Thirteen

Meanwhile at another juvenile AbGene base somewhere in Colorado

"Hey carl, some of us were wondering," one boy said as he walked into the locker room. "Should we buy you some tissues tomorrow?"

Another chimed in laughing, "Yeah, so you don't soak your pillow again, missing your mommy."

Carl Simmons was just starting his first year in the Ab-Gene program. A rotation of military school systems charged with raising children and young adults who have been diagnosed with genetic abnormalities. This program watches, waits, and catalogues all potential alpha-humans.

He was a small child with skinny arms, legs, and a large head he hoped to someday grow into. Some part of him was the butt of every joke. He awoke every morning hopeful that his torment would be over and went to sleep every night wishing he wouldn't wake up. Such is the life of the lonely and afraid.

"No." Carl muttered nervously, "leave me alone."

The boys laughed. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

The oldest boy walked right up to Carl, "what if we don't? Little girl. Are you going to cry?"

He lifted his hand and slammed Carl's face into the tiled wall of the shower. Pressing his weight against the shy boy with one hand, the older kid slammed his fist into Carl's stomach.

"You don't belong here, little girl. Run back to your mommy and leave the tough stuff to us." The boy insisted, "Or just lay there crying because you're weak."

The group walked out talking and laughing. Carl just lay in the shower, sobbing and alone wishing he was stronger, braver. Most boys were starting to shave, their arms and shoulders were becoming large and round. Carl was not. Nothing about him was changing, and it only increased his abuse. Worse than the boys torturing him daily, he started noticing the female classmates as well. They were changing too, and none of them gave him a second look.

The days passed and turned into weeks, weeks became months, and all that time was filled with alternating sessions of classes, studying, being punched, slapped and humiliated. Never was he bullied when there were teachers or ranking officers nearby, so he spent time in the gym. At least an hour every day was dedicated to weight training. He started seeing minor improvement, but not nearly enough to help his social problems.

Carl had asked and begged to have an instructor 'help' him during his time with weights. The last thing he needed was to be harassed while he was on the weight bench. "Accidents", as he well knew, happened.

The cafeteria was clearing out after dinner and students all headed back toward the dorms. Carl often took that time to read, write, or listen to music. It was special time he cherished for the privacy and security of not having to be on guard. A group of boys two years older than him walked through the door from the hall. A tall, red haired boy named Samuel led the group today and was the worst person he had ever met. There was no limit to the acts he was capable of.

Silently Samuel motioned for his friends to be quiet, as he snuck up behind Carl, who was lost in writing. In one swift movement, Samuel stood and snatched the notebook from the table.

"What are we writing about?" Samuel asked while his friends held Carl in the chair.

Carl struggled to get free, "nothing, give it back! I'm so sick of you giving me shit!"

Carl planted his foot on the cafeteria table and thrust his head back into the teeth of an attacker.

Blood poured from the bully's mouth and Carl jumped up swinging furiously. For the first time in his life, Carl was standing up for himself. This time things would finish in his favor. He would not let them beat on him anymore. He didn't get far.

"Whoa-ho-ho!" Samuel mocked stepping back out of reach. "Somebody has a fiery temper!"

Samuel snatched Carl's wrist from the air and yanked him into a headlock.

Samuel looked to the bloody boy, "hey guys, what you say we cool his heels a bit?"

With his arm wrapped around Carl's neck, Samuel dragged him across the cafeteria. He used the top of Carl's head to open the swinging door to the kitchen and the boys followed closely. All the way to the back of the school's kitchen they opened the freezer door.

Carl screamed, struggled, and swung his fists as hard as he could to escape.

"No, please." He begged, "Don't! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

They all got a punch or a kick at him and threw him into the freezer slamming the door shut. Minutes passed to hours and everyone forgot about the young Carl Simmons alone and cold in the dark freezer.