Axon

Chapter 1

"Before embarking on a journey of revenge, dig two graves."

― Confucius

  

Chapter 1

St. Mathews Hospital and Emergency Care Center

Patient Gomez - Report Statement #1

Dr. Alexander E. Dantes PhD

May 12th 2014

 

According to the police report, patient Daniel Gomez acquired his injuries in a catastrophic car accident yesterday evening at 8:15pm. Based on our diagnosis, Gomez suffers from severe brain and spinal cord injuries. I have him under a ventilator as his lungs have lost all normal function. Scans show multiple contusions along the canal of his vertebrae. The left side of Gomez's brain suffers from Diffuse Axonal Injury. Gomez's axons, the parts of his nerve cells that allow neurons to send messages and impulses, are permanently damaged. This was likely caused by the extreme rotational forces of the car accident forcing his brain to shake within his skull. 90% of all paralysis patients remain in a coma, and the 10% that survive are perpetually impaired. Overall, the staff, surgeons and I all agree on one thing: Daniel Gomez will be quadriplegic for the rest of his life.

 

 It is kind of funny that seven months ago, I had never expected to pee on my own ever again.

 Okay yes, it wasn't really funny then. Not when it was all: "Gomez, you'll remain unable able to move another muscle in you body. Your gonna have to pee in plastic bags. And also likely be a virgin...forever." At the time that type of stuff made me re-think my life and place in the universe. It made me recognize how much control is an illusion. It was really overall depressing.. Not a surprising reaction I suppose, especially since I'm only eighteen. That's when you're supposed to be most free! Not trapped in your own body. But still, tonight, coming off the exhilaration of beating up those five Crescent Moon thugs, I must admit, that thought is hella funny now.

 Then again, getting payback always makes me feel this way.

 Anyway, as fun as that fight was, I'm ready to go home. I glance both ways along the darkened alleyway that I inhabit. Both ends of the street appear somewhat ominous. Four of the thugs are still laying comfortably on the hard asphalt. They should all wake up with good-sized lumps all over their body. Finally I fixate my eyes on a fire escape mounting about ten feet up on the building in front of me. That's my ticket.

            I take three strides towards the building, augmenting my speed with each step by sending motor messages faster and faster along my nervous system. On my third step, I send a tremendous neural electric impulse from the axons in my brain, along my spinal cord's synapses and down the dendrites in my legs. My body vibrates with action potential finally sending the impulse smashing into the ground beneath my feet with a shattering crack.

 My impulse embeds a magenta crater crackling with energy into the concrete where I took off. But I pay it zero attention. Rather I soar through the air, catapulted by my impulse's explosion. Gliding in a graceful arc, peaking twenty feet in the air. I swing my arms and legs freely, letting out a whelp of joy. I further heighten my touch sensations and shiver as frigid wind blows against my face, making my eyes water. There's nothing better than the sensation of flying that comes from a good impulse jump. Suddenly, the fire escape of the building before me looms closer.

 I speed up my optical nerve perception and the world slows. Reaching out, I grab the rusty railing of the fire escape with both hands. I dexterously swing my body over the railing, still maintaining momentum, and then land lightly on the hard steel gratings of the third story of this fire escape. I let out a puff of air. I had been holding my breath.

 I race up the remaining two stories and begin to dash along the top of the building. This is my typical mode of travel and I've kinda gotten the hang of it now: I impulse jump onto a building and keep jumping from building to building, using my enhanced senses to keep my footing. It's like the parkour you always see people doing on YouTube or video games and stuff. Except with incredibly powerful blasts of neural electric energy propelling me fifty feet in the air. So pretty much it's awesome.

 I wish I could tell someone about all these awesome powers, besides you of course, but alas, I've been relatively friendless recently. I know, depressing right? Something about relentlessly pursuing revenge doesn't leave much room for building fun friendships. For instance I haven't talked to any of my old high school friends in almost a year now. Sometimes I wonder how they're doing. Anyway, I've decided it's best to keep knowledge of my powers secret. Y'know, I have heard a few things about the NSA and such. For now I am perfectly cool with not being a Guinea pig for the feds. And also, my hunting of gang criminals is not exactly a legal activity per se.

 All these thoughts race across head while I zip along the rooftops of Sterling City. In a dexterous dance of impulse jumps, enhanced neural movements and good old parkour, I skillfully make my way home to my stepmom. 

 I've hunted Crescent Moon thugs for weeks now, but today was the first time one really cracked and gave me information I need. Still, I do hate how I started to lose control at the end of interrogation him though. Staring at that thug's ugly and all too familiar face reminds of the last time I saw him: the moment Father died.

 I stumble and lose my momentum for a second just thinking about it. I can feel one of those freakin' fits rising again. I fight it down and think about anything but the incident. After a couple seconds it goes away and I resume my journey.

 I live right outside the city with my stepmom right now.

 I reach the cul-de-sac at the end of our road and pause before our house. It is not a majestic mansion by any stretch of the imagination, but to me it might as well be. Compared to the small one floor apartment my family shared with Abuelo and Abuela, this beaten-down townhouse, with it's ragged window shutters and peeling painted wood walls, is incredible. Anyway, I circle our townhouse, looking to see if the light in Nyra's room is on. The third floor curtains are shut, so I cannot tell. I hope she is working a late shift tonight. Or if I am lucky she may even be fast asleep. Probably just wishful thinking though.

 I circle around the back of our house and silently slip over the brown fence enclosing our small backyard. The grass squelches beneath my feet as I hit the ground and stay low, dashing across wet grass towards our back screen door.