Fear

Does a spider know the person screaming or running away or trying to stamp on them is afraid? Do they skitter about, enjoying the reaction they cause, though it might mean their death? Or do they wish their tiny spider voices could be heard by humans, because they're trying to tell us they don't, and can't, hurt us? Or they're just trying to live and, sure, they don't pay the rent, but they also don't use any utilities so the cost to use is negligible. Do they just wish we would let them stay, keeping to the corners and minding their own business?

Fear of a mostly harmless insect can be passed down from your parents. If they hate the creatures, so can the child. It can be irrational, brought on by a form of unconscious social programming. It doesn't make the spider and less frightening knowing that.

Thomas knew fear. He'd been afraid every day for the past two years, but to think that others might be scared of him was hard to believe.

If he wasn't going to follow in the footsteps of every other child, what path could he follow? He was suddenly aimless. Cast adrift.

Yet, the more he thought about it, the less afraid he was. He didn't, really, believe that anyone would fear him, but he could accept the idea of him remaining sane and powerless. A power was something he'd been seeking for so long. It was the way things were.

That didn't make them right.

Why?

Why did he, and would he, stay the way he was? What made him so different? He wasn't sure if the reason mattered or if he should just forget about it. He wasn't naive enough to think he could lead a normal life. If people knew about him, it would probably be worse than it was previously. Originally, he faced abuse because he hadn't come into his powers. Now, he'd face far worse because he was never going to.

Bren had told him that he might mean an end to all of 'this'. That could mean so many different things. An end to their friendship. An end to his life. On a larger scale, to the problems with the world. Or the world itself. If people knew he was going to remain powerless, they would no doubt be worried that he was the start of an epidemic. Powers could be stripped. Babies could be born like him, with their eighth birthday being nothing more than exactly that.

When the Outbreak occurred, many were pleased to gain abilities. Many others were terrified and more than should have believed it was the beginning of the fabled, thanks to movies, comics, books and games, Zombie Apocalypse. Thomas thought this was much worse than that. If everyone had turned into a zombie, they wouldn't be able to help the killing. As it was, given that a good number of deaths were unintentional, intention was definitely behind a vast amount of killings.

Acceptance had come quickly, such that those powers were now seen as a possession. A right. An integral part of the person they dwelled within. Thomas himself knew people who'd lose a limb rather than their ability.

The picture was painting itself in his mind. He saw himself on a hill. Alone. Whereas the scene was reminiscent of the very same zombie games and television shows that the Outbreak had threatened to bring to life, those clambering to mount the hill were not the brain eating undead. They were Jackers and TeeKays and Tappers and Wolves. Thomas, still, was their target. Their brains.

He'd told Bren that he might not be seen as a threat anymore. He could see how wrong he had been. They were both a danger to the decaying society everyone seemed to want to live in.

Yes, there were those who wished for a better life. A stable life. One where powers were not used for personal gain. Some tried to campaign for it. Campaigns of that ilk were short lived. No matter what the cause, there were always opposers. Nowadays, the opposition had more than their voices to fight with.

In some cases, their voice was the weapon. Thomas was reminded of the boy who had fought back against his aggressors. When even words could kill, things had surely reached their lowest ebb.

Was there something he could do? Was his lack of a power one itself?

He could wish for a way to stand up to everyone and use his ordinariness to change things, but in reality there was no way it would happen. He was just a boy. A boy whose life had just broken apart. How could he change anything when he had nowhere, nothing and no one.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot."

Bren let go of Thomas's hand and crossed her arms, looking insulted.

"What for?"

"For saying you've got no one. No one has ever made me feel more welcome. So yeah, thanks."

"Will you stay the hell out of my head?"

Thomas put his hands up to his temples as if to prevent her from wheedling her way inside.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"You said that before, yet you've just done it again."

"I know," she said. "OK, I did mean to, but you were just staring at me. I wanted to make sure whatever was in those vials hadn't had an effect on you. I'd said your name twice."

"No, they've done sod all. Not a single flicker of change. I was just thinking, that was all. No excuse for you to go invading."

"You're right. I shouldn't have. It's an invasion of privacy and I promise I won't do it again."

"You shouldn't have done it that time!"

"I know! I said I'm sorry"

"Well sound like it then!"

Thomas didn't want to lose his temper with the girl. She was much more powerful than him and, if she became angry, anything could happen. But, he didn't like the thought of her being in his head. That was his own, personal and secret – scared maybe – place.

"I really am," she said, taking hold of his hand once more.

Her indignation at his thought of having no one wasn't real. She knew he wasn't referring to her. Besides, she could understand his point of view. A neighbour's son had the ability too. He'd taken a liking to her and used his ability to stalk her, prying into her thoughts and creeping around her secrets. He'd used the information he'd gained to try and make her like him, something that escalated to blackmail. She was eleven at the time. He was the same age but, when she finally told his parents, the boy's father made sure he couldn't do the same again.

The wounds to the boy's face healed, leaving only a slight scar and a slighter indent in his skull.

The father hadn't been angry at his son's invasion. He was mad because the boy hadn't been discreet and so had been found out.

"I really was making sure you were OK. I didn't mean any harm."

Thomas knew she didn't. He didn't think she was the sort to abuse her powers. She seemed to be genuinely apologetic so he couldn't dwell on it.

"Fine. I'll let you off. Just please stay out."

"I will. Promise."

"We need to keep moving," Thomas said, aware that every moment they stayed in one place was a moment more for them to be found.

Bren nodded and the pair walked over to the wide path that cut the park in two. Both felt it better to be lost in plain sight instead of trying to keep to alleys and back streets where their abduction or death would be seen. They didn't think their pursuers particularly cared about being seen – people had developed an uncanny knack of looking past the things they'd prefer to ignore – but it made them feel less vulnerable. More thought would have to be put into getting to them if there were witnesses.

"What does it feel like?" Thomas asked, curious.

"What does what feel like?"

"Looking into someone's thoughts. What's it like?"

Bren thought for a minute. How did it feel to use anyone's powers?

"It's like hanging over a vast ball of lightning that stretches further than you can see. It's like whispering to it to see if any of the lightning will react and spark up to you. Then it's like holding on to lightning and trying to hear what it's trying to say to you."

"Sounds like fun."

"It is... and it's not. The lightning burns and heals and calms and excites you all at the same time."

"I think you can keep it," Thomas said.

"I wish I didn't have it at all. But it's there and powers sort of have to be used."

"In what way?"

"Have you ever had a puppy?"

Thomas shook his head. He'd wanted one for a long time, but had never been allowed a pet.

"Well, imagine a puppy being told to sit and not move for, like, a week or something."

"It'd be about ready to explode!"

"Exactly. If you don't use a power, you can feel it getting nervous. Not that you wouldn't use one. It's like breathing."

"So having a power is like having a puppy inside of you?"

Thomas laughed at the thought. He hadn't expected such a description. He had assumed there was something more substantial to it.

"Yeah, but it's a puppy with teeth. Big teeth."