Breathe in the Embers

Part 1

The world has always been full of heroes. Fire fighters, paramedics, teachers, soldiers, police officers, and before that there were knights, sailors, explorers, plague doctors. Human beings have a tendency to look out for each other, a willingness to self sacrifice, that stretches back to the dawn of the species. And yes, there will always be examples of selfishness, and hatred, and cruelty, but as a whole we tend to be a loving bunch. It’s why those examples of cruelty and horror shine so brilliantly and awfully. It’s the contrast. In a world of horror, more horror will not stick out. But in a world of peace, that horror is a garish, red stain that cannot be ignored.

That’s what Martin had been raised to believe, and had believed all through his youngest years. Mankind is basically good, and driven to evil by circumstance, by error, and by the few wicked among them. In a day and age where superheroes were commonplace, and among the most popular of celebrities, it was an easy outlook to have. Even for Martin.

You see, Martin had an extraordinary tendency to swing wildly between being incredibly fortunate, and having fate kick his feet out from under him. His parents had escaped from a war in Africa, and been accepted into the United States along with their young son. It had been a more accepting time back then. The Kumalos had promptly died, in nothing more extraordinary than a common car accident, and their son had entered the foster system.

Now, this may typically be where the story becomes all down hill, but this was not the case for Martin. He was placed in a most loving home, with two parents who genuinely cared and sought to understand him. He grew up knowing a true family, every bit as good as the one he had lost. And he grew up in a place, in a community as a whole, that welcomed him.

Fairytale you say? Maybe. I myself knew Martin for many years, Lithuega for centuries, and the two of them together for decades. I tell you the tale as I heard it from their own lips, or witnessed with my own eyes. Were they perhaps too dismissive of the trials they faced? Possible. Both were strong and never prone to complaining. I cannot speak of what may or may not be truth, only what I have been told, what I have seen, and what I believe.

In the end, that’s really all any of us can do.

*****

The bell rang, and Martin sprang to his feet, backpack already over his shoulder. It was a mad rush to the door, dodging desks and other students alike, but Martin was always first out the door. He wasn’t necessarily faster or more agile than the others, but he was more prepared. He watched the clock tick down the seconds, inching the strap of his backpack into position, and had his books already packed away, long before anyone else noticed the time. He’d finished his work early as always, which meant no homework. His teacher assigned no out-of-class work, unless you failed to complete the in-class assignments.

Martin never failed to.

The shouted reminders of his teacher went unheeded as he burst into the hallway of Saint Martin Middle School, a step ahead of the pack, which meant the halls were as of yet clear of obstructions. He needed only to keep up the pace, and he’d be first on the bus as well, long before traffic clogged the arteries of the school.

It was Friday after all, time to get down to the real business of being a kid.

Others stopped to chat with their friends, or to get their notebooks from cubbies, lockers, or hanging backpacks. Martin had everything he needed with him, as always, for his final class of the day. Every second burned before getting home was time he could have spent better, and there were books yearning to be opened smacking against his back with every hurried step. He’d get on the bus ten, fifteen minutes before it left, which was fine. It gave him time to read.

As predicted, and to the surprise of no one, including the bus driver, Martin was indeed the first onto the bus. He picked the back seat, as usual, placing his backpack on the seat beside him. The side closest to the aisle. It added to the privacy provided by the high backs of the seats in front. Then his favorite book was out, and he started to read.

Books were where Martin lost himself. He’d read during class when the lecture became redundant, or was just not necessary. He would read on the bus, in the car, in his room when he should be in bed. Anytime he could manage to, he would read. And most of the time, he was reading Tolkien, as he was now.

His book was ancient, the corners boxed, the pages even yellowing slightly. The cover was torn by the constant, repeated reading of his eleven year old self, and of course all the younger variants that came before him. This particular page had a stain on it, because the first time he read about the Balrog, he’d been so excited he started coughing up the soda he was drinking. Shadow and flame. It was imposing, monstrous, and the image the words conjured into his mind was the most awe inspiring ever, no matter how many times he read it.

Martin was so fully occupied as the bus slowly filled with other, slower, students, that he hardly noticed when it started moving, or when it reached his stop. As usual, the bus driver had to shout out his name to jar him from his stupor so he could get off the bus. She was well used to such things by now, the year was almost over. He hopped down the plummeting steps of the bus and took off down the road, backpack thumping heavily with each step. Every extra moment spent walking home was wasted time after all!

Slowing only as he reached the front door, Martin walked into the house without pausing. The door was always unlocked, this was a gated community. As usual, his mom would be downstairs working, and his dad would be home shortly. So he went downstairs, said hello, gave her a hug and kiss, then ran down the hall to his room. There was no time to waste. Not even bothering to get out of his school clothes, Martin threw himself headlong onto his bed, then headfirst into his book once more, where wizards and swordsmen battled orcs and demons. Where the world recognized the heroes that filled it, even in the face of the villains. He dove desperately away from a world he was increasingly afraid had forgotten how courageous it could be.

*****

Mrs. Brown sat at the dinner table across from her husband, the hot meal she had cooked for her family sitting on plates before them. Sue looked across at Kevin, both concerned, then their eyes turned to their only son. Their foster son, but family in truth. He sat with a book in his lap as usual, frantically trying to juggle eating while keeping his eyes on the pages. He’d greeted them both, told them it was just another boring day at school, then shut himself in his room. Nothing unusual there, but the routineness of it was precisely what had them worried.

“So, anything fun happen at school today kiddo?” Kevin finally asked, cutting another piece off of his chicken.

“Nah.” Martin replied, eyes not shifting. It wasn’t even really clear if he’d heard the question, or just gave a generic response. The Browns exchanged that glance again, and Sue reached over, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Martin.” she prompted, his gaze rising when he found a good spot to stop. “Come on, tell us about your day.”

“Alright.” Martin replied, closing the book at last, a thoughtless dog ear on one page. “I went to class, was bored because it was easy, then the class ended. Then I went to class, was bored because the class was easy, then the class ended.” He grinned, teeth dazzlingly white. “Need I go on?”

“We know how school is for you bud, we just want to know if anything else happened today.” Kevin replied, shaking his head with a smile. “Did you talk to any of your friends? Any girls?” Sue kicked him under the table. “What’d you have for lunch?”

“I used some of my allowance to order a pizza delivered to the school and ate it in the library, you know, in the corner they don’t watch.” Martin replied with a shrug. “I got to eat it all day too. Everyone was so jealous, it was kind of great.”

Kevin laughed, earning a stern look from his wife. “If you ordered a whole pizza you could have shared it with a table of your friends or something.”

“Yeah, but I was hungry. I ate the whole thing eventually. Besides, I wanted to read.”

“Shocking no one.” Sue replied with an adoring smile. Kevin and Martin laughed.

“Books are awesome. I hope to write them some day.” Martin replied, finishing his dinner much faster now that he was focused fully on it.

“Well make sure you pack some for that field trip next week.” Kevin reminded, heading to the sink to clear his own plate. “You’re either going to be busy talking to actual people, or spending your time reading. I don’t imagine there is much else to do out there.”

“Books it is then.” Martin replied sheepishly. He knew his parents wanted him to get out of his box, but he liked it just fine. Kids could be mean, sometimes for no reason at all. And though Martin was well liked, and much of the attention was well intended, his skin did set him apart. Saint Martin Middle School was fed from the high end gated community Martin lived in, and from surrounding affluent neighborhoods as well. To say his school was lacking in diversity was a severe understatement. Besides, interacting with people was tiring, and generally little was gained from doing so.

He’d pack the entire Lord of the Rings series for this camping trip if needed. Though, he did love to hike. Maybe he’d wander off and find a nice, calming river to read next to. The thought had him excited for the first time since the trip was announced months ago.

t.