Ah, the good stuff begins! I'm so proud of myself that I got this far. I usually (try to) write novels, so the rising action stage is a new achievement for me. YES!

Disclaimer: The Incredibles and Syndrome belong to Disney/Pixar. Urnox, Aernox, and Sam belong to yours truly. YES!

Chapter 5

Monsters and Memories

Dash's eyes gently slid open to darkness. He sat up groggily, switching on the lamp at his bedside and looking up at the clock on the wall. It read 3:07. Judging by the fact that his room was completely dark save for the light emanated from his lamp and the night light under his desk in the corner, that was 3 AM. Grumbling, he looked around rubbing his right eye. Why had he woken so early?…

Violet gradually sat up in her bed, blinking slowly. Her room was pitch black. She reached over and turned on the lamp on the coffee table she had set next to her bed. The flowered shade distorted the light and cast eerie shadows across the walls. She shook her head violently, causing her hair to scatter in all directions. With a large quantity of it over her face, she got out of bed and walked toward the door, glancing at her alarm clock as she went. It read 3:07 in the morning.

Walking out into the hallway, she nearly ran into Dash, who also was coming out of his room. "Why are you up so early?" she asked him, yawning.

"I could ask you the same question," he snarled.

"I don't think I'm awake yet," was her sleepy reply.

At that moment, their parents' door swung open, and Helen walked out, closely followed by Bob.

"What is this," Dash said sarcastically, "party in the hall?"

Violet yawned again. "Just shut up."

"He has a point," their father put in, "Why is everyone awake?"

Not two seconds after he said what they all had been thinking, something very big and very strong rammed against the house.

The family ran down the stairs and out the front door at top speed, Helen cradling Jack-Jack in her arms. They all looked around wildly, searching for their assailant. Suddenly something that looked like a cross between a bat and a lizard the size of a large fighter jet soared overhead on enormous wings, loosing a piercing screech. It banked sharply and dove toward the supers.

It was a strange grey-blue color. Its head was short and stout, with small, beady black eyes, sharp, beak-like lips and two huge fangs reinforced by an incalculable number of smaller but just as threatening teeth. Three large spines jutted from the back of its neck in a line, each progressively smaller further from the head. Its arms were connected to its wings, with its fingers being the separations between each leathery section and its thumb a small claw at the top of the wing, much like a bat's. Its tail was long, with a spike at the end that resembled a highly decorated arrowhead. Its legs were thin, but muscular, with three toes, one extending out from the back of the foot, so that it could pass as a thumb. Each toe ended in a menacingly curved claw.

The massive creature screeched again, extending its claws towards them. At the last minute, Bob leapt out in front of his family and wrapped his fingers around those of his foe. With a grunt of exertion, he hurled the monster out away from the house. It curled up into a ball – like a cannonball rocketing towards the neighboring homes – and just before impact, it opened up and began furiously beating its wings, completely changing the direction of flight. It screamed again, then began circling the Parrs slowly. Once again, it let out a shriek. This time, the call was answered.

From around the back of the house came a roar so loud and so deep the ground seemed to tremble. An even larger monster darted out toward them. In a way, it resembled a crocodile, except for the grey coloring that was so dark it was almost black. Its head was shaped as such, its body thick with unimaginable strength. However, it possessed human-like arms rippling with muscle, each finger tipped with claws just like the flying creature's. It had six legs, each very long and very thin, like spider's legs. It balanced on the tips of the legs, having no discernable feet. The tail, the teeth, and the spines on the neck were exactly the same as its companion's. Its eyes were large, with slitted pupils and blazing red irises.

It roared again, boasting an enormous tongue that tapered to a point at the end. It was a dark red that reminded the Parrs of blood, and danced slightly as the waves of sound poured out of the creature's mouth. And with that, it charged.

The family of supers knew now that they were in trouble. It was only with luck that their father had been able to fend off the flying beast, which would most likely not fall for that again. That, and the crocodile one would be near impossible to fend off. And now, these two unstoppable fiends were both coming at them from opposite sides.

As the Parrs huddled together in a last embrace, as they watched their doom swiftly charge towards them, suddenly, doom stopped in its tracks. The creatures froze, cowering in fear, turned, and fled into the darkness. The family watched them go, stunned into silence. Then they turned, staring in awe at what had caused the beasts to surrender their prey. There in the doorway, looking as if he had not seen what had just happened, seeming confused, stood the boy that had lain unconscious on their sofa for the last two days.

Each of the Parrs had their own ideas of what he would say when he woke up. None had ever expected, simple as it was, that he would say what he did.

Softly, quietly, he asked them, "Where the hell am I?"

The Parrs said nothing, instead continuing to gape at him. He matched their stares with an unblinking gaze that looked as if the knowledge of every movement of the universe lurked behind them. Then he sat down on the step without making a sound. After a short while, he began to stretch his fingers, listening to the bones make tiny popping noises, and slowly rolled his head around in a circle. After this routine, he bent his legs, wrapping his arms around his knees at chest level. He began gently rocking back and forth in this position, glancing around at the house, the trees, and the sky. He let out a heavy sigh, aimed upwards, so that it caught hold of a good portion of his bangs and lifted them. Violet couldn't help but grin at the innocent antics of the boy.

She stuck out an elbow and nudged her father, knocking him out of his stunned trance. He glanced down at her with a dumb look. She jerked her head pointedly at the boy on their porch. Gaining control of his limp jaw, Bob stepped forward.

"Hi," he said lamely, mentally smacked himself, then continued, "I'm Bob Parr."

The unnamed boy before him glanced at the beastly hand Bob had extended. He paused, just the slightest pause that did as much to calm his host's nerves as an hour's worth of venomous glaring, then gripped the hand with his own and shook it.

Bob opened his mouth to say something, lost it on the tip of his tongue. After a moment of awkward silence, he said, "I bet you're wondering why you woke up in my house, huh?"

Dash clapped a hand to his forehead.

The boy shrugged, smiled. "It crossed my mind," he replied.

Bob chuckled. "My wife, Helen," he said, gesturing to her, "found you unconscious on the side of the road. She brought you back here. You were out of it for three days."

"Jeez," the boy said, drawing in air through clenched teeth so that it made a hissing noise. He shifted his weight. "Was I hit by a car, or what?"

Helen found herself next to her husband. "We don't know," she answered quietly. Then, after a pause, "You didn't look like you were."

The boy nodded. "That's good."

Bob brought his children forward. "These are our kids, Dash and Violet."

They greeted him nervously.

He nodded again, to them, then looked back at Bob. "They usually this quiet?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Dash found this comment against his pleasure, and took it upon himself to prove their visitor wrong. "No way!" he said excitedly, "I'm actually really annoying. Ask anyone! And watch this!" He broke into a top-speed sprint around his family.

"Dash!" they hissed.

Several laps – or a few seconds – later, Bob snatched Dash into the air and set him back down, grinning innocently.

The boy tilted his head to the side, narrowed his eyes, and wagged a finger at Dash. "Are you supposed to be able to do that?" he asked.

"Nope!" Dash blurted, launching into another excited explanation, "I'm a super! We're all supers!"

"Dash!" his family groaned again.

The boy let a grin crease his face and, after a slight pause, noted, "I wasn't supposed to know that, was I?

In coordination with another group groan, Dash said, "Nope!"

The boy shook his head, chucking.

Bob took another step forward. "Look," he said, "what's your name?"

The boy was quiet for a moment, then said, "Sam."

"Last name?"

There was another pause, longer this time. Then Sam sighed and said, "I don't know."

Bob was taken aback. "You don't KNOW?" he said, aghast.

Sam shrugged, sighed again. "I don't know. I can't remember."

Bob stared at him. "Who are you?"

Sam was silent.

The atmosphere of the Parr household was considerably colder after that day. Sam was allowed to stay, but the walls had never known such an uncomfortable calm. The floors were no longer pounded by Dash's scrabbling feet. Rarely did a single word pass Violet's lips. Even Jack-Jack was abnormally tranquil. Dinners were awkward and often just shy of completely silent with this identity-less young man sitting amongst the family, seldom eating. Time and again he sat leaning back, arms folded, chin in hand, fingers gently massaging his lower lip, staring through the food on his plate with a look of incredibly deep thinking.

On this particular evening, on the fifth day of Sam's residence there, the hesitance of previous dinners was far outdone by a discomforting silence. Not even Bob and Helen touched their food. Something seemed to have been hanging over their heads ever since Sam woke up that had now finally manifested itself. And, as if to prove that point, Bob suddenly spoke up.

"Sam," he said, after a moment's uncertainty that he had to fight off before continuing, "what were those monsters that attacked us that night?"

Sam looked at him blankly. "What night?" he said, "When I woke up?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause.

"I don't know."

Another pause, longer.

"You don't…?"

Sam sighed, clicked his tongue. "Nope."

There was a very long pause. All eyes were on Sam.

He took a breath, began to say something and stopped, licked his lips, and looked up at Bob, and Bob alone.

"Look, I'm sorry, I haven't been a lot of help around here…"

"No, no, it's fine, it's…"

"I'm just…"

"It's really alright, I don't expect you to do anything huge…"

"I just can't remember anything…"

"It's alright, you're a kid, you're…"

"I can't… I just can't…"

"It's OK. It's all going to be OK. You're more than welcome here. It's OK."

And at this point it was comfort rather than stuttered attempts at reassurance, because at that moment Bob saw something that shocked him, despite himself: a tear. A shimmering flow of water that cascaded silently down Sam's cheek, in the most unexpected place, at the most unexpected time, and from the most unexpected person.

"I just…" he sobbed quietly, "I just can't…"

None of the Parrs dared say a word, because none could think of what to say. Sam was allowed to cry.

"I can't even remember my name…" He was openly weeping now, crying out his laments. "I don't even know who I am!"

And he said no more after that, because at that moment, Helen interjected with, "You didn't before. But you do now."

Sam's bleary eyes turned up to meet hers. She stood, walked around to him, and, stooping to his eye level, grasped his hand.

"You're Sam Parr," she whispered.

He gazed at her for a while longer, then his eyes slid closed, and he laid his head on his arm.

"Boy," Dash said, "he fell asleep fast."

Ignoring him, Helen lifted Sam's sleeping form out of his chair with some difficulty, but as gently as she could, and carried him into the living room and laid him on the couch on which he slept.

Bob said nothing as his wife slid under the covers beside him. She lay silently for a while, then rolled over to face him and said, "Why don't you trust him?"

"Huh? Who?"

"You know."

"Oh, Sam? Who says I don't trust him?"

"You don't. I can tell."

"I don't not trust… I do trust him!"

"You don't."

"OK, I'm a little uneasy about him, I admit it, but I'm not suspicious of him."

"Uneasy?"

"Yes, uneasy."

"More like unsettled."

"That seems a harsh way to put it."

"It fits."

Bob sighed. "He's weird," he said after a short silence.

"Don't say that. That's derogatory."

"Well, it fits."

Helen glowered at him. "Don't be like that."

Bob held up his hand in surrender.

Helen rolled back over, away from him. A strange feeling began to flood over her, a queasiness, like her whole body was asleep, then it faded, and she was asleep.

Yay, end of Chapter Five! How was it? Send me a review and let me know,
'cause I'm dying to know what you think! Personally, I'm
SO proud… tell me if I should be –
I will indeed be joyful. And that's no lie.

I promise, Chapter Six will be INTENSE. You're just going to have to trust me on that,
tbough. I don't know if I would if I were you. Being me.