I Am The Absorber

I am the Absorber Ch 4

I looked at her. I didn't know what to say. Should I be in shock? Should I blow it off, saying that the kid was probably just angry at his parents? I decided to ask who it was first.

"Is it anybody I know? Is it someone in my class?" I thought I had acted appropriately surprised.

"He's in the eighth grade. His name is John Highwater. His parents said there were no troubles at home apart from one "D" grade that they were upset about. They said he had had worse grades before and that this was pretty good for him."

I just made some sort of noncommittal shrug and didn't reply. Then I walked away, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then we ate dinner and talked small talk. I told them about my grades and how my teachers were. They talked politics. I pretended to listen to them. There was no more mention of John. We finished and I did the dishes. Afterward I went to my room.

I sat on my bed, wondering about his parents. Were they crying right now? Was his mom sobbing on their couch, his dad trying to comfort her? I felt like crying, this new reality brought home. John had parents, a family who loved him, no matter how mean he was at school.

They would never find him or his body. They would never find a ransom note or a torn piece of shirt. He would never participate in another baseball game or Christmas morning. He would never again wake up on the first day of summer vacation and run outside yelling to his neighborhood friends. He would never have fun with his friends. He would never have a wife, job, and children.

I realized these things for the very first time and I cried on my bed. I cried for an hour, wetting my pillow. I would stop for a few minutes and then I would start again. Then I let go all of these horrible things, all these thoughts.

Afterward, I went to the bathroom and rinsed my face with cupped hands. I brushed my teeth and waited there until the redness was gone from my eyes. Then I decided something.

I was going to run away. I was too dangerous to stay around people that I knew and cared about.

I thought about the stuff I would need. A compass, some rope, money. I would need food, transportation, a map. I didn't know where I would go or how I would get there.

I knew this was a ridiculous plan that would never work out. I would become tired and hungry. I was underage; I belonged in school. The authorities would catch me and bring me back. I would have no income, no job for another three years. I would have no home; no bed until I found an abandoned house or someone took me in. If someone took me in, they probably wouldn't let me stay longer than a few days.

Then I remembered my ability. Nobody would take advantage of me because I could hold at least five gallons of water to shoot them down with. I could do even better with a gun. I could stick it to anybody who tried to rob me. Relief filled me as I realized that these problems were all being solved by my new talent. I could simply walk into any supermarket and come out loaded with fruit, soda, chocolate, potato chips, cereal, bacon. It would be very easy to hide my actions, even easier if I bought a couple things at the same time. If I could find an occupation where my ability made it a cinch, then so much the better. If I could get an income, then I could get an apartment. Not a real one, where I had to show my ID and have a background check or whatever, but probably one in a seedy part of whatever city I was going to.

I was ready for whatever could happen. I could hide a myriad of objects inside myself. I could cross a freaking desert with a couple gallons of water and food inside me. I was prepared for survival in the big, bad world.

Of course I would have to wait a while. The police would get suspicious if I disappeared right after John. They would probably think I either killed him and hid his body or kidnapped him.

Well, the kidnapping was absurd. He was a good 4 inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than me. There was no way I could ever subdue him even if I had a gun. And where would I hide him?

Something occurred to me. What if they thought that I was kidnapped by his kidnapper? This would be a good thing. I could have a good head start on the authorities finding me and after a while I would probably be declared dead. My parents would cry and the school would have to bring in grief counselors but it would all be good in the end.

The next day at school I went through the motions. I did my schoolwork, answered whenever a teacher called on me, did what I had to. I knew I had to keep things good with my friends so they couldn't tell the police anything. I could just hear them saying, "Yeah, he was acting kind of strange lately." Red flag! Crazy quiet kid on the loose!

At home I ate dinner, did the amount of homework I did every night, did my chores. My parents would be sad, but the truth was, my mother wouldn't be that sad. She was the kind of woman who loved to go out and have a good time. My dad ignored me most of the time. Sure, we went to the store together and built the fence together, but he was not really into me. They would be better off if I wasn't here. It was best for their health anyway.

I began practicing every day. I told my mom that I would be staying late for homework every day for the next week. It was just a little lie, but I still felt bad telling it.

I went to the clearing and brought stuff with me. I brought water, Jell-O, plastic, metal. I began experimenting with the limits of my power, what I was capable of. I started small, working with rocks, wood, and garbage.

The small stuff went well, if a little boring. The first few times I absorbed stuff on my own, I was excited about it. It was a novelty. I felt powerful, energized. I delved deep into my mind, searching for that feeling. Every time I accessed it, the feeling became a little easier to get to. Soon I barely felt it. It was as easy a flipping a switch, turning my ability on or off.

The small stuff soon lost its freshness and I became bored with it. I began experimenting, really testing myself. I learned the limits of my abilities. I learned how to control myself. It was as if I was a student ninja, pushing myself to new heights.

One thing I was always careful about was keeping myself hidden and keeping others safe. I never allowed myself to access the feeling at school, home, or anywhere in public. I knew that it might take a while to be able to control my ability completely. I didn't want any more people hurt because of me and what I was becoming.

I didn't want anybody knowing about me. Sure, I had friends, but nobody I trusted enough to confide in about something this extreme. I wasn't a loner but this was too big to tell anybody about. Also, I may have been young, but I wasn't naive. I knew the government was wary about anything they didn't control. I knew they wouldn't let me live my life in peace or even let me into society. They would lock me away; they would keep me "safe." I didn't want to be safe. I wanted to live.