Not So Different

Chapter 3

I woke at 1:00 in the morning to the sound of a chair scraping across tile.  Startled, I looked over at the kitchen to see the boy looking at me, an expression of great pain across his features.  His breathing was ragged like he'd just run a marathon. 

"Sorry I woke you," He whispered in a deep, quiet voice, the type that sounds mysterious and dark. 

"It's fine," I said, rubbing my eyes.  I hadn't meant to fall asleep.  After I'd made sure the police left I had left, I had settled in the chair and replayed the day's events over and over in my.  I just couldn't wrap my head around what had happened.  First, four armed men had cornered me, and they hadn't been ordinary street thugs.  They had looked trained, like professional mercenaries.  Then a mutant boy came to my aid and saved me, getting shot in the process.  Finally, I had taken him and to my apartment when I should have left him to die like any other citizen of this city would have, like the government taught us to do. Either way I had helped him and, like my dad always said, I had to stand behind my decisions.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I pushed my self out of the armchair and walked towards the boy. "How are you feeling?" I asked.  The boy tried to shrug but the movement caused him to groan in pain. 

"I'll go get some pain killers," I said as I hurried to the bathroom and selected a white ibuprofen bottle from the medicine cabinet.  I opened it and took three pills out came back out then returned to the kitchen and filled a glace of water.  I gave the pills and water to the boy who quickly downed both and handed the glace back to me.  I placed the empty glace in the sink and then pulled  up a chair across from the boy.  As I sat down, I asked the questions that had been nagging at my brain for hours, "Who are you and why did you save me?"

For a moment the boy said nothing, just stared at me and said nothing.  Then, barely audibly, he replied, "I am Chris deClancy.  Who are you?'' He asked, ignoring my second question.

"My name is Jet Rowan, its a pleasure to meet you," I replied automatically, as all children are taught to in year one. 

"Is it?" Chris asked with a slight smile.  Then just as quickly the smile was vaporized by a serious look, "Why did you bring me here?"

I hesitated, contemplating a reply.  I honestly didn't know the answer myself.  "You saved me from those armed men, and got shot for it.  I couldn't very well leave you to die." 

The boy gave me an odd look at my response.

"What?"  I  asked.

"You are not like other humans that I have encountered," he replied, not elaborating. 

"And you are not like the mutants I was taught about." I countered

Silence followed while both of us contemplated this. 

"Where is your father?"  the boy asked, motioning to the pictures in the sitting room.

"He travels for his work," I said, "He'll be gone for at least a week and a half so you don't have to worry about him popping in and turning you into the police."  My father traveled for his work, going from government building to government building, fixing and updating technology systems.  There had been times when he'd been gone for work for over a month. 

Chris just nodded at this.  He sat there in the chair, eyes roaming the room as if trying to map all escape routes, should he need to make a quick escape.  Every time he shifted in his seat he winced, reaching for his abdomen. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "that you got shot saving me."  I felt awful that Chris was in so much pain just for helping me. 

"It wasn't your fault.  You have nothing to be sorry for." he replied.