The Evolved (The New Era Saga Book 1) Read online

  The New Era Saga:

  The Evolved

  Copyright – 2014 by Kathleen Webb. This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, folklore, mythology, people, or places are used fictitiously. All other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any similarities to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any way without the express written consent of the author.

  Editors: Debbie Richardson, Jennifer Sell

  ISBN 13: 978-0692307731

  ISBN-10: 0692307737

  BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Contemporary

  LCCN: 2014918966

  Thank you…

  To RW for putting up with my intense focus during the writing process. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I am eternally grateful. I love you.

  To JR & DR for always believing in me and offering me the encouragement and feedback that has led me to this point.

  To SW for the best birthday present ever.

  To LB, always remember the computer’s flying at high tide.

  To my little princess and my crazy little man, for seeing me as perfect and amazing even when I’m focused on other things. I love you both.

  Chapter One:

  Thatcher

  Thatcher Kline was a freak. Or at least he always thought of himself as one. He often wondered how it would feel to be like other boys his age. To have a happy home, to goo school on a regular basis, to never live on the street or eat out of garbage cans. But he knew his life was destined to be different. From the day he was placed with his first foster family, he knew his life would be complicated. He had no parents, no siblings, and no friends. All he had was an uncanny ability to create and control fire.

  He didn’t want anyone to know his secret. He was too ashamed and consumed by guilt to do anything but try to ignore it for most of his life. But sometimes he played with it. Sometimes he used it to help him or to keep warm when he found himself sleeping outside after another escape from a foster home or orphanage; which he would probably find himself doing again in the very near future. He had been back in state custody for a week after his most recent escape. His case worker, Mrs. North, had picked him up at eight that morning for another meeting with another family to be placed in another foster home. She was the one who picked him up from the police station the night his parents died so many years ago. She was the one who picked him up from the police station every time he did something stupid.

  “Look, Thatcher, this family is your last chance.” The social worker tried to touch his hand, but he pulled away.

  He was too absorbed in thought. Maybe they’ll finally let him go, so he won’t have to go through foster home after foster home, month after month. He was going to be eighteen in seven months, so why didn’t they just give up?

  “When are you going to realize I just don’t care?” he snapped.

  “I don’t believe that at all. And deep down, I don’t think you do either.” She looked at him for a moment more, and then looked back at his colossal placement folder with a frustrated sigh.

  Thatcher felt tears stinging his eyes as he remembered the reason his life had turned out this way. But he couldn't allow himself to think about that anymore, so he looked up at Mrs. North. She was more like family to him than any of the foster homes he’d been placed in through the years. Family was a foreign concept to him at this point, so he turned and looked out the window.

  Mrs. North was talking, but he wasn’t listening. He'd turned his attention to the billboard across the street. He smirked as he lit the O’s on fire in the word hemorrhoid, and let a single hoot of laughter escape him when the people on the street began to point.

  “Is there something funny about what I said?” the social worker asked incredulously. “I don’t think there’s anything funny about you having to finish your seventeenth year out at an orphanage instead of in a foster home.”

  Thatcher was brought back to reality. He had made up his mind. He would let them place him with this last foster family, then he would take off on his own the first chance he found. He knew Mrs. North would be disappointed in him, but he was too detached to care.

  “Ok, you’re right, this isn’t funny. I’ll behave myself and try to fit in with this new family. When do I move in with them?”

  “Well, they’re waiting in the interview room. They’re a very nice family, and very well-off. They’ve even discussed the possibility of adopting you. They’re a bit quirky, so try to be understanding.” She gave him an encouraging smile as she opened the office door and motioned for him to go first.

  As they walked down the hall, Thatcher entertained the idea of making a break for it. He didn’t know if he could fake a smile and interview with another prospective family he had no interest in staying with. But when they rounded the corner and came to the door, he caught himself mid step as he stared at the couple waiting for him.

  The man was tall and menacing, and his bleach-blond hair and nearly-colorless eyes seemed to prove he wasn’t someone to be messed with. The woman was short, with her chestnut hair pulled back into a tight bun. They were smiling at him, but something wasn't right. Mrs. North didn’t seem to notice because she beamed back and introduced him.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Raleigh, this, is Thatcher Kline.”

  “We’re so pleased to meet you, Thatcher. We have been looking for you for a long time,” Mrs. Raleigh said, then seemed to realize the irregularity of what she’d said and furrowed her brow.

  “What my wife means is we’ve been looking for a boy like you for quite some time now. You see, we've been searching for a child to complete our family.” Mr. Raleigh smiled amiably and nodded at Mrs. North, who blushed and was suddenly very interested in a thread on her shirt.

  “So…what, you've been looking for a kid who hasn't made it more than six months in any foster home? Doesn’t sound like a very happy home to me,” Thatcher said sullenly.

  “Oh, quite the contrary, young man. We've been looking for a child we can sense belongs with us. A child who has always been part of our family, but just didn't know it,” replied Mr. Raleigh in a speech that seemed very well rehearsed.

  Thatcher wasn’t sure what to think as he looked back and forth between the Raleighs and Mrs. North. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

  “Alright, if you say so,” he replied. “So when do we leave?”

  Mrs. North relaxed her furrowed brow and gave Thatcher an encouraging smile. “Well, the Raleighs are ready to take you with them now. If you want to grab your bags from my office, we’ll finish the paper work and you can be on your way!”

  Thatcher nodded as he removed himself from the door frame he’d been leaning on. He headed down the hall to the office, still thinking about his escape plan. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he didn't have a good feeling about the Raleigh's. What had Mrs. North said? They're quirky. He decided that was probably a fair description, although he knew there was something more. Thatcher reached the office and stood in the doorway. He looked around at the desk, the bookshelf, the chairs, and the toy box in the corner. If Mrs. North was the closest thing he had to family, this was the closest thing he had to a home. Thatcher was done feeling sorry for himself, though. He couldn't change his past, but he could make the best of his future. As he picked up his backpack and duffel from the floor next to the chair that should permanently have his butt print in it by now, he started to think about what it would be like to have a real family again. He barely remembered his parents. It had been nearly fourteen years since they died.

  He cou
ld still hear his mother’s screams as the flames rose in his bedroom. When his mother finally broke out the window in his room, his father was already dead. It was like something from a horror film, and at the time he didn’t understand what was happening. She was crying so hard, and her salty tears ran into his hair as she pulled him close and hugged him harder than ever. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils and made his stomach turn. She helped him climb out the window, and was almost out herself when Thatcher remembered his best friend in the whole world, his stuffed dinosaur Steggie, was still on his bed. He cried out and tried to climb back into the burning house, but she yelled at him to get to the edge of the street to wait for the fire truck. His mother ran back in to grab the dinosaur. He never saw her again. When her body was recovered, she was halfway out the window, her burnt hands clutching Steggie. They said she died from smoke inhalation. He still had Steggie in his duffel. He was the only link he had to his parents, and he wasn’t even real.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If he was gone too long, they'd probably panic. Thatcher's disappearing acts were pretty famous at the Department of Social Services, so they probably had someone guarding every exit. He grinned as he made his way back down the hall, then he arrived outside the interview room. He took a deep breath and savored his last moment before his final attempt at freedom. The door was slightly ajar, and he found himself eavesdropping on a private conversation between his new parents.

  “Do you think he remembers the fire?” Mrs. Raleigh asked her husband.

  “I’m sure he does, Caprice. The boy was four. We know he is aware of his power. We’ve been keeping tabs on him for years, but every time we get close he slips away. The fact that he's had so long to hone his abilities will make this more difficult than I'd like,” Mr. Raleigh responded, barely hiding the agitation in his voice.

  Thatcher couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Who were these people? He strained to hear more, but was jolted back when the door swung open and he found himself face to face with Mr. Raleigh. His face was twisted with fury, but he quickly recovered and put on the mask of a pleasant smile.

  “Thatcher! Back already? Mrs. North went to file our paperwork so we can leave. Where would you like to eat for lunch? We’d like to take you out.” His smile held more than he cared to share.

  Thatcher took the hint and acted like he hadn’t heard anything. He gave his best perfect son smile and replied, “How about China Palace?”

  Once they were in the red sedan, Thatcher began making his plans of escape. His senses were on overload thinking through every impossible scenario, from FBI agents to circus recruiters. He wasn't sure what these two wanted from him, or how they knew about his ability, but it certainly didn't bode well for him. Were they scientists? Or government agents? What interest did they have in him?

  Lost in his thoughts, Thatcher was barely aware they'd arrived at their destination. No one had spoken during the ride. He'd seen buildings pass without registering his location, and they'd made turns without him realizing which direction they were headed. How could he have been so stupid? If he didn't know where he was, how could he hope to escape? He looked up and found himself staring at a dilapidated building. It looked like a long-forgotten industrial district, with structures just begging to become unauthorized homeless shelters. This was not China Palace; this was an abandoned warehouse.

  “What's going on? Where are we?” Thatcher did his best to keep the fear out of his voice.

  “Well, Thatcher, we know you overheard our little conversation, so we don't see a point in continuing this charade.” Mr. Raleigh turned around to look at him. He flashed his eerie homicidal murderer smile.

  “We know you've discovered your power, and we know you can use it at will. We're hoping this doesn't mean you'll put up too much of a fight.” Caprice gave him a stern look.

  “Look, I don't know what you guys want, but I don't have any powers. And I'm actually pretty hungry, so I was really hoping we were heading for China Palace.” Thatcher tried to play it cool.

  “Get out of the car,” was all Mr. Raleigh said.

  Thatcher didn't move. He decided whatever they had planned, he would definitely disappoint them and put up a major fight. The door opened, then hands reached in and yanked him out by the arm. He found himself standing outside and being roughly shoved against the car.

  “Will you at least tell me what this is all about?” Thatcher tried to distract them.

  “There's really no point. You won't live long enough for it to be worth my time,” Mr. Raleigh replied.

  “Then at least tell me your name. I overheard your wife's name is Caprice, but what about you?”

  “She’s not my wife,” Silas spat.

  “Whoa, touchy subject?” Thatcher asked, taking a step back.

  Caprice got right in his face and breathed a response he would remember for the rest of his life. “You have been our ruin. Your mere existence has destroyed the lives of our brothers and sisters.” She turned and looked at the menacing man beside her. “What are you waiting for, Silas?”

  Thatcher had heard enough. It was time to get out of there. At least he was an expert at making quick escapes. He closed his eyes and focused on every form of fire he could muster. He let go of years of anger and irritation, and somehow created a volcano, which shot straight up from the ground beneath Caprice. He heard her scream, and Silas cried out in anguish. Thatcher ran away, throwing fireballs in a repetitive volley over his shoulder.

  He ran as fast as he could, without looking back. Thatcher didn't know where he would go, but he knew it wouldn't be anywhere near here.

  Chapter Two:

  Hadley

  Hadley Callaghan wanted to hide. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, but couldn't bring herself to look away. Her sister was actually flirting with the weird guy at the coffee house. They'd seen him there every day, but he was always alone, with his face buried in a book. Not that there's anything wrong with reading, or frequenting coffee houses—she was a frequenter of coffee houses, and often had her own nose glued in a book—but seriously? This guy?

  Cringing at the giggles coming from her twin as she placed a hand on the coffee shop guys arm, Hadley decided she needed to put a stop to this.

  “Whit! Let's get going!” Hadley called a little louder than intended.

  Whitley rolled her eyes, but finger waved goodbye to the blushing bookworm.

  “You always ruin my fun,” said Whitley, pouting as they exited the coffee shop.

  “Yeah, well, I didn't appreciate the bile rising up in my throat. Vomit does not make a good coffee creamer,” Hadley teased.

  Whitley stuck out her tongue, then returned her attention to the Pumpkin Spice Latte in her hand. Hadley smiled at the passersby, trying to settle into the groove of small town life. Everyone wanted to say hello, and everyone acted as though they'd known each other all their lives.

  Thankful for her favorite brown cardigan, Hadley zipped it up the rest of the way and pulled the sleeves over her hands. The heat from the Cinnamon Latte seemed to intensify when surrounded by the sweater and her hands. Holding the coffee close to her nose, she took a deep whiff and was filled with the nostalgia of everything this time of year brings. The September air was crisp and cool, and the sun was beginning to rise above the old down town buildings of Benton, providing it's warmth to the narrow streets. She was growing to love the sight of the town committee's decorations for their Harvest Festival, and smiled thinking about how much fun it would be to join the town in their pumpkin carving and apple cider making. She'd heard it was quite the celebration.

  Hadley took in their surroundings. They'd come to this intersection every day for the last five months, and nothing had changed, aside from the decor. Their father chose this area because it made him seem like an average Joe. The voters saw him living on a big ranch, in a small but upwardly mobile town, and automatically related with him. So far, the polls were coming back in his favor, and he looked l
ike a shoe-in for the presidency. The girls weren't sure how they felt about their father’s plans to become the next President of the United States. Their mother was gone, so their father was all the family they had. If he became Mr. President, he wouldn't be theirs anymore. The move to Benton had been the first step down a dark and lonely path for the twins.

  They wandered over to a bench nestled in between two buildings. Apparently, there had been a building there years ago, but it had since been demolished. Benton loved to display its history, so the sides of the building were now covered in a mural depicting the early settlers as they built up the town. Hadley thought about the people who started Benton. They had been looking for a place to belong—a new home. She wondered what it was like to claim a place as your home; their father’s career had led them all over the country, sometimes on a bus. She smiled at the pioneer family in the mural, the mother lifting her child down from the covered wagon.

  “Do you ever think about mom?” Hadley blurted out without meaning to.

  “Wow, that came out of left field.” Whitley looked at her with concern.

  “Well, I've been thinking a lot lately about dad and his election chances. I just keep wondering if life would have turned out differently if mom hadn't left.” Hadley sighed, knowing this conversation wouldn't go anywhere.

  “I don't think so, Had. Dad's been in politics since before we were born. I honestly think if mom were still here, he would have been President before now. The perfect smiling family thing always gets votes.” Whitley's response was matter of fact, and Hadley could tell she was still distancing herself from feeling anything about their mother.

  “Do you remember her?” Hadley asked quietly.

  “I remember her face, and her hair. We look just like her. She was beautiful. I think I remember sitting on her lap, playing with her hair while she told us stories,” Whitley replied somberly.