The Narrows: Invasion

CHAPTER ONE

The First Day

A s if the first day of school wasn’t bad enough, a herd of Neanderthals masquerading as football players had decided to plant themselves in the middle of the sidewalk, right in front of the bus port and directly in Kadin’s path. Kadin blew out in frustration. Not much chance of getting around this one , and only a hundred yards from the front door !

There was going to be trouble, and he was in no mood to play their game this morning. He knew that leaving the sidewalk and cutting across the muddy mess of school lawn would draw attention, but he was willing to trade ‘maybe’ for ‘certainly’.

As his foot left the sidewalk he realized he was a lone bully-magnet in thrift market kicks, squishing through the green-brown lawn that was saturated from the previous night’s downpour. He grimaced each time he stepped as his sneakers tore themselves from the wet ground with an audible sucking sound. He might as well have painted a bull’s eye on his back and yelled open fire, but the lawn was still more of a chance than continuing forward down the sidewalk towards a sure confrontation.

He knew Joe Fratelli; in fact they had even been friends once, long ago, in another pre high school world, before football and caste designations. Brent Mooney and Hector Alvarado wouldn’t be any trouble. They were big and constantly asserting their alpha status, but not in a sadistic way and anyway, Hector had already taken a run at him once when he had caught him alone on a desolate winter afternoon after detention. Hector had mistaken him for easy prey. Kadin didn’t think he’d be having any more trouble from that one.

Tim Franks could be a problem. As the team kicker, Franks was usually the brunt of his own share of jokes and spent much of his day in search of a surrogate.

The one that worried Kadin the most was the new kid. Kadin didn’t know him but he had a greasy, angry look about him and shoulders that were even wider than Mooney’s. Unlike the blue and silver Council Rock varsity jackets that Frat and his crew were wearing, the new kid was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt with Truman Wrestling printed across the front. The kid’s face was beat red as if he were already furious about something, but he was smiling and laughing with the others as he bounced a tennis ball absently on the sidewalk. Neither the laughter, which sounded base, nor the tennis ball, was a particularly good sign.

Kadin continued his trek, feeling as if he were glowing under the spotlight of his own apprehension, and wincing as mud splattering under the rims of his high tops and slid down his ankles. The front door was forty yards away. If he could just… too late. The meat suits had stopped yammering. With babies and bullies silence always meant the same thing; bad things were afoot.

The silence caught his awareness first and then his peripheral vision caught movement, the turning of a head. He knew it was the new kid and he knew what it meant. The new kid would be looking to establish his own alpha status in the herd, and a lone nerd was too good to pass up. Kadin thought he might have heard Hector or Fratelli whispering cautious advice but it was deflected instantly with an expletive.

Hey, dill weed! Think fast!

Kadin could think fast, and he could move faster. The tennis ball had been meant for his ear. Kadin swiveled and caught it in mid flight with one hand. He held eye contact with the now incredulous-looking Truman attacker for a second before dropping the ball in the mud at his feet. On a normal day he may have martyred himself rather than risking exposure, but he wasn’t in the mood for this today of all days and he hoped they would let it drop… for their sakes. With his palm stinging, he turned and headed forward without a glance at his antagonists. Let new guy make his way through the mud if he wanted his ball back. He heard a curse and sensed movement from the alphas, but the other members of the brain trust quickly restrained mister red face.

Kadin sighed, inwardly grateful for whatever thread of friendship still lingered in Joe Fratelli. He had sensed all of them move in front of the Truman kid while Franks stood apart and cheerlead for an ass kicking to happen. Apparently, coming to his defense wasn’t unanimous, and truthfully, Kadin was surprised to find any allies left after his years of isolation.

He went through the front doors of Council Rock High School and nearly did a face plant as his wet sneakers slipped on the tile floor. There were snickers all around but none with focus. He considered making it this far a minor success so he shouldered his slipping backpack higher and trudged forward with his sneakers squeaking. Instead of settling, the nerves in his stomach went from a light walk to a full Irish jig as he hurried forward, eager to make his locker before Amy could get to hers. What had started as a crappy morning instantly got worse as he turned the corner and saw Amy hanging her jacket in her locker.

Worse still—she saw him.

He had no choice but to move forward towards her. Amy. Beautiful, perfect, glowing, Amy McCormick. It was Amy who had been his neighbor and best friend since they were five. It was Amy who he had entrusted with his every secret and desire, save one. And it was Amy who he had just discovered was dating Ed Mansfield. Mansfield was another small brained gorilla like the others, but unlike Frat and crew Mansfield had no sports to drain his bull-elephant levels of testosterone. This one had a propensity more towards fighting than sports, and three more inches in height than he deserved to have at sixteen.

Kadin was sure he had officially descended into the bowels of teen-age hell, and thought for the tenth time that morning about what a sick experiment high school was.

You didn’t call me back last night. Her voice was music and he felt a cold nervous chill run up his neck and into the back of his skull.

He didn’t look at her, but feigned interest in his locker and took an inordinate amount of time to stack his books. Yeah, something came up.

What? I’ve only seen you once since you got back. She obviously wasn’t going to let it drop.

Grateful for the second time that morning for his quick thinking, Kadin answered, I got caught up in a game.

Oh. She sounded hurt. Which one? Did you get Bioshock two?

She wasn’t a gamer, but Amy always remembered the games he liked. At birthdays and Christmas her gifts were perfect. As always, he was impressed that she cared enough to know what he liked. Truthfully, he was a bit amazed that she remembered anything at all about him, most people didn’t. To most of them he was practically invisible. When Amy and he were ten all they needed to have in common were bikes, salamanders and kick-the-can, but things had changed.

In a single summer Amy had leap-frogged from cute to beautiful, and in that instant high school had changed forever for her. Kadin on the other hand had only become more awkward. He couldn’t play twenty questions with her, already his lie was disintegrating. I gotta get to class, he said as he shut his locker.

We’ve got like five minutes and duh… we’re in the same home room.

He would have thought it impossible to stutter the word oh, and yet he somehow managed to give it four syllables.

Dude, you’re like so distracted lately. I know it’s the first day of school, but you didn’t even remember I was in homeroom with you?

How do you know what I’m like lately? He regretted it as soon as he said it, but there was anger bubbling just under the surface and he was having a hard time pushing it back down.

What’s that supposed to mean? Her eyes were squinting and she brought her books up defensively against her chest. Not a good sign. He had pissed her off royally.

He shook his head. Nothing. Just drop it. He shifted his books to his other hand and stepped to his right, around her, while looking towards the end of the hall, towards homeroom. She didn’t take the hint and moved in front of him.

No. You started this. What are you trying to say?

I’m trying to say we’re going to be late, he said more sheepishly than he had meant to.

Like you give a crap about being late for homeroom? Please. Why are you being a jerk?

He told himself not to answer, not to expose himself, but listened in horror as he did anyway. Because I don’t see you for a couple of months and when I get back you’re… different. It was a near save. He had almost brought up Mansfield.

First of all, you’re the one that disappeared the entire summer for karate camp, she seethed.

It wasn’t karate camp, he interrupted.

Whatever. You’re the one who left for months and never called.

I told you, phones weren’t allowed, he whined.

You couldn’t have written a letter? We’ve seen each other like every day for the past ten years and you couldn’t even find a minute to write a letter or send me a postcard just to say hey? And— She raised her voice. —I’m not different. If anybody’s different it’s you. You’ve been ignoring me ever since you got back and I didn’t do anything wrong.

Oh yeah? What about Mansfield? The back of his neck froze again with icy fear and his stomach dropped about eight inches as his mouth betrayed him.

Ed? Is that what this is about? She looked stunned as if the fact that she was now dating wasn’t important, world shattering information and it infuriated him. This was major! This changed everything!

Yeah. He leaned forward, into the anger and it fueled his confidence. "It’s about Ed. He somehow managed to sneer the word Ed. Could you have picked a bigger idiot to date?"

She was taken back. He’s not an idiot. You just don’t know him, and Ed and I only went out a couple of times, it’s not like it’s serious.

I don’t know him? He turned his head on an odd angle and knew immediately that he must look like a dog responding to a whistle no one else could hear, but he couldn’t stop himself. I don’t know the guy who’s called me dork for the past four years? Mr. Oops you’ve dropped all of your books Mansfield? The self proclaimed master of the atomic wedgie? Are you kidding me? Really? Really? What do you guys do on your dates? Torture cats? Give swirleys?

It’s none of your business what we do on our dates!

We stung him to his core. He couldn’t believe there was a ‘we’.

And anyway, you don’t know him. He’s not like that anymore. Obviously tired of the argument, or him, she ended the conversation with ‘asshole’, turned her back to him and walked away. Kadin couldn’t express in words how much it sucked that they were going to the same homeroom and that he had to follow her in silence like a scolded puppy.

CHAPTER TWO

Home Room

S he reached homeroom thirty feet before him and shut the door loudly behind her. The first bell rang as he turned the knob. Homeroom was a chaotic mess. Coach Bilford presided over this particular iteration of homeroom hell and it was a well known fact at Council Rock that Billford never took attendance. Bilford never even bothered to look up from his sports page as Kadin walked in.

The first thing Kadin noticed was that Amy was sitting in the back left corner talking with Sue Clarke who he knew, from private conversations, that she didn’t even like.

The second thing Kadin noticed was the lone open seat. It wasn’t the seat itself that gave him pause but the red-faced slab of meat sitting behind it. It was the new kid, the one who had tried to take his head off with the tennis ball. The kid was smiling. It was the smile of a crocodile, all teeth and menace.

Kadin didn’t make eye contact as he moved towards the desk. Maybe captain steroid was only tough in a crowd.

Tough guy. The brute dripped the words as Kadin took his seat.

Wrong again, this knuckle scraper could be a moron all by himself. Kadin’s nerves were electric as he listened to the chaos of conversation and doodled absently on his notebook while waiting for the ear flick or neck smack that he was sure was coming. He heard Chewbacca’s desk scrape against the floor as it moved forward towards his own and Kadin braced for the inevitable.

He instantly felt the vibration through his body as a sneaker found the back leg of his chair and started to rhythmically kick. Kadin looked up at the clock. Still nine minutes to go until first period. How the hell was he going to tolerate this for nine more minutes? He had no misconceptions that the moron would get bored, they never did. He tried to move his desk forward, out of range but there was only inches to go before he hit the seat in front of him and he heard the desk behind him grind forward following him. The tapping resumed.

He tried to calm himself by breathing deeply, but with eight minutes left to go he noticed that the classroom had become considerably quieter. Several of his classmates had taken notice and were staring in curious expectation at the spectacle.

He glanced briefly at Amy and instantly read her expression. The anger was still there but there was also pity and it pissed him off. He was so tired of being a target, so tired of the insanity of high school. Most of all he was tired of being a victim when he knew he didn’t have to be. Steroid nation would have never gotten bored but with a new audience he changed tactics and kicked Kadin’s chair violently. Kadin’s desk rocketed forward into Nancy Almshouse’s chair sending her forward even as his own neck snapped back painfully.

The impact was loud and Nancy impulsively cursed at him. Before he could apologize or explain that it wasn’t him, his body had moved of its own volition and he was out of his seat and facing the back row terrorist.

Alright, let’s go, Kadin said in a whisper.

Kadin! Amy yelled from across the room.

The clamor brought coach Bilford’s head up from his newspaper.

The greasy, red-faced animal slid out of his seat and towered over Kadin. You got it, he said in his own whisper as he balled his fists.

Berski! Godwin! What the hell is going on? Bilford was clearly upset about having to lift his mostly sedentary posterior out of its natural position. He walked between the two of them and looked back and forth between David and Goliath. Who wants to tell me what the hell is going on? He stared between them as wafts of cheap cologne and stale coffee assaulted Kadin. Alright Berski, you want to play it like that? I got you next period for gym, you might as well get your ass down there now cause you owe me an extra twenty laps. Berski didn’t have much to collect; there wasn’t a single book on his desk. As he walked by he shouldered through Kadin.

After school bitch, he hissed.

Berski! Coach stopped him as he was walking past. He whispered, but obviously wasn’t very good at it. You get caught fighting and you could get suspended, lose your eligibility. You follow?

Berski may have followed but he didn’t say so, he just stared at Kadin before stalking off.

Kadin, detention after school with Mrs. Lumly in the music room.

Detention? But he…

Save it, Kadin. I clearly heard you challenge Mike. You want to try for in-school suspension? Bilford asked smugly.

In school suspension. Eight hours of humming overhead lights and overpowering silence punctuated by the thunder of the clock’s second hand. Kadin shook his head.

Good. Then sit down and stop playing grab ass. The next time it will be ISS.

Kadin spent the remaining two minutes thinking about how much high school sucked and how his day couldn’t possibly get any worse. He was wrong again.

CHAPTER THREE

Mr. D

Something I would like to add at the end of class from here forward is a quote. I’ll try to dig up a good one once in a while, maybe weekly, just to get the creative juices flowing. Mr. Donaldson was animatedly rubbing his hands together. Kadin barely registered his voice, he was already thinking about lunch. With Amy pissed at him where the hell was he going to sit? God, this sucked!

The chalk finished scraping with an exclamation and Mr. Donaldson read his writing, finally catching Kadin’s attention. Man, alone, has the power to transform his thoughts into physical reality; man, alone, can dream and make his dreams come true. Who said it? What does it mean? And why do we care?

Dreams. What Kadin could tell them about dreams. Dreams were the bane of his existence. His entire life had been shaped by a damn dream. This very morning had started on a wrong note because of yet another dream; another impossible, confusing dream. If there was a subconscious, psychological meaning behind the hum-dingers he experienced he was definitely destined for a padded cell. What the hell was the ‘hundredth monkey’ anyway?

The bell rang, ending third period, and Kadin came from his thoughts with a start. Where had the period gone? He shook his head and collected his books as kids who had already been in sprinter’s position streamed past him.

Kadin, you got a second? Mr. Donaldson asked him as he passed. He had Donaldson last year for bio and thought he was a pretty good guy, but figured he was about to get an ear full for drifting off. Oh well, it wasn’t like he was in a hurry to get to the cafeteria.

Sure, Mr. D. He used the nickname Mr. Donaldson insisted on. He had told the class last year that Mr. Donaldson was his father and that Mr. D would be just fine.

Everything alright? Mr. Donaldson had come around from behind the desk and was now leaning back on it and addressing Kadin like a human. It earned him big points.

Just first day of school stuff.

Mr. D rolled his eyes behind his glasses and grunted. I remember. Nothing worse than the first day of school.

Amen, Kadin said quietly and Mr. D laughed.

I heard some kids talking before start of second period. Is Mike Berski threatening you? I heard something about a fight after school.

Good news traveled fast. Kadin took a deep breath. It’s nothing.

Kadin, you can talk to me. I went through this crap when I was a kid and part of the reason I became a teacher was to make sure kids like you didn’t have to. He reached out and touched Kadin’s arm.

It’s alright. I’m in detention, but it’s only an hour. Those guys have football practice for at least another hour after that. I’m betting on him forgetting about kicking my ass by the time football season is over.

Mr. D had a confused look on his face. Kadin, Berski doesn’t play football.

Kadin’s stomach was a lake of ice.

He’s a wrestler. Transferred from Truman. Coach Mott says Berski won districts last year and might have won states but got disqualified for slamming some poor kid after two warnings.

Words would have been nice but right then Kadin couldn’t remember what they were or how they worked.

Look, I know you’re a walker. I can call your mom or dad and have them pick you up.

No, he said more suddenly than he meant to and was immediately sorry when he saw Mr. D flinch. It’s only mom, and if she comes to pick me up it will just back up her work, she’ll be up all night.

It shocked Mr. D to hear a kid talk about a parent with such concern and it reminded the teacher of why he liked Kadin. I’ll talk to Mrs. Jensen or I’ll hang around and make sure nothing happens.

The thought of involving Mrs. Jensen, the vice-principal, was nastier than a two hundred-pound wrestler by far. He stared straight into the teacher’s eyes. Look, thanks Mr. D, but I’m fine. You said you went through this when you were a kid?

Mr. D nodded.

Then you know that it won’t go away. I’d rather get it over with than spend the rest of the year being scared waiting for it to happen.

Mr.D felt helpless, but he knew that Kadin was right. He couldn’t protect every kid in the school, and sometimes interfering in the natural selection process of high school was the worst thing you could do. He nodded softly. If you change your mind, I’ll be here working on lesson plans. I’d be happy to give you a ride home. He made a fist and Kadin fist-pounded him softly.

Thanks Mr. D. For a teacher, you’re alright, he said with his peculiar smile that was more smirk than actual smile.

As Kadin headed towards the hallway Mr. D called out to him. Kadin, be careful. High school fights were usually nothing more than shoving affairs, but Berski had a mean look about him and at least forty pounds on Kadin.

Kadin turned before heading out the door and smiled. I will, he said and disappeared around the corner.

Mr. D’s brow furrowed in thought. There was something about Kadin’s crooked smile that made Mr. D wonder who he should be worried for. He had heard some rumors about Kadin as well.

CHAPTER FOUR

After School Activities

I t wasn’t Kadin’s first detention, but it was his first detention on the first day of school. It was just him and Mrs. Lumley, and if that wasn’t bad enough the clock was running sprints towards a big wall of angry named Berski. Before he knew it, Mrs. Lumley was dismissing him.

The back door was the best choice; the one facing the shopping center. It would take him twenty minutes out of his way, but if Berski was waiting out front or by the side door he would walk right in to him.

An extra twenty minutes to avoid a fight would be worth it. The idea died in his throat as he approached the back door and saw the gathered crowd. Too late to turn around, the windows lining the hallway had betrayed him. At least a dozen kids had seen him approaching. He had one last chance.

If this was just a chest to chest intimidation type of situation he could probably walk away with a shove and a head smack. He’d leave without his dignity, but at least he wouldn’t have to fight.

He suspected that option was off the table when he saw Berski. He had discarded his Truman sweatshirt and was wearing a TapOut t-shirt that must have belonged to a younger brother because it was skintight across his chest and constricted his biceps. Blue veins the width of a pencil ran down the center of Berski’s thick arms. Kadin stared. He had never seen a teenager with this level of muscularity.

The wrestler’s upper arms and bull-neck were covered with angry red acne welts. Kadin thought that Berski would be hard pressed to pass a piss test, and a look at his seething red face seemed to confirm Kadin’s anabolic suspicions. He slipped the backpack from his back and stepped outside. A long wall to his right blocked the view from the football and soccer fields while a shorter wall to the left partially blocked the view from the parking lot. It was a natural wind-breaker and smelled of old cigarettes.

Kadin raised a hand of peace and was about to offer an apology or concession or whatever it took to get out of this when Berski charged him. Berski was furious and had no intention of simply shoving and embarrassing Kadin. Thankfully, the haymaker Berski threw came from behind his back and was completely telegraphed.

Kadin stepped to the side and connected an open hand to the wrestler’s elbow, pushing the punch past him and accentuating its natural trajectory. While Berski was off balance Kadin rushed forward, landing several rapid-fire punches to the side of the wrestlers’ face. He didn’t turn his fist like a boxer but instead kept his thumb pointing up, utilizing an economy of motion. It was a Wing Chun, kung fu technique named Pak Sow.

Berski fell against the far wall and turned towards Kadin. His face was equal parts astonished and furious. Already the skin under his right eye was red and starting to swell. Kadin heard a few people behind him swear and comment.

With a roar Berski charged again. Unfortunately for Kadin, this time it was controlled. The brute came in low, ready to launch a wrestler’s double leg take down, and as Kadin stepped back he realized he already had his back to the wall. There was nowhere to go but forward. He stepped into the lunge with a short right that must have broken Berski’s nose because it exploded in a fountain of red, but the momentum from the drive wasn’t diminished and Berski drove Kadin effortlessly back into the wall.

Kadin groaned as his shoulder blades smashed into the unyielding stone wall. Kadin felt Berski’s weight shift as he bent to pick Kadin up. Kadin dropped his center of gravity in an awkward but effective sprawl and Berski immediately drove upward, trying to secure double underhooks for some manner of uber-violent throw that Kadin couldn’t even believe he would even consider here on the concrete.

The reality of his situation struck him. This kid truly wanted to hurt him. He had to end this and quickly. He knew dozens of ways that he could end this, but now he was mad, seething mad.

He wrapped both hands around the back of the wrestler’s neck in a Muay Thai clinch. He saw Berski’s eyes widen when he felt Kadin’s grip and suddenly realized the extent of Kadin’s own surprising strength. Kadin drove a knee into the bigger boy’s solar plexus and was rewarded by an expulsion of air. He wouldn’t get another open shot; Berski would block those so he concentrated on the shins.

Berski tried to fire punches into Kadin’s ribs, but in the clinch Kadin’s forearms were too far forward and the shots Berski landed were greatly diminished. Kadin, refused to break the clinch, and began firing shin on shin kicks into Berski’s legs. Very few people his age had desensitized their shins to the extent that Kadin had and he heard the wrestler gasp and groan every time one of his shins cracked against Berski’s.

When Kadin’s left knee collided with Berski’s right thigh he felt the leg finally collapse, and he used the advantage to push the bully’s neck towards the wounded leg. The wrestler collapsed onto his hip. The fight was over but Kadin was still furious and didn’t hesitate. He stepped with his back leg and shot his lead leg forward in a lightning side kick that caught Berski on the ear and the back of his jaw. The wrestler made a soft feminine sound and collapsed on top of his injured leg while covering his face.

Kadin’s face burned with anger and embarrassment, and sound began to resurface as he released his focus and let the world return.

Whoa! Dude! Holy crap! The voices were collectively amazed at the symphony of violence he had just conducted.

He turned to face the throng of students and flushed deeper as he realized they had all witnessed what he considered his dishonor, and that he had revealed the secret he had protected for so long. He had dishonored himself and his Kwan Jung Nim, his master. He could have finished this fight ten seconds in with a simple wrist lock. He could have walked from the fight once Berski was down, there would have been no fight left in him on one leg. That last shot was cowardly and it shamed him.

Alright people! Break it up!

Suddenly Mr. D and coach Mott, the wrestling coach, were shoving through the crowd. Kadin had the feeling they weren’t new arrivals and that they had witnessed the fight as well.

Come on people! Clear out! Coach Mott bellowed. You got to the count of ten to move your ass or I’ll have you after school tomorrow in the gym! It was a real threat. Mott detentions were infamous. The crowd shuffled off. Their silence and haunted backward glances burned Kadin to his soul.

Coach Mott gave Kadin an oddly respectful nod as he passed and dropped down on a knee before the fallen athlete. Kadin felt Mr. D’s hand on his forearms before he realized he was even there. Kadin was still in ready stance and Mr. D was trying to lower his arms. Easy, Kadin. Easy.

Kadin let his arms collapse limply by his sides, followed by his shoulders, and then it felt as if his entire torso collapsed in on itself as he released. He looked pleadingly at Mr. D for a second before he succumbed to the emotions of the day, and did something he hadn’t done in ten years. He felt his body shake as the first tears spilled from his eyes and ran down towards his trembling chin.

Mr. D put an arm around the warrior, who in reality was just a scared sixteen-year-old boy, and led him away.

CHAPTER FIVE

The Senator

T he senator was not of our world. He had spent the last sixty years on earth, studying us like bugs under glass.

Like most of his kind he had made trips to earth many times in the past. But unlike his brothers and sisters he never came to feed.

The senator simlply refused to underestimate the humans. Though he was immeasurably powerful he had his weaknesses and these humans were both brave and tenacious. He chose instead to rule from behind the scenes. He had lived a very long life and had held many positions of influence, positions that were now coming back to haunt him.

He had spent decades passifying the humans with fluoride, fattening them with chemicals and chasing them from their core values and towards a secular world of greed and possession where his own god was king. His current mission was complete. There was no reason to wait any longer but he would have to tie up his lose ends.

Recent inquiries had the potential to expose his colorful past which could bring into question all of the changes he had helped to foster. He was done with this world but first he needed to disappear.

Senator, I think you should reconsider, the mousy man pleaded as the plane lurched to the side. The GOP have had their heads in the clouds for years, but they really seem to have struck a chord with this Pontius attack.

The senator raised an eyebrow. You seriously think I need to comment on inane speculation that I bear a likeness to a painting of Pontius Pilate? Are you insane? I already have a group of conservative nut jobs breathing down my neck trying to get prayer reinstated in schools. I’ve got the Cardinal asking for a meeting every day over the contraception mandate and I’ve got the second amendment gun nuts picketing in front of the state house, and you think the worst of my problems is my preference for a Caesar haircut?

Bob, the poll numbers aren’t great. Unemployment is at a twenty year high, and our state violent crime statistics are through the roof. Next year is an election year and I really think we need to nip this in the bud and start thinking damage control. When we land in DC we have a couple of hours before your meeting with the Senate majority leader, let’s sit down and begin crafting something in response.

The senator began laughing. His face turned red and tears ran down his cheeks as he shook with silent amusement. He wiped his cheeks and slapped a hand across his knee. You’re so serious, Pete, he said with laughter still chasing the edges of his voice. You really need to relax. You know, stress will kill you.

Sir, I really don’t understand what you find at all funny about the situation.

"Okay, okay, let’s get serious. Here’s the response. The senator looks like Pontius Pilate the Roman procurator who ordered Jesus crucified because he is Pontius Pilate.

He’s a master alchemist who has been alive for over two thousand years and can leap between dimensions. He has spent the last sixty years here on earth ensuring that we collectively abandon every good and decent notion and that we chase god so far from our lives that we’re left with nothing but desolation and hopelessness. Why don’t you run that by them and see what shakes out," he said and sat back in his seat.

I get it, Pete said with a smile. We come at them with something just as ridiculous as the Pontius thing to ridicule their notion and turn it back on them. Sir, it’s ingenious I’ll start working on it as soon as we land.

You’re not landing, the senator said and leaned forward. He broke a glass vile under his secretary’s nose and watched as Pete’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the cabin floor convulsing. Senator Bob Styles began speaking quiet words of power and seconds later stood and walked through an invisible barrier and disappeared from this dimension. Three minutes and forty seconds later the private Cessna Cj4, on loan from the governor, a close friend of senator Styles, exploded over West Virginia.

CHAPTER SIX

Explanations

K adin agreed to let Mr. D drive him home, and they walked across the field and parking lot to the teacher’s Toyota Sienna in silence. Immediately after the first tear had left his eye, Kadin had turned his head away from the teacher, bit his lip and got himself under control.

Don’t worry about that stuff on the floor, he said to Kadin indicating the diaper bag and two empty sippy cups. Sorry, kids, Mr. D explained.

Kadin looked at the teacher as if seeing him for the first time. How many kids do you have? he asked quietly.

Mr. D pulled his shoulder strap down and fastened it. Three, with another on the way. You have any brothers or sisters, Kadin?

Kadin stared straight ahead out of the dirty windshield. If they weren’t going to talk about the elephant in the room he’d play the small talk game. No, it’s just my mom and me.

Mr. D backed the mini van up and left the school parking lot. Where are we going?

I’m in the borough over by Lincoln Ave, but if it’s out of the way, you can drop me anywhere.

It’s no problem, but you walk all the way from there? That’s gotta be a couple of miles each way. The teacher sounded unconvinced.

I don’t like the bus, Kadin answered simply.

I can understand that, The teacher admitted. They drove in silence until they came to a long red light at the corner of State Street that marked the center of their small town. Can I ask you a question, Kadin?

Kadin kept looking forward, he didn’t trust himself to make eye contact but he nodded. Sure.

What was that back there? I had heard some rumors last year that you studied martial arts, but I kind of figured it was one of those black belt mills that spend more time teaching confidence and cashing checks. What I saw back there was world class.

Kadin finally let himself meet the teacher’s eyes just as the light turned green and they slowly rolled through the intersection.

"My father earned a black belt in Tang Soo Do when he was stationed in Korea. I