The Betrayal of Ka (The Transprophetics: Book One)

40. Defending the Nation

The next morning, Bjorn was sitting at the table with his mom while Tim fixed breakfast. In his usual indomitable style, Bjorn was cheerful and grinning with a smile that can only come from the face of a child. He was happy. He was special. He had dem brainwaves! At first, Tim wanted to make Bjorn stop moving things around on the table, but Joanna, in her gentle way, relaxed the man, allowing the boy to play.

In so many ways, it was unreal to watch. Bjorn quickly figured out that he could manipulate more than one thing at a time. He lifted his spoon, then his fork, and then his knife and plate. With a giggle, he lifted the piece of toast that Tim had set in front of Joanna and dropped it quickly onto his own plate.

"I didn't do nothing," he declared, trying to look innocent.

"Ladies first, young man," declared Tim, in a mock voice of authority. "Serve your mom before you serve yourself."

The three of them laughed, and Joanna said, only half-jokingly, "You know what would be impressive, Bjorn, is if you could butter the toast for me."

Bjorn's smile widened, and his brow furrowed as he focused. At first, he focused on trying to mentally grip the handle of the knife, but it clattered to the table. Before anyone could react, it was in the air again, with Tim and Joanna mostly ignoring the profanity that had slipped from the boy's lips. Relaxing, Bjorn focused again. In his mind, he told himself not to focus just on the knife, but rather focus on what the knife needed to do. He took a deep breath, and the blade slipped through the butter, cutting a perfect pad.

He breathed a "yes," and then the knife flicked the pad of butter sending it through the air. Reflexively Bjorn reached for the butter, even though it would sail past his hand by a few feet. It stopped in midair, not far from his fingers, but the knife clattered to the table again.

"Not bad, kiddo," Tim noted. "Alright, let's just eat now."

"I'm not done," replied Bjorn stubbornly as he moved the butter through the air. He closed his eyes for a moment, then waved his hand, with the palm down in the same motion that a knife would make to spread butter. The butter, having hit the toast, spread itself across the slightly brown surface.

Joanna picked up the toast and regarded it. "Perfect," she exclaimed, as she nodded to Bjorn and bit into it.

Mr. Freeman's knock on the door awakened Dylan. He had slept late, after having serious issues falling asleep the night before. On her way to bed, Joanna had checked on him and found him struggling to get to sleep. She sat on his bed for some time, trying to get her oldest son to understand that he couldn't save the world. But the weight of the day had fallen heavily on Dylan. He hadn't been able to protect his little brother. In so many ways, Dylan was a genuinely amazing big brother for Bjorn. That was impossible to deny, but for Dylan, having his brother snatched away was more than he could handle. He didn't know how, but he swore that he would do everything he could to protect the little guy, especially when the invasion began.

It was hard for Joanna to watch her son be so hard on himself, but she understood. He loved Bjorn with all his heart, and, with a heart as big as Dylan's, she was sure that he would do everything in his power to take care of his younger sibling.

"Good morning, Dylan," said Mr. Freeman, as the teenager walked into the kitchen, still in his t-shirt and underwear with his hair completely a mess.

"We have to stop that return vessel, Mr. Freeman," Dylan announced.

"Oh, I wish we could, but I don't know what we could do," replied Mr. Freeman.

Before he could continue the conversation, Dylan's phone rang.