Heat

  Heat

  by Elizabeth Caroline

  Second edition: 1/02/2020

  Copyright © 2020 Elizabeth Caroline.

  All rights reserved.

  This book is dedicated to…

  My father,

  Although he never read it and maybe he wouldn’t like it he’d still have said how proud he was of me, because that’s the type of man he was.

  Special dedication to…

  My husband for always encouraging me to just do it,

  Sumi, Ruqs and Kinah my number one fans who, without them, Westpoint would never have grown to what it is and to my kids for just giving me the space to complete my dream.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Dammit” I said, my voice harsh with frustration as I scrawled 3 black lines through the third name on the list.

  It was the list Dr J had given me the day he warned me of the other doctors’ intentions for me and told me to run away from the facility. He'd never said what the list was for and, as I'd never seen him again after that day, I really had no idea what it could mean.

  Most of the workers at the facility were doctors, and many had feigned friendship with me, but Dr J was the only one I could truly call a friend. I’d been sceptical about his affection at first, wondering what exactly he wanted from me and when he would get bored of his pretence and abandon me. But Dr J's kindness had been consistent to the end and it was his kind nature and calm manner that eventually made me love him so deeply.

  “Dammit!” I said again through clenched teeth, fighting the tears as the anger welled up inside me. I owed it to him to find whatever he had wanted me to find, and I owed it to him to avenge his death which had been written down as a suicide in the newspaper article I had seen. Dr J was quiet and a lot more reserved than the other doctors, but he wasn't suicidal and would never have promised to help me only to go and kill himself.

  With a flick of my hand I pushed away the brown strands of hair that fell into my face, releasing a wave of heat that fell up on the grass, which wilted immediately. Its colour, which imitated the green of my eyes, darkening to a light brown. A seemingly ironic gesture as it now mimicked the same tone as my skin.

  Again I pushed my curls away, which again refused to stay in place and fell back down. The same disobedient curl tapping me playfully on my cheek. My wild locks had always seemed to have a life of their own, so, leaving them to their own devices I turned my attention to the horizon as the sun began to emerge. The sun painted the sky a deep golden colour; the edges of the clouds were a most brilliant orange as the rays of the sun made them appear to have started to rust. Sunrise and sunset were my favourite times of the day and I never could decide which was the most beautiful. I would often find some vantage point where I could watch them from.

  I allowed the warm morning air to fill my lungs, until I gradually released it with all the anxiety my memories of Dr J had brought. Squinting slightly as I looked at the sky, creating the distortion that looked like a sky set on fire. I smiled, a warm glow of happiness that I rarely felt spreading through me. Yep, sunrise is the best I said to myself that morning and focused my energy on my hand, until a familiar flame emerged from my palm and grew to the size of a basketball. Staring into the ball of fire and I smiled again.

  With the glare of the flame in my eyes I looked back out at the horizon, the sun had fully emerged now and the sky was a pale blue with bright beams of light burning through the clouds. I brushed my hands off and pulled myself up over the railing of the bridge. It was time to return to the library to start my search for Westpoint, the next name on the list of cities.

  There were huge databases of information about most of the cities and towns in surrounding counties aswell as records of old newspapers that I could search through. The library was a large, old building which, even though it was somewhat full, was very quiet. I made my way to the top of the building where they held all the records and sat at one of the computers. The search 'Westpoint' delivered 407 results. There were a number of Westpoint avenues, villages, squares and towns, as well as several businesses, schools, stations and other locations bearing Westpoint in their name.

  It didn't take long before I came across a 20 year old article about random fires that had been happening around one Westpoint town, the majority of which were at the local high school. Whoever it was that was responsible for the fires was never found but it is believed that a local high school student was the arsonist.

  Reading through the article, it turned out that a few other students were also targeted for the attacks, in particular a boy named Charles Williams. There was a black and white photo of the boy standing near a burnt out car in his driveway. When questioned about the attacks by the journalist he mostly had no comment, but suggested that it must have been the efforts of a local prankster.

  This has to be it, I thought, excited by the first sign of something relatable, This has to be what I've been looking for. I doubted very much that it was the result of a prank. It was simply a young boy with an ability similar to mine, but no way to keep himself under control. Excitement and anxiety shot through my body as I dragged the mouse to the print button. 20 years ago there was possibly a high school student with the same ability as mine, is it possible he could be my father? And if it really is him, I'm going to find him.

  I printed the article and added it to my rucksack of random items I'd taken with me from the facility the day I left. My next step was to find Charles Williams!

  The Westpoint town that Charles had lived in was near the south coast. I'd never been that far south, but it didn't take me long to reach there. A 20 hour drive equated to around a 20 minute flight if I put my heart into it. And although I hadn't had much chance to practice flying at the facility, on account of never telling anyone other than Dr J that I actually could fly. I had had plenty of opportunities to practice during the many occasions when I had run away before. Of course they were only temporary bouts of freedom. I never would have left the facility for good if Dr J hadn't told me to. He was really all I had, until then, or at least I hoped.

  The early morning leaves rustling in the wind were my only company on the streets of Westpoint. A quiet, quaint, little town. An atmosphere that was somewhat too familiar as I'd spent many days wondering the vacant grounds of the facility. Although there had been numerous buildings scattered throughout the grounds, these were simply entrances to the sub-terrain tunnels and laboratories where I had spent the last 7 years of my life undergoing daily tests and examinations as well as numerous training routines.

  So the joy of finding Charles name in the phone directory was quickly overshadowed by the fact that, although I had had all those years of training in survival and defence skills, I hadn't had a single lesson and much less opportunity to even practice the one skill I needed now; social interaction. And finding Warrington street, the street where Charles lived, wasn't very hard considering the size of Westpoint so I was no nearer to a solution on what or how I would approach him to find the information I needed.

  Warrington street was lined on both sides with detached houses, each of which had a front lawn which led around the sides of the houses to what must have been the back yard. The lawns were all well looked after with small flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. Number 32 was little less than halfway down the street, a short driveway led up to the house in which there was a silver car parked. The smell of various flowers and freshly cut grass filled my nostrils as I took my last breath to compose what thoughts I had manage to gather, then I knocked the door.

  CHAPTER 2

  A young woman of medium height, not much taller than me, with shoulder-length chestnut hair that beautifully framed her pale skin stood in the doorway. Her eyes, which were like amber that burned in the sunlight, slowly gazed over
my face.

  ”Hi,” She said once the door was fully opened. She had a light smile on her face, which I decided was due to politeness rather than true friendliness.

  “Hi. I'm looking for Charles.” I said. She nodded casually, almost as if she'd expected me.

  “Okay. Would you like to come in?” She said stepping aside slightly. Past the lady was a staircase, to the left of which was a fairly wide and long hallway leading off into three rooms. Without looking back at the lady in the doorway I walked into the house, the smell of warm bread enveloping me with a much cosier setting than I had prepared for. “Err , he's in the first room on the left.” The lady said with a sound of slight annoyance on her voice.

  I wasn't fazed easily if at all, unfamiliarity and uncertainties were daily practice in my life, so I had quickly grown accustomed to not expecting too much and never being disappointed if I didn't get what I wanted. That day, I did walk with perhaps more of a skip than usual. That day was different! I was possibly going to find out information about my father, all the dreams I had had of him, the warrior with emerald eyes, suddenly resurfaced, and it was possible I would soon meet the one person I needed, the person who could finally answer the questions no one else could. I walked down the hallway and turned into what looked like a living room. The room had a different aura about it and was filled with décor which appeared to belong to someone a lot older than Charles should be. I wasn't sure if his parents were still alive, but it was obvious that he hadn't changed much if they had died judging by the two piece pleated sofa complete with ruffles along the bottom, even Mrs Maple would have considered that old fashioned.

  “Hi.” Charles said, looking up from the PC monitor which sat on a table at the far end of the room. I knew his face well from the newspaper cuttings, although he was a lot more handsome in real life. “Did you come about the job advertisement?” He asked, rising from his seat and walking over to me, his mouth forming a full smile to the point that his white teeth appeared from behind his lips.

  “No.” I said eventually, bubbles of anxiety slowly filling me. “I'm looking for my father. I think you might have known him.”

  “Oh.” He said, suddenly looking concerned. “What was his name?”

  “Err, I don't really know. It's hard for me to explain, but he came from around here and I think he was in the same year as you at high school.” He lowered his eyebrows, obviously perplexed. His eyes, which were a dark green, rather than brown as I had assumed studying me closely. The lady who had opened the door walked around from behind me and stood next to Charles folding her arms in front of her.

  “How would you know they were in the same year?” She asked, a slight look of suspicion on her face. I glanced at her briefly and then dismissed her question and looked back to Charles.

  “This is my wife, Rachael.” Charles said sensing the atmosphere.

  Throwing a nonchalant glance back at her I answered, “I've been looking for him for a while and I found some old newspaper cuttings about arson attacks that happened around here some years back.” I pulled my bag down from my shoulder and reached in for the newspaper printout, “It says a few of them took place on your property but they were later found out to be some sort of school prank.” Charles nodded slowly. “Well, I think the prankster might have been my father. Did you ever find out who it was?”

  “No.” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But I doubt it could have been your father.”

  I clenched my jaw and asked, "Why would you say that?" the disappointment I had hoped they wouldn’t see in my face, apparent in my voice.

  "Why would you think it was him?” he asked, finally looking away from the newspaper cutting.

  “It's hard to explain.” I said. I took the paper cutting back and rolled it up, nervously twisting my hands around the rolling. I wanted to tell him as much as I could, I needed as much information as possible and he seemed like someone you could trust. Of course I wasn't sure why, I wasn't exactly the most worldly of people but there was something about a person’s eyes. Like the safety I had seen in Dr J's eyes, or warning I had seen in Dr Q's. Charles had the same look as J, although Rachael, who watched me with almost as much suspicion as I watched her, I couldn't really say the same about.

  Charles raised his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer. Perhaps I didn't think this through properly, I thought. Realising there was no way I could explain the vague message Dr J had given me without explaining why he had done it in such a strange way. “You're not from around here are you?” Charles asked.

  “No. I've lived near Outwood Park most of my life.”

  “Wow, that's quite a distance. Does anybody know you came here?”

  “No,” I answered slowly.

  “Do you want us to call someone? I'm sure they're worried about you.” He said, had it not been for the softness in his voice and face I would have considered him patronising.

  “I doubt it.” I answered, a small laugh leaving my throat at the thought. Charles passed Rachael a quick glance before looking back to me.

  “Are you in some kind of trouble or something?” She asked raising an eyebrow.

  “No." I answered abruptly. "There's just no one who cares about me for anyone to be worried." Rachael lowered one eyebrow, glaring back at me sceptically. "Look, my Mom died when I was born and I lived in various foster homes until I was nine and then...”. I had never planned to talk about my ability with anyone, it had caused me enough trouble in the past, but Charles had the answers about my father. I was sure of it. And what was the worst that could happen? If they had taught me anything in the facility, it was how to survive. Charles raised a hand to quiet Rachael before she spoke again.

  “It's safe for you to talk to us. We'll help if we can.” He said, his voice filled deeply with concern.

  “I just need to find out about my father. If he's alive and where he is.”

  “Well, erm...” He stopped shortly, his face crumpling slightly in confusion.

  “Claudia.” I reminded him, although I hadn't told him my name earlier.

  “I work part time at the school. Perhaps tomorrow I could look over some of the old students. I can't promise I'll find anything but you never know.”

  “Really? You won't get into trouble for that?”

  “Don't worry about it. I would really like to help if I can.” He said.

  A teacher! I thought. Of course! His profession did fit in perfectly with his attitude, although I would have guessed counsellor if given the option.

  “Thanks, I'd really appreciate that.”

  “It's fine. It's just, I understand how you're feeling.” he said, looking towards the floor as he spoke “I'm adopted.” He didn't need to say any more than that, I knew what his response meant. I could see it in the hurt that had flashed through his eyes as he said the words. He had lost his parents at an early age too and had either already tried or would have tried to find them if it were possible. I hadn't known.

  “I'm sorry.” I said quietly. I knew it was a silly thing to say, as people had said it to me before when they'd heard that I was an orphan. I often found it quite bemusing and wondered what exactly they were sorry about. But now, seeing the pain such an acknowledgement could cause, I understood.

  Charles gestured towards the two piece sofa, “Would you like to sit down?” He asked. Without answering I walked over to the sofa and sat down, and after miming a drinking action to Rachael, Charles picked up a chair and followed me. He placed the chair in front of the sofa. “Do you want to tell me why you came to Westpoint?” He asked.

  “Well ... I wasn't really told why but ..." I said, deciding it was that moment or never ".. a friend, a worker at a research facility I lived at, gave me a list of names; cities, towns. He said there was something I needed to find and I would find it in one of those places. Westpoint was one of them.”

  I spoke slowly, watching him closely for any sign of disbelief, but his face held the same intrigued expression it had before I starte
d. Drawn in by his gaze I began to tell him how I had been taken to the facility at the age of nine and had lived there for the last seven years. I spoke briefly about my life there moving quickly to when I ran away. I explained how I had moved from town to town over the last 4 months until I decided to start researching the list I had been given. And when I saw the article about the arson attacks I just knew it had something to do with my father.

  “Ok.” He said subconsciously, the look in his eyes seemed far away, his mind still taking in the story I had told him. “Ok,” He said again suddenly snapping back into the present. “So what made you think your father had something to do with the arson attacks?”

  Letting out a deep breath, I nodded in preparation. This would be the moment when I either found the answer to my questions or lost my new ally. “There are some people in the world who can do strange things, right?” I started, “Recently there was that boy who could change the colour of his skin. You know the chameleon kid?” Charles nodded in acknowledgement. “Well, I believe my father was one of those people. One who could start fires with his mind.”

  Charles looked over at Rachael as she re-entered the room with a tray of glasses. “I believe my father could do this … because I can do it as well.” Rachael, who had been arranging the glasses on the table stopped, straightening back up to star at me, her mouth slightly gaping. Charles didn’t move, his eyes fixed on me. Small ripples of heat ran down my arms and legs, that wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting. I looked back towards the door, as the wave of heat grew inside me. It would be easy enough to escape if needed. The silence was eventually broken by the turning of the handle of the room's furthest door. My eyes widening in fear as the door slowly opened. What did I do? Maybe Charles isn't as safe as he seemed. I pulled the straps of my bag over my shoulders in anticipation, my legs twitching in preparation to run. I'd almost sprung from the chair as a figure emerged from behind the door. Except, it wasn't a man in a white coat like the men at the facility, whom I had expected would come to look for me some day. It was an elderly woman wearing a burgundy flannel dressing gown and pink fluffy slippers, her face lit with a pleasant smile. One which fell as her eyes met mine, stopping in her tracks, her eyes squinting to get a better view. Slowly her mouth dropped, her hand raising to cover her surprise and a small gasp leaving her lips; “Denise?”