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Prolouge- Bridger

Prolouge- 

Bridger

  He groaned in pain, head throbbing. The past few hours were a blur to him. 

Where am I? A frenzy of broken thoughts swam through Bridger’s mind. 

  He begin to recover his senses, his mind like one big bruise. Bridger inhaled, nearly choking. He tried to sit up, but something had him strapped down to a bench. 

  Thump! He felt himself being jolted upwards, and realized he was in a car. Bridger struggled to pull his eyes open, blinking against the harsh light that was being shined into his sensitive eyes. 

  “Watch it! The doc will have our heads on a plate if the kid gets there covered in bruises!” A voice barked harshly someone in the front of the van. 

  “Not much use in that. Little mister lightning bolt already fried the poor sucker.” Another voice replied with a slight note of annoyance.

   Bridger, now very intrigued and confused as to his situation, looked as much around as he could. He was in the back of some kind of spacious van, with a solid iron mesh seperating the area he was strapped down from the driver’s seat and passenger seat. Both were occupied, each by large burly men wearing expensive black suits and earpieces. No symbols on their clothing identified anything he knew. As far as he could tell, he was strapped to a long metal bench in the back of the van, his arms, legs, chest, and head all secured with metal bands. A bright white light was being shined into his eyes, and a few pieces of medical equipment were hooked up to him. There were no windows.

  “Ugggh,” Bridger let out a quiet moan, memories now beginning to flood his brain.

  He didn’t know how he did it. One second, the dog was running towards his three year old sister. He braced himself for the certain outcome, knowing he was too far away to prevent the dog from attacking Ella. He could see the dog’s owner, now frantically shouting the rabid animal’s name in an attempt to stop it. He screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see what happened next. 

But, instead of hearing a scream from Ella, he heard a muffled thump of a body hitting pavement. He eyes flew open. His shaking hand was facing outwards, strange blue light seeming to emanate from his palm. The dog that was trying to attack Ella was now lying on the pavement twenty feet away, motionless. The dog’s owner, a middle aged woman, had pulled out her phone and was frantically dialing 911. One thought flooded Bridger’s mind.

Run.

He didn’t know why he felt like he had to run, but he knew he had to. Lowering his strangely smoking palm, he grabbed Ella and begun to sprint home. Ella was wailing, both from fear of the dog and confusion as to why she was being pulled home so frantically.

  He stopped only to hoist her onto his shoulders, knowing it would be faster than trying to drag her the whole way home.

Bridger heard the woman behind him, practically screaming into the phone.

“Yes, my dog ran for the girl and the boy just BLASTED it away with his hand!”

“No, I am most certainly NOT hallucinating!”

“Go catch him then! He’s running away!”

“My location?!”

  His feet pounded pavement even faster. He didn’t know how, but he had run the half mile to the park to his house in no time at all. Probably the adrenaline.

  Or whatever had just happened to him made him inhumanly fast.

  He burst through the screen door, not even pausing to take his mud-caked shoes off. He gently put Ella in her crib and ran upstairs to his room. He glanced at the clock, it was only about five. His mom was probably still at book club.

  Bridger caught his reflection in the clock. His brown hair was disheivled, and he looked like hell. 

  But there was something more. One of his normally brown eyes was blue, the same hue as the smoke that came from his palm after... whatever that was.

  He snapped out his reverie, strange urgency setting in where the panic had been before.

 Throwing thew door open to his room Bridger grabbed his backpack and threw random clothes into it. Whatever had just happened, he was NOT going to stick around for what might come next. Looking out his window, he saw an unmarked large black van veer around his street corner at breakneck speed. Two large men in suits climbed out, one speaking into a radio. Tagging behind them was a boy, wearing a perfectly creased dress suit and large black sunglasses although it was almost dark. They came up to his door warily, one of the suited men knocking on it. He felt like he could feel each blow on the door in his chest, strong as his heartbeat.

  Ella began to wail. No time now. He had to hide.

The closet! He threw it open, tugging the painted white door closed. Bridger tried to slow his frantic breathing, knowing it would get him caught by whoever it was downstairs. He didn’t know why he felt this urge to not be discovered, but it was strong and he decided to listen to it. He was obviosly in some kind of trouble for doing what he did to that dog. He certainly hoped those men downstairs hadn’t done anything to Ella. 

 Boom! Bridger heard the door being kicked off its hinges. No one had opened the door, so they decided to do it themselves.

  “He probably decided to hide, but we’ll find him. Those Telekinetic’s can never hide for long. The mutant hormone is probably going crazy in him right now. Just look for the glow.” The voice was too high for either of the suited men. Bridger supposed that it was the odd boy with sunglasses. And what did what he was saying mean? Telekinetic? Mutant hormone? Glow?

  “All clear downstairs, Nick.” One of the men.

  “For last time, no nicknames! It’s Nikola, get it!?” The kid was yelling at the thug. Bridger decided he was more afraid of him than the men.

  Footsteps began to pound the stairs he stood just minutes ago. Doors banged open along the hallway, looking for him. 

  “Come out kid! We just want to help!” The boy again. Then, quieter, “Search the hall.” 

  Bridger’s heart pounded. It was only a few seconds until they discovered his room. He frantically tried to calm his breathing. 

  “Clear here!” Coming from the guest room.

  “Here too!” From his mom’s room.

   The next room was his. He heard footsteps coming down the hall. Closer and closer each second.

  “Bridger. This must be the kid’s room.” One man said to the other two.

  “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” The boy was right outside his door.

Creak! He pushed it open, ushering the other two in. They immediatly began rifling through his possesions. Bridger tried not to cry. He looked trough the slats of wood, trying to push himself into a corner. Too late, he realized his right eye was still a glowing blue, though dimming every minute. When he looked out, he shined a blue light onto the floor.

  The boy with sunglasses noticed it and waved over the men, silently gesturing. Bridger covered his eye, seeing too late it just gave them another clue as to where he was. 

  The door squealed open with a creak, Bridger tried to cram himself further in a corner. Looking up, he nearly screamed in fear. 

  The boy had taken his sunglasses off, and his eyes were an electric yellow. He smiled eviley, displaying perfect white teeth.

  “Hello Bridger. Nighty-night!” He extended his hand towards him, and he smelled something burning.

  And then everything went black.