CHAPTER 1 — SHEEP

Alex Muholland is an Ivy League student who's view on life is differs from most people. A rebel in disguise, he finds a time to speak his mind.

Drifting to the back of the classroom, Alex felt lighter with the day's pleasantries out of the way. After taking a picture of his neighbor’s notes with his phone, hanging his backpack on a chair, he sat. Hardly scrapping above average height, he was a skinny youth with light, spring green eyes and dirty blonde hair that slightly passed his ears.

Pulling a Rubik's cube from his backpack, he solved it absently with one hand and jotting down notes on occasion with the other as he halfheartedly followed along with the professor’s dry lecture. After solving the puzzle for the fifth time or so, he lowered it. Setting it aside, he glanced up at the clock and sighed, class wouldn't end for at least another hour.

If only I could control time, he thought. Folding his hands on the desk, he rested his head upon them. Then I would arrange this waste of time to be over before it began. Yawning, he blinked. Staring at the cube for a moment before reaching out, he drew it closer; only then, did his eyes close.

A dream to which began in suffocating darkness gave way to light. It was followed by a rush, a breathtaking experience. He was weightless but like a rock in the open air, he dropped from the sky. An expanse of water. A lake? New clothes, a blur of activity, a reality so vivid was accompanied by confusion, anger and fear as new faces sparked his emotions to run high. An older man then sat before him. He was in an office? Explanations and arguments followed by a time skip and a train. Then he was alone, facing a wide expanse of green fenced in by a high gate and beyond them clustered in the distance sat a multitude of buildings residing in the shadow of a mountain. A campus? A school. New faces and friends, desperation and hardship…death, destruction….grief and sorrow were brought to an end by agony.

His eyes flew open. Shaken awake, his green eyes gazed up into amber ones and narrowed first in surprise, then confusion. Contacts, he realized as he zoomed out to the rest of the girl’s face. The expression she gave him was familiar, with its clear derogatory message of: Why are you even here?

Yet she herself was unfamiliar. Oh, he’d noticed her in class, for she was his copy buddy whom he sat next to, but they never really…talked. Her expression was fixed in its normal over seriousness with furrowed brows, the dismal line of her mouth, and bloodshot eyes. Yes, she was a nerd through and through; conformed. A sheep. Nevertheless, he’d been judged and he didn’t like it. He frowned at the girl standing over him and stood himself, forcing her to step back with the sudden movement.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“Why waste your time? You’re always late, only to end up copying off of me before you begin to take your own notes; struggle halfway through and sleep for the rest of class. I don’t get you…I mean, come on Alex,” She said, drawing her bag onto her shoulder. Smirking she slid a hand to her hip; radiating confidence, her elbow jutting out haughtily. “Do you have a learning problem or something? Your ADHD holding you back?”

He looked at her blankly. “Who are you again?”

“Who�"what do you mean who?!” The hand dropped. “I’m Emily?”

“Right…”

“I mean come on. You copy off of me all the time…and not once, wait…don’t tell me, you’ve never looked at my name?”

“Oh…was that a part of the deal?”

“Part of the deal?”

“I mean, what do you expect?” He dropped the rubik’s cube in his open backpack. “I copy your notes, not your name.”

“Honestly,” Her chin rose a few notches, eyes full of contempt, the hand resumed its position at her hip as her body settled back into a state of smug superiority. “I don’t know how you were even accepted. This is college, your future, an Ivy League school….”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…I’ll get a job if I graduate.” He waved dismissively, tuning her out. Interest lost, the youth swept his supplies from desk to his backpack. He hated people…no, that was too strong a word…dislike? No, too weak.

He despised people; they judged, categorized, and formed an opinion about others before they had a chance. With them everything was black and white, he thought with a sigh. Unzipping a small compartment of his backpack, he placed his pencil inside. If a person wasn’t smart according to some letters, they were stupid. If they weren’t a social butterfly, they were a loner, a recluse, anti-social, awkward, or a nerd.

As a kid Alex was told he could be anything, as a teenager he needed to prepare for the real world and as an adult? Well, he was expected to survive it. A contradiction within contradictions. A paradox? He wasn’t sure.

He was trained like most to reflect the judgments and evaluations of others. To prove them right, so in the end they could declare themselves interesting people with lives; individuals.

“I have an A in this class because I worked for it. Not to have you, nothing but a bloodsucking leech try to hitch a ride on my…”

Individuals, who stood out when in reality, were just struggling to fit into another’s ideals; to blend in like sheep in the herd, or drone in the hive all waiting to reprimand the unusual, unique, and creative. Society was, in itself a contradiction.

“�"so get with the program,” Emily flipped her dark auburn hair back, still steamed. “And, uh, try not to screw yourself?”

Alex looked up, annoyed; who was this chick?

“Why do you care?” He mumbled, then louder and clearer. “It’s my time. What I do with it is up to me. So keep on studying calculus, I’m sure you’ll join the herd in no time. Hell, it might even be sooner than you think if you graduate early.” Turning, he pulled his backpack off the chair and onto his shoulder.

“Join the herd?” She laughed. “What the heck?”

Alex blushed and, overcoming a pause of uncertainty, plowed on. “Schools have always underrated brilliant people, but don't worry, I have faith that my undiscovered genius will be noticed by people that matter. You know, unlike yourself.”

“Excuse me? I’m not the one fail�"”

“Bye.” He said and smiled, waving to his flustered classmate as if she was a fan and he a celebrity. Promptly leaving the class, Alex sped out the door before the girl could finish her comeback. He’d gotten the last word.

He entered the parking lot still smiling. Normal people were slow, but it was entertaining to see one so programmed. His smile fell, it was sad really, despite her linear thinking, she was smart and not simply by a grading scale. His grades however, reflected little more than failure. Not that it was his fault, or so he’d convinced himself. It was his teachers. Simple minded professors with fixed mindsets and a contagious allergy to imagination.

So disappointing. He’d worked the high school system to attend the nationally ranked school. The only thing he discovered was that here, un-creativity was the best creativity. Un-enticing lesson plans, droning monotone voices, it was as if they wanted people to fail; to die of sheer boredom and drop out in the process. Low grades didn't make Alex a bad student; it simply labeled him as a…genius in disguise. The way he saw it, an F didn’t stand for failure, it implied the hidden message of future genius.

So why hadn't anyone caught on yet? Where was the vigilance? The perception? Perhaps it was because he was only failing most of his classes. This logic made sense he decided. Albert Einstein flunked his high school career, hadn’t he? So it was only natural that Alex flunked his college one.

Straddling his motorcycle, Alex strapped on his helmet. Feeling the vibration of his phone, he pulled it out reflexively and tapped in the password. A notification, it was a new text from Krystal, his girlfriend…no, fiancé, he corrected himself. Engaged last month, they’d known each other since their elementary years in Asier Academy, an all-around boarding school.

Turning the phone off, he slid the device into the pocket of his leathers. He’d text her later. It was a thoughtless decision and turn the key into the ignition, he sped out of the parking lot. He had places to be, things to do, and records to beat. His destination? The highway.

The familiar thrill of burning anticipation and tearing winds, of streaking lines and passing cars, welcomed him as he merged with the traffic of the highway. It was his niche, his home, where he belonged.

What had begun as a clear day had twisted out from the weatherman’s sunny prediction. Bright blue was over taken by rolling grey clouds. Marring the sky, they preceded to release the first drops of thousands to follow in a downpour. The road already drenched was slick and shining with the water. Alex blinked, annoyance pricking his skin like the rain on his jacket. Stretching across the sky were clouds, gloomy in their misty darkness, strangling the sun, suffocating its rays, smothering light in an overshadowing depression.

Treading steam and burning rubber, Alex’s hand twisted the throttle ever further and numbers flew on the vehicle’s speedometer as he went over the sixty miles-per-hour speed limit. Hurtling down the hardened tar. Like a snake, he weaved, slithering through traffic. A daredevil, a manic he cared nothing for the lives of others on the road. It was the exhilaration. The adrenaline, a tunnel vision of determination that permitted him from reevaluating his actions. He obscured it as fun, a thoughtless rush, a harmless misdemeanor.

Green eyes leaving the road flicked down to the speedometer. I’m almost there. He thought, watching the number tumble into triple digits. Rain or shine, I’ve nearly cleared it. I can’t wait to tell Krystal I beat the record. Eyes returned to the road. Focus, focus, focus.

He clouded his mind from reality. Disregarding danger, abandoning it with spinning tires and a revving engine, he lowered his head. He needed to be as aerodynamic as possible.

No risk was too great, no possibility too far. Even with his heart in his throat, the blonde crushed such petty fear with elation; an excitement toxic enough to feel drunk on, it enveloped his malleable mind and shut out all reason. Falling into himself, Alex descended into a new realm of concentration, one achieved by the desperate and experienced by the dedicated. Leaving his body to the heightened reflexes enabled by both the life threatening situation and adrenaline high, he discarded all emotion and replaced them with an inseparable addiction.

Cutting through the wind like an eagle, he sliced through the rain like a knife. It was surreal, the rainbow of the oily water touched pavement displayed an array of colors which ebbed and flowed into the other. A pattern that danced into a melting pot of beauty despite its greasy origins. As he dipped into a slight curve and tires sliced through a gathered puddle, he dragged knee as the liquid sprayed his visor.

The cars were graffitied walls, ever changing, unpredictable in their movements, in their turns and sudden signals. The road was as volatile as it was beautiful. It was his path, constant and stable, and the sky, the horizon, was his destination. Well over a hundred miles-per-hour, he had scaled the formidable wall of danger, surpassing that level and sped now down the road of death, yet he’d never felt so…alive.

Time seemed to slow down, rewind, and playback. A car, black as night, polished metal glinting maliciously in the downpour, began to turn, to signal into his lane. Too close, too late, he realized in anguish. Time as it always had, carried onward. Relentless, unmoved by the plight of the youth, incapable of emotion in its entity, it spared him nothing.

He couldn't stop, couldn't think, couldn’t move; heart skipping a beat, fear failed to register, replaced by one inaudible word: Krystal.

Rear ending the car, there was a sharp snap of bone, an inferno of pain following in its wake. The split second of agony numbed to nothingness as his brain switched off the receptors in his leg. Aware and yet not of the apparent injury, he was distracted by the rush of air in his flight, no…he was flipping. Flipping…right into the back of a semi-truck.

There was no impact. Nothing. Nothing but dull pain and darkness. Then another rush of air, he was…falling? He screamed. Airborne for what seconds felt like minutes; he hit the earth face first. The wind knocked out of him and his scream was cut short, socked by sand. Choking on the fine minerals, he turned his head to the side sputtering. Sliding a hand out, he shifted onto it. The attempt to transition from belly to a crawl was short lived as white hot pain flared up in his right leg. Crying out, he reached for it instinctively. Broken at the shin, the injury reprimanded the slightest touch, but before Alex could assess the extent of his injury, the sand, slowly at first, began to sink.

The ground, the earth, the sand itself began to consume him, tugging him down. Pulling him under, it swallowed him whole. His hand, reaching feebly,went in last. Submerged, Alex continuing to struggle, thrashed and kicked, determined to break free, to obtain air. His eyes burned, limbs hurt, injury protested as his dry mouth nearly allowed the sand to pass into his windpipe. Enveloping his body like a cocoon the sand around became resistant; harder to move, difficult to twist, it sapped him of his energy. Fabric tore as the sand ate away his clothes like acid; absorbing, dismembering, breaking down all but flesh and bone, skin and hair. Removing everything undesired, the sand lifting him to the surface spit him out.

Rolling over up with a gasp, Alex coughed and sputtered, then vomited. Though sick, he felt clean, pure, like he’d just survived a deep scrub rather than quick sand. Relieved, grateful to be alive he touched his leg. His eyes widened. There was no pain; the injury was gone, nonexistent.

Had it all been a dream?

Reviews

[Marilyn Philips]

This is a good start, but I feel like the dialogue between Alex and Emily could use some finessing. Also, and perhaps this is intentional, Alex's judging Emily as a "nerd" is extremely ironic as only a few paragraphs later he is talking about how he despises society because of their judgement. It may be beneficial to try and clarify if Alex is aware of this irony, or if he's just a jerk. Perhaps this will be cleared up in the next chapter?

"“Excuse me? I’m not the one fail" - I imagine this is meant to say "failing."

" Hurtling down the hardened tar. Like a snake, he weaved, slithering through traffic." You may want to make this one sentence.

Other than those few things, I'd be interested to see a second chapter and find out what is going on with Alex.