Repulsion: The Unbound, #1

By Jeroen Steenbeeke

I used to think I was a pretty normal teenager: I got up in the morning, went to school, did my homework, played videogames, and dreamed about Karen—one of the girls in my class. When I found out she liked me, too, I thought I was the luckiest guy alive. But everything changed when we kissed. Something awakened inside of us, and now we know that we're not normal teenagers after all.
 
For a while I thought these powers were pretty amazing—I mean, who wouldn't want superpowers? But it stopped being fun when Karen started hearing a voice in her head. A voice that told her I was her enemy. A voice that could take control of her. A voice that was only the first glimpse of a world we never knew existed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeroen Steenbeeke
• Release date: Dec 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516330713

Book preview

1.

Waking up has never been easy for me. I guess that it's not so unusual for a teenager to have trouble waking, but for me, these things can get a bit tricky. On my last birthday, I got no less than four alarm clocks. Every night, I take care to set them, but when I finally wake up, they're all turned off.

I guess that for most people this shouldn't be that big of a deal, as more often than not their parents will drag them out of their beds if they threaten to be late. I'm sure my mom would do the same, if she didn't have to leave for work so early. As for my dad, well…it's kind of hard to wake your sixteen-year-old son when you've been dead for eleven years.

So there I was, in complete and utter bliss, when a glass of cold water splashed into my face. Still half asleep, I stumbled out of bed, my eyes still blurry. A tall figure stood between me and my bedroom window.

I warned you, Thymen. The figure yanked open my curtains.

Light flooded into my room, illuminating the black leather trench coat and the Cradle of Filth t-shirt underneath.

Rob, how the hell did you get in here? I asked as I shielded my eyes against the sudden brightness.

Your mom left one of the windows open, he said. Good thing, too, or I would have had to throw rocks again.

Rob has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and, unlike me, he has no trouble waking up early. He lives less than ten minutes away, and we always go to school together.

But really, water? I asked.

Shouting didn't help, and we have math in forty…no…thirty-five minutes.

Crap!

Tell me about it. How the hell do you even stay asleep with that damned rooster next door? I've been to concerts less loud, he said, tossing me my clothes. I'll go get your food.

In the fridge, I said as I put on my shirt. When you know you're going to have trouble waking up, it doesn't hurt to be prepared, so I usually make my breakfast and lunch in the evening.

With my clothes more or less in order, I ran into the bathroom. With so little time left, I simply grabbed my deodorant to eliminate any lingering smell of sweat and rubbed some hair gel into the chaotic tangle of blond hair on top of my head.

I'm so glad this is the last day before our vacation, Rob called to me from the bottom floor. I swear, if I have to go through this again I'm going to strangle you!

It's not like I'm not trying, I called to him as I rushed down the stairs.

Shoes are that way. Rob nodded his head in the direction of the front door. No idea where your bag is.

Living room. I put on my shoes.

Catch! Rob tossed me my bag.

I put it down and grabbed my jacket.

How are we doing for time? I asked.

We might actually make it this time, he said, smiling.

I unlocked the front door, letting Rob out before locking it again. I checked the windows, closing the one Rob had used to get inside. Then I ran to the back, through the kitchen, unlocking the back door in a practiced move. When you're late as often as I am, unlocking doors becomes trivial. I ran to the shed, grabbing my bicycle and moving around the house to catch up with Rob.

Definitely a record, he said to me, and we both started pedaling.

Traveling by bicycle was pretty much standard for us; here in the Netherlands you can't get a driver's license until you're seventeen, and you can't drive without supervision until you're eighteen. Luckily, it isn't such a big country, and a bicycle gets you a long way. For Rob and me, it was pretty much a necessity. The town we lived in was little more than half a dozen houses jumbled together, away from most main roads. No bus company ever bothered including us in their routes. For that matter, it doesn't even have a name, and if I were to point it out on Google Maps you'd tell me it was little more than an intersection, not a real town.

It took about twenty minutes to get from my house to the civilized world. We traveled along a lonely road surrounded by fields populated with cows, horses, and sheep, with occasional groves of trees and the odd cornfield. Every so often, we would pass by a farm. On sunny days, the landscape could be quite beautiful, but on this particular day it was raining.

Six more hours and we're free. Rob's smile almost reached his cheeks.

If you ignored the leather trench coat and metal band t-shirts, Rob didn't really stand out. Black, shoulder-length hair and green eyes, with an unremarkable face. My mom always told me that if he ever were to put on normal clothes and get a shorter haircut, he'd look just like a young Matthew Broderick. If she hadn't made me watch Wargames I wouldn't have known what she was talking about.

For a short time, at least. May vacation only lasts a week. I sighed.

We still on for Queen's Day? Rob asked.

If the tent's there, we're there, I said.

Why wouldn't it be? Place has been packed for as long as I can remember. He cocked an eyebrow at me.

Well, the whole thing is being organized by just three people, I said.

You're worried one of them will get sick or something? Rob sounded amused. Look, man, Old Bertha is way too stubborn to let anything come between her and an event she's been organizing since the seventies.

What about the others?

You'd have to amputate both his arms and legs to keep Ruben away from his turntable, and can you honestly think of a disease strong enough to take on Kees? Rob asked. "That guy's a machine—he could get riddled with bullets and he'd barely notice. Come