Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Walking was strange and took some getting used to. His legs were rubbery, like they had fallen asleep. With each step he was able to re-coordinate his body a bit more and adjust to the new forces which propelled him, whatever they were. His newfound existence did not eliminate the limp and he continued to drag his left foot. At the beginning the drag was especially bad, but it also improved as his muscles adjusted.

Besides his balance and coordination, his other senses had changed. It was difficult to pinpoint, but objects didn't look as solid or substantial and he was able to see through them. He spotted a squirrel through a tree and a beetle scampering under the grass. He felt the heat of the living objects around him.

"Martin," whispered the Collaq, "do not be afraid. Change is always difficult. Accept and you will be better for it." Martin looked at his pale, dirt covered arm in the moonlight. "Accept what," he whispered, "that I'm dead and yet I'm still alive?

"Trust me Martin, let me show you what we can do."

"What are you? Where are you from?"

"I've come from far away to help you Martin," replied the voice. "Trust me."

Martin stopped at the intersection near the Chow Bros. grocery store. Wellow Falls Center was empty and after watching the yellow streetlight blink for a moment, he turned left onto Gordon Road, his street. He wanted to see his parents.

The street was quiet and a gentle wind rustled the trees. He limped down the block and noticed that the upstairs light was on at the Magnettis. Across the street, a sprinkler came to life and splashed water onto his face. The drops felt...alien, the entire street felt like an old dream and he felt very sad. He wanted his life back.

"Do you remember the accident?" the Collaq asked as Martin stopped in front of his house. Flowers lay at the foot of the door and a black ribbon was wrapped around the lamp post in the front yard. His father's car was parked in the driveway and Martin could see the flickering of a television set in his parents' bedroom.

He stared at his house for what seemed like hours before the voice spoke again.

"It's your house Martin." He wanted to run inside, hug his mother and father, and tell them that he was alive. Except that he wasn't. He died - he could feel the nail embedded under his chin.

His parents would think he was some kind of monster.

"I want my life back, I can't do this," he sobbed, trying to rip the skin away under his chin and reach the silver nail. "I don't want to be this, this..."

"Martin, don't be a fool. The nail is the source of your strength. It feeds you and makes your power grow. Does it hurt?" It didn't anymore. "No, of course it doesn't hurt. Plenty of other things have hurt you without giving anything in return." He tried to shut the Collaq out but he couldn't.

"You can't get rid of me Martin. I'm a part of you now. And you're a part of me."

"No, go away, please, leave me alone." The voice became angry.

"This is just the beginning Martin. We're going to do great things together. Now, let me tell you want you must do."

The Collaq spoke softly, intensely, explaining their next step.

"No, I won't hurt them."

"Hurt them, who said anything about that Martin. Make them like yourself, strong and proud, afraid of nothing, not even death. Not everyone can attain what you have Martin. It takes a special person, a special existence. Do not hurt your parents; offer them a chance to fulfill their dreams. There is no better way to show your love."

"No, I won't do it." He clutched his temple and shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the voice. The Collaq's voice became sterner and more insistent.

"You will go inside and do it." Martin banged his fist against his head and stumbled onto the front lawn of his house.

"Go away!"

"Were your parents so nice to you Martin. Were they!" yelled the voice. "How did you get that leg Stumpy? What happened?"

"It wasn't his fault!"

"No of course not." As much as he tried to shut it out, Martin couldn't prevent the memory from returning. "No, please stop!"

His father was mowing the lawn and he was crawling out of the sandbox. He remembered a dim thought in his childish mind. The desire to get to the steps which lay across the green carpet. The loud noise was simply a distraction which Daddy controlled and kept safe. He walked a few steps, fell, picked himself up, and then walked a few more steps. The noise was getting louder but he ignored it. He wanted to get to the steps and crawl up on them. That would show Mommy and Daddy that he was a big boy. He took another few steps and the noise was louder. He looked up into the sky and saw the blueness and the trail of white. A small speck moved next to the white. It moved slowly and his young eyes followed it in fascination. His attention abruptly changed and he focused on the steps again. The buzz had become louder, almost a roar but Daddy was there to protect him from everything. He moved him arms forward and suddenly the buzz was on top of him. For an instant the blood in his small body seemed to boil and as fast as he could move his small head, he looked up to see a big object to his side. On top was his Daddy, smiling and staring in another direction. A wail escaped his petrified lips but it was drowned in the roar of machine. It past over him and he watched it move away. Relief and then an incredible pain in his foot. Gone were any thoughts about the steps or curiosity about the speck flying high above him. He turned his head for a moment and saw little pink carrots lying in a red puddle. The red was receding into the ground. The last thing he could remember was the yelling of his Daddy's voice.

"Oh my God! Martin, Martin, what have I done, I was just daydreaming for a second! Oh my God!"

"Martin, Martin, you do remember don't you."

"Yes," he groaned. He remembered. He trusted his father and that trust made him a cripple. So what if he had been lavished with love after the accident? Love didn't regenerate his toes or end the ridicule. His entire life changed because his father had been daydreaming on top of a lawnmower for a few seconds.

"Pity." Yes, he hated his parent's pity. He hatred everyone's pity.

"Limpy."

"Yes, Limpy. That's what they all call me," he whispered softly.

"It's time to end the pity Martin. I don't want to pity you. I want to make you strong so no one will ever pity you again." He didn't want to hurt anyone.

"You remember the carbon paper Martin, don't you? You remember Preston Dregor don't you?" Martin plunged his trembling hands into the soft loam. Soil and rocks scratched his skin and became embedded under his finger nails. Tenaciously, he burrowed down with his fingers until his forearms were submerged in the earth.

"Feel the power Martin." Images flashed through his head. He saw his father's guilt ridden face and the leering of the other students. Past images began to meld with his dark fantasies and a deep reserve of hope and anger began to slowly unwind within him. Images he would never have allowed out of his subconscious formed and goaded his fingers ever more frantically downward. He imaged Kathy kneeling naked before him, her breasts jiggling as she worshipped him as her master. He saw Preston Dregor nailed to a telephone post, his face contorted into a grimace of pain.

There was a tug under his chin. Warmth began to travel down his neck and across both shoulders. His dead nerves popped like firecrackers and an incredible burst of energy surged through his body. The warmth spread down his arms, caressed his elbow, and flowed into the two holes where his hands were buried. The warmth reached his fingers and he wiggled them. Dirt, rocks, and minerals began to clump at his fingertips, tickling his fingers. He was summoning the power of the earth and the Collaq howled with delight.

"Feel the power Martin! It is yours!" For a moment he thought he could jump to the moon and then the heat faded. Martin took a deep breathe and withdrew his arms from the ground. His fingers clasped two shiny, silver nails.

"It's time to begin Martin."

"Yes," he said, drunk from the power. "Yes."

He stood on the front door ledge, watching the shadows from a car rise and fall across his house. He reached out and turned the knob. It was locked. He exerted a small amount of pressure and the handle snapped. It was like breaking a twig. The light was on in the foyer and he walked into his house.