The First Couple Pages of Project Mimicry

Hello Readers,

       Well, it's pretty self explanatory, seeing as you most likely read the title ^ (if you haven't, look up) Hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment. I would love it if you did.

      Chapter One

         “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

         No answer from the cars surrounding him. They were quiet, and looked still, but their engines were revving and the people in them were slowly moving to trap him.

         “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!” He screamed at the cars again, looking around wildly for a gap in the circle that kept closing in around him.

         There were tears streaks down his face, and more tears shining in his eyes, making the blue brighter and look more like water. It was dark that night; the moon was hiding behind the clouds, and the stars were few. But his red hair stood out, almost like fire, and his eyes were shining with tears as he looked around wildly for a gap, for an escape.

         There was a noise from the end of the road, one foreign to the boy’s ears, but it seemed that these cars knew this noise. And that they didn’t like it one bit. They stopped moving, their attention divided between the noise and the boy.

         And while their backs were turned, a man leapt over the hood of one of the cars, snatched up the child and leaped over the hood of another car.

         “Hold onto me.” He hissed. “If you want to live, hold on to me.”

         He shakily nodded and looped his hands so they around the man’s back and gripped the flannel, squeezing his eyes shut and holding on with his legs. He heard a strange noise, it scared him… but he couldn’t be scared, not after what happened last time. No. Not again. He was not scared.

         “Good kid.” The man said, his voice gentler, but still gruff and hissed, and he took something from his pocket.

         Now the child realized what the strange noise had been… Gunfire. And the man he was holding onto now shot at where the noise had come from. He gripped the flannel tighter, as his savior started to run faster, stopping to catch his breath or shoot at the noise. Now there were voices… flashing lights. But the man kept running until it was quieter.

         The child dared to open his eyes, and he saw, on an old dirt road, a beat up white pick up truck. They were closer to it now, and the man opened the door, lifting the child off of himself and placing him in the truck before getting in and turning the key.

         He drew up his knees quietly as the man started to drive, and then dared to ask.

         “…who are you…?”

         “Ryder.” Was the short, gruff reply as he focused on the road.

         “…why did you save me?” The child said quietly, gripping his knees.

         There was no answer, and he didn’t dare to ask any more questions, but said after a while, “My name’s Lyle...”

         “I know.” The man with the short brown hair and beard whose name was Ryder said gruffly.

         Lyle’s heart started beating faster, and he was convinced that it might just come out of his chest. His eyes went wider. No. No. He couldn’t be scared. Not after what happened last time.

         He gripped his knees quietly, his knuckles turning white with the effort as he remembered.

“It’s just a nightmare, honey.”

         He looked up at his mom with huge terrified eyes, “Mom. Mom. Mom…” He was scared out of his wits…She needed to understand. It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was worse. He just wanted her to understand.

         And then his mom started screaming. Because of him. Because he wanted her to know how he felt. Not pass it off as “just a nightmare”. He went too far this time…

         He had done it before, so people would understand. He didn’t know how or why it happened, just knew he could do it. He made his dad happy one time, when he was upset. But now… his mom was scared. Like him.

         “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He said quietly, putting clothes in his school backpack. “It won’t happen again.” He quietly crept down the stairs and ran out into the night.

         He had gone too far this time. He could hurt someone.

         And then there was the cars.

         “…I’m dangerous…should give me to the police…” He said quietly.

         The man named Ryder’s mouth seemed to twitch into a smile for a moment. “So am I…”

         Lyle shook his head. “Don’t understand…” Lyle wanted him to understand, feel how sorry he was, but he couldn’t. Not again. Not again. Stop it, Lyle, stop it. You have to stop letting people know you’re smarter than the sixth graders, you have to stop making people understand what you feel. Just stop it, Lyle. What is wrong with you? A tear slipped down his face.

         Ryder chuckled wryly and… knowingly, Lyle noticed. “Bud, you would be surprised at how much I do.”

         “You’re… like me?”

         A brief nod from Ryder and his hands clenched and unclenched the steering wheel nervously.

         “…why were they after me?”

         “They were hunting.”

         “Hunting is when Dad goes to shoot deer. Were they going to kill me?” His voice was oddly calm, matter of factly.

         “Don’t know. Sometimes they do. They were hunting you.”

         Lyle nodded barely, hugging his knees to his chest. “Were you hunting?” Barely a whisper.

         “In a way.”

         “Are you going to kill me?”

         “If I wanted to kill you, I would have left you there.” Ryder turned left on the intersection.

         “So you won’t kill me?” Lyle said, looking at Ryder with wide eyes.

         “No.”

         Lyle fell silent, putting his backpack on the floor of the truck and grabbing a sweatshirt with the name of some local college off of the floor and wriggled into it. Probably Ryder’s, he thought, but he was cold, and the sweatshirt was warm. Ryder wouldn’t mind, he told himself, putting the hood over his face and leaning against the window.