This is the tenth chapter in a book I am writing. The book (Undercover and Investigating) is the third book in a series, you can find the previous two books here: https://writeboy.blog/my-stories/ .
Miracle
The truck slides down the trunk, I tuck Emily’s head under my chin. The juggernaut of the truck slides down, down, eternally down the trunk. Waiting like the powerless victims we are, hoping for a miracle and getting just what we hoped for. The truck catches, on the small indentation to the trunk made by Emily crashing into it. I scramble out, pushing Emily in front of me, and things return to normal speed.
For the first time I notice all of my injuries from flying through the fence. Blood drips from behind my ear, along all four limbs and has completely soaked the England Rugby shirt making it look more like I’m wearing a Welsh rugby shirt. My head is still spinning, the strain of using my power isn’t helping, and I have the coordination of the drunk man staggering home after an evening of drinking. Emily stands next to me- concerned, “Jack, go back inside. You’re in no state to fight.”
“No offense, but I’m not leaving you alone to fight these guys.” I smile half-heartedly.
“Alright, stick together- always.” Emily grabs my hand, “Be right back.” She melts away into non-existence. I cautiously advance towards where I think our four adversaries are, then I hear a click…the click. The click that I have heard so many times in training. The click of a hand gun being cocked. I spin and everything slows down…
“Hi mate, I don’t think you wanna move.” The smug Collective Power agent sounds just like me, just looks a couple of years younger.
“It’s funny mate,” I emphasise the ‘mate’, “’Cause I think I do.”
“Do you?” the three other agents come and stand behind him in a small semi-circle.
My arms go limp and a slight laugh creeps into my voice, “What, is that your back up? Is that your muscle?”
“Yeah, what are you tryna say?” The kid who sounds just like me’s cheeks flush crimson red and he points the gun at me aggressively (just like I’d hoped), “’Cause I’ll pop your head off right now.”
I laugh and take a step forward.
“Stop moving or I swear I’ll kill you,” Panic invades his voice, “I will.” He sounds as if he has to convince himself rather than me.
“Ha, no you’re not.” I take another small step forward.
Then I explode, whipping round and flicking my leg round. Spinning on the ball of my left foot, I take his legs out, then I reach up and take the gun out of his hands and finally I take all of his confidence. He squirms away and curls into the foetal position, “Please don’t shoot!”
Everything returns to normal speed, “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t shoot you.”
The three Collective Power agents behind him start laughing, “Aww, doesn’t have the nerve.” The one in the middle says condescendingly.
I continue as if they hadn’t said anything, “It’s those three that should be worried.” I level the gun at the condescending one in the centre and the smile scampers off his face faster than a gazelle meeting a lion. “I must say, you are good muscle.” The muscle in my right cheek pulls the edge of my mouth up into a defiant smirk.
The three agents stand there dumb founded, mouths hanging open like gormless idiots. I step over the bundle of mess the kid is now and poke the centre agent (the one in the cape) in the sternum. “Run. Run and don’t look back. Because if I see even the hem of that depressing, stupid, goth cape ever again you can bet on a bullet through right there.” I tap his sternum again as he stands chest out confidently, eyes betraying his fear. “Now bog off, all of you.” I address the other two.
The kid tries to scramble up, “Not you.” I sit him down on the curb, recognising his fear and confusion. Turns out he’s thirteen, an orphan since birth, has surfed through more foster homes than he can count; slipped through the cracks into Collective Power’s criminal lap. “You know, I have a friend just like you.” I look at him.
“I find that hard to believe.” He replies picking a stone out of his shoe.
“Well, maybe not just like you but the only reason that I kept you here and didn’t send you on your way was because you remind me of me.” I smile as his head snaps up quizzically. I tell him my story and give him an offer he can’t refuse. Emily sprints up to us.
“Jack?” Emily is too breathless (from running to contact O’Drice) to follow up with a question.
“C’mon, I think we can all do with a sit down.” I take the other two towards my front room.
We stand in the doorway and look at the utter carnage, “Sorry about that.” George (the kid) scratches the back of his head through his wild and extremely curly hair.
“Wasn’t you throwing the stuff, and besides: now you can help us clear it up.” I smile at him. “We should probably go into the kitchen and check up on our mothers.” I say, turning to Emily. After getting Emily up to date on the whole situation, I look down the table at George and start, “Look, I’m a Captain in the SES (a secret part of the army for people like us). I can get you a place in our squad, you will fit right in, have a family and have a home.” I look at him intently, “Or you can leave today, run away and start a new life and never use your power again. We won’t tell a soul and the higher ups at SES will be none the wiser.”
A full-scale battle is waged across the kid’s face- I sympathise with him, I empathise with him. It is oddly comforting to feel like you don’t need the law to protect you, you feel self-reliant and it feels good. However, the right side wins. A smile intrudes his face and jumps up to his eyes, “A family sounds kinda nice you know.” With that a sharp rap on the door echoes through the hall into the kitchen.
I open the door to a wheezing O’Drice leaning against my porch door, he looks like he will keel over. Behind him stand bemused Elijah and Jacob, “You missed the party.” I say whilst beckoning them in. “O’Drice, I need to have a quick word.” I take into my destroyed front room and sit on the sofa-next to a colossal hulk of concrete.
“You told him what?” O’Drice looks enraged.
“Look, O’Drice, that kid was getting abused by them. I couldn’t just let them carry on could I and what was my other option? Set him on his way and wait for him to go back to Collective Power or slip into a life of crime, deceit and felony.”
O’Drice opens his mouth to fire a quick retort back but none comes to his mind, he resorts to: “You know McVallen won’t like this.”
“You know she will.” I say as he turns his back in defeat and walks towards the kitchen.
Emily says good bye to her mum with a massive hug for two slight figures, “I’m really proud of you Jack, of everything you have done.” My mum grabs my shoulders so I can’t squirm out of the embarrassment, “I mean it, Jack. You do your father and I proud, you really are so similar to him- like a ghost really.”
“Thank, mum.” I smile slightly and pull her into a tight embrace. As we leave in a standard issue Land Rover, I see the mothers of Emily and I and think something not many people can think too often, we did a genuinely good thing today…
Writeboy 