Don't Call Me A Hero

Chapter 2

“This place is a dump,” I heard Charlie speak up from behind me as he squeezed through the tight hole in the chain link fence. There were around fifteen of us gathered around an abandoned looking victorian style mansion. There wasn’t a window that was intact. The left half had collapsed in on itself and I doubted it was safe to explore. Everyone else seemed excited, though. There was something about the words “abandoned” and “haunted” that seemed to capture the attention of teenagers. Personally, I would never dream of stepping inside that house. I could smell its rot from where I stood. 

“This place is history!” Arthur called out as he stepped onto the porch and stretched out his arms. I rolled my eyes at his theatricality and waited for him to continue, “come on! Don’t you all want to have one last hurrah before the school tells us what profession we’re going into?”

I was friends with maybe five in the group. The whole group were all in the same class. We were all forced to learn how to draw different fruits while those with powers learned to control them. I didn’t mind the class. I enjoyed drawing. Arthur, on the other hand, hated being separated. He hated it almost as much as he hated being powerless. 

“Get on with it!” Charlie called out, walking beside me with a shake of his head, “I’m missing the game for this!” 

“Oh, come on,” Amanda came up from beside him, “we all know the badgers are going to win.”

“Sports talk?” Maria groaned as she hooked her arm through mine, “leave me out of it. What do you think is going on?”

“No clue,” I shrugged, “this time he might actually surprise me.”

It had always been just us. It started off with me and Arthur since our parents were neighbors. Charlie joined the group in second grade when he fended off a group of powered bullies. Amanda wasn’t invited but showed up sometime in third. I guess none of us questioned it and I’m glad we didn’t. Maria was the newest addition to our group. She showed up in seventh and tricked one of the powered idiots into thinking they lost their touch. Obviously she had to be friends with us. The rest never seemed interested in our group. Arthur tried to expand but they never wanted anything to do with us. 

I never minded. I didn’t want to be friends with everyone. Being friends with four was tiring enough. I thought Arthur just had a fear of being left alone. We were all about to start high school. The school was going to give us a choice of careers so we’ll all be heading in different directions. He was scared of losing us. He was scared of change.

Perhaps that was why he did what he did.

Arthur gestured for everyone to follow him inside and nobody seemed to question him. They all seemed just as excited to explore the creepy old house. Amanda followed after with a skip in her step but I didn’t move a muscle. Neither did Maria or Charlie.

“Come on,” Arthur waved them forward with a wide smile on his face, “it's just an old house.”

“I’m not going in there,” I told him with a hard shake of my head. 

“Don’t be a wuss,” he complained.

“Call me whatever you like,” I shrugged. 

“Fine,” he sighed, “whatever.”

“So,” Charlie asked as Arthur disappeared into the darkness, “why’d you guys stay?”

“Do you know how many rodents are guaranteed to live in there? How many germs?” Maria shuddered, “no, thank you.”

“Axel?”

“Ghosts.”

“Really? Ghosts?”

“We live in a world where people can fly and shoot lasers out of their eyes. Is it really going to be that shocking if ghosts exist?”

“Valid point,” Charlie shrugged, “I’m going to walk around.” 

“So,” Maria giggled, “want to hear a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I know someone who likes you,” she whispered with a wide smile across her face. She seemed way too happy with who it was. I turned toward her and leaned forward, her excitement rubbing off on me as I waited impatiently for her to say more.

“Who?” I asked after a moment of silence. 

“Do you really want to know?” she teased. 

“Obviously.”

“Well, he’s-” she stopped short as she turned around. There was nothing behind us except for a small patch of tightly packed pine trees. There was no way to see through them even if it was only noon. She stared into the trees for a moment before turning back toward me.

“What?” 

“Did you hear that?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing together as she glanced behind us once again. I glared into the trees as I tried to see past their cover but I couldn’t. 

“No,” I shook my head.

“Maybe we should go inside,” she muttered. 

“Why?”

“To be with everyone else?” she offered before a yell came from beside the house. I turned toward the yell as a familiar voice called out, “run!” 

“Charlie?!” I charged forward.

“Axel!” Maria screamed from behind me. I stumbled to a stop and spun around. I gasped as I watched her struggle with a man well over six feet tall. I step forward but I too am lifted off the ground by a pair of thick arms. 

“Get off me!” I called out as I kicked and scratched at the man. 

Nothing worked. 

They started to bring us toward the building. I watched as a man, who looked exactly the same as the two guys who had us, carrying Charlie over his shoulder. Dark red coated half his face and that only rejuvenated my need to escape. Nothing worked, though. I watched as he carried Charlie into the house. Maria followed soon after. I stopped struggling as we drew near to the doorway. I couldn’t see anything but darkness. I didn't want to think about what could be awaiting me there. I stopped struggling as the man walked slowly up the steps.

It was then that I noticed Arthur standing on the porch. I didn’t know for how long but he was just sitting there watching. Our eyes met and a wicked smile stretched across his freckled face. It took me a moment before it dawned on me.

“You knew!” I screamed out as we stepped through the doorway, “you f*****g knew!” 

“Axel?” I sat up and glanced around as I struggled to recognize where I was. Train, I reminded myself, you’re on a train to Arthur’s funeral.

Arthur’s funeral. 

The train lurched forward, jolting me in my seat as it slowly made its way through the city. I closed my eyes and tried not to linger too much on the pain the memories brought, however, now I couldn’t keep my mind off it. 

The pain had been the worst part. It had spread through my body like a wildfire, igniting my blood and making even my pinkie toes hurt. Thick padded straps held me immobile as I was forced to stare at the bland ceiling above me while white coated figures danced at the edges of my vision. The only relief against the constant pain and prodding had been the cool metal of the medical table. My mouth had hung open as if to scream but no sound could ever escape my lips. The pain had left me breathless.

As I had laid there, struggling to fill my lungs, they poked and prodded me with needles. 

Never once in my life had I ever considered death. In those moments where I was surrounded by dark silhouettes, hidden away from me because of the bright light directly above, I begged for the sweet release that I hoped death would bring me. 

Even in those dark moments, there had always been a part of me that dreamed of being saved. A part that hoped police officers would storm through the doors to pull me away from that nightmare. 

I was, by the way. This isn't one of those stories where it ends after a few short, and sad, paragraphs. There are, however, days where I wonder if I was better off not being saved and dying like dozens of those other kids in those wacko experiments. 

Two weeks. I spent two whole weeks in that hell hole. Few of us survived to tell the tale and none of us wishes to go back to that horrid time. We all left...different. They did something to us. Something that made normal impossible. 

“You okay?” Sara asked as the train pulled to a stop. I nodded as I stood and followed her out of the train car. She kept her hand in mine so I kept my eyes on the ground as she led the way through the small crowd. I knew the funeral home was only a few blocks away so I trusted her not to lead me into any poles. 

A part of me wanted to be glad he was dead. He had ruined my life and the lives of my friends. However, I felt nothing toward him. There was just a hollow hole within me that just felt empty. I knew I should feel something-anything- toward the death of my once best friend but I didn’t. There was no anger, no joy, no nothing. 

It was strange.

“You ready?” Sara asked as we stepped in front of the door. The funeral home didn’t look like one on the outside, though, I didn’t know what I was expecting. The building was a small, slanted brick building with a wall of painted glass. The only advertisement toward its true nature was a small wooden sign that stood just outside the main hallway.

“Let’s get this over with,” I told her as I pushed the doors open. 

A quiet, sad melody traveled through the large space of empty pews and the large casket that sat across the room. There were only three other people there. The pianist sat beside that dark piano, her wrinkled hands dancing across the keys with a gratefulness that was almost hypnotizing. A priest stood with his hands behind his back beside the casket, his dark eyes narrowing as we walked down the narrow walkway. Arthur’s mom sat at the front pew, her sobs being the only thing to distract from the beautifully sad music.  

“Poor woman,” Sara whispered as we drew near, “her son was an ass but to outlive your son? I can’t imagine.”

“Ms. Stevens?” I said as we walked up to the bench. The woman looked up in shock at the sight of us. I sighed sadly as she stood up and wrapped her arms around me. I hadn’t seen her in four years and they have not been nice to her. She used to be the prettiest mom in our little friend group. Now she just looked like a sad, little old lady. 

Funny how death can change you…

“My dear boy,” she said as she pulled away and cupped my face, “I never expected to see you here. Um, I have food in the other room. I’m sure the priest would love to point the way.”

“Oh, no thank you,” I said as the man started toward a doorway, “I don’t think I could stomach anything even if I wanted to. Are we early?”

“N-no,” she sobbed, “I sent out invites to family but, as you can see, no one came. How did you find out?”

“I got an invite,” I told her.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head with furrowed eyebrows. Her eyes darted back and forth between us as if trying to spot a lie, “I didn’t send any invites to any of his old friends. I know what he did and I wasn’t going to force you to be a part of today.”

“Well, who sent the invite?”