Children From A Lesser God
Chapter Two: Drive
Fox tries to ignore the snickers come from the two boys sat next to him. They are in their IT class, and supposed to be working on coursework which is due next week, designing a computer game. It is an independent project, but Dylan and Slade, jocks on the high school football team, have been goofing around the last forty-five minutes.
He had put headphones on, so to not get distracted. He, as well as the IT teacher, Mr Elodiyen, know that this lesson isn't important for Dylan and Slade. They have already been scouted for college football and only need a C average. Fox, on the other hand, is going to have to work a little bit harder for his fortune and glory.
It's nearing towards the end of the lesson now however, and he can't help but be distracted by their animated overreactions taking place right next to him. Dylan clocks him watching the screen, jibs him in the ribs.
"Dude, you gotta watch it! It's sick!"
Fox looks behind him to make sure Mr Elodiyen isn't watching, he doesn't want to loose extra credit or class participation marks. Leaning in closer to Dylan's computer screen, Slade passes him his headphones and he listens to the re-dub rap music of this guys speech.
The clip ends and he gives Slade back the headphones.
"Isn't it the shit?"
"Sick", Fox agrees, glancing back to see Mr Elodiyen, "better get back to work, before Elodiyen grabs me by my balls", he jokes and they agree.
…
He's sat in Sarah's car outside his house. She is busy prattling on about some celebrity couple, or Africa, or something. She had lost his interest a while ago.
His fingers tap impatiently on her car wheel. "Hey, do you want to see something funny?" he interrupts, desperate to change the subject.
Her shoulders sag disappointedly but she agrees.
He gets out his phone to open the video clip the guys had showed him earlier in IT.
"Stop, Fox", looking down at his phone in disgust, "please don't tell me you're going to show me what I think you're going to show me".
"It's funny", he defends with a chuckle.
"No it's not", she counters, turning to him seriously. "It's deeply offensive", she scoffs revulsion, turning away completely from him in the drivers seat. Her arms cross over her chest in a huff. "I thought you were better than that", she mumbles.
Fox sighs, kicking open the driver's door, slamming it shut before stomping up the pathway to his house, then the stairs to his bedroom. Where he crashes the door shut.
…
The video is still going viral around the school the next day, and Sarah is still ignoring him, so he had to cycle into school.
He doesn't get why she is acting so irately towards him, it is just a video … and it wasn't like it was he who made it or anything. Nonetheless it has caused him so much trouble, he is not surprised when it comes up in his English lesson. His teacher, Mr Almarani, first of all showing the original news clip of the rescue of the kidnapped girls, and then showing the dub mixed version.
"What is the effect?" he asks the class.
"It's funny!" one boy shouts out and receives a few laughs.
"Funny how?"
"I don't know", the boy shrugs dumbly, "it just is".
"I don't know why it is funny, it just is", Mr Almarani repeats dumbly, and the class laugh. "Sarah?" and Fox tenses at the mention of her name, knowing she sits exactly three rows and one column to the left from him.
"Be the examiner for me"
"F minus, sir", she chuckles, "definite F minus".
"Sir, if I may", and Fox's shoulders tense again, but for entirely different reasons.
Doggett.
John Dogett.
If he had one enemy at school it would be him. One of the top three players in the school basketball team, and definite top student in all the classes he has with him. He is always saying something smart, something witty. It seems, wherever he goes, Doggett is there too, and he always has one up on him. Not to mention the fact that he stole the girl he had pined over since Grade 8 the moment he joined in junior year.
"The effect of this video is a rather tragic one, sir - "
Fox rolls his eyes, and starts drumming his pencil against his desk - but not loud enough so he can't hear what he is saying.
" - it has a turned an American hero, who can actually claim that he saved two human beings living in terror under the submissiveness of their oppressor, into the court jester so to speak; and the fact that those have found comedy out of it, quite frankly disgusts me, and makes them all sheep in a tainted flock"
Queue the applause.
Fox turns in his seat to where Doggett's sits, giving in and contributing a clap or two. He watches Sarah's gaze on him, ogling him like he is some sort of Messiah, and he feels like throwing up, or puncturing Doggett's neck with his fountain pen.
"Excellent, Doggett", Mr Almarani praises, "and lovely reference to the politics of the state and Shakespeare … on that note, everyone turn to Act Two of Macbeth".
Fox turns glumly back in his seat. There is nothing Mr Almarani loves more than state bashing and Shakespeare.
…
Friday 11th October
It hit Fox hard like a shoe to the back of his skull. Why he found the video so alluring. He couldn't believe it had taken him so long to make the connection, but then again, maybe he preferred not address the nagging thought at the back of his mind. But now it was out in consciousness, it definitely had to be answered now.
Even though he and Sarah had made up - he had publicly scolded a Junior for laughing while she shared the now Senior-trending offensive video with her friend - he walked home after school. He did not want the hassle of trying to make conversation with his girlfriend, pretending to be interested in what she prattled on about, when all he wanted to do was speak to Her. Also because it was actually fourth period he was flunking.
His walk home was more in-between a run and a jog, that he does not stop until he bursts into her room.
Her blue irises look at him wide, with alarm.
Lying on her bed, he has possibly interrupted her sleep and now props herself on what looks like a very uncomfortable twisted elbow.
"Fox?" Teena Mulder's voice called from the bottom of the stairs. "… Fox? Is that you?" she was making her way up onto the landing.
But their eyes do not disconnect.
"Fox?" his mother opens his bedroom door further down the corridor.
He puts his finger to his lips, and her eyebrows rise animatedly as he walks towards her before ducking under her bed.
He realises a bit of his trainer is sticking out of the white frilly bed skirting too late, but he can't do anything about it as he can hear his mother's footsteps stop outside the bedroom door. Drawing in his foot will only make him more known.
"… Is it only you in here?" his mothers voice asks sternly. " … I thought I heard voices?"
The girl stays silent.
"…OK…", his mother resigns, "it must have been the wind", she tuts.
Fox stays under her bed until she hears his mother's footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs, and the front door close.
He rolls out, quietly rising into a standing position, recomposing his stature of authority, while she tries to little herself as much a possible, drawing herself into the corner as best as she can with her large protruding bump.
Her eyes are frightened, but any words of kindness and assurance die on his tongue.
"Are you being kept here against your will?" Fox demands.
Her eyes widen, but makes no indication of response.
"Are you being held here against your will?" he asks again, using actions this time. Perhaps she doesn't speak English.
Dropping to sit at the edge of her bed, the pulse vein that cords down her neck and along her collar bone, pulsates widely. Her lips trembling without words coming out.
He can visibly see that she fears him, but instead of increasing their distance, he does the opposite, pulling in even closer to her. His hand grabs a naked ankle, and he grasps it tightly. If it hurt her, she didn't show any indication.
"If you are being held here against your will, you have to tell me", his desperation almost turn to cries.
She frowns curiously at him, but shakes her head, and Fox's whole body sighs in relief. Not that he ever thought that his father would be capable of it, but he couldn't stand the idea that his father might be … using her. That the thing growing inside of her was in fact his sibling.
He releases his grip on her and stands up. His head falling back as if he has been redeemed of a charged crime he did not commit.
…
Sunday 13th October
Fox turned eighteen today. At 09:04 this morning to be precise. His mother had rehashed his birth over breakfast as he had shovelled birthday pancakes, syrup and bacon, trying to listen to as little as possible, whilst trying to sound as interested as possible. It was just the two of them at breakfast, but his father should be joining them in the evening.
Sarah joined them in the evening too. They were supposed to go out for dinner, but his father insisted they couldn't. Sarah was polite as ever, arriving dressed up for a five star restaurant and instead dined in the Mulder dining room. And although Teena Mulder's cooking is of class, a three course meal whipped up in anger does not compare. Added to that, there were the two very obvious black eyes and split lip Bill Mulder was sporting.
The meal only lasted an hour and half, and the conversation was mostly held by Fox and Sarah, whilst Mr Mulder pretended to be interested in their conversation, and Mrs Mulder shot daggers at her husband.
When another prolonged silence hung over the party of four, Sarah announced that she should be getting home even though it was only eight thirty. She reached into her purse to retrieve her phone, when his father threw a set of keys into his son's hands.
"Happy Birthday, Son", Mr Mulder smiles.
…
Fox returned from dropping Sarah off an hour later. His parents were still arguing and if they heard him come in, they didn't acknowledge it.
At around eleven thirty in the evening, he waltzed down the stairs in his T and boxers to cut another slice of his birthday cake.
The door to his father's study is slightly ajar and he can see his father set up a bed on the couch.
He hesitates.
"Dad", he knocks on the wood, straightening his new Knicks shirt that Sarah bought him for his birthday.
"Come in, Son".
"Thanks for the car, Dad", Fox smiles nervously.
His father perched at the end of the couch, staring at his upturned palms. "That's OK. You deserve it. You're a good boy, Fox", turning a pained smile to his son.
Fox swallows the frog in his throat.
"...Wh, what happened to your face, Dad?"
"Just a small disagreement at work, it's fine, Son", he smiles.
Fox fidgets. His father works for the government. He works in international negotiation and defence. There is no reason why he should be coming home with two black eyes and split lip.
"Da - "
"It's fine, Son", he insists. "What are you doing downstairs anyway?"
"Came for another slice of Mom's cake… Do you want some?"
"I'm OK, Son. Happy Birthday"
Fox hesitates for a while longer, but his father doesn't say anymore. Conversation over.
He consumes two slices of cake downstairs and then takes one upstairs with him to eat whilst in bed.
The light is Her room is on however.
Knocking lightly on the door, he opens the door into her bedroom. She obviously didn't hear as she is stood in the middle of the room admiring her bump in the full length mirror. The white nightgown that she wears is basically translucent in the full watt light. Too big for her small frame, it highlights her profile. The sharpness of her collar bone, the small curve of her breast, her swollen stomach, tenting over her slim legs.
She turns suddenly, jumping when she catches his stare on her.
But he can't look away immediately, his eyes thirsty, drink in the sight of her.
She becomes self conscious of his watch and shrinks herself into the study chair where some of his Grade 9 books lie open.
"I brought you some cake", he clears his throat, producing the slice from behind his back. He walks into the room and lays it on the desk in front of her. "It was my birthday today".
Her mouth twitches, her eyes widening at this, but in the end she turns away from him.
Her hair is cropped very short. The last time he saw her, it curled around her breast. Now it curls around her ears.
"You've cut your hair", he observes, and her hands defensively go to stroke the short ends. Although at an angle, he can see her face break out in what Fox fears will be tears, but whatever emotions she is fighting, she manages to keep at bay.
"Midsummers Night Dream", he indicates to one of the books she has opened. "William Shakespeare. The Bard. He's an English poet and writer. Wrote many plays and sonnets. This is just one of them. I imagine you're finding the language difficult".
She stays still and silent.
Fox sighs, "anyway, enjoy the cake", exiting the room.
"Happy Birthday", he hears her quiet whisper just as he closes the door.
Her voice is like the angels.
…
Fox is woken up by the heavy pushes against his shoulder.
Blinking his eyes open into the darkness, he recognises his father's voice.
"Dad?" he asks, blurry.
"Fox, there isn't much time to explain. But you need to leave. You need to leave with the girl and get her far away from here. Get up. You have five minutes to get dressed and pack a bag. No phone. Nothing that you already own that can be tracked. Take your cards and passport, but under no circumstance use them".
Fox frowns at his father's distressed face.
"Fox, move!" he snaps.
Fox shoots up out of bed, "but, what about -"
"Move!"
…
The girl sits in the backseat of his new car. Her eyes are wide and frightened. Just like Foxs'.
"Now Son", Bill Mulder hangs over the wound-down driver window. "Remember what I said?"
"Drive"
Mr Mulder nods, tapping his son's face affectionately.
"But why Dad?"
Mr Mulder sighs, "Son, she is very important. Her baby is very important, and there are people who will stop at nothing to get it. They can't do that"
Fox's eyes widen, the enormity of the situation, combined with tiredness and fear hitting him again. "Dad", he chokes, "can't you come with me?"
Mr Mulder shakes his head. "I need to stay here, Son. I would take her myself but you are closer in age. Less questions will be asked if you are the one that takes her"
"But where do I take her, Dad?!" Fox snaps.
"Somewhere safe"
"Where is that?!" he bashes she steering wheel in frustration.
His father rests a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Son"
"I can't calm down, Dad", he scratches the back of his head wildly. "I don't know what to do. You haven't told me anything. I ca - I can't do this"
"Yes you can, because you are my son. I trust you and everyday you make me so proud. Keep a low profile. Keep her safe. If you must call me, you have that cell, but only if it is an absolute emergency", he insists sternly. "I will call you. Now go. Drive".
A/N: Ooo the chapters are getting longer. I can't help it. Until next update!