough," he answered.

Over the top of the El Camino, I could see Chuck standing with his back to me.  My mom had a gun pointed straight at his chest.  Something clicked inside me.  Not even an hour ago, Chuck had confessed how vulnerable he had been as a child when he lost his mom.  And here was the closest thing to an alternative he had, holding him at gunpoint.

My body exploded in blinding rage.  There was a piercing shriek that stabbed through the night.  My father
was now standing in front of me, and I watched as all the color drained from his face.

A blood-curdling shriek sounded again
, and this time I realized it was coming from me.  My heart was beating so fast, and it felt...
delicious
.  I gave into the feeling, letting the fury flow through me.

Images were flying past my mind's eye.  My grandfather's picture, the sight of Chuck at gunpoint, and then I saw my real mother, in a cabin, crying over the son she had lost.  I felt as if flames had enveloped me completely. 

My father staggered back a couple steps, trying to put some distance between us.  I looked toward my mother, who had lowered her gun and was staring at me open-mouthed.  Even Chuck seemed to be in a daze as he gaped at me, eyes huge and slack-jawed.

"Is this what you wanted, Father!?" I screamed toward my dad.  My own voice,
for the second time that day, was unrecognizable to me. 

He took another step backward and stumbled against the front end of the El Camino.  In an effort to brace himself, his hands groped behind him, trying to prop himself against the hood of the car.  His gun fell to the ground in the process.

I took three steps toward him, closing the distance he had put between us.  Rage was woven into my every breath, every thought, and every cell.  With a flick of my wrist, I was out of the handcuffs.  I leaned down to pick up the gun.  Slowly, I stood and held it out to my father. 

He reached out and took the weapon but held it pointed to the ground.

"I will always do whatever I can to protect you.  Even if it's from yourself," he said.

"Take the cuffs off
him," I directed toward my mother, who fumbled for the keys and unlocked Chuck's handcuffs.

Overhead, I
could hear the tell-tale whirring of helicopter blades.  I looked up into the night sky and instinctively let forth another spine-tingling screech.  I looked back at the people I once considered to be my parents. 

"Leave," I choked out.  It was taking all my focus to be able to speak the King's English. 
The native language I once knew was slipping away from me and being replaced by the irrational desire to speak in shrieks and wails.

My father -
No, I would never call him that again -
Mr. Russell Hawthorne stood his ground and met my intense gaze with his own. 

"You don't understand what you're doing, Doyle.  Be rational, I can help you.  All of these changes that are happening, I can make them stop."  He took a step
in my direction before looking up.  He had heard the helicopter approaching.

"You have to go with me now.  I am begging you," he held out his hand
, as if I were a lost child that needed comforting.

I concentrated
hard to make human words come out of my mouth.

"I am not your son," I said
slowly, as my sixth sense convulsed with stimulus overload.  In one swift movement, I had jumped over the El Camino and was standing in front of Chuck and my former mother, Gretchen Hawthorne.

Having nothing to say to her
, I addressed Chuck.  "We need now go."  I shook my head to clear away the cobwebs affecting my speech. 
Maybe the area of my brain in charge of speech control was damaged in my struggle out of the car
, I wondered.

Although Chuck's eyes remained as round as saucers, he didn't hesitate to step forward.
  "After you."

I turned and sprinted across the back lot of the restaurant and quickly scaled the chain link fence
separating Emily's property from a small stretch of one-story apartments.  At the top of the fence I looked down to see Chuck struggling to make the climb.  I swung my feet around to the opposite side and leaned down to grab Chuck by the arms.  When he was at the top of the fence he also swung his legs over and we jumped down to the grass below. 

I looked behind us and saw my former parents running in the opposite direction, as my first sight of the helicopter came into view.  Grabbing Chuck's sleeve, we sprinted down an alley between two apartment buildings and came out onto a road.  Across the other side of the street, was a quiet suburban neighborhood.  I could hear nothing other than the helicopter a short distance behind us.  Only an occasional porch light dotted the otherwise sheet of darkness. 

I knew we were still in danger.  My sixth sense bristled, and every hair on my body stood on end.  Clearly, I was somehow involved in something that extended beyond the reach of my adoptive guardians. 

We
needed to keep running, but I suddenly felt sick.  My head was swimming, and I thought I was going to faint again.

"Dude, we have to go," said Chuck, grabbing me under my arm and pulling me across the road. 

I tried to reply, but I couldn't.  Every ounce of strength I possessed was fading fast.  I felt my eyelids growing heavy, and I leaned on Chuck.  The last thing I heard was the steady thrum of the aircraft closing in on us as Chuck said, "Plan B kind of sucks."

9

I awoke to the faint sound of a car starting somewhere off in the distance.  My head was pounding, and I kept very still, trying to remember where I was.  I was lying on smooth, cold concrete with a ratty, old blanket covering me.  It was dark and smelled of gasoline. 

I closed my eyes again and tried to re
call what had happened.  Blurred, garbled images of my parents flashed in front of my eyes.  A helicopter, screaming, and then darkness.  It hurt to think.

I sensed a presence near me
, and I instinctively stiffened.

"Y
ou awake?" Chuck whispered from somewhere close by.  Relief flooded over me. 

"Dude, why do I feel like someone beat the crap out of me with a 2x4?" I mumbled.

"I guess you could say it was a long night."  I heard relief in Chuck's voice too.

I opened my eyes again
, and after a moment, they began to adjust to the darkness.  I saw an outline of Chuck propped up against the wall opposite me.  Other indistinguishable outlines were there as well.  A single line of soft light streamed in from the bottom of one of the walls.

"Where are we?" I asked, gathering my senses.

"You passed out last night.  We're in someone's shed," he replied.

I took another look at the shapes surrounding us. 
Lawn mower, ladder, boxes.  I sat up slowly against the wall.  Once righted, I felt a lot better.  I looked over at Chuck.

"How long have you been awake?" I asked.

"I never went to sleep," he replied.  We both fell quiet while we considered the previous night’s events.

"Did my dad pull me from the car at gunpoint?" I asked.

"Yes.  Yes he did," Chuck replied.

"And was
there a helicopter chasing us?"

"It would seem so."

Another car started from close by this time, and we kept quiet until we heard it motor away.

"So... remember anything else a
bout last night?" Chuck asked.

"Well, let's see.  Guns, p
arents, helicopter, passing out.  Doesn't that about cover it?" I asked, amused.

"
Sooo... You don't remember anything like, oh, I don't know... metamorphosing into a terrifying creature dripping with supernatural abilities?" Chuck asked shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

I cocked my head to the side and
squinted my eyes at Chuck. 
Was he being serious?

"No, I don't recall.  On another note,
did Gretchen hit you on the head last night when she yanked you from the car?  Maybe we shouldn't rule out a possible brain bleed." I replied with a smile.  Chuck did not smile back.

"How did you get out of the handcuffs?"

I looked down at my hands.  There wasn't a mark on them - not at the wrist from the handcuffs and not on the palms from the booth at Emily's. 

"I don't know," I answered honestly.  "I guess they weren't on that tight."

"Okay then.  How did you jump the car?"

I thought back to the previous night.  A vague recollection of passing over the El Camino darted through my memory. 

"I didn't
jump
the car.  I just, you know, climbed over it or whatever.  Hell, my mom was pointing a gun at you.  I was propelled by terror and adrenaline," I answered.

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence before he continued.

"Right, okay, explain this one.  How did you do that trick with your eyes?"

I stared bewildered at Chuck.

"I have no idea to what you are referring," I said.

Chuck shook his head and began to stand up.
  "Doyle, your eyes changed.  They turned completely black.  COMPLETELY BLACK.  So, explain that one," he directed at me.

The tone of his voice began to sound accusatory and
as a reflex, I began to stand too.  He held out his hand to help me when he saw me struggle with my balance.  I accepted it willingly, and once I was eye to eye with him, I tried to waylay his concerns.  He was clearly shaken.

"Chuck, it was a crazy night.  It was dark out, guns were pointed at us.  I mean, it would have been easy to think you saw something that just didn't happen."

My attempt at assuaging any fears fell flat on its face.

"Are you telling me I didn't see what I saw?" Chuck asked, growing slightly hysterical.

"I don't know want you want me to say.  I'm not aware of any change that happened.  I'm sorry if there was anything I did or said that freaked you out.  It was unintentional, okay?"

Chuck leveled his gaze at me.

"Why did you scream like that?" he asked. 

The screaming I did remember.  I remembered it vividly. 

"I don't know.  Maybe I was just trying to take them by surprise.  It was purely instinct.  I didn't plan it at all," I answered truthfully.

Chuck paced to the other end of the small room, toward the shaft of light that was growing stronger.  I
now realized it was the door.  He stopped and faced me again.

"Okay, what now?  I'm fresh out of Plan C's," he said, slipping into a reluctant grin. 

I breathed a sigh of relief.  "Maybe we should check out the El Camino, see what the damage is?" I suggested.

Chuck nodded in agreement.  "Okay, let me open the door and make sure it's safe."  Easing the door ajar, he peered out into the daylight.

"Looks good," he said, slipping from the shed.  I followed behind, and we quickly made our way back to the road.  Following the same path we had taken the night before, we came to the chain-link fence. 

"Hmm," I said. 

"What?" Chuck asked.

"We scaled that?" I asked.

"No,
you
scaled that, easily I might add, and then lifted me over."

Our eyes met.

"That adrenaline is funny stuff," I mused.

"Quite."

We stood staring up at the fence before I eventually stepped forward to man up.

"Okay, let's do this," I said
, planting my hands between the small metal links. 

Grabbing the fence was easy, I soon found.  It was figuring out what to do with my
feet that was the problem.  It was not possible to shove them into the tiny spaces.  I was done before I could even get off the ground.

I looked at Chuck who was smiling, clearly amused.

"I just need a boost," I shot at him.  I eyeballed our surroundings.

"Okay, this ought to do it," I said, dragging a trash can from the alley between the apartment buildings up to the fence.  I flipped it over an
d climbed on top.  I could just grab the top rail. 
Okay, now what?
  Kicking up my right leg, I swung it as hard as I could in the direction of my hands.  The next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back on the other side of the fence. 

I smiled up victoriously at Chuck, who stood staring at me through the links.

"Impressive," he mused, before walking away.

"Hey, where are you going?" I shouted after him.  I struggled up to my elbows and pushed off the ground in time to see Chuck enter through a gate in the fence about five yards down from where I crossed over.

"And you couldn't mention you saw a gate before I almost killed myself?" I queried.

"I didn't want to throw you off your focus.  That could have been dangerous," Chuck said with a smile.

I scowled as I clambered up to my feet and went off in the direction of where we had left the El Camino.  We found the remains of Chuck's driver-side window scattered on the pavement, but the rest of the car had vanished. 

"Awesome," Chuck said flatly.

"Maybe it's just been towed?" I offered.

He shot me a dirty look, which made me inclined to believe he was not comforte
d by my words.  This was quickly confirmed by the round of expletives he used as he kicked up clouds of glass and dust.  After his minute-long tantrum concluded, he sighed.

"Let's go in and eat
, and then we'll walk down the road to another hotel and get cleaned up.  Hey, didn't we pass a used car dealership on the way in from the interstate?" he asked.

I smiled.  Sometimes it was handy to have a friend with a never-ending cash flow.

* * *

Two hours later, we were pulling out of the dealership in a lemon yellow 1969 Dodge Charger.  It wasn't in mint condition, but it seemed to run okay. 
Chuck was over the moon.  You would have thought he'd won the lottery.

After leaving the dealership, Chuck drove us to the nearest cell phone store.  We decided we should at least have one phone between the two of us.  We agreed on t
he cheapest model available, no bells or whistles and definitely no GPS. 

Our next stop was the closest department store, where we each picked out a couple changes of clothes.
  And to round out our shopping spree, we ducked into a Walgreens to pick up some essential items like deodorant and toothbrushes.

As soon as we checked into a hotel across town, Chuck called his dad to update him on our trip.  We had both agreed to withhold information concerning my adoptive parents until Chuck could explain the situation to him face to face.  I wondered if the events of the past 24 hours had made Chuck realize how blessed he was for the parent he had.

I grabbed one of my brand new outfits and headed into the bathroom to shower, leaving Chuck to his phone call.  He hadn't slept at all last night, and I imagined he would want to take a nap.  I wasn't planning on going out again until my date with Addy.  However, just in case Chuck insisted on staying awake, I wanted to be ready to meet my grandfather.

The spray of hot water felt intoxicating after a night on cold, hard cement.  Closing my eyes, I placed my hands on the tiles in front of me and leaned head-first into the pulsating massage spray setting. 
Oh, modern technology, how do I love thee?

I scrub
bed away the smell of gasoline from my hair as my mind replayed the events of last night.  One thought in particular was niggling in the back of my mind.  Had there really been a helicopter chasing us?  Here were the facts:  1. A helicopter flew toward us during the height of the showdown with my parents.  2. The helicopter seemed to hover in the area as I passed out.  There was no number 3.

It
could have been a strange coincidence.  I mean, if a helicopter had really been chasing us, I doubt Chuck could have outran it.  He was dragging an unconscious body with him, and it had sounded so close when I passed out.  He hadn't drug me that far.  The shed was practically the first building he'd came to, but I didn't see us making it inside without being spotted.  And that was another thing.  Even if the pilot hadn't seen us enter the shed, it didn't seem likely that a tracker serious enough to have access to a helicopter would have been fooled by such an amateur move.

And then there was my sixth
sense to consider.  Last night, I had felt it.  I
knew
that helicopter was there because of me.  The last time I shrugged off a gut feeling, I was being pulled out of the El Camino and shoved faced down to the ground.

I shook my
head.  None of it was making any sense. 

I forced my thoughts to shift gears and began to think about Addy.  I reflexively licked my lips.  Probably not the best topic of thought when I was naked in the
shower and another dude was in the next room.

I turned down the temperature of the water spray and finished showering, trying my best to think only of cute baby animals.

When I exited the bathroom, Chuck was off the phone and sprawled out on his back on his bed.  He was lying very still, and his eyes were closed.  I padded quietly toward my bed and lied down fully clothed, pulling the comforter up to my chin. 

Although it wasn't unpleasantly warm in the room, the air conditioner churned on, making me burrow down into the comforter.  The noise was hypnotizing
, and soon I was on the brink of entering the dream realm.

I hadn't had any disturbing dreams through the night. 
Could I be so lucky to escape them a second time?
  I tried to peer into the fog while keeping one foot grounded in consciousness.  I saw Addy dressed in a long white gown and smiling at me.  She held her hand out to me, and into the fog I embarked.

* * *

I awoke to rain spattering against the window in a steady rhythm.  The dim light filtering in around the curtains made it feel later than the 6:15 p.m. read out on the bedside clock.

I took a moment to enjoy the post-dream haze.  I closed my eyes and tried to bring back the vision of Addy, hair tumbled forward, face flushed
, and smiling at me.  But it disappeared suddenly when Chuck emitted a snore loud enough to rattle the rafters, and I blew out a sigh.