12 Years Before Sami Met Pinn

  Pinn was anything but a young man of routine. Deliberately, he would take a different way home every day to maximize the amount of novel experiences he could have in the city of Hammerton. Corners of the city shouldn’t be hidden from him. They had just moved in and Pinn was making as much mental map as humanly possibly in a few weeks time. Familiarity came to him from playgrounds, parks, street lights; even the cracks in the pavement. And he wanted to know his city even more intimately. The different districts were a clear map in his head, their starting and ending streets easily identifiable. But new things were happening all the time.

  Knocking on poles as he passed under them, Pinn walked through a scaffolding from some construction happening a few blocks from his home. Keeping his hood up to stave off the cool evening air, he found it a fun new area and wondered how dangerous it would be to climb around the metalwork. Light was a little dimmer around the construction site, but he was still finding things to learn in what he could glean from the surrounding material. Some branding for the Association for Controlling Water Administration meant that the street would have an upgrade to their water pipes. Crede Construction was a new sign to him, so he assumed they were new in the county, and the construction job would probably take a while. They probably wouldn’t be done before his summer vacation ended.

  Pinn slowed as he approached the end of the block, spotting a few strange, unmoving figures in the darkness, like shadow monsters awaiting prey. An ambush just ahead.

  Frowning to himself, Pinn regretted having made noise on his way through the area. There were three men, crouched and waiting, presumably for his approach. Pinn stopped and took silent steps in reverse, keeping his eyes locked anxiously on the three. They wouldn’t see his back before he was long gone.

  Someone placed a tight hand on his shoulder.

  “You lost, kid?” a raspy man’s voice creeped in from immediately behind his neck.

  Pinn went taut, freezing in place and holding his breath. The three figures at the end stood and approached him under the scaffolding. He could barely make out their features in the darkness; shadows cast across their disheveled faces. Nervous as he was, Pinn still made a mental note to know this block of Hammerton was dangerous. Another aspect of the city that brought a better familiarity. And would hopefully help him stay safe in the future. The three men stood ahead of him, making a loose circle with Pinn stuck in the center.

  “Wallet. Phone. Anything else you got worth our time.” A man in front of Pinn held out a hand. Odd angles marked his beard, as if a knife had trimmed the edges. Pinn couldn’t place his age in the darkness, but he put him around thirty. A geriatric, by his standards.

  Pinn licked his lips anxiously, assessing the situation with quick passes of his brown eyes.

  “Come on, kid, we don’t have all day.” The outstretched hand wiggled its fingers impatiently.

  “No,” Pinn said defiantly.

  The man’s beard twitched, a flash of surprise and amusement on his face.

  “No?” he chuckled, then pointed and laughed as he repeated, “No!”

  Another hand clamped down on Pinn’s other shoulder, holding him in place. The three ahead of him closed the circle tighter. Sweat rolled down Pinn’s neck. Four were too many, he would be overpowered if he tried to fight.

  Gritting his teeth, Pinn placed his hands in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He stretched out his arm slowly, arm trembling slightly.

  “Good choice kid. I was afraid I would have to…”

  With his outstretched hand, Pinn drove his arm back with as much force as possible, driving his elbow deep into the ribs of the man behind him. Bellowing in pain, the man released Pinn and fell backward. Fighting may not have been an option, but Pinn could run.

  Without a moment to hesitate, Pinn jumped up and grabbed a pipe on the scaffolding above him and flung his legs forward powerfully, cracking the nose of the closest mugger. Using that same momentum, Pinn swung himself forward and leapt off, hitting the ground running before the other muggers could react. With barely any delay, he heard several shoes slamming down, chasing after him.

  Pinn kept his eyes locked forward, knowing that sparing a single moment to glance behind him could mean getting caught. Sprinting as fast as he could, Pinn desperately racked his brain for a plan. Would getting out of the construction area be enough, or would they continue the chase? Should he go home? It was only a few blocks away. Where else was there to run?

  All his questions came crashing down when someone tackled him from behind. With just enough time to put his arms out before his face struck the pavement, Pinn grunted when he hit the ground hard. He thrashed under the larger man and grappled enough to bash him in the eye. The man’s grip loosened and Pinn had almost wiggled free when another set of arms crashed into him, pinning him to the ground. Then the full weight of someone standing on him ground into his back. Pinn grit his teeth, bearing the immense pain with tightly squeezed eyes.

  “I tried to be nice!”

  The pain on Pinn’s back increased as a foot twisted over his spine. Pushing against his restrainers as hard as he could, he quickly found himself out of options. The foot let up, and someone flipped, scratched, and dragged Pinn across the gravel at the site’s edge. The bearded man loomed over Pinn, grasping something small in one hand. Regret panged in Pinn’s heart. Running had been a mistake, and now he was totally at their mercy.

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  But even held as he was, he would have regretted it even more if he just gave them what they wanted without a fight.

  “Now, I’m still going to get your stuff,” the bearded man said. “But I’m not gonna do it without taking some additional compensation for my wasted time.” A switchblade clicked open in his hand.

  Pinn stared defiantly, his mouth curved into a tight frown.

  “It’s too dark. I can’t see this kid,” the man said, wiggling the knife to point at the hood over Pinn’s face. “We wanna make sure he’s learned his lesson. I gotta see it in his eyes.” He kneeled down to Pinn’s level while one of his lackeys approached Pinn.

  With a flail of his legs, Pinn managed to leverage some dirty gravel and kick it up into the man’s eyes. Groaning in frustration and pain, he shielded himself and turned away. Pinn tried to push off the ground and rush off, but two different men pummeled him in the chest and gut. Wind driven out of him, Pinn coughed in pain. He wouldn’t go down without fighting.

  “That’s it! Hold him down! Don’t let him move an inch; I’ll take it from here!” the bearded man screamed, rubbing his eyes frantically with his free hand.

  With red, enraged eyes, visible even in the darkness, the man approached Pinn and held the knife right under his chin. Breathing erratically, a deranged smile carved itself onto his face.

  Pinn struggled under several sets of hands, locking him in place.

  “I hope you like scars kid, that’s the only thing you’re leaving with.”

  Glaring at the mugger, Pinn felt no fear.

  “At least I’ll still look better than you,” Pinn said, ice in his voice.

  “Adorable,” the man said, his tone humorless. “We’ll see if you keep this up after a couple swipes.”

  The knife sliced upward and Pinn grimaced as he felt the gash appear in his chin, followed by the warmth of his blood gathering at the base. Pinn kept his face tight, refusing to show the mugger the hint of weakness. Covered by his hood, his expression was still shrouded to all the robbers surrounding him.

  “All right, no squeals, but let’s see if there are any tears running down those cheeks,” the man placed the blade at the edge of Pinn’s hood with a sneer.

  Pinn leaned his face back as far as he could, never looking away from the man. Hood thrown back, a knife approached his eye.

  Then Pinn’s head exploded in white flame.

  Pressure on Pinn’s shoulders released immediately, accented by the loud shrieks from both men that previously held him down. Falling back, Pinn’s head landed hard on the gravel dirt below. He blinked in shock, having a moment to take in the scene while the others stared at him tensely.

  His head was on fire. Embroiled in hot white flames, strong enough to leave two men screaming and clutching their hands next to him. In contrast, only a faint warmth washed over Pinn’s head, like he put on a beanie that had just been through the dryer. Lighting up like a spotlight hit the area, everyone was squinting at the sudden surprise of brightness. Pinn could see the dirt and grime covering all their faces, as well as the gruesome burns he’d left on the two men that were previously holding his shoulders.

  “What is that?” one of the last unharmed muggers asked in fear.

  “Just get him!” the one with the knife commanded.

  Digging his hand into the ground, Pinn tossed gravel at the two men ahead of him. The one with the knife shielded his face, but the other was blinded. Pinn leapt up and ran forward, head down. When he headbutted the blinded mugger, the man shrieked and fell to the floor, a dark red circle in his chest like he’d been branded. Pinn blinked, conflicted at the sight. He had little sympathy for a man that tried to beat and rob him, but he didn’t even know he could burn him so deeply with such a quick attack. He wanted to deter him, but didn’t imagine that would permanently scar him.

  The last mugger standing slashed his blade at Pinn. He dipped out of the way, but the blade caught his shoulder. Then the mugger stabbed forward and Pinn jumped back, but was nicked on the forearm. Another stab forward left another shallow cut on his chest. With dread, Pinn was learning why it was never wise to be part of a knife fight. The cuts kept climbing and felt like any wrong move could be fatal. He couldn’t even feel safe turning his back to run with the weapon as part of the equation.

  The switchblade-wielding mugger sneered, seemingly feeling Pinn’s quiet dismay. Pinn kicked more gravel up, trying to get enough of a blind spot to run, but the mugger blocked with one hand and stabbed forward with the other. Pinn weaved one way, but tripped, stumbling to the side. He watched in horror as the blade came right for his face, swinging in toward his forehead.

  Pinn’s head erupted even hotter, like a bonfire sprayed with lighter fluid. The sharp blade passed into the fire and melted as soon as it entered. Pinn watched in a mix of fear and fascination as the knife liquified into molten metal and spilled down the man’s hand like rain off a roof. The man screeched and reeled his hand back in pain. With eyes wide, Pinn saw that the mugger’s hand was entirely black, cooked in the instant it was in proximity to the white flame. There were streaks of silver and fiery red of the metal that had melted into his fist. Screaming as he gripped his forearm, Pinn seemed to have found his blind spot by overwhelming everyone with pain.

  Wide eyes scanned Pinn up and down from each of the four men, all of them nursing their respective burn wounds. Pinn shifted in place and all four of them scrambled, fleeing the brightened area as fast as their legs could carry them, howling in pain as they fled.

  Patting his body up and down, Pinn took a quick assessment of himself. He had several shallow cuts, but nothing that would need much more than gauze. Turning in place, he looked at the light being cast from his head, illuminating the entire construction yard. Reaching up very slowly, he put his hand about a foot away from his head. There was no sensation of burning. Inching it closer, Pinn gradually got close enough for his index finger to poke his forehead. As if he’d hit a button, the white fire around his head went out.

  Pinn blinked in the returned darkness, baffled by the whole situation. He might not have believed anything he’d witnessed was real, was it not for four other men corroborating the events by their reactions. Controlling his breathing, he leaned against a piece of scaffolding until his brain finally moved slower than a mile a minute.

  He had almost been mugged. Perhaps worse. But he was alive because of some miraculous energy emanating from him.

  Once he regained enough of his senses, he turned and ran to get home as soon as he could. He had notes to take.

  And so, the very first human had Awakened.