Bridge of the Gods

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used factiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Printed in the United States of America

  This novel is dedicated to those who never let me give up.

  You could say I’m your ordinary teenage boy, but after the story I’m about to tell you, you may find me a little…extraordinary. Let me start by introducing myself; my name is Luthor McAlester. I attend Lake View High School in sunny San Diego, California. I have one sister whose name is Bethany. We live with my mother in a small three-bedroom apartment that has all the perks of prison. Oh yeah, one more thing, it’s my birthday.

  I'm guessing that you want to know about my father. Well, my father died when I was five. He was a gambler and gone a lot, which didn’t leave us with much to live on. The last time he decided to come home from one of his “tournaments”, he brought me a gift. It was the only gift he has ever given me. He left the next morning, and I never saw him again.

  It never occurred to me what that gift would mean until I was older and better understood what it was to be gone so much. Oh, the gift you ask…it is a pocket watch -that doesn’t work. Inside the lid is engraved with the words “Vicis volvit tergiversation.” It means “Time Turns Backwards” in Latin, which took me forever to figure out.

  I’ve kept the watch in a box under my bed ever since he left, hoping that one day I can get it to finally tick.

  Getting ready for school, I hear a noise and can’t for the life of me figure out what it is. I stop for a minute to listen. Then I begin to look in drawers, in my closet, and finally under my bed. There in the box where I keep my treasures was the ticking watch.

  Needless to say, I’m a little confused about what to think. I’m already running late so I grab the watch, throw it in my backpack, and stop for breakfast on my way out the door.

  “Don’t forget your lunch,” Mom calls as I make a b-line for the door.

  “Christ Mom, I’m going to be late.” I reply.

  “How many times do I have to ask you not to talk like that?” She hollers from the kitchen.

  “Fine, I’m sorry.”

  Lunch in hand, backpack strapped, and mom wiping God knows what off my face, I’m ready to go.

  She is not your typical teenage girl. Her flaming red hair and emerald-green eyes make her appearance stunning. At least to me anyway. She lives on the floor below us with her grandmother. Her parents died around the same time as my dad. We met the day she moved in thirteen years ago and have been best friends ever since. The kids in school always talk about how cute a couple we would make, but we have always agreed to never try. We don’t want to ruin a good thing… you know?

  “Happy Birthday.” Gwen smiles.

  “Thanks.”

  “Have you gotten anything good yet?”

  “No, not really” I say with some reluctance.

  “That’s too bad; do you want your gift now or later?”

  “I don’t know, surprise me.”

  “Okay.” She has this look on her face that tells me she is up to no good.

  We are quiet for a minute as we begin walking to school.

  “Hey, so when I woke up this morning you’ll never believe what I discovered.” She just stares at me. “The watch; it works.”

  “Oh wow, how long has it been in that box?”

  “Thirteen years”

  “That’s crazy. Did you look at it?” She says with a look of concern.

  “No, it’s in my bag though.”

  “Promise we will look at it during lunch?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  The rest of the walk to school is pretty uneventful. We talk about our senior year and what we want to do with our lives. All I know for sure is that I don’t want to end up a loser gambler like my father. Gwen has always had dreams of becoming a historian for some museum. Whenever we are not together she is usually reading some book about the Greek Gods, the Renaissance, or something like that. She tries to get me interested in them, but I have never been much of a book person. I prefer the real-life battles. I mean come on Greek Gods, really?

  I would always mock her, “I am the mighty Zeus, feel my wrath,” she hates when I do that.

  She would always come back with, “That’s not funny. Zeus was a very powerful God, just look at what he accomplished.”

  “Nothing that means anything to this world now.”

  I really do not like school at all. The people here never seem to understand what it is like to have a life like mine. I can’t really complain too much but come on, really? It’s not exactly easy being eighteen and having no father. I think that is why Gwen and I get along so well.

  My first class is science with Mr. Zephyr. Not exactly who I would call Mr. Clean. He always wears the same jacket with the ripped pocket. To be honest, he kind of weirds me out a little. Today’s lesson is about storms and how they are produced.

  “Okay class, who can tell me what a storm is?” Mr. Zephyr says, getting straight to the point.

  This is about the time I slide down in my chair and try my best to be avoided. As usual, up rises the hand of Aretha Seers. I swear she is not only the smartest person in this school, but she knows it too. Let’s evaluate shall we. Aretha is moderately tall and well built. One would think that she lived for working out, but her knowledge is the only thing that she does anything with. Naturally, all the girls want to be her, while all the guys just plain want her. Her family owns an olive farm not far from the coast. She is usually sucking up to the teachers with bottles of the homemade oil that they make there.

  “Mr. Zephyr?” Aretha asks.

  “Yes, Mrs. Seers.”

  “A storm is a disturbance of the astronomical body's atmosphere, especially affecting its surface, and strongly implying severe weather.”

  “That is correct, Mrs. Seers. Now who can tell me what signs make a storm recognizable?” Mr. Zephyr questions the class.

  I’m not shocked to see Gwen raise her hand.

  “Ms. Merles.”

  “A storm is usually revealed by hail, thunder and/or lightening, hefty precipitation, massive freezing rain, tough winds or wind transporting some substance through the atmosphere such as dust.”

  “Very good, Ms. Merles.” Gwen looks at me and winks. “Now, last question. Who can tell me the six most common types of storms?”

  No one raises their hand. I figured at least Aretha would know the answer to this one.

  Raise your hand Luthor.

  Hearing the words, I look around the room but everyone is staring at the teacher.

  Raise your hand. The voice proclaims again.

  I feel a chill as it begins to work its way down my back. I raise my hand and you can hear the crickets. I look up and see everyone in the class staring right at me.

  “Mr. McAlester.” Mr. Zephyr calls on me.

  “Um…” I start blushing instantly with all attention on me.

  What was I thinking? I have no idea what the answer is. I’m staring back at him, when everything starts to change. I can hear the ticking coming from my backpack, getting louder and louder, but no one else seems to notice. All of a sudden, it feels like the room begins to spin. I close my eyes and grip my desk. When I open them again everything is different. I begin to panic, having no idea what is going on. That is until I see him. He is tall, like a giant and dressed as if ready for battle. His armor lay over a white toga, edged in gold.
His features are a chiseled work of art. Wait, a toga?

  “Hello Luthor.” His voice booming.

  “Um, Hi.” Well, what else was I supposed to say? “Who the heck are you and what am I doing here?” Oh crap, I think I just said that out loud.

  His laugh seems to echo forever until he finally comes closer and I truly see who the giant before me is.

  “Mr. Zephyr?” I ask in complete astonishment.

  “Not quite my child. The man you know as Mr. Zephyr is only a creation I have made to keep an eye on my people. He is a representation of me that humans can see.”

  “But…” I start but he quickly silences me with his words.

  “Listen child. I know your life has been hard, but I want you to know that if you ever need me, I will be here for you. All you have to do is ask.”

  Some would say that this is a daydream from the result of boredom. I, on the other hand, feel as if it is a nightmare that I’m trapped in and can’t get out of.

  Just as I begin to separate my mouth to ask him a question everything goes black and I’m back in the classroom. Everyone is still staring at me waiting for my answer.

  “I’m sorry Mr. Zephyr, but I don’t know the answer.” Aretha snickers and raises her hand.

  Without even looking at her, he motions for her to put her hand down. With a sour face, she turns around crossing her arms and pouts like a child.

  “Mr. McAlester, how am I supposed to teach you when you have no will to learn?” Mr. Zephyr asks in a disappointed voice.

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand it.” I shrug my shoulders.

  “Then why don’t you ask for help?” He then gives me a wink and turns around. “Would anyone else like to give it a try?”

  Raise your hand Luthor.

  Oh man not again…I raise my hand.

  “Yes, Mr. McAlester.” He says without bothering to turn around.

  Blurting out the information like it has always been there, my head begins to feel as if a vice is being tightened around my temples.

  “Thunderstorms, Rainstorms, Snowstorms, Ice storms, Tropical storms, Hurricanes, Windstorms, Dust Storms, Blizzards, and Sandstorms.” Once I stop talking the pain begins to subside.

  “Very good Mr. Mc…Luthor. Now class, let’s open our books to page three hundred and forty-five. We will start with lightning and its properties.”

  His voice fades out from there, and I completely miss everything else he says.

  The rest of the day seems to go by pretty smoothly. Gwen decides to give me my gift at lunch. I’m still not sure what she means by it, but it is a nice gesture nonetheless.

  I guess you want to know what it is, huh? Well, it’s a chain for my watch but it’s not like any ordinary chain. She says that if I need to, all I have to do is pull on it and it will extend as long as I need it to. Here is what I don’t understand; how in the world is that possible, and why will I need a chain like that?

  I thank her, hug her, and eat the rest of my lunch thinking nothing else of it.

  When lunch is over it is on to history class.

  Mr. Posedo is a normal-looking man with blue eyes that remind me of the ocean. He has dark wavy hair and a good size build to him. He speaks with a deep tone and has a devilish stare.

  Today we are learning about Greek Mythology, which is right up Gwen’s alley. The excitement on her face as we walk into class has even me feeling a little bit excited for her.

  “Okay class, today we are going to review the Titans.” Mr. Posedo calls to quieten down the class. Is it me or does he have a slight sign of disgust in his voice?

  He continues, “The Titans, who are also known as the elder gods, ruled the earth before being overthrown by the Olympians. The ruler of the Titans was known by the name of Cronus. A good amount of the Titans fought alongside Cronus against Zeus and were later punished and banished to Tartarus. During the rule of the Titans, some were associated with the various planets...”

  The longer he speaks the more bored I get. That’s when it happens again; the pain is unbearable. My vision starts to blur until I feel like I am going to pass out.

  Luthor, we need your help. Help us Luthor.

  When I snap back out of it, Mr. Posedo is still talking. “Who can tell me which planet is named after a Titan?”

  No one raises their hand and I hope that he will not call on me for the answer. I look to Gwen, but it seems like she doesn’t want to be the one to answer either. I give her a look then mouth ‘you know it?’

  She just nods, so I give her a pleading glance until she raises her hand.

  “Yes, Gwen.” Mr. Posedo calls on her.

  “Uranus, Mr. Posedo?” You can hear the boys in the back snicker at her answer.

  “That is correct. What can you tell me about him?”

  She looks kind of unsure, then I hear the voice again.

  Raise your hand Luthor. It says through the pain. I know that if I don’t raise my hand, the pain will not go away, so I do.

  “Luthor?”

  “Uranus was the God of the sky and was the first ruler before Cronus. He was also the son of Gaea, who created him. He later became Gaea’s husband, and together they had many offspring, which included twelve of the Titans. The rule of Uranus ended when Cronus castrated him. It is unknown whether he died from his wounds or withdrew from earth.” Just like before in Mr. Zephyr’s class, the pain is gone as soon as I stop talking.

  How do I know that? I ask myself, but I have no answer.

  “Very Good Luthor. Someone has been doing their reading. Now, who can tell me more about the Titans?” As he keeps talking, I look at Gwen with confusion and shrug my shoulders. She looks as if she is disappointed and turns away from me.

  I finish the day with no more episodes and things seem a little different between Gwen and I as we walk home. I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling she is mad at me for answering the questions in History class.

  “Are you okay?" I ask.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I’m not sure if I should push the issue or not so I cautiously add, “You can tell me if you want… or not.”

  “Lu,” That’s what she calls me sometimes, “You really have no idea do you?”

  I stare at her with a blank look that says ‘huh?’

  “Maybe you should talk with your mom when you get home.”

  “Why?” I question, not sure why she thinks talking to my mom will help anything.

  “It’s not my place to say.”

  “I seriously hate secrets. Why can’t you just tell me?” She knows I hate secrets and it’s annoying me that she is keeping something from me right now.

  “Because I can’t; not yet. You need to talk to her first.”

  I roll my eyes at her answer and walk a little faster to get home.

  When I get home, mom is in the kitchen preparing dinner, and I can smell the cake in the oven; chocolate, my favorite.

  “Happy Birthday, Honey.” Mom says with a kiss to my cheek.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I have this look of despair, and she can see it.

  “Is everything okay?"

  “Yeah.” I shake my head, “No.”

  “What’s wrong?” She asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You can tell me.”

  “It’s just… I.”

  “It’s okay. Take your time and tell me when you’re ready.” She always knows when not to push. “I have your birthday present. Do you want it now, or do want to wait until after dinner?”

  “I can wait.” I answer.

  “Oh, by the way, I invited Gwen and her grandmother to join us for dinner.”

  “Mom! Gwen’s grandmother hates me.” I complain.

  “No she doesn’t honey. Why would you think that?” She asks to my retreating back as I turn and head to my room and plop onto the bed, completely ignoring her question.

  I really wish she would not have invited them. It seems like every time I am around Gwen’s grandmother, she looks at me like I am the most irresponsible
and unnatural teen ever. I can never understand why. I know stressing about it won’t help so I decide to clean up for dinner.

  I start to get nervous when dinner time rolls around. The doorbell rings, and I know it is time to face the consequences of Gwen’s grandmother’s dislike for me. Gwen is the first thing I see as I open the door. Her dress resembles that of an outfit from one of the novels she likes to read.

  “Hi!” She says with such enthusiasm.

  “Come on in.” I try to muster up the same enthusiasm she has.

  Her grandmother follows her in, and I invite them to sit on the couch while I get my mother from the kitchen. Like a good host, I offer them something to drink first though. As I enter the kitchen, I can smell the deliciousness that is my mother’s cooking.

  “They’re here.” I defeatedly breathe out.

  “Oh good, dinner is almost ready. Did you ask them if they wanted anything to drink?”

  “Yeah, Gwen just wants some water and her grandmother asked if we had any wine.”

  “Go into the fridge, there is a bottle in the drawer. Make sure you use the good glasses in the cabinet.” She reminds me as if this is the first time we have ever had guests in our house.

  I find the bottle and pour her a glass. I grab a glass of water, then I bring it out to them and sit next to Gwen.

  “Dinner is almost ready. Thank you for coming.”

  “Our pleasure, Dear.” Gwen’s grandmother says. “Any friend of Gwen’s is a friend of mine.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Merles.” I reply a little unsure as to why she is being so nice to me all of the sudden.

  “Oh Dear, call me Morgan.”

  “Yes, Ms. ...I mean Morgan.” I say. Because that’s not weird at all. I think to myself.

  Things are starting to feel a little awkward but thankfully my mom comes in and saves the day.

  “Dinner is ready. Shall we all go to the dining room?”

  My mom makes the best meals. I know it is only because of my birthday, but she made all my favorites; sirloin steak with a garlic butter sauce, white cheddar mashed potatoes, and green beans almandine.