Mutants|| Reddie [DISCONTINUED]

IX

"Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be."

     Bill was about halfway across the Kissing Bridge when an odd noise met his ears.

     Yells, from slightly far off, echoed over to him, along with the sound of scuffling.

     Ordinarily, Bill would have ignored it, but there was something about the familiarity of one of the voices.

     He drew closer, tracing the voices through twists and turns, all the way to the back of an alleyway. A man, who he recognized as Mr. Keene, stood there. In one hand, he was holding a knife, threateningly holding it in front of him. In the other, he was clutching the wrist of someone with their back towards Bill. The other person had short, curly hair, and was struggling to free himself. Wings rose from his shirt, flapping agitatedly-

     Wait. Wings?

     Bill shook his head slightly to clear it. What he had first thought was a shirt were, in fact, wings. The back of them were brownish black, with a few specks of tan.

     Oh. He's a mutant.

     Bill looked over at Mr. Keene, clearing his throat. "Luh-luh-let him g-go."

     The mutant stiffened in apparent shock, turned slightly as though about to look over at Bill, then struggled harder. Keene looked up and grinned, eyes glinting like a predator's. "Stay out of this, William. I'm simply following protocol."

     "Mr. Kuh-kuh-heene, let him g-g-guh-go."

     Keene ignored him, and Bill sighed. Concentrating, he held out his hand and, with a jerk of his head, sent Mr. Keene flying. He hit the wall on the back and fell to the ground, clearly knocked out.

     The mutant turned around. "Holy shoot, Bill!" he exclaimed, looking back at the unconscious body of Mr. Keene.

     Bill jumped back in recognition. The mutant was- "Suh-Stan? You're a m-m-mutant?"

     "So are you."

     "You don't look surprised," Bill noted.

     Stan shrugged. "When, uh, my parents found out about-" he gestured to the wings on his back. "I went to your house, but you weren't there, and government people were . . . well . . . I put two and two together."

     "Oh," Bill said. "Uh- h-how long have yuh-yuh-you had . . ." He nodded towards the wings.

     Stan looked sheepish. "Since I was eleven. I wanted to tell you, but . . ."

     "It's oh-okay, I duh-duh-didn't tell you ab-bout this eih-eih-either," Bill said, waving his hands towards Keene. Then, he looked around nervously. "Did h-he get a chuh-chuh-chance to call anywuh-wuh-one?"

    Stan shook his head. "No," he said, rubbing his wrist. "We should probably go, before someone sees us."

     Just as he finished the sentence, a woman walked past the alley. She stopped short at the sight of them, her eyes taking in the unconscious body of Mr. Keene and Stan's wings. She hurried past them, probably to the nearest pay phone.

     "Now we definitely need to go," Stan said, grabbing Bill's arm and gently pulling him behind a building.

     They wended their way between buildings until they reached the gnarled, jungle-like trees of the Barrens.

     As they hiked, they talked. Exchanging stories about the past day and debating on where they should go next, Bill was so lost in thought that he didn't notice a particularly twisty root on the forest floor.

     He tripped, landing hard on the forest floor and scraping his elbow. As he sat up, he caught sight of something that looked suspiciously like an arm behind a tree a few yards away.

     Just as quickly, it vanished, and Bill blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he'd seen.

     "You okay, Bill?" Stan asked anxiously, pulling him back onto his feet.

     Bill nodded distractedly. "Fuh-fine." He looked around apprehensively, searching for a limb, a sign, any hint as to what it'd been. Maybe his eyes had been playing tricks on him. But he had this overwhelming feeling, this gut instinct, that they were being watched.

     He took a deep breath. "Whoeh-ever you a-are, shuh-shuh-shuh-show yourself."

     Stan looked at him with alarm. "What . . . ?"

     Bill put a finger to his lips, carefully moving to shield Stan, just in case.

     Silence. Nothing except noises that were clearly birds chirping cheerfully met his ears.

     Until, to his right, he heard a twig snap.