Confession time. I love my story. It's the one thing I look at that I've created (or am in the process of creating) and think, wow. This is awesome. But I HATE chapter one. I wasn't about to tell you all that before you read it, because then you'd all have expectations or something. But now that you've all read it, I'm safe to admit that (and if you haven't read it yet, SHAME ON YOU. Click here).
So now that my least favorite chapter is done and away with, we can start with the juicy stuff.
Muahahahaha.....ha....ha
So now I will avoid the temptation to start writing explanations and anecdotes and let you get right to it.
Enjoy.
Chapter
2
It was 3:00 AM the
night before. The sky was smeared with a layer of clouds that blotted out the
stars, leaving the flickering campfire in front of me the only light I had. Across
from me Cole sat on a cooler in front of his roofless Jeep. A little less than
an hour ago we had left the main road and driven toward the sporadic trees of
the orchard we now sat in. It was cold. The wind carried the fall air through
the barren trees to where we sat, chilling our skin. To me it seemed almost
like a warning – freezing me, telling me to turn back.
“Catch.” The word snapped me out of
my daze just in time for me to grab what was tossed at me before it collided
with my chest. A can of beer.
“Drink up, Al,” Cole grinned at me
through the flames. “You need to relax a little.”
I frowned at the can in my hand. I
had never liked drinking, but Cole loved it. He had invited me to a drink on
more occasions than I could count, but I almost always turned him down. Maybe
it was the taste I didn’t like, or maybe it was the affect that it has on
people, but I could never seem to muscle the liquid down.
“Not now, Cole,” I tossed the can
back to him, “I think I need to be a little more focused than relaxed.” It was
a shallow excuse, but by now he was used to it. He frowned and cracked it open
for himself, letting foam spill out of the shaken can. My eyes dropped back
down to the fire. I really was thirsty, but even if he had offered me water I
wouldn’t have drank it. My stomach was in a knot and satisfying my thirst was
close to the last thing on my mind.
“Al,” he stood up and walked around
the fire to where I sat. “Alex.” He repeated my name as he hunched over me and
put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not thinking about backing out are you?” It
was more of a threat than a question. If I gave up now, Cole would never let me
forget it. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time I had backed out of our plans on account of them being absolutely idiotic or dangerous, but this time was a bit different.
“Doing
this was your idea,” he added.
“I know.” I said, shrugging his hand
off. The entire thing was my idea,
but I was starting to have second thoughts. I was stuck. Cole had me in the
palm of his hand and he wasn’t going to let me go. My head was swimming with
reasons why we should just turn around and leave, but I knew that nothing I
said would change Cole’s mind.
I
looked through the trees toward the large house that was set just outside the
orchard. My house. I could feel anger and hatred burning in my chest at the
sight, fueling me, reminding me why we came.
“I’m
not backing out,” I stood up and forced a smile at Cole. “Put out the fire.
We’ve got a house to rob.”
“That’s
what I’m talking about!” Cole laughed, clapping me on the back with his free
hand. He pushed past me to the cooler he had been sitting on and lifted it into
the back of the Jeep. I pulled my empty backpack over my shoulder and waited as
Cole looked for a way to put out the campfire. He walked around for a minute,
kicking dirt onto the flames, but the autumn leaves that littered the ground
kindled the flames more than killing them. He looked around for another way to
put out the fire when his eyes settled on the can in his hand.
“Dude,
if I pour this on the fire, do ya think it'll blow up since it’s alcohol?” Cole
laughed as he tempted the though.
I
rolled my eyes at him. “I dunno. It’s more water than actual alcohol in beer,
so probably not.”
He
looked at the can, shook his head, and took another drink. “Screw it. I don’t
want to waste this on the fire.”
I
sighed loudly. I had had enough of Cole already for the night, and drunk Cole
wasn’t much better. “Just piss on it or something.” I said, not hiding the
annoyance in my voice at all.
“Relax,
man!” he laughed. I shot the dirtiest look I could at Cole. I hated it when he
said that to me. It was as if he was somehow stating that he was better than me,
or that I was an embarrassment to him. I turned back to the Jeep and ripped the
lid off of the cooler, uncovering two cans of beer that floated in a pool of
ice and water. “Relax? We’re about to rob a house, and you’re getting drunk
like we’re at a party! Do you want to get caught?” I whispered loudly in a
voice that tore at the back of my throat.
“Put
the fire out. With this.” I demanded, and shoved the cooler into his hands.
Cole
rolled his eyes at me as he took the cooler. His ridiculous behavior only
angered me more. I turned away, trying to calm myself, and started walking
through the trees toward the house. A
few seconds later I heard the hiss of a dying fire behind me.
“The
fire’s out!” Cole called as he ran to catch up with me. “And look at this,” I
didn’t even glance over at him, “I brought the last two beers!” he finished. He
proudly held one of the two cans in front of me, but I just pushed it away.
“What?” Cole pressed, putting on a ridiculous pout. “You don’t want it?” I ignored him again. I could tell
that he was just trying to get me out of my foul mood, but I still didn’t want
to be content with Cole. “Ah well, more for me.” He said as he stuffed the cans
into his backpack.
He
half skipped to keep up with my quick pace. “Dude, I can’t believe we’re about
to do this!” His voice was starting to grind at my nerves. “I mean, breaking in
and robbing the house of your own father?”
I
snapped. I stopped dead and grabbed Cole’s shoulder, flinging him around to
face me. I stuck my face in his, hatred lacing my voice as I growled, “He is not my father! And that,” I jabbed my
finger toward the house, “is not his
house!” I took a deep breath. I didn’t realize that my left fist was curled
around the collar of Cole’s shirt. I let go, scowling as I pushed Cole back, and
started again for the house.
“Geez,
man,” Cole forced a laugh and brushed himself off. “You coulda just told me. No
need to get your panties all bunched up.” He swatted me on the back lightly, as
if telling me everything was fine. I never got how he could do that – I’d blown
up at him a hundred times before and he always just shrugged it off as if
nothing had happened. I was probably way too harsh on him. He didn’t deserve
getting yelled at that much, but this time he did deserve it. I was not going to let him call that man my father, or say the house is
his.
Twelve
years ago, a few days after getting the news that I was an orphan, a greasy
looking man with dark hair – an attorney, I think – told me that since I was my
father’s only child, the house, and everything in it, was left to me. The
orchard, to the front door, to the roof was all mine, or it would be if I were
18. The greasy man told me that they couldn't leave a five-year-old boy all alone in a house he couldn't legally own, but that I shouldn’t worry.
Everything was already taken care of. He said that my Uncle Scott – or Officer Harris,
as he made me call him – and Aunt Eveline, being my closest relatives were
going to move in and take care of me. Scott and Eveline, who had previously
lived in a run-down apartment complex, gladly moved in the next day.
Scott
worked on the Paradise police force. He always said that he loved his job
because he was “giving back to the community,” but I’m sure he only liked it
because he never had to do anything at all. Hardly anything ever happened in
Paradise that needed police attention.
The
two story house was now just in front of us. It was fairly large, with an
elaborate stained wood deck and patio. The windows looked like they were new
and the lawn around the house was immaculately cut. At least they’re taking good care of it for me, I thought, although
I knew they had absolutely no intention of handing the house over. At least,
not willfully.
Suddenly
my anger disappeared, replaced by the cold chill of nerves. I felt my entire
body tense up as we arrived at the back of the house. Here we go, I thought, trying to motivate myself, but I only felt
more nervous with every step.
“You
ready Cole?” I tried to keep my voice steady.
“Ready,
captain,” If he heard the fear in my voice, he ignored it. “What’s the game
plan?” He grinned excitedly. It kind of freaked me out how happy and content he
seemed with all of this. I brushed it off though and told him.
“The locks
on the window to my old bedroom are broken, so we’ll go in through there,” I had
broken the locks myself after Scott put the new windows in. I snuck out so
often that I didn’t want him locking me out in the middle of the night if he
found out I was gone. “Once we’re inside, well,” I shrugged, “use your
imagination.” I wanted to take that back right after I said it. Cole’s
imagination could get us both in big trouble.
“Speaking
of imagination,” Cole grinned as he reached into his backpack, “have you ever
spray painted the inside of a house
before?” From the backpack he produced two cans of black spray paint and held
one toward me.
I
looked uncomfortably at the can in Cole’s hand. The plan had started out so
simple – get in, rob a few things and get out – but Cole was over-complicating things. Stealing from my own house is one thing, but vandalism was far more.
And the house did technically belong
to me. I wouldn’t want to spray paint my own house. But it wasn’t my house yet,
it was still Scott’s. The thought of ruining a few of my uncle’s things almost
made the idea seem worth it.
“You gonna
take this?” Cole’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Uh,”
I stuttered, “yeah.” I took the can quickly. I could tell that Cole was worried
that I was going to run away or screw something up, so I forced a smile.
“Alright then,” I breathed, barely more than a whisper, “let’s go.”
I
quietly shuffled toward my old bedroom window and popped the mesh screen out. I
threw the screen behind us as Cole pushed the window open a crack. He nodded at
me, trying to encourage me as we both slipped our fingers into the gap and
slowly lifted the window. Cole went first, he awkwardly hoisted himself up and
wormed his way through the gap, twisting his body so that he’d come out on his
feet. I flinched at the slight clacking of the blinds and waited until he
pulled them up. I followed quickly after, pulling myself over and landing next
to Cole.
The
room in front of me was unrecognizable. The walls, which were once a soft blue,
were now a pale pink. The furniture I had left there – my bed, dressers, desk,
and a few other things – was gone, replaced by smaller, more childish looking
versions. There were dolls and toys littered all over, together with clothes,
ribbons, and shoes. In one corner of the girlish mess was a bed with bright pink
sheets.
I
felt my blood boiling inside me. This room used to be my only sanctuary in the
house, now it was an ugly pink mess. I was disgusted, offended even, that my
privacy had been invaded like this. I glared at the small girl tucked in her
bed as if it were her fault, though I knew it wasn’t.
I
sneaked across the room, kicking toys out of my path as I went, passing a dresser
and a double-door closet on my left. Cole was just ahead of me, picking his own
path to the bedroom door. I glanced over at the girl. Sharon. She was born a
few years after my Aunt and Uncle moved in. If I knew her under other circumstances,
I’d probably think she was a sweet little girl, except for that I’d spent her
entire life cleaning up after her. She was only six years old, but she already
hated me. It was as if she was born with it, like it was in her blood.
Suddenly
a sharp hiss tore through the stillness of the room as Cole unloaded black
spray paint onto the walls. I sprang across the room and yanked the can out of
his hand. “You idiot!” I whispered, “You’re gonna wake her up!” I pointed to
Sharon, who mumbled and rolled over.
“Go,
go!” I shoved the can into Cole’s chest. Cole took the can and bolted for the
door, and I followed close behind. I grabbed the door and turned to pull it
shut, only to look straight back into the eyes of a wide-awake little girl.
“Alex?”
Sharon croaked as she stretched her little arms over her head. “Why are you
here?” Her eyebrows curved downward in a frown. “You’re not supposed to be
here,” she accused sleepily. I froze. We’d been caught by a six year old. She
groggily sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“I’m gonna tell my daddy!”
I
jumped forward and pinned her shoulders back on her bed. “Oh no, no, no,” I
whispered to her. I had to stop her, but what could I do?
“Let
go of me!” She squealed. My hand, almost on its own, clapped over her mouth,
hushing her scream. She kicked and flung her arms at me angrily, huffing and
screaming through my fingers. I could feel my breath catch in my throat as I
held her down. I was digging myself into a hole. I knew I couldn’t let her go
tell Scott, but at the same time I was only making things worse by holding her
down. Desperate, I pressed my hand harder over her mouth.
“Sharon!”
I half-whispered, “Sharon, listen!” She only fought more. “Listen to me!” She
stopped kicking and looked up at me, her expression scrunched into the angriest
scowl that her six year old face could muster. My mind raced for something to
say, some way to fix the situation. I loosened my grip a little, an idea
forming in my head. “You have to be quiet, okay?” I urged as I slowly took my hand
away from her mouth.
“Why?”
Her angry little voice seemed as loud as thunder compared to my whisper.
“Because,”
I paused, looking in to her blue eyes, “I’m not here alone. Cole is here with
me.” I could almost see the color drain from her face as I said it. Sharon was
terrified of Cole, and she had every right to be. Cole and I were constantly
feeding her made up stories about how Cole was a mass murderer, drug dealer,
and kidnapper. Every time Cole saw her, he’d make sure to freak her out in some
way or another. It started out as a way to keep her away from Cole and me, but
had since become something of a cruel joke between us.
“Cole?”
her voice was barely more than a squeak.
“Yeah,”
I nodded, “but I don’t think he saw you yet.” I softened my tone in an attempt
to sound like I was on her side. “Here’s what we’ll do.” I sat her up in front
of me, trying to seem calm and kind, though my heart was practically beating
through my ribs. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for what I was
about to do, but I felt that I had no choice. “You’re gonna have to hide so he
can’t find you, okay?” She nodded nervously. It was working. “You go hide in
that closet,” I nodded toward the double-door across from her bed, “and be as
quiet as you can. I won’t tell Cole where you are. Got it?”
She
nodded again. “Yeah,” I could barely hear her whisper.
I
stood up and backed away a little, my finger pressed to my lips. She slid off
of her bed, eyes wide and face turned down in a nervous frown, and hurried to
the closet. Shakily, she pulled the double doors open and slipped inside. I
followed her and held the doors. “Remember,” I whispered, “stay quiet. And
don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe.” She looked up at me, her eyes
filling with terrified tears, and mouthed, “okay.” I forced a pathetic smile,
as if to reassure her, then silently swung the doors closed.
I
turned and snatched a hair ribbon off of the floor and hastily tied the
closet’s two doorknobs together, locking Sharon inside. I leaned backwards
against the doors. I felt awful for what I was doing, and the helpless
whimpering coming from behind me only made it worse. I dragged my arm across my
forehead, wiping away the sweat that had dampened my face, and stepped away
from the closet.
The faster we get this over with, the
better, I thought, and left the room to find Cole.
* * *
Cole
had gone down the stairs and was admiring Officer Harris’ private office. As he
walked over to the large oak desk, spray painting as he went, he slipped out of
his backpack and retrieved a beer. He carelessly opened it up and set it on the
desk next to an expensive looking laptop. Curious, Cole opened the computer and
turned it on. While waiting for the machine to boot up, he occupied himself by
browsing through the drawers in the desk and the cabinet behind him.
“Well,
looky here.” Cole said as he rummaged through a drawer, finding a pack of
cigarettes and a lighter.
Suddenly
the laptop blared a loud sound effect as the welcome screen appeared.
Cole spun around at the sound, knocking the beer can onto the keyboard as he
did. The screen flickered and buzzed for a moment, and then went dark.
“Oops.”
Cole murmured casually, and to top off the damage, blasted a stream of spray
paint onto the laptop’s screen. He then turned back to the lighter and
cigarettes and took them from the drawer. After placing a cigarette between his
lips he flipped the lighter open and ignited the flame. He looked at the fire
for a moment, an idea coming to him. Eagerly, he lifted the nozzle of his can
of spray paint up to the flame and released a burst of paint.
“Whoa!”
Cole whispered excitedly, letting the cigarette fall out of his mouth as the
room lit up briefly from the fiery stream of paint. A smile spread across his
lips at the pyrotechnics he had just created. He positioned the lighter and can
again, this time aiming the blast at the bookshelf behind him. A childish grin
spread across his face as he fired stream after stream at the cabinets, leaving
scorch marks and paint everywhere he sprayed. He fired a long burst at the
desk, trying to write his name into the cured wood, and the room lit up even
more as the loose papers that littered the desk caught fire.
He
looked around nervously for a second, grabbed the can he had tipped over and,
finding it empty, tossed it aside. He reached into his backpack, found the
other beer, opened it, and dumped it onto the fire. The flames crackled and
hissed, a few pages going out and others falling to the floor as the alcohol
splashed around, but the flames had already spread too far. In seconds the fire
spread to the carpet, and the desk started to smoke.
Cole
looked wide-eyed at the growing fire that he had created. “Time to go,” he said
to himself, and ran for the stairs.
* * *
I
knew that I was supposed to be stealing things, but I couldn’t seem to bring
myself to take anything. I kept on telling myself that it was my house anyway,
that the will said that the house and everything
in it was mine, but I couldn’t do it. I only stood in the living room,
inspecting some of the Blu-Ray movies next to the television when I heard a
noise from the next room over. I hunched over, panicked, searching for a hiding
place. My options were slim – behind the couch or under the coffee table. I
hesitated for a moment until I saw a shadow walking toward me from the hallway.
Instinctively, I dove for the ground next to the couch, trying vainly to hide
myself from whoever was coming my way, but it was too late.
“Alex!”
the shadow whispered.
“Cole?”
I exhaled a sigh of relief and stood up. “Man, you scared the crap outta-“
“We’ve gotta go.” Cole interrupted. “Now.” He immediately started toward Sharon’s bedroom.
“We’ve gotta go.” Cole interrupted. “Now.” He immediately started toward Sharon’s bedroom.
I
grabbed my full can of spray paint from the coffee table and followed
cautiously, “Why? What’s up?” I asked. Cole’s carefree demeanor was gone, and
it was concerning me.
“I’ll
tell you when we’re out. Now, come on!” Cole urged, half sprinting back down
the hallway.
We
hurried through the house and back to Sharon’s room to escape through the
window. Cole pushed the door open and paused for a moment.
“Where’s
the girl?” Cole asked, confused.
I
hesitated for a moment, a train of thoughts flashing through my head in less
than a second. Should I let her out? No,
I can’t. But it wouldn’t look good if Scott found her tomorrow locked in her
own closet like that. But Cole’s moving pretty fast. Was he caught? If he was
caught then there’s no time to open it. Do I even care to open it? Should I
tell Cole? Finally, I made up my mind. “Tell you later!” I said, echoing his own response to me as I took
the lead and bolted toward the window. “Come on!”
We
stumbled out the open window and onto the cold lawn. I reached up to close the
window, but Cole was already halfway to the orchard. I left the window as it
was and sprinted after him, glimpsing back at the house as I went. One of the
windows of the house was lit from the inside.
“You
were caught?” I yelled to Cole as we barreled through the orchard.
“No,”
Cole huffed back, the Jeep now in sight, “but if we had stayed there any longer
we would’ve been toast!” He pulled the keys out of his pocket, laughing hysterically at some joke I apparently didn't get.
We
hurdled into the roofless Jeep, started the engine and sped out of the orchard,
tearing up the fertile ground as we went. Cole quickly found our way to the
main road and recklessly sped across the asphalt. Is he crazy? He’s gonna kill us! I thought
“How
drunk are you, Cole?” I yelled over the wind whipping past us.
“Not
at all!” Cole yelled back, grinning wildly. “I only had one beer!”
“One?”
I pressed. “What about the other three?” I could tell that Cole wasn’t telling
me something.
“Okay,
two!” Something about his smile sickened me. “I had those two at the fire, and
the other two,” he shot me a mischievous look, “I... well I didn't drink them.”
"What did you do with them?” I asked, worried.
“Forget
about it.” Cole rolled his eyes. “Hey, did you get anything?” He was trying to
change the subject. I decided to let him for now.
“No,”
I responded.
“Paint
anything?” Cole tried.
“No,
I hardly had time to do anything at all with you rushing us out like that!” I
defended, hoping that he’d give me some answer as to why he did rush us out.
The
Jeep was closing in on a large white truck. Cole punched the gas and, while
thoughtlessly tailgating the truck, said, “It’s cool. I think I did enough for
the both of us.” He winked. “I found a one-stop-steal: the officer’s office.”
Cole nudged
his backpack over to me, and I took a look inside. “Cell phone, tablet, money, smokes,”
I said as I shuffled through the contents. “Looks like you only missed the
laptop.” I tried at a joke to relax myself a little. It didn’t work.
“Yeah,
I had a bit of a problem with that part.” Cole said while pushing closer and
closer to the white truck’s bumper. “Could this guy drive any slower?” he
yelled as he swung the Jeep to the left side of the road and roared passed the
truck, honking as he went.
I
leaned across the seat and pushed Cole’s hand off of the horn. “Shut up, Cole!”
I shouted. “You’re not exactly helping us get away clean here!”
“Relax,
Al!” Cole yelled back, slightly irritated.
I
shot Cole a rude look and turned around in my seat to look at the truck. It was
coming up on our bumper fast with its horn blaring.
“Ha,
looks like I pissed him off.” Cole laughed.
“Yeah,
looks like you did.” I responded, loading my voice with as much sarcasm as I
could. I started to turn back toward the front when something caught my eye.
Behind the truck in the distance, in the direction of the house we had just
left, was a pillar of smoke billowing up into the night sky.
“Cole,”
I said flatly, the sight still not fully registering to me, “What did you do?”
“What?”
I just cut the guy off!” Cole spat, obviously annoyed.
“No!”
I yelled, almost hysterically. “The house! Is that smoke?” I could feel my
voice shaking as I pointed at the gray cloud rising above the horizon.
Cole
pressed his foot a little harder on the gas pedal, letting the speedometer rise
past 80 miles per hour. “Sit down Alex. Relax.” I didn’t realize that I had
stood up in my seat, my hands on the Jeep’s crossbars for support, but I didn’t
sit back down. “Okay.” Cole confessed. “I got a little carried away,” he
paused, “but it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it!”
“It’s
not about him!” I yelled, the wind whipping in my ears as I stood in the
roofless Jeep, my eyes still trained on the smoke.
“Then
who is it about, huh?” Cole shouted, “You? You and your stupid inheritance?”
Under
any other circumstance, that comment might’ve offended me, but I hardly even
heard it. “No!” I screamed, my voice frantic, “It’s…” I froze, the sick
realization hitting me. “Sharon.”
“What
about Sharon?” Cole shot, his voice raising. Ahead of us two large headlights
appeared from around a distant corner.
“They
won’t find her, Cole!” I was in a full panic. “She won’t get out!”
“What?
Why?” Cole asked, shocked by my terror.
I
ducked back into the Jeep, still on my feet, but out of the wind. “We’ve gotta
turn around, now.” I commanded. “NOW!” I reached for the steering wheel.
“Hey!”
Cole pushed me away. “No! Are you crazy? We’ll be caught!” The headlights grew
closer as the truck behind us continued honking.
“No, you’re crazy!” I screamed
uncontrollably. “We have to go back now! They won’t find her! She won’t get
out!”
“Why?”
Cole yelled. The headlights were almost in front of us.
“Because
she’s in the-“ Suddenly the headlights swerved sharply into our lane.
“SON
OF A-“ Cole was cut short by the sound of thousands of pounds of metal
shredding into each other. The huge yellow Hummer H3 collided violently with
our Jeep at deadly speed, crushing the two cars, especially the Jeep, into
unrecognizable chunks of steel.
Suddenly
I was being hurled through the air, the impact throwing me from my seat. The
world seemed to move in slow motion as I soared headfirst toward the asphalt. I
heard a crack, I felt my skull shatter, my neck and back break. My body exploded
in pain as I skidded across the rough ground, my skin tearing open. I tried to
scream, but all I could manage was a weak groan. As my body rolled to a stop, I
could feel something warm and wet spreading across the ground, soaking my
clothes and hair. Blood. As my vision dimmed I saw Cole bleeding in the wreckage. Through
the broken windows of the H3 was a bloody dead man hunched over the steering
wheel.
From
behind the Jeep the white truck dodged around the wreck, its brakes screeching.
It had missed the wreck, but now the enormous tires were heading straight for my
limp body. I closed my eyes, took a last breath and then heard two brief thumps
accompanied by the crunching of bones.
The
smell of burnt rubber filled my nostrils as my body fell lifeless.
