Losing Control

As Isaac clung to the tree, he never stopped thinking. He refused to allow himself to be controlled by his fear. He had to think. Surely these men wanted him for some reason. Could they have known? Known what he was capable of? If so, why wait until now?

A slurring voice boomed over the front yard. "Hey wha are... what are you... hey!" He would know that voice anywhere; that was his father.

"9-20!" one of the men called. There was the sound of a struggle, and then it was only too plain to see his father, unconscious, being dragged by two of the men in suits towards a limo. The windows were blacked out completely, and it looked like it could have easily seated 12 plus the driver.

"What are you waiting for!" the man with the dreadlocks yelled. "I said torch the place!"

"Yes sir!" responded 7 or so individuals simultaneously. The men ran up to the trunk of the car as the guy with dreadlocks looked back at him again. He must have seen me climb up here. Isaac thought with a grimace. But then why isn't he saying anything? He felt the tinge of heat from his core, but he suppressed it.

As the men came back, they were all carrying weapons. Three guys had flame throwers, and all the rest had silver weapons Isaac couldn't identify. They were long with a very fat barrel, but that was all he could see from this distance.

And even now, as he watched the men take aim at his front door with the flame throwers, he was still thinking. Not that it was doing him any good. "Three!" the man with the dreadlocks called. "Two!" The men with the flame throws threw a switch on their backpacks filled with fuel. "One!" Isaac held his breath. "Fire!"

In a flash of red and orange, the men spread the flames all over the front of his house. Isaac felt the heat even from this distance, and could see the smirk on the dreadlock man's face. It felt like it was getting hotter by the moment. And as he watched it, all he wanted to do was to attack them, kill them, burn them. And yet, he felt so... so... tired.

"There! In the tree!" one of the men called. How had he been seen!?

But as he looked around him, he nearly fell from his branch. The tree had been set on fire. He was on fire. His hands started shaking minutely. I wasn't pushing the fire down, and it came out. I let it out! I have to stop it now, or else -

His train of thought slipped. For a second he couldn't remember what had been happening, and even then he felt like he was dreaming. And, why was he out of the tree? And why were those men in suits looking at him like that? Like they were afraid of him?

Another slip. But now it was just dark. Now he knew he was dreaming. Images and sounds splashed around like a kindergartener's finger painting; no pattern, no solid image of any kind.

It was hot. Boiling. And he was so tired. He started trying to force the shapes and sounds splashing around to make sense, but it just made his head hurt. So he let the images whirl around, paying little attention to them. I needed a nice nap anyway. he sighs.

Then one of the swirling images started solidifying. Different colors piled on top of each other and grew. It was a man. I know him from somewhere. Isaac thought groggily.

The man grinned. It was evil somehow. A little smug, even conceited. But most of all was triumph. The man looked at Isaac as a master chef might have looked at a prize winning dish, or an artist their finest painting yet. He started concentrating, trying to figure out who this man was, when it disappeared leaving him alone with the stark blackness.

The End

13 comments about this story Feed