Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga Read online

  “I’m going to go over to the park for a bit.”

  “Okay.”

  As Alex stepped outside, a heavy breeze picked up and sent a chill down his spine, tickling his sunburn. He took a moment to rub his freshly buzzed head and slipped on a red Bonaparte Indians baseball cap. To his left, on a bench in front of the grocery store, sat an old man wearing a blue windbreaker in spite of the summer heat. He looked at Alex and said in a toothless voice, “Wind smells like rain.”

  “Uh huh,” Alex replied automatically, not really listening as he watched Crystal.

  “Could be a wet Fourth again this year.”

  “Yeah. Could be.”

  Crystal was laughing, and Alex couldn’t help but smile. She looked up, and their eyes met. Alex stiffened as his heart leapt in his chest.

  This was it; now or never. His smile faded, however, as a red Ford pickup turned into the parking space directly in front of him, blocking his path.

  ::Move.::

  Alex deftly sidestepped to the right as the truck jumped the curb and rocketed past him. The gust of wind left in the truck’s wake blew the hat from his head. The old timer wailed in terror and dove out of the way just before the truck crushed the bench and crashed through the grocery store window in a cacophony of exploding mortar and tinkling glass.

  As the truck lurched to a halt, the driver immediately jumped out and ran to Alex’s side. “Are you all right? Oh my God, I don’t know what — My brakes — Are you okay?”

  Alex stared at the truck and nodded, his eyes wide and glassy.

  “Alex!”

  He turned to see Crystal running across the street, tugging her sister behind her. She ran up onto the sidewalk beside him. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

  Alex nodded, his mouth suddenly very dry.

  “Oh my God,” Crystal repeated, her breathing labored from the running. “You could have been crushed!”

  “Alex!”

  The teens turned to see Mr. Walker and Delmar exiting the barbershop, the latter still gripping a comb and scissors in his trembling hands. Despite his concern, Alan looked ridiculous with the black barber’s apron still tied around his neck. Alan wrapped his son in his arms. “Alex! Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, Pop. Honest.”

  Alan whirled on the driver of the truck and slammed him into the side of the wrecked pickup. “You idiot! You could have killed my boy!”

  “I’m sorry! I—” the driver tried to explain.

  “Not yet, you’re not.” Alan raised his fist to punch the driver.

  “Pop, it wasn’t his fault,” said Alex. “His brakes—”

  But Alan wasn’t listening. The driver of the pickup closed his eyes and prepared for the strike.

  Alex stepped forward. “Dad, no!”

  Alan’s fist surged toward the driver’s nose, but stopped suddenly in mid-air. Despite his efforts, it simply would not move another inch, backward or forward. Alan turned to look at his son, who was glaring at the suspended fist with an iron stare.

  Crystal slipped her hand into Alex’s and squeezed. Startled, Alex looked down at her hand and his anger subsided. The invisible hold on Alan’s fist faded and he stumbled forward as his balance shifted.

  The driver fell to his knees and sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No.” Alan helped the man to his feet. “I’m sorry. There was nothing you could have done.”

  The distant wail of a police siren grew as a crowd began to gather. News travels fast in small towns.

  “Crystal! Megan!” cried Mrs. Hammond as she exited the demolished grocery store and ran to her two daughters.

  She dropped her bags and fussed over them, checking them for cuts and bruises as if they had been in danger instead of Alex. After finally hearing the full story from various members of the growing crowd — most of the accounts over-dramatized by those who hadn’t seen it — Crystal’s mother ushered the girls away toward her car.

  Crystal reluctantly turned to follow her mother and sister. “Bye, Alex.”

  Alex raised his hand in a half wave. “Bye.”

  He watched her go and cursed under his breath. His big chance to finally say something — anything — to her, and he blew it!

  ::Go after her, you idiot!::

  Alex steeled his resolve and jogged after her. “Crystal!”

  Crystal turned as he came skidding to a halt beside her. Before he could stop himself, the words seemed to explode out of him, “Wannawatchthefireworkswithmetomorrownight?”

  Crystal blinked. “Sorry?”

  “I mean…” Alex cleared his throat. “Would you like to come watch the fireworks with me tomorrow night?”

  Crystal nodded. “Okay!”

  “Really?” Alex gawked, then shook his head. “I mean, great! Umm, well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then?”

  Crystal giggled. “I guess so.”

  “Crystal,” called Mrs. Hammond from the car. “Let’s go!”

  “I’ve gotta go,” Crystal said. She turned and gave him a final wave. “Bye, Alex.”

  “Bye.”

  He watched the car until it disappeared down a side street.

  Alex punched the air triumphantly. “Yes!”

  ::There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?::

  “No,” said Alex. “That wasn’t too bad at—”

  Alex turned and looked around him, trying to find the source of the question, but there was no one within fifty feet of him. He shrugged and walked back to the barber shop.

  Chapter Seven

  July 4th

  Alex stared at his reflection in the mirror. His buzzed head reminded him of the fuzz on a peach… a very red peach. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now it looked ridiculous. He pulled on his baseball cap and tugged it low over his eyes. Instant fix.

  “Alex,” his mother called from the kitchen, “come on. Your father wants to get there early and pick a good spot.”

  “For a change!” Alan added.

  “Coming, Mom.”

  As he entered the kitchen, his mother shook her head. “Honestly, Alex, I don’t know what’s gotten into you. You must have tried on ten shirts.”

  “Eight,” Alex muttered as he collected his folding chair from the hall closet.

  “Just who are you trying to impress?”

  “Alex has a date with the Hammond girl,” said Alan as he passed through the room holding a picnic basket, a folded blanket, and a case of beer. “Can you open the door for me, Janny?”

  Janice did her best impression of the Cheshire Cat. “Crystal Hammond?”

  “Mom.” Alex felt his ears suddenly growing very hot. “It’s no big deal. We’re just watching the fireworks together.”

  “Honey,” said Alan. “The door, please.”

  Janice adjusted Alex’s cap. “Well, I think you two would make a cute couple.”

  “Earth to Janice!”

  “Mom,” Alex whined.

  “This door isn’t going to open itself.” Alan tapped it with his toe.

  Alex whirled toward the door. “I’ll get it!”

  With a soft click, the door slowly swung open on its own. Alex’s eyes widened.

  “Huh,” said Alan. “Never mind.”

  Alex shook his head. Surely he hadn’t just opened the door just by thinking about it, had he? No, that was crazy. He followed his father outside, hands clamped over his ears to block out his mother’s constant ribbing about Crystal.

  “It’s not a date!”

  *****

  The Bonaparte city park sat on the northern bank of the Des Moines River. Every year, hundreds of people crammed themselves onto the grass, playground equipment, and even the bridge crossing to the south bank to watch the fireworks. There had been no display the year before due to the incessant rains, and this unfortunate fact bolstered this year’s attendance.

  The ground was already covered with blankets and folding chairs when the Walkers arrived. As his parents waded through the sea
of people, Alex craned his neck and stood on tiptoe, searching for any sign of Crystal’s family. He was about to give up and join his parents when he felt a light tap on his left shoulder. He looked but saw no one there. When he heard the soft feminine giggle, he turned to his right and saw Crystal smiling at him.

  “Hi!”

  “H-hi,” Alex stammered.

  “Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the back of the park. “I saved us a spot by the big tree.”

  “Oooohhh,” said a scathing voice behind them. “How womantic!”

  The teens turned to see the local bully Baxter Franklin, the only eighth grader in the state of Iowa with a driver’s license, and three of his high school cronies sitting on a wooden fence. Baxter hopped down from his perch and made sloppy kissing noises at them.

  ::Grow up, jerkoff.::

  “Yeah,” said Alex. “Grow up.”

  Baxter blinked, confused by the outburst.

  Crystal glowered at the bully. “Let’s go, Alex.”

  Crystal led him to a red blanket spread out underneath an old oak tree.

  Alex looked around nervously. “So, where are your parents sitting?”

  “On the other side of the park.” Crystal winked.

  “Oh.” Alex propped his chair against the tree and sat on the blanket next to Crystal.

  Alex’s eyes darted back and forth from Crystal to the blanket, trying to find the right words, but he knew everything he thought of would make him sound like a gibbering idiot. Finally, to his relief, Crystal broke the ice. “I still can’t get over what happened yesterday.”

  “Yeah, that was pretty bizarre.”

  Crystal hugged her knees. “I had nightmares about it all night. I was afraid to go back to sleep.”

  “Funny,” said Alex. “It really didn’t bother me at all. It just — I don’t know — happened.”

  Crystal laid a hand on top of his. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Alex felt his ears getting warm again. “Yeah.”

  The whistle of an ascending rocket saved Alex from having to come up with something clever to say, and they looked up just in time to see the brilliant red and green explosion of the evening’s opening fireworks. Alex reclined to better watch the display, and his stomach turned a somersault when Crystal did the same, resting her head on his shoulder. He prayed that the deafening booms of the exploding fireworks would be loud enough to drown out the thunderous beating of his heart. After a few moments, he began to relax, letting his hand slowly slip into hers.

  The flowery scent of her hair found his nostrils and he breathed deep. She smelled wonderful. Like… spring.

  Just then, a raindrop splattered right between Alex’s eyes and the words of the old man from the day before echoed in his mind.

  Could be a wet Fourth again this year.

  A deafening thunderclap filled the air. If not for the rain, Alex would have thought it was part of the show, but the drops continued to fall and grow in intensity, sending hundreds of people running for shelter. Alex and Crystal scrambled to cover themselves with the blanket. Once underneath, Crystal began to laugh.

  Her laugh was so infectious that Alex couldn’t help but join in. He laughed so hard that tears streamed down his cheeks. Slowly the laughter faded and, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized Crystal was staring at him. Alex’s heart jumped into his throat when she closed her eyes and slowly inched her face toward his.

  Was this it? Was he finally going to kiss Crystal Hammond?

  ::Go for it, kid.::

  Alex slowly leaned toward Crystal and his heart skipped a beat as his lips gently brushed against hers. For a moment all they did was touch lips, and Alex wondered if there was anything else he should have been doing. Regardless of his lack of experience, it felt wonderful to him. Nothing, he thought, could ever ruin this moment for him.

  ::Give her the tongue!::

  Alex pulled away. “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything.” Crystal leaned in for another kiss.

  ::What did you stop for? Kiss her!::

  ::Except this time don’t do it like a dead fish.::

  ::Oh, leave the kid alone. This is awkward enough without you two helping.::

  “Who said that?” Alex shouted.

  Crystal pulled back. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Alex threw the blanket off and jumped to his feet, looking around for the source of the voices. It was Baxter Franklin and his goons; it had to be. But when he looked around, the park was almost entirely deserted and awash from the torrential downpour. Fat droplets of water dripped from the bill of his cap.

  “Who’s there?” he yelled. “This isn’t funny anymore!”

  “Alex.” Crystal wrapped the blanket around her like a shawl. “What’s the matter?”

  ::Don’t be afraid.::

  Alex cupped his hands over his ears. “Stop it! Leave me alone!”

  Crystal cringed. “Alex, you’re scaring me.”

  ::Calm down, kid. We’re only here to help you.::

  The voices kept coming, and nothing Alex did could block them out. They started to blend together, a cacophonous mishmash of nonsense syllables. He screamed and ran toward town. Crystal called after him, but he could not hear her; the voices in his head drowned out everything else.

  *****

  Alex ran into the alley behind the post office and leaned against the brick wall. His lungs felt like they were on fire, and his head was spinning. He tilted his head back and let the cool rain pelt his sweating face and wash away the waves of nausea. The voices had stopped, and the alley was blissfully quiet… until he heard another unwanted voice.

  “Hey, loser,” Baxter called as he rounded the corner. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t get it up?”

  Alex pointed a warning finger at the bully. “Stay away from me!”

  “Ooooh!” Baxter held up his hands. “Check it out, guys. Little Alex Walker thinks he’s a tough guy all of a sudden.”

  ::Take them out, kid.::

  Alex squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears. “Shut up! Leave me alone!”

  When Alex opened his eyes, Baxter was right on top of him. “What d’ya say, Walker? Should I go show Crystal what a real man can do?”

  ::Shut his mouth.::

  “Shut your mouth!” Alex drove his fist into Baxter’s smirking face.

  Baxter staggered from the blow and his friends gasped at the unexpected display of courage from the younger boy. When Baxter turned his face back to Alex, he spat out a mouthful of blood, along with one of his front teeth. Alex stared at the broken tooth as the rain washed the blood from it in patches.

  ::Good shot, kid!::

  “I told you to shut up,” Alex huffed.

  “You’re dead, Walker!” Baxter howled.

  He grabbed Alex by the front of his shirt and punched him in the stomach. As Alex fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air, a shimmer caught his eye. For a moment, he thought he saw three points of yellow light floating in a nearby puddle.

  Baxter flipped Alex onto his back and punched him in the face. The other boys joined in the beating, taunting and jeering as they kicked him in the ribs and head.

  “Help!” cried Alex in between kicks. “Somebody!”

  “Hey, jerkoff!” said a voice behind them.

  The bullies ceased their assault and turned. An Asian man in his late teens or early twenties with short, untidy black hair stood at the end of the alley. Unlike them, he appeared totally dry, his gray T-shirt and blue jeans looked as if he’d just stepped outside. Baxter’s friends immediately backed away from Alex, but Baxter stood his ground.

  “Why don’t you punks pick on someone your own size?” said the stranger.

  “What?” Baxter took a step toward the new arrival, his chest puffed up. “Like you?”

  “If you think you’ve got the stones.” The man beckoned. “Come get some.”

  Baxter lunged forward with a punch, but
the stranger sidestepped him and knocked him down with a powerful hook kick to his back. As the bully struck the ground, the stranger turned to the other three boys.

  “Anybody else want a piece?”

  One of the boys slapped his companions on the back. “C’mon, we can take him. He can’t beat all of us.”

  The stranger smiled. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  The three youths ran forward, and the stranger adopted a low fighting stance. As the first boy approached, the man dropped and took the boy’s legs out from under him with a low wheel kick. With lightning-fast speed he leaped into the air over the second boy’s head and as the boy passed underneath him lashed out with his legs, striking him in the back with his feet. On the way down, the stranger grabbed the third boy’s shoulders and let the momentum of the fall carry them both to the ground. When the stranger’s back touched the ground, he thrust his foot into the boy’s abdomen and threw him over his head. The bully screamed as he landed face-first in a cluster of trashcans. Greasy, rancid garbage cascaded over him.

  Alex clutched his head, feeling warm blood seeping through his fingers. The stranger moved so fast, he seemed a blur to Alex’s cloudy eyes. A sudden movement behind the man caught Alex’s eye. In the dim light, he could just make out the glint of a small blade as Baxter pulled a pocketknife from his jeans.

  “Mister, look out!”

  The stranger turned, and Baxter snarled as he plunged the blade into the man’s abdomen. He looked down at the blade and then up to the bully’s sneering face. With calm, slow motions, he wrapped his fingers around the hand holding the knife and drew it out of the wound. Baxter’s eyes grew wide as the blade came out clean of blood, coated instead with a glowing yellow substance.

  The man placed his thumb against the flat side of the blade and snapped it in two. As the broken blade clattered to the ground, Baxter urinated down his leg.

  The stranger leaned in close to the bully’s ear and whispered, “This is the part where you run away, calling for your mommy.”

  “Mommy!” Baxter squealed as he scrambled to get away from the stranger, slipping on the wet pavement.

  One by one, the other boys followed suit and joined their leader in the retreat. Once they were alone, the stranger walked over to where Alex sat against the wall, his eyes wide and transfixed on his rescuer. A light haze, like steam, rose from where the raindrops touched the man’s skin.