[REND] 13.3 - How to Train Your Monster

“Hysterical strength?” Deen asked, glancing at me.

“First time I’m hearing about it,” I said.

“Lots of stories about feats of superhuman strength from normal people in emergencies,” Myra explained. “A mother carrying several children as she escapes their burning house. A man lifting a damn huge car to free someone underneath. There was a story about an old lady fighting off a bear in Redwood about three years ago. That was a hoax, though.”

“It was?” Deen seemed surprised. “I saw it in news. I thought it was an inspiring feat.”

“Yeah… just a hoax,” Myra said. “But there was also a guy in Florida who ripped the door off his burning car to save his wife. It was a couple of years back.”

“I recall seeing that on the news,” Deen said, nodding. “Didn’t people accuse him of being an Adumbrae?”

“Well, he wasn’t,” said Myra. “He got hospitalized for torn muscles and broken bones because of what he did… so, not an Adumbrae. However, for several seconds, he seemed to become superhuman. That’s hysterical strength. The common belief is that the adrenaline rush from fight-or-flight situations boosts the body’s performance. However, there’s no firm evidence supporting this.

“Adrenaline does help, but not to the level of hysterical strength. If it were that simple, it should happen more often. It seems to be very different from augmented people pumping themselves with synthetic adrenaline and other crazy chemicals. Just a normal human suddenly becoming several times stronger.”

“How do we tap this hysterical strength?” I asked. “Does it have something to do with punching so hard that I break my fingers?”

“Sort of. Dario said that BID probably research on this since they are making super soldiers. No idea how because this is kinda hard to test in a lab. How the hell are you going to induce a life-or-death situation if the subject knows they’re getting tested? Anyway, the leading theory is that a psychological barrier keeps us from fully tapping our strength.”

I raised my hand. “Like how we only use ten percent of our brain?”

“That’s just a myth, Erind,” Deen said.

I’m going to slap your annoying mouth someday! I seethed in my head. I didn’t like being corrected after spouting a factoid I thought was true. Thinking more about it, yeah, it seemed stupid that people only used ten percent of the brain. Like, how would that even work? Just the same, I hated Deen for being a know-it-all bitch.

“Although that’s a myth,” Myra said, “the BID research isn’t. Our bodies stop us from injuring ourselves. Take that guy ripping the car door off, he did have the strength all along, but if he performed at that level all the time, his body would be wrecked soon enough. But it’s different in our case.”

“We can heal ourselves,” I said. “Very quickly, at that.” I held up my injured hand. My fingers straightened themselves as skin reformed to hold the spilling flesh. “Not even a minute, and I’m good to go again.”

“We aim for a combination of good form when fighting,” Myra said, “so we can overcome the psychological barrier in our minds. We still think that we are human with the normal human limitations, but our bodies are much stronger. We can land hits that destroy our fists and still be able to fight.”

I held up my fist. “I’m good to go.”

“Wa-wait a moment!” Deen enclosed my hand with hers and lowered it. “How about we practice throwing next?”

“Deen, I’m really fine with this,” I said. “The injuries… I can handle them. We need to get stronger, and this seems to be the quickest way.”

“I know, I know,” she replied. “But we should do it gradually. Training this way is an incredible burden on the mind. Think of what we’re doing—purposely hammering concrete until our hands turn to pulp. We’re just normal law students last week. I don’t want us to change—erm, what about we practice how to throw for now?” I couldn’t tell if Deen did this because she was worried for me or herself. Probably both.

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Myra said in a tone that made it clear she thought we were babies for backing out of hysterical strength training.

I thought practicing how to throw would be boring, but it turned out to be super fun!

Then again, who wouldn’t enjoy throwing rocks so hard they shattered against concrete walls? If this were the advertisement for becoming an Adumbrae, many would sign up. Plays up the power fantasy.

“You have good aim, Erind,” Myra loudly said, pointing at the crack left behind by the rock I had thrown. It was inside the red circle she had drawn with her blood—we didn’t have any markers to use. “From here to your spot is like ten yards.”

What happened at the warehouse wasn’t a fluke. I threw Purple Mohawk’s severed arm at one of his goons and knocked out the big guy. I really had a talent with this throwing thing.

“You’re much better than me, Erind,” Deen said. “All my throws are way off the mark. My Guardian Angel’s no help here because I’m not in danger.”

“Finally, something I’m better at than you.” I grinned at her to show I was just kidding. I wasn’t. It felt good to one-up Deen at something she was also trying hard at.

“Oh, don’t say that. You’re better at me at other things, too. Like… being short.”

“Hey!” I swung my arm at her.

Expectedly, Deen evaded my hand. Good thing she did, because I put some serious strength behind it. “Don’t try to slap my butt! That’s twice now.”

“I wasn’t trying to hit your butt. It’s just I’m so short that your butt is only what I could reach.” We both laughed. She might think I was joking, but the day would come I’d slap her butt so hard her hip bones would break. She had gotten too comfortable to insult me. Yep, I knew it was in a friendly way, but I didn’t consider anyone my friend.

“How about we take a break?” Myra said, walking over to us. “Want to see the top of the building?”

New Hope looked like an apocalyptic wasteland. The sky set ablaze by the setting sun added to the desolate vibes.

If I were to make a backstory for this scene, most of humanity had been wiped out centuries ago by an unknown virus. What remained of our cities crumbled over time. Now, the remaining survivors dwelt in underground settlements, trying to survive a new wave of the virus that had somehow gotten past their sealed defenses.

I should sell this script to Hollywood! Maybe that’s my true calling. Way better than hanging out with most-popular-girl-in-school Deen and quite-pretty-and-super-toned Myra. Next to them, I was a boring sack of potatoes. A thin, bony sack of potatoes. Not even a sack. Just a potato.

I suddenly craved potatoes. Should I order fries later? But I also wanted something sweet.

Sweet potatoes? But those weren’t actual potatoes, were they? Should I ask Deen and Myra? They’d probably think I was stupid. Maybe I could find fries with a sweet flavor, and that’d be that.

“Isn’t it eerie, Erind?” Deen said, snapping me out of my important philosophical musings.

“Yes,” I replied. “But it’s also peaceful. After everything that happened to us… It feels nice to have some peace.” I was laying the groundwork to talk to Myra. “Last week… Monday… Only law school stuff was on my mind when I rode the train.” I glanced sidelong at Myra. “I didn’t know that Kelsey rode the same train I did. What station did she get on?”

“Gilmore,” she stiffly replied.

“Three stations away from mine,” I nonchalantly said, pretending that I didn’t notice the atmosphere shift.  Deen and I had researched the Fletcher family last night, anticipating having this talk with Myra. We sort of had an idea about why Kelsey turned into an Adumbrae. Of course, we weren’t going to tell Myra we looked her up.

“Yep,” Myra said.

Deen glanced at me. Was she telling me to cut it out or continue? Anyway, I wouldn’t back down. Myra brought us up here—she wanted to tell us something. An emotional scene meant Myra would be vulnerable, more open to answering questions.

“Does Kelsey normally take the train?” I asked. “I mean, why would she risk the scanners? Did she know that the scanner of that specific station wasn’t working?”

“She does,” Myra shortly replied.

“But you have a car. Don’t you go to Eloyce together?”

“We used to.”

“Used to?” I tried to meet Myra’s eyes, but she was adamant in facing the unfinished buildings of New Hope. She didn’t answer me, so I just kept looking at her, pressuring her with the silence. Seconds ticked by. She couldn’t endure the awkwardness for long.

“Ah… It’s messy.” Myra ruffled her hair. She groaned in resignation as she continued, “Kelsey left our apartment to live on her own a month ago. That was when she got her place.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” I said. It also didn’t come up in our research. “I haven’t heard anything about that from Kelsey.” I didn’t mention I had never talked to Kelsey before. Not surprising because there were many first-years. Deen had chatted with Kelsey here and there but never told me about this. Likely, Kelsey kept it to herself.

“Uh-huh. And that’s why she rode the train that… day.”

Is Myra blaming herself? I could use that. “Why did you, um, separate? I hope that’s not too personal a question. I’ve talked to Kelsey in Cresthorne. I’m not going to claim we’re friends—acquaintances, probably—but I can’t help but be worried about her.” There. It showed I wasn’t biased against Kelsey because she was an Adumbrae.

I hadn’t mentioned the word ‘Adumbrae’ at all. I’d let Myra bring it up. Excitement was getting to me—this was a different kind of entertainment compared to throwing rocks with superstrength. This, I was used to. My specialty.

“I don’t know why she left,” Myra said. “We argued more around that time. Petty nonsense. I tried to be understanding because of her—how do I put this? Uh, condition. But things got too toxic. We both suffered in our studies. One day, when I returned home, she was no longer there. All her things were gone from the apartment. She left me a note… Didn’t explain anything. It just said that she couldn’t take living with me anymore and wanted peace.”

Come on, continue your story. I egged on Myra in my head. The whistling wind filled the silence.

Deen opened her mouth. I glared at her, signaling to her that she should just shut up. Myra had started to open herself. Trust in the process.

“I… I should’ve convinced her to come back,” Myra said, grimacing while looking at the street below. She wasn’t thinking of jumping, was she? She’d probably survive. “I just let it be because I was tired. I visited her only when delivering the pills that were supposed to slow down the infection.”

The fudge caramel doughnut? Was there something like that? This conversation headed in a better direction than I had anticipated. I wanted to learn about Kelsey to see what she did to stay mostly human despite being an Adumbrae, and I was rewarded with a pot of gold—I hadn’t even followed the rainbow yet. As to Deen, the cover story that I told her last night was that we should try to become closer to Myra since she was a fellow Eloyce student and might be sympathetic to our situation.

“Ah, I’m just delaying!” Myra ruffled her hair, more wildly this time. She combed her hair as she turned to me. “Erind, I’m sorry that you got dragged into my sister’s mess. That’s what I wanted to say the entire time.”

I knew you’d do this! While celebrating in my head, I feigned surprise with my words. “Wha-what? Are you talking about the 2Ms looking for us because of Kelsey? No, no, no! That wasn’t her fault or yours. The 2Ms are to blame for kidnapping a lot of people and killing them.”

“But the 2Ms did it because of—”  

“If anything,” I interjected before Myra realized I was blaming Kelsey, “I’m both amazed and inspired by Kelsey.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because she fought one of the Adumbrae on the train. She saved many people.” I almost burst out laughing with that last line. Kelsey didn’t save anyone. According to Tower Cop, everyone on that train car died afterward anyway. “Kelsey shouldn’t be shunned that she’s an Adumbrae,” I added. “She should be admired for holding against the infection and using her superstrength to save lives.” I was testing how this two would feel if ever I’d come out as an Adumbrae someday.

Myra’s expression lightened up. She might be tearing a bit. She had to be guilty about not being there for Kelsey during the Adumbrae attack. Deen stood behind me. I wiggled my hand at her, out of view of Myra.

Deen understood the assignment. “Kelsey is truly amazing, Myra,” she said. “I can’t fathom the burden she carried while being a Cresthorne law student.”

“She… she really tried her best,” Myra said with a cracked voice. Weird seeing the tough Myra turn soft.

“Myra, if you don’t mind us asking,” I said. “How did Kelsey turn into an Adumbrae?” No way other than to directly ask. I felt that we built up enough goodwill that Myra wouldn’t be offended or whatnot.

“Ah…” Myra closed her eyes.

“We want to know the real Kelsey,” Deen softly said. Personally, this was too cheesy a line for me. It worked for Myra, though.

“Our parents died when Kelsey and I were just kids. Our car jumped off a cliff.”

“How awful!” Deen’s hand went to her mouth. Her fake shock didn’t look convincing to me. We had known about this during our research.

“M-my dad was in a car accident too,” I said, farming sympathy. “Was that the cause of Kelsey’s transformation?” If so, it’d be a frigging long time to be infected while retaining a human appearance.

“Not exactly… My mother and father were fanatic members of a cult led by someone who later turned out to be an Adumbrae. They might’ve done something to Kelsey.”