WITHDRAWAL PART III

Prince feels like he's dying, and he makes an unpleasant choice to save his and his friends lives.

III. PRINCE

“Come on, Backpack. Give me my book.” I begged. But it was no use. Backpack had gotten rude and moody on me.

“Master BorealisAustralis.” Mrs. Rosethorne called. “Is there something you would like to share?”

Not out loud, I thought. “No, ma’am.” I shook Backpack before throwing it to the ground. “Just having some trouble.”

“Would you and your backpack like to take this conversation outside?”

Oh, look she has a sense of humor. Who would’ve guessed? I thought as the classroom started chuckling. It was nothing new really. Mrs. Rosethorne embarrassing me is actually a pretty common thing. Still, I can’t help but cringe if people saw me losing a fight with my backpack.

I must have daggers in my eyes, because my brother asked to take me outside to get me and Backpack sorted out. She waved us on as if she were saying, go on.

“Rough time?” Nathan asked the minute he closed the door.

I slammed Backpack to the ground. Round two was about to begin. “I am going to kill this thing.”

“I meant the withdrawal symptoms.”

“Huh?” I had been scratching myself without realizing it. My forearms were slick with blood. “Yeah, that is not good.”

Nathan picked up Backpack and pressed his hand on top of it. For some reason, the top sprung open. Yeah, he’ll listen to him, but not its maker. That makes sense.

My brother handed me all my books and a number two pencil with a dull tip. I’d honestly started thinking about switching to pens. “Here. I think you should carry your stuff for the rest of the day.”

My arms groaned as they bore the weight. I was not going to enjoy this. “Thanks.”

The withdrawal symptoms were killing me. It felt like each of my organs were shutting down one by one. They probably were. If I had known about them sooner, I would’ve made some kind of solar radiation patch or something. It’s too late for that now. I could barely think much less work miracles anymore.

I could hear ringing in my ears and practically the blood pulsing through my temples. I felt that if I didn’t get help in time, I might actually die.

It was early morning the next day when my dad jostled me. The sad thing was I didn’t have the strength to move. Every part of me itched and ached. I thought I must’ve died last night and been sent straight to Tartarus. Except my dad’s soothing words reminded me that I was still on this earth. A mixture of relief and sadness permeated my stomach.

“Son, you’re gonna make it?” Dad asked me.

My voice was soft and ragged. “No.”

“Alright.” Like it was the most casual thing. “I’ll have Dr. Norman come have a look at ‘cha.”

The time since my dad left felt like hours ago. In truth, it was like thirty minutes, but it didn’t stop that I felt like I was slowly being taken away by death…and skin crawling. Literally it felt like ants were storm trooping across my skin. And then they were actually storm trooping across my epidermis. Big, fiery red ants with boosters filled with liquid sun wearing combat boots and chanting “hut-two, hut-two” until they took their positions on every part of my body.

“Don’t worry,” They chattered as they raise their booster-pincers. “We’ll make it all better.”

I felt a sharp prick on my side, and my sense started returning. The doctor and my father looked concerned as the needle was slowly being pulled out of my side.

“Sorry.” Norman told me. “But you were getting delirious.”

“Something about talking ants and rude file cabinets?” Dad raised an eyebrow.

“Am I going to survive?” I asked, my eyes toward the doctor.

“Of course.” His words carried doubt.

“Is there anyway to get rid of the symptoms?”

“I’m afraid the only possible way to get rid of these symptoms is from the same people who gave them to you. We don’t have the means to get the solar radiation to pass through your system painlessly. You’re in for a rough one, son.”

“Yeah, and I doubt Eco-corp will be willing to help.” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’.”

Dr. Norman stuffed his needle into his bag and left with my father. I didn’t have a good feeling about what I was about to do, but I knew I didn’t have much choice.

“Backpack come here.” I called.

The rude machine looked like it was contemplating my order like it may decide to listen to me today. I forced my will into making it come, and by some miracle it crawled over to me.

“Thatta boy.” I made what I assumed was a creepy smile. I fished out the card I remembered waking up with the day I got my psionics out of my drawer and asked Backpack to dial the number.

I had blacked out for sometime. I actually thought I wasn’t going to wake up again, but my eyes told me that now wasn’t one of those times. They cracked open, and scanned the laboratory all around me.

“Back here again, huh?” My voice was like paper. It took me a second to notice a little angry face.

“I bet your wondering why I haven’t killed you, yet?” Drift asked in an attempt to get me to break, but her voice was like background noise to me.

I took in my surroundings. Backpack was in a cage near by, I myself was in some kind of glass container as if what I had was contagious, beakers, computers, and machine parts lying all over the place. I wondered if they were making a new cyborg or something.

“Are you even listening to me?” Drift interrupted my thoughts.

“Where’re my friends? You did remember to pick them up, right?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t get me started on that! Just because Boreas is his grandfather, he thinks he can give me orders. Yes, boy. I did remember to pick them up. They are in different rooms.”

“Oh, that’s right. Why didn’t you kill us?”

“Hmph. You have the old man to thank for that. He really believes you would come around one day. ‘Don’t lose your heads over a few broken toys’, he says. ‘The boy is just going through a phase.’”

“I’m sensing some hostility in voice. You know my therapist told me it’s not good to keep all that stuff in. It’s only gonna give you an ulcer.”

“Well, he’s a good man.” She strolled over to her desk and pulled out a small needle. “But I’m not there yet.”

“That’s not gonna hurt, is it?”

“I promised I would help.” She gripped my wrist. “But I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

The needle didn’t hurt as much as she led me to believe, but I still couldn’t stop my heart from wanting to crawl out of my chest.

After a few minutes, the symptoms started to fade. I could actually start to think again.

“Hey, what’s that stuff you just put inside me?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s just liquid sunlight.” She replied offhandedly. “You’ll need small doses until your off it.”

“But--”

“Don’t worry. It won’t affect you the same as the Cerebral Enhancer. Not until we work out the final batch.”

“What?”

“Never you mind.”

“Okay, then answer me this. How did you get past my family? I doubt my dad and brother would just let you waltz in and take me.”

“You’re asking this now?”

I waited for the answer.

“A few of our elite stealth bots invaded your apartment and sedated everyone by releasing gas through the vents.”

“They are not gonna be happy when they get up.”

“Which is why I need to get you outta here before they come knocking at our doorstep.”

“There’s a change of plans.” A haunting, familiar voice said.

Grandpa was standing at the door, and he did not look happy.

He glowered at me. “You’ll be staying here from now on.”

I tried to sit up, but my neck wasn’t having it.

“But, sir.” Drift tried to argue, but my grandfather silenced her with a stare.

“I have my reasons. I am led to believe my grandson might cause trouble for us very soon.”

Author's Note

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