Born of Fire: The Dawn of Legend Page 2

  One other abnormality had turned up in his tests: a small fragment of something was embedded deep inside his chest. Unable to determine what it was, the doctors could only discern it was not causing Rex any harm, and so Philippe decided not to put his son through the rigors of surgery and let it be.

  In the beginning, he would have Rex wear a hat to tuck the tips of his ear in, but after Rex turned seven, he protested that it was hurting them, and so Philippe conceded to let him go out with them fully exposed, leading many to believe he was wearing some sort of prosthesis. His claws were thick and black, and his teeth sharp and serrated, giving people a good fright upon seeing them for the first time. Because of this, Rex refrained from smiling and rarely opened his mouth wide when speaking, resulting in him mumbling most of the time. As for his unusual coif, the doctors told him that it was probably the result of some rare and highly randomized mutation. All humans have the genes to grow fur, they had explained, but they were usually turned off, so his case was rare but not impossible—in theory. As for its color, it too was likely the result of some unusual and inexplicable mutation. Lastly, there were his eyes, which were entirely red with only a faint outline of an iris. They almost glowed under certain light. Rex was a unique-looking young man, to be sure.

  “Breakfast is served, my good man,” Philippe said as he put down a plate of eggs, toast, and pancakes in front of him.

  “I thought you said I can only eat this stuff on the weekends,” Rex replied in surprise. At the recommendation of a nutritionist his father had taken him to when he was younger, he usually ate a big plate of egg whites to accommodate his body’s need for a massive amount of protein.

  “Well,” his father replied as he poured him a glass of skim milk, “I figured since you clearly put a lot of time and effort into this morning’s performance, it’s only fair that you are rewarded for all your hard work.”

  Rex knew his father was lying, of course, and was only saying that to make him feel better. After all, how could Philippe not know the real reason why he did not want to go to school anymore? His teachers had been calling his father more frequently as of late.

  “Your biology teacher called me at work yesterday,” Philippe said, as if on cue. Rex did not respond and just ate quietly, hoping his father would drop it. “She says you’ve been eating your lunch in the library. You want to tell me why you don’t want to eat with your friends?”

  “I don’t have any friends,” Rex replied dryly without looking up.

  “Oh, come on now. You know that’s not true. You’ve got plenty of them, like Aaron.” Rex shook his head silently. “No? Okay, what about Brandon?” Again, Rex just shook his head. “Zac, Desiree, Manuel, Broggey…DJ?” Rex just shook his head to all of them as he ate a piece of toast. “Rex,” his father asked worriedly, “what happened, son? Come on, you know you can always talk to me.”

  “I cut them loose.”

  “Cut them loose? What exactly does that mean?”

  “Just what it sounds like,” he replied as he devoured the last piece of toast and moved on to the eggs.

  “Hey,” Philippe replied as he put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on, son? Talk to me.”

  “You would have to ask them. I don’t pretend to understand people or why they do what they do. All I know is that they just up and decided that the mystique of having the class freak in their merry little band had lost its appeal.”

  Philippe was always pleasantly surprised by how well spoken Rex was. Rex had learned to speak and read at an early age. While other children were outside playing, he would be in his room with his face buried in books, most of them on various scientific fields of study. His favorites were always on paleontology, in particular those that dealt with his greatest love: dinosaurs. From about the age of seven, he could hold a conversation on equal footing with any adult.

  “Is that why you eat your lunch in the library?” Philippe asked.

  Rex nodded and replied, “It’s the only place I can get some peace and quiet at school.”

  Philippe sighed. They had been through this many times. Rex was a target for bullies or other children who just had a chip on their shoulder. He knew he was a good boy, and that he had once tried to fit in, but it seemed that it was always in vain. Now he no longer tried to make connections with anyone, choosing instead to distance himself from all those around him, except for his father, of course. Now Philippe was getting calls from school that matters were turning violent, with Rex lashing out without warning for something as seemingly trivial as an odd look in the hall. Philippe feared that Rex was losing his grip, that he was reaching the end of his ability to handle all those who refused to tolerate him—something that could prove disastrous, for Rex was far from defenseless. At fifteen years of age, Rex was already more than double the weight of his peers, built more like a weightlifter than a teenage boy, something that had also been a shock to his father, for as far as he knew, his son had never set foot in a gym. “Tell you what,” Philippe said. “You go to school today. You eat lunch with all the other kids, and do your best to just ignore all those stupid people who don’t know what they’re missing by not being your friend.” Rex raised his head slightly to look at his father. “No matter where you go in life, son, there will always be people who don’t like you. Sure, their reasons may be different, and most of the time they won’t make any sense, but they’ll be there. So it’s pointless to get all stressed out about it.”

  “It’s hard not to when they’re all around you,” replied Rex, meeting his father’s eyes.

  “I know, but that’s why you have to focus on the people around you who do care about you.”

  “That’s easy. There’s only one.”

  Philippe hugged his son and said, “I know I may not be much, but I promise you that I’ll always be on your side. You’re my son, and I love you more than anything. Also, believe me when I say that one day your life will be filled with people who love you. You just need to be a little patient.”

  Rex sighed and nodded. “Thanks, Dad,” he said with a smile. “I love you, too, but you don’t have to be so dramatic. It’s me, remember? All these people are mere nuisances to me; the mere buzzing of flies around my head,” he said, baring his toothy grin.

  “That’s my boy,” his father said, even though Rex knew he was just saying what he thought he wanted to hear to put his mind at ease. Still, such an act of kindness was a thing reserved only for him, so he did not take it for granted. “Oh, yeah, the new dinosaur exhibit is finally all set up down at the museum.”

  “You mean the new tyrannosaur skeleton?” Rex asked with a sudden burst of excitement. “They’re finally done putting it up?”

  “Yup,” Philippe replied, taking a sip of his coffee. “The big unveiling isn’t until next Saturday, but I figured since you don’t have school tomorrow, that maybe I could pick you up and take you to the museum for a little sneak peek. What do you say?”

  “Don’t be late picking me up,” Rex replied with a broad smile.

  His father laughed, and Rex ate as fast as he could. He was so excited about seeing the new exhibit that he had practically forgotten all about their earlier conversation. Moments later, he was putting on his shoes and heading down to the bus stop. Rex was a bit of an oddity in the neighborhood, as one could imagine. While many of the children treated him the same way they did at school, many of the adults treated him with a certain degree of wary apprehension, like a sheepherder eyeing a wolf drawing too near to his flock.

  King High School was crowded with children climbing off the buses that carted them to and from school every day. To Rex it had always looked like a meat wagon carrying cattle to and from a slaughter. He had sat alone on the way over, as he normally did, refusing to engage any of the other teenagers in whatever nonsensical fracas that had seized their attention that morning. Even if he had wanted to interact with them in any way, it would just result in them giving him the odd glare and remaining silent until he retreated bac
k to his solitude. He got off the bus and proceeded to his classroom, pushing and shoving his way through the throngs of students crowding the hall. He reached his biology classroom, and with a heavy sigh, walked in.

  “Good morning, Rex,” said his teacher as she looked up from rearranging a set of books on one of the shelves in the far corner of the room. “You’re always the first one here.”

  Rex just smiled and went to his seat, not really knowing what to say in response. What could he tell her, the truth? That would sound good, he thought. I rush to get here every morning, Mrs. Bolster, because I know if any one of those assholes out there get it in their heads to pick a fight with me, I’m going to take their heads and drill them into the fucking wall. As if killing off a third of the school would make things better for him. Still, it’s something to consider, he mused.

  Thirty minutes later, the bell rang, and everyone still standing outside ran inside the classroom and took their seats. Mrs. Bolster started with roll call as she did every morning, followed by a quick review of the previous day’s lesson. Rex could already feel his mind wandering to more entertaining thoughts. School had always been difficult for him. He found it hard to concentrate, and when he did, much of the material never made sense to him. His father had asked the school to test him many times, and they always came back with some new term to describe what was supposedly wrong with him: ADD, ADHD, learning disabled, and so on. Rex could not help but feel that the school staff was more interested in labeling him than they were in actually teaching him. His father did his best to help him with his schoolwork at home, but he worked so much that he often was not home enough to do so. It was not as if Rex was incapable of learning; he excelled at certain things, but he felt like his mind processed information it received differently than others. Unfortunately, he did not know how that was, and as a result, his education was a series of hits and misses.

  Twenty minutes passed, and a girl came into the room and rushed to her desk. Her long golden hair, which reached to her lower back, gently brushed over Rex’s right arm as he caught that sweet smell he had come to love. “You’re late, Allison,” said Mrs. Bolster in an irritated tone.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bolster,” Allison replied as she took out her textbook from her backpack and put in on her desk.

  “Do you have a note?”

  Allison shook her head nervously. The teacher sighed and simply said, “See me at lunch, please.”

  Allison sat in front in the row off to the left of Rex. Rex thought she was beautiful and always found himself staring at her. Occasionally, she would turn her head, and he would quickly turn his so she would not catch him looking into her big blue eyes. As strange as it sounded even to him, Rex found himself almost hypnotized by her scent, which smelled of something he could not quite put his finger on. But it was there, drawing him in even though he dared not get too close. She was a good student, making good grades, but every now and then she would show up late to class acting strangely. Normally, she would have a note from her father, but she had been coming in late at least three times a week now, and she never seemed to have an excuse.

  As usual, Rex lost himself in his favorite class pastime, drooling over the pretty blonde. However, this time he noticed something that put him on edge. She turned her head slightly to the right, causing her hair to shift and expose the back of her neck. That is when Rex saw it, a bruise. He had come home with plenty of them from all the fights he used to get in, so he knew one when he saw one. He wondered where it came from. Who would hit Allison? he thought to himself. She was so nice to everyone, even him. Come to think of it, she’s the only one nice to me. She moved her head again, and her hair covered the bruise back up.

  Class dragged on for what seemed like forever, when finally the lunch bell rang and everyone headed to the cafeteria. Rex, remembering what his father had said, took a deep breath and headed to the cafeteria after everyone else had left, everyone except Allison, who walked up to Mrs. Bolster’s desk with her head down. Rex walked outside the door but stood just out of sight and listened in.

  “Sit down, Allison,” he heard his teacher say. “You’ve been coming in late more and more lately.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bolster,” Allison said in a soft, frail voice. “I promise to try to get here on time from now on.”

  “Allison,” Mrs. Bolster paused before continuing, choosing her words carefully. “Is…everything okay at home?” Rex leaned against the wall harder, as if it would allow him to see through it. Allison remained silent. “It’s okay, you can talk to me.”

  Allison finally spoke up in a shaky voice, “My…dad—”

  “Rex,” came a voice from behind him.

  He turned to see Vice Principal Goran standing halfway down the hall, looking at him with his hands on his hips. He motioned for Rex to come over, who groaned and complied despite his legs telling him to move in the opposite direction. Goran was a tall, lanky man with a bald spot and a dark mustache. He was notorious among the students for being mean, condescending, and never making an effort to hide the fact that he hated young people.

  “Is there a reason why you’re just standing out here in the hall like this?” he asked in his usual demeaning tone.

  “No,” replied Rex, trying to hold back his disdain for the man. “I was just heading to the cafeteria.”

  “Really? Because it looked to me like you were eavesdropping on your teacher.” Rex felt cornered, and when that happened, he became angry. “Maybe you and I better go talk about it in my office,” said Goran in an elevated tone that got under Rex’s skin. He felt like his blood was boiling. Normally, he only felt like this when the others his own age started trouble with him, but with them, he could just yell or throw a punch. Then again, perhaps he did not need to lift a finger, just allow his reputation to get him out of a potentially unpleasant situation.

  Meeting the older man’s gaze, Rex smiled as he furrowed his brow slightly. “You know, now that you mention it, there are some issues I’ve been feeling the need to discuss. Why don’t we go to your office? You know, someplace small and confined, with a locked door so no one can just barge in on us.” He leaned in close enough for Goran to see the faint glow coming from his red eyes, and feel his hot breath against his face as he got an uncomfortably close look at Rex’s serrated teeth. “I hate being interrupted once I get on a roll. Shall we?” He could see panic set in the man’s face, or rather could smell it pouring off him in waves. It was so sweet, like an elegant perfume that rivaled even the sweet smell of Allison. Rex had always been keenly aware of what others around him were feeling, even if they themselves were not. He could read people’s emotions like an open book. In fact, all people were like books to him, the events that shaped them like the pages in their story. This, however, was another reason why he found it increasingly difficult to make any sort of connection with them. They were too transparent, lacking any real depth into which he could delve. He always felt as if he was standing in shallow waters when surrounded by them.

  Rex now felt light, as if his body was slowly rising off the ground. He could hear Goran’s heartbeat increase as if someone was pounding on a war drum. His eyes tracked a bead of sweat as it traveled down the tall man’s face and fell, where it proceeded down to the floor and hit with a splash.

  “Uh…yeah…” Goran struggled to find his words, his gaze no longer meeting Rex’s. “All right…I’ll let it go this time, but don’t let me catch you doing this again. Get to the cafeteria.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rex answered with mock cheer and walked past him down the hall and towards the cafeteria. Walked away from another one, Rex mused to himself. Still, I hope I scared him enough to keep his mouth shut. I really don’t want Dad hearing about this. It used to bother him that he could intimidate people with his appearance alone. He had learned early on that people feared what they did not understand, and he most certainly fit into that category. Still, he knew how it made his father feel, and so for years he would ignore his nat
ural instinct to strike fear in others, as he knew he so easily could. After all, how would people ever come to accept him if he gave any sort of validation to what they were feeling towards him?

  However, as time marched on and their attitudes grew judgmental and fearful, Rex began to find himself on the receiving end of violence. What started as teasing from afar evolved into being jumped after school. At first he tried not to fight back, instead opting to just take it so as not to stir things up further. After all, it was not like they were really doing any damage. Part of his superior physical prowess came not just in being able to dish out punishment but also take it. So he would just sit there, letting them unload all their fears and hatred on him until they grew tired or fearful when they realized that ten solid minutes of beating barely resulted in so much as a bruise. After that, they kept their distance, but by this point the real damage had already been done, for while he remained physically intact, any chance of a desire on his part to understand them on equal footing had been beaten out of him, replaced with a sense of contemptuous superiority. While he had no desire to use this sense of power to lord over them as a tyrant, he also felt no need to try to meet them on their terms. He saw them as insects crawling beneath his feet, and if one had the gall to try to sting him, he would crush them underfoot. Perhaps this was how tyranny began, he often thought, not by choice or desire but by circumstance. An interesting thought, indeed, but one that was interrupted by his growling stomach. Philosophy later, food now.

  He sat by himself at the far table in the back of the cafeteria. To his surprise, no one who usually picked fights with him bothered him today. He wondered if his father had called the school and told the teachers to tell them to stop bullying him. That would not surprise him, especially with the way his father insisted he eat lunch here today. He loved his father and appreciated everything he was trying to do for him, but even he could not truly understand what Rex was feeling on the inside. No one can.