Awakened: The Story of Maxwell Cain

Chapter 1

                                Awakened
                      The Story of Maxwell Cain

                                                                

                       The Maxwell Cain Series
                           Book 1:  Awakened
                       Book 2:  The Wraithgillien
 

                                   Chapter 1

                                 The Beginning

        Smoldering bodies lay everywhere.  He left a smoking path of destruction behind him and heard the screams of his victims still dying around the battlefield.  The smell of blood and death was putrid in the air, nearly choking some of his weaker men while his army was quickly advancing upon the enemy’s bunker.
        “These stubborn fools don’t realize they have lost,” Max whispered to himself, the anticipation quickening his step.
        “The enemy has fortified itself in the bunker, sir!  It appears they intend to make their final stand here.” Max recognized the voice of his best Lieutenant next to him.  His name was Shota, and he had been by Max’s side for every battle, savoring each moment as much as his commander.
        A sly grin crept across Max’s face as he replied.
        “Then I shall indeed make it their final stand.”
        Max slowly raised his arm, extending it toward the bunker.  From beneath, he could see the terrified eyes peering out of the bulletproof windows staring at him.  He heard the wails of grief from the widows and the sobbing of the fatherless children.  He could hear the voices of mothers singing to their infants to comfort them - knowing the end had come.
        “And now it ends.”  Flames of incredibly unnatural heat flew from his hands toward his targets.

              _________

        Max woke with a start, still trembling from the screams of his victims in his head.  He sat up drenched in sweat, but it was quickly evaporating to steam from his body.  Max slipped out of his damp clothes and discarded them in a heap on the floor.  He lay back down in bed, closing his eyes and concentrating on slowing his racing heart.
        Normally this would frighten the average eight year old, but unexplainable things always happened around Max.  He was always the odd one out in any group, and wherever he went, something strange would occur.  His parents joked about it, but it was the kind of joking one does when you know something isn’t right, and you would rather hastily laugh it off than look any closer.
        A year earlier, Max’s family was on their annual camping trip.  It was the usual kind of back to nature family vacation that had Max so excited that he prepared his gear a week in advance.  He loved the smell of the woods, the freedom to roam around, and the fires at night.
        One evening, after their ritual fire roasting and nightly storytelling, Max heard a sound from outside his tent.  Unzipping his tent’s doorway, Max slipped outside.  His parents’ tent next to his was quiet and dark.  Max reached into his vinyl lined pocket and pulled out the Swiss army flashlight his dad had given him for Christmas.  Switching it on, he shined the beam around the campsite, noting everything was still in place.  Then he heard the same rustling sound about 50 yards to his right.  Startled, Max turned the beam in the direction of the noise and slowly started walking in that direction.

        His feet crunched down on old leaves and dry twigs, every sound echoing through the trees.  When Max was halfway to the place where the sound originated, a large brown bear stepped out from behind an ancient oak tree.  The bear was eight feet tall, and had razor sharp teeth, with four inch claws to match.  The bear rose to its hind legs, and for a second, their eyes met, as if trying to measure each other up.  Max was terrified.  He stumbled backwards, tripping over rocks and tree stumps, and tore his hands on the sharp edges.  Frightened and helpless, Max did what every child would do.  With tears streaming down his cheeks, he screamed at the bear.
        “GO AWAY!”
        His parents flew out of their tent and ran in his direction.  When they got there, his dad groped around in the darkness looking for a branch to use as a weapon.
        It wasn’t Max’s reaction to the bear that later left his parents looking at him oddly; it was the bear’s reaction to Max.
        The bear, after looking him in the eye, came down on all fours and seemed to almost bow his head down to Max, before ambling away into the darkness.  His parents always told him he was imagining these things.
        “You can’t talk to animals,” they would say.  “You were just frightened kiddo; we got lucky is all.”  The thing was, he got lucky a lot.
        Finally, when he told his parents about his dreams, they seemed genuinely afraid.  They sent him to a doctor, but not like the ones most kids would go to.  He never went to the family practices his neighbors did.
        He went to a “family friend” doctor.  This doctor seemed more of a voodoo practitioner than a woman with a medical license, but he went because it seemed to make his parents feel a little better about his condition.  From that point, Max did not mention any more of his “episodes” to his parents.  Not only did he not want to make another visit to Dr. Voodoo, but he did not want his parents to be afraid of him.  He just wanted to be a regular kid, and for a while it worked.
        Then, everything fell apart the night his mother died.  One year after his first dream, Max awoke in his bed choking on smoke.  It poured into his mouth and nose, suffocating him.  He covered his mouth with the corner of a blanket, slowly breathing through it.  Coughing, Max quickly scanned the room to find the source of the fire.  Flames rapidly crept up his curtains and within seconds were licking the ceiling.  Suddenly, he saw his dad standing over him, looking down with an insane look in his eyes.  He could hear his father screaming like a madman.
        “NOBODY WILL USE HIM!”
        Then, Max noticed his mother to the side of the room, leaning against the wall and crying uncontrollably.  He tried to call for her, but he was unable to move.  Some force was holding him on his bed.  He still had all his senses; he could feel the heat from the fire and smell the smoke in the air.  It was as if someone took hold of him and squeezed him with a gigantic fist.  Max’s father turned to face Max and yelled.
        “ENOUGH!”
        His father raised his hands toward his son and, an explosion erupted in front of him.  Max was knocked unconscious.  The last memory he would have of his parents would be burned in his mind from the fire of that night.
        Max woke up outside with a throbbing headache, as he was loaded into the ambulance.  His vision was still blurry, but he could tell he was lying on a small bed with lots of flashing lights around him.  The air was cool, but his lungs burned with every breath he took.  He noticed one man standing on each side of him, both unaware that he was conscious.  Behind them, an inferno engulfed the house where he grew up.  Max could barely hear over the ringing in his ears, but he was able to make out the words of the paramedic.
        “Tragic thing that happened in there; the police think the father intentionally set fire to the house to kill his family.”
        “But why leave the kid outside in the front yard?” came a voice from the second paramedic. “And where is the father now?”
        “Nobody knows,” said the first shaking his head.  “Just tragic.” 

  

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