The Girl in the Hourglass

By Drew Bittner

High school is tough enough without being a ticking time bomb.

No...really. My name is Kyrie Maxwell and I lost the genetic lottery. My parents are Supers and it turns out they never should have had me.

I’m what they call a Double-Red. A child of two genetically modified individuals lacking a key combination of genes that would

• Language: English
• Publisher: eSpec Books
• Release date: Aug 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781942990130

Drew Bittner

Drew Bittner has been writing most of his life. In 1991, he wrote GURPS MAGIC ITEMS 2 for Steve Jackson Games, following that with AD&D CIRCLE OF DARKNESS for TSR, Inc. Drew has written comic books and trading cards, as well as co-creating a card game for comic book publisher WildStorm (now part of DC Comics). He lives with his wife and daughter in suburban Virginia.

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THE GIRL IN THE HOURGLASS

Drew Bittner

eSpec Books, LLC

Stratford, NJ

PUBLISHED BY

eSpec Books LLC

Danielle McPhail, Publisher

PO Box 493,

Stratford, New Jersey 08084

www.especbooks.com

Copyright ©2015 Drew Bittner

Cover Art Copyright ©2015 Angela McKendrick, Cuddles with Cats

Interior Art Copyright ©2015 Mike McPhail, McP Digital Graphics

ISBN (chapbook): 978-1-942990-17-8

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-942990-13-0

All rights reserved. No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher.

All persons, places, and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.

Interior Design: Sidhe na Daire Multimedia

www.sidhenadaire.com

JANUARY 4

Kyriegirl.mylifestory.com wrote:

Another year, another blog entry, dear readers. I have to write an essay on the War for Mr. Samuels—600 words, can you believe it?—and then go to my weekly session. Mom’s offered to help, so I’m thinking about writing it from her point of view. I mean, who wouldn’t? She went through The Process as a teenager, became a superstar on the battlefield and for Victory Studios, and she even survived… unscathed! Having a figure from the history books sleeping a dozen yards away is pretty useful sometimes.

What else? Oh, they’re upping my meds again. Seems I’m growing a tolerance. Egad, I might actually be able to feel an emotion. Is that allowed? Not for me. :::dramatic sigh:::

Ah well. Off to the salt mines of high school. Miss Double-Red, out!

(See additional 15 comments…)

Kyrie slouched in the passenger seat, wrapped in sullen silence, as Susan pulled their sedan up to the curb. Her daughter was good at sullen and silence both. Okay, you know the drill, kiddo, the former superheroine Superhot said to her child. Take your meds at lunch, report any upset to the counselor, keep your phone on you at all times.

"Jawohl," Kyrie muttered, eyes fixed out the window. She slumped in the passenger seat, eyes slightly glassy. Even that flicker of defiance from Kyrie was extreme, given how doped up she was.

Susan Maxwell sighed. She really tried not to resent her daughter’s attitude—the therapist had told her often enough that double reds acted out, especially once they entered the danger years—but it was damned hard. Damn you, Tom, did you have to die?

She smothered the thought as quickly as she could. It didn’t help to blame her dead husband; when he was out mowing the lawn four years ago, it surely didn’t cross his mind that he’d dissolve into bubbles, leaving behind nothing but Bermuda shorts, sandals, and an idling mower. Not to mention a grieving wife and a daughter who’d seen the whole thing.

As flameouts went, it was surprisingly gentle. She could at least be grateful for that, if not for the fact that Kyrie still had nightmares. their daughter had been on a daily regimen of tranquilizers and mood suppressors since that day; some nights, Susan needed help sleeping too. And if Kyrie was a bit of a zombie these days, at least she was alive. Too many double reds weren’t.

Susan hated drugging her child, stealing the fire and passion that made her Kyrie. She consoled herself with thinking she’d have hated burying her child even more. It was better that way, it had to be.

I’ll see you back here at 2:45, Susan said as Kyrie climbed out of the car. Once the door was shut, she waited, watching until Kyrie was at least most of the way to the door. Her therapist would say that