Prologue

Dale, CO �" the not too distant future

 

The night called out to Ethan Pullman, age fifteen and a half. The humid June air had cooled significantly, and it came in through the open window of the bedroom he shared with his twin brother. It ruffled his sandy blond hair, and he sat up in bed, being careful not to bonk his head on the ceiling. John was passed out in the bunk bed underneath his, and the last thing Ethan wanted was to cry out in pain and wake John up. Plus, there were glow-in-the-dark star stickers up on the ceiling, and Ethan didn’t want to dislodge them. They had been stuck up there since… well, since forever, or since Ethan was five and decided that his God-given purpose in life was to become an astronaut. His parents, humoring him, had bought him books and toys and yes, even glow-in-the-dark star stickers that he arranged in the shapes of constellations.

Ethan Pullman had a snowball’s chance in Hell at becoming an astronaut. If he kept up the hard work that he had put into his Math and Science classes, he should have no problem passing exams. If he kept up the exercise regimen he had set for himself since he was in the sixth grade and realized that being an astronaut wasn’t just about the brains, that they had to do things like tread water in their spacesuits and survive the infamous Vomit Comet, then he would also likely be okay in that department. He was in good health, no major causes for concern. The thick glasses he had to wear that corrected his nearsightedness wouldn’t be a problem, either. The one factor that was problematic, that would keep him from getting into a tin-can rocket and blasting off far above the world was, actually, the fact that he could fly.

It seemed ridiculous, an astronaut getting denied because he could do something that he would have to do anyway once he was up in space. This could have actually been an advantage if looked at in the right way. The issue was that not everyone saw it that way, and that meant that Ethan was damned to a life on the ground. Well, not exactly �" if Ethan was careful, he could find ways to hang out in his natural habitat, above the trees, even above some low-hanging clouds �" but the point was, he was not going up into space, and would never go up into space. He knew this, of course, and had known it for years, but it didn’t stop him from still fantasizing about the idea of being able to look down on Earth from inside a clunky white spacesuit. Those glow-in-the-dark star stickers weren’t going anywhere.

Ethan Pullman was Gifted. That was what the government men on the television called people like him and John, people who were born with extraordinary abilities, or Gifts. Some of these Gifts, like Ethan’s own, weren’t dangerous on a surface level. Some, like John’s, were. John could create fire with a simple snap of his fingers. That was dangerous, but John had been learning from an early age how to control his power. Ethan could understand why the government officials were scared of something like that, because it was wild and unstable and people just shouldn’t be able to do that. The problem was that they treated everyone Gifted like they treated someone like John, which was ridiculous.

On an intellectual level, Ethan understood the fear of the non-Gifted. Maybe one of these days, Ethan would use his flight to help him with something like dropping bombs on a government building, no airplane necessary. There were dozens of paranoid thoughts like this among the non-Gifted. All they saw was the bad, or the potentially bad. It was unfair. Ethan, for one, would never even dream of dropping bombs. He wanted to use his Gift to help him discover things, to look at the world from a bird’s-eye view. He was all about discovery, not chaos. John was the same way. Despite his Gift, he wasn’t a pyromaniac or anything like that. He had thoughts about maybe one day joining the military and using his Gift on the front lines, although his chances of that happening were about the same as Ethan’s chances of making it into NASA.

Still, one could dream, and the Pullman boys did. This cool June night was ideal for dreaming. It invited Ethan outside, promised him that he would be safe, that he could spend an hour outside flying and would be unseen. God, what Ethan would give to be unseen.

Things weren’t easy for the Gifted. Career issues were just the tip of the iceberg. The non-Gifted police were constantly wary of the Gifted, and looked at them in very specific ways. One Gifted kid walking alone wasn’t much of a threat, but a whole pack of Gifted �" now, that was different, even if they were just going to do something ordinary, like head down to the pizza place and pick up an order. They had to be careful of everything: how they talked, how they carried themselves, the works. Ethan remembered his parents, also Gifted, giving him and John lecture after lecture every time they went outside, even when it was just going on a five-minute walk to the Burger King to eat spicy chicken sandwiches and milkshakes.

The world was dangerous, and even more so when you were a kid with superpowers. Real life wasn’t like the comic books Ethan used to read when he was younger �" there were no monsters or supervillains for a team of Gifted to fight. The only supervillains he would be seeing were in suits and ties, who drove downtown in their fancy cars and talked over ways to torment the Gifted, those maybe-humans who were still a big mystery in the eyes of the non-Gifted.

When a Gifted person was caught on the street doing something sketchy, they usually weren’t shot dead by cops. That sort of behavior almost always attracted attention from non-Gifted allies, the well-meaning people who, even though they didn’t really understand the Gifted, either, still stood up for them. There was also the issue of martyring; if someone Gifted was killed on the street for doing something innocent that was perceived as something dangerous, their name would be remembered forever, and revenge would almost certainly be carried out by radicals. It didn’t take long to come up with a better alternative, one that didn’t end up with a dead body.

Dale’s best and brightest scientists created a cure, a formula that would permanently neutralize Gifts. Those who were cured were immediately brought to rehabilitation centers and taught how to enter the world as a non-Gifted citizen. This idea started in Dale, and soon spread throughout the States, and then to other countries around the world. Most Gifted would have rather been shot dead. To continue living with that vital piece of their identity erased felt wrong, insincere. Being cured was an absolute violation, but despite the protests, both peaceful and violent, the cure still existed, and was still used. Supposedly, cures were only used in dire circumstances, but everyone Gifted knew better. They read stories in the news and saw footage on television, saw great power being wielded irresponsibly. This was no surprise. This was common knowledge.

Ethan Pullman knew that going outside on this wonderful June night was risky. But, then again, going out anytime was risky. At least at night, he would have the cover of darkness to protect him while he flew. And, God, did he want to fly. He was stuck inside all day. There was a riot going on, and his parents forbade him and John from leaving the house. It had started downtown, but then it spread as more Gifted got involved, which naturally brought more cops. Shots were fired on both sides. Gifted were cured, police were killed. It was, to say the least, a bloodbath. Life was dangerous in Dale, and the Pullman parents did everything in their power to keep their kids safe.

Ethan knew this, knew that his parents loved him and John more than anything else in the world. Stabs of guilt affected his stomach as he quietly crept down the bunk bed ladder and tiptoed over to his closet, slipping out of his pajamas and pulling on black jeans and a black hoodie that he almost got caught tangled up with his round glasses. He was a ninja, completely invisible. At least, he hoped so. John didn’t even stir, if that was anything significant. Then again, John would stay sleeping even if the house caught fire, and given his Gift, he would be completely fine even as the building crumbled apart. 

Ethan pulled on a pair of black socks �" he didn’t want to wear shoes, they would only weigh him down, and he wanted to be as aerodynamic and as warm as possible �" and opened the bedroom window all the way. He was going through a growth spurt and getting taller every day, but he was able to slip out of the window without too much of a struggle. From the bottom bunk, John muttered something in his sleep and rolled over onto his stomach. Ethan exhaled quietly and closed the window before truly beginning his nighttime flight.

It was exhilarating, being up in the air and looking down over the city. He had been born and raised here in Dale, and despite the political turmoil, Ethan wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. This was his turf, even if the government and the cops didn’t think so. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to think about either of them tonight. This flight was about feeling liberated, not about worrying about being held down by authority. Besides, he was a ninja. Ninjas didn’t have to worry about stuff like this. Right?

Ethan flipped onto his back and drifted lazily out of his neighborhood. He passed the Burger King down the street and considered going in for some fries, but he realized he didn’t have any cash on him. Food would have to wait, then. Maybe he would go with John in the afternoon, assuming that riot thing didn’t continue. They were on summer break until mid-August, free for two and a half months from Harrow’s Academy for the Gifted. Unsurprisingly, Dale was still into the whole segregated school idea. Ethan honestly didn’t mind it. Harrow’s was a pretty awesome place �" maybe not as cool as someplace like Hogwarts or Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, but definitely up there. He had been going there since the third grade when his and John’s powers really began manifesting and it was too dangerous to keep attending regular old public school. Harrow’s had taken them in without question, and there they learned how to live with their Gifts. They also learned stuff like math and science, just like other kids, but Physics class was definitely more interesting when you had classmates who could manipulate gravity, electricity, and even matter itself. Definitely cooler than non-Gifted school for sure.

Still, school was school, and it was nice to be out for the summer. Freshman year had been a time, and it felt good to have the first quarter of high school over and done with. Ethan had only been on break for about a week, and he wasn’t missing classes or friends at all yet. To be honest, he didn’t have many friends, which was something he was mostly okay with. It would be nice to be like John, athletic and popular, but Ethan didn’t like spending time thinking of himself as a nerdy loser. One of these days, he would be in space, and nobody who had been in space could ever be called a loser. Of course, Ethan wasn’t even sure if he would make it, but he could dream. The future was unwritten, and anything could happen. People were fighting for Gifted rights every day, and maybe some changes would start being executed in Ethan’s lifetime. Maybe he would see the inside of a spaceship, even the inside of the International Space Station. Maybe he would even be the first-ever Gifted astronaut. Now that would be epic.

Ethan floated past the Burger King, fantasizing about the interviews he would have to participate in as the world’s first Gifted person on the moon, or on Mars, or wherever NASA sent him. Gifted kids everywhere would look up to him, just like he looked up to guys like Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, even though they were long dead. They had started something, and one day, Ethan Pullman would start something, too.

He did a few loop-de-loops in the air, suddenly filled with excitement. Ethan Pullman, astronaut! He picked up speed as he continued on his way, not really knowing where to go, just flying for the sake of it. He flew over Harrow’s, grinning as he approached the familiar iron gates that every student passed through. Those gates looked like something out of a horror movie, maybe the gates to Castle Dracula or whatever, but to Ethan, they were part of a routine he knew well. The non-Gifted referred to Harrow’s as ‘the school on the hill,’ and they usually mentioned it in hushed whispers, as if even referring to it by a nickname would get them cursed. Ethan found this ridiculous. Harrow’s was just like any other school at the end of the day. If the non-Gifted wanted to make school weird, then they could go right ahead. It was funny to mock their fear of the place, to cast exaggerated furtive glances around and make up stories about what happened at Harrow’s Academy, the gorier the better.

Ethan flew past Harrow’s and around the main city, its shops and restaurants and roads. Neon lights declared places open or closed, and even on the roads which were far from busy, the traffic lights kept order. Ethan saw his favorite sandwich place was closed, and the comic book store a few buildings down was also closed, because nobody would be craving an issue of the Fantastic Four at one in the morning. The city seen from above this early in the morning was, to Ethan, the best way to see it. There wasn’t any worry about being caught, being called out for being Gifted. He felt a bit like Peter Pan from the Disney cartoon he saw when he was like five, flying over London on his way to Never-Land. Ethan wasn’t really into that sort of childish fantasy stuff, but that was the best connection he could make at the time.

He wasn’t sure how much time he spent up in the air, but after a while, he thought it would be a good idea to get back home. He could spend all day up here, but all good things must end eventually. Plus, if something happened and John did wake up to find that his twin was gone, Ethan would be totally screwed. He would be grounded, no TV for a month, and worse. His summer vacation would be ruined, all because he was itching to get outside and was too stupid to know when to end the fun. Ethan decided that, even though he was headed back home, he could take the long way back, the scenic route.

That scenic route involved flying over the district park where he and John played soccer when they were younger, before Harrow’s. Those days ended when Ethan levitated for a few seconds in the air when catching a ball as goalie. The non-Gifted parents weren’t exactly sure what they saw, but they were sure that there was something up with that boy Ethan and his brother John, who left a trail of smoke every time he kicked the ball particularly hard. When Ethan, John, and their father were practicing in their backyard, John had actually set one of their soccer balls on fire, and that was the end of that.

Yes, Ethan remembered those days well. He wasn’t into team sports much anymore, preferring to work out on his own, pushing himself to the limit to be NASA-worthy. He would probably go on a run later in the morning before it got too hot. He would come inside after five or six miles, soaked in sweat but feeling good, and then John would ask him what was wrong with him. Ethan would just grin, breathless, and stomp upstairs to take a long, well-deserved shower.

That would not happen. The run would not happen, NASA would not happen, sophomore year at Harrow’s Academy would not happen in August.

Near the district park was the police station. There were always a few cops on duty, just because nighttime was a time when some members of the Gifted community really came alive. Gangs, mostly, and groups of radicals executing some foolish plan that would fall through the majority of the time. All would be cured, all would be rehabilitated in the name of safety and progress.

An officer on patrol waved his flashlight around, more than a little bored. Tonight was hardly eventful, until he saw the black-clad figure up in the air. The officer’s left hand was occupied with his flashlight, and his right hand tightened around his gun, loaded with cure darts especially for situations like this. Those scientists didn’t initially want their creation to be weaponized, or thought of as something meant to punish, but c’est la vie. Life was unfair sometimes, and one day, they would see that it was all for the best.

“Hey, you!” the officer called out to the flying guy. He looked down at the policeman �" he was just a kid, a stupid teenager most likely trying to test the waters, see what he could get away with.

“On the ground, now!” the officer shouted. “I just want to talk.” He did, truly. He didn’t want to use his gun unless it was really serious. He didn’t want a mob of Gifted radicals after him. Their plans may not have been successful, but they were still terrifying.

The kid’s eyes widened, and he took off, flying at an incredible speed. The officer got into his car, parked nearby, and sped after the boy. It was hard work finding him again; he clearly knew this city well. The best plan the officer had would be to get him in an open area, like the district park. He called for backup from guys he knew had his same shift. The officer didn’t know why he was putting so much attention on one dumb kid. In all likelihood, the boy got spooked and was headed for home, but still, what if he wasn’t? What if he was part of one of those radical gangs and was scoping out the territory? There were too many unknown variables here, and when it came to the Gifted, it was best to assume they were dangerous until there was proof that they weren’t. That was what he had learned in training, anyway. The officer still thought of himself as something of a rookie. He hadn’t been on the job particularly long, only a few months, and he still felt unsure of himself at times. The last thing he wanted to do was let a Gifted kid go who could be a serious threat.

As soon as Ethan saw the cop, he booked it. He sped down alleys, hidden side streets, anywhere that a cop car couldn’t go in order to get home. His heart was about ready to beat right out of his chest, and sweat poured down his torso. His hair was matted to his head, and his glasses kept slipping down his nose. This was not what he expected from the night, and he promised himself that he wouldn’t tell John or his parents about this. He screwed up, and he knew it. Now was not the time to reflect on poor decision-making, however. Now was the time to get home, and fast.

Despite all of his training, Ethan eventually tired. He couldn’t go forever, and he slowed while flying over an elementary school playground not far from his neighborhood. He floated in the air, taking a short rest, trying to regain his breath, but that proved to be a bad call. He saw the police cars, with their neon red and blue flashing lights, stopped in the school’s parking lot. Ethan had two choices. He could fly the other way and try to confuse them, or he could try to fly high above them and their guns, which would get him home faster. The thought of more time up in the air exhausted him, despite his initial excitement to go out and about. Ethan decided to chance it.

“Hey, kid!” the first officer called. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Going home,” Ethan said. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, Officers.” He spoke as calmly and politely as he could, even though he was beyond petrified. He remembered the lessons his parents had given him from a young age about how to speak to authority figures. These people would only be dangerous if he acted dangerous.

“Yeah?” another officer asked. “Home, you say?”

“Yes, sir,” Ethan replied.

“Do your parents know that you’re out this late?” the first officer asked.

“No, sir,” Ethan said. “And I won’t do it again, sir, I promise.”

“Do you think we can trust him?” the first officer asked the second.

 “These Gifted are all the same,” the second responded. “Dangerous liars, the lot of them.” He cocked his gun.

“Oh, God, please no,” Ethan gasped. “I swear to you, I’m not violent, I’m not dangerous, I’m just a fifteen-year-old kid and I want to go home…”

“I think he’s telling the truth,” the first officer said.

“Trust me, man, you see enough of these Gifted and you’ll get to know what they’re really like,” the second one said. “He says he’s going home. Yeah, right. Maybe home to a gang, or home to parents preparing to continue the riot we had to deal with today. You can’t trust these freaks, and the sooner you learn that, the better. The best way to deal is to fix them up, make them fit for civilized society. Watch and learn.”

The officer fired. Ethan tried to dodge, but he was two seconds too late. The cure dart pierced his hoodie and hit him right in the spine. An unbelievable pain came over Ethan, and his legs gave. In fact, his whole body gave. His innate ability to fly suddenly left him, and he fell, crashing on the ground in a thoroughly undignified manner. Ethan, wincing, tried to stand, but his legs… they weren’t working. He couldn’t feel them at all, couldn’t stand on them. He could move his upper body, arms, and neck just fine, although he felt bruised all over.

The police officers approached Ethan, picked him up together and lifted him into the second officer’s car. He would be taken first to a hospital, then to a rehabilitation center. His parents would be notified, as soon as they got identification information. Ethan Pullman would never walk again. More importantly, he would never fly again.

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Eilis]

Hi, Hayley. Popping by for a visit to check out your work. I’ve taken a quick browse of this, but want to allow myself more time to absorb it and leave a meaningful comment when I have a chunk of time. On first read, I’m definitely interested. I’ll return soon and see what real ideas I can contribute.