I wake once more. Two dreams in one night. Well, morning now. There is some tapping and slamming noises coming from the kitchen, so I guess Annie’s up, making coffee or pouring cereal. I stretch, yawn, shiver, and pull only one sheet off my body. No wonder I’m cold, I’ve kicked all the other blankets down the edge of the bed while I was asleep. Great. Tucking the blankets back into their original place, I think about all my dreams.
Sam is in them. It’s not so surprising considering the episode we had yesterday. First his ghoulish, red eyes, beating down Cotter, me almost getting hit by Cotter’s car but miraculously practically unscathed save for a couple bruises. But I left finger dents on the top… the second time I saw Sam’s red eyes in the woods where I found out I’m supposed to possess some kind of telekinesis power. Sam going wacko. Teleporting for the first time. His dad is so sweet, and I loved the lasagna, but…
Is this life meant for me? My dreams say it is. I mean, Sam’s still in them, right? We teleported in my dream, and we left Annie behind…
I bring a hand up to my head, sweating a little. I should stop thinking about this. Shaking my head, I pull on a thick, fluffy blue robe printed with moons and stars on it to sheath my skin from the chill and walk clumsily into the kitchen.
“Gooooooo-oooooooooood Morning!” Annie chirps, flipping a pancake in the skillet. Her hair is already washed and pulled up in a high ponytail to air-dry. She wears a loose band t-shirt and sweatpants. Her feet are replaced with her normal bunny slippers. I meant to say “Good Morning, Ann! What the hell are you making pancakes for, we never have pancakes!” but it came out sounding like: “Mer, mowning. Mer mumph panka-mumph.”
Suddenly I stop mid-yawn and stare at the kitchen table. My Cap’n Crunch is chilling on the table top, long dead and awfully soggy. I scowl and dump the entire contents into the sink and watch the garbage disposal munch on it before Annie finally decides to speak.
“Not in the mood for cereal, today?” She says with her back turned to me. “That’s good, ’cause I’m making enough pancakes for a three-day trip.”
“What? We’re leaving?” I say, panicked, my eyes bulging out of their sockets.
Listen to your sister... Dumbass.
“We’re not leaving, you noob, it was just an expression…” Annie smiles, concerned, but turns to flip a pancake. Mumbling her satisfaction, Annie slides the last pancake from the huge jug of batter into a steaming bowl that’s brimming over with the lot.
“Yah, yah, I was kidding… ” I murmur, covering up my idiotic outburst. Coughing awkwardly I take a pancake, nibbling on it plain-Jane and sipping on the orange juice Annie laid out. “So… what’s with all the Betty Crocker?”
Annie glares at me. “You’re saying I can’t cook a nice Saturday breakfast for my little sister?”
“No, no, it’s nice; really, it’s just that… er, cereal would’ve sufficed.” I say, hiding behind my glass of orange juice and hiking my robe up higher. “This is good though.”
“Awesome!” Ann exclaims, throwing her hands in the air animatedly. Then, she runs into her room for a few minutes and comes back fully dressed in jeans and a shirt with all her makeup on. “I have to go to class, now.” She grabs her purse and coat and lays her hand on the door knob to go outside.
“It’s seven in the morning!”
“I need to talk to my professor about a project…”
“That one hot professor that would give you an A, even if you never showed up to class? That professor? Why would you need to talk with him?”
She answers by slamming the door. Giggling, I slump in my chair, chuck the half-eaten pancake back into the bowl and put the oversized container in the fridge.
“I never even wanted pancakes. Ah, well, I’ll say I ate about twenty. That wouldn’t even leave a dent in it anyway, so she won’t notice.”
Why are you talking to yourself?
You were being quiet. I needed someone to talk to, even if it was me.
Pathetic.
I know.
Why don’t you go out?
Out?
You know, outside? Get some fresh air, run around. You’re getting fat.
No… I look down… No I’m not.
It was worth a try.
Maybe. But I see your point. There’s nothing for me to do inside with Annie gone and all. Fresh air could be nice.
Go.
After shaking my head a little over the mediocrity of my most recent conversation with myself, I pull my hair up in a messy bun, grab a sweater and head out the door into the chilly morning air. I'm grateful for the sane people that sleep in on Saturdays, there’s no one to bother me on the streets or sidewalks. Wandering aimlessly usually gives me an opportunity to think, but I figure I’ve done plenty of that lately. A break is in order. I let my mind go blank, focusing on nothing but the pit-pat of my slippers on the sidewalk and the swish swash of the wind cutting through my sweater. I almost let my eyes close.
That would be most foolish. My conscious kicks in.
I ignore it… Pit pat. Pit pat… My slippers scale all of the most insidious cracks, I barrel through some brush of my neighbor’s yards and wonder into a park. I’ve been here a couple times before with Ann, when we went for “bonding” picnics on the weekends. Trees are scattered everywhere, with a small slide in the middle of a clearing, complete with a couple pairs of swings, a sandbox, and a small tree house some kids made a few months ago. Without thinking, I break out into a run and clamber up the ladder of the tree to get to the fort on top. From the ground, the tree house seemed very small, but it’s surprisingly spacious and cozy all the way up here. I catch my breath and look down. The fort is situated about twenty feet up, nestled amid all the main branches. Neat. I feel like a kid again. Leaning my palms down on the rough wood, I let my legs dangle from the entrance before I decide to pull them in and inspect the small house. The boys that built it most likely got help from their big brothers, or something, it’s well-made. Sturdy-looking, and commodious. My eyebrows rise in disbelief to find a stair way at the end of the tree house, leading up.
“Hm.” I murmur to myself, and crawl over to the stairs. I unfold from the ground and climb my second ladder of the day.
Right foot, left foot, right foot…
When I finally reach the top, I gasp. I’m at the top of the tree house, where they even thought to put a fence around the top so you wouldn’t accidently slip and fall off. There’s a swinging rope bridge that branches up and out to another tree ten feet away.
“They really went all out on this thing…”
I step over the fence and place my foot on the rope bridge. After a few careful minutes, I’m across. The rope bridge led to a platform, with no fence around it. This surprises me because this tree is taller than the last one I was on.
Maybe they never finished?
Possibly. I test the sturdiness of the platform. Feels fine to me. But what if you fall off? Timidly, I gulp and look down. About thirty feet. Is that enough to kill you?
Probably.
My feet start shaking, so I sit down, cross-legged on the small wooden platform.
Stupid, stupid, stupid… why are you even up here?
I don’t know.
You’re scared. I smell it on you.
Stop talking tough. Besides, I didn’t even know you had a nose.
Don’t get personal. There’s someone coming.
What? There are crunching noises coming from below. The sound of crunching leaves under heavy boots. I stare down below me, searching for the leaf-attacker. My eyes find a boy about my age, probably fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in all black. Boots, skinny pants, baggy sweatshirt, and all. His dark brown hair catches in his brown eyes as he stares back up at me.
“Phoenix?!” I shout from my perch, almost squealing with delight. Phoenix is here! My childhood friend is here in Boston. A pressure builds somewhere behind my eyes as I gape at him before I get my bearings and scramble up from my sitting position. Phoenix smiles at me but says nothing as I clamber across the creaky rope bridge and down a team of ladders to get to solid ground. “Phoenix!”
“I told you I’d visit,” He finally speaks, opening his arms as I rush into them and give him a big we’ve-known-each-other-for-a-long-time-and-we-know-it hug. My mind races back to our conversation via text, a few nights back. Was that really only four or five days ago? I embrace him for a long moment before pulling away; hardly believing that Phoenix is really here with me, in Boston, not in Juneau. I laugh and give him another quick hug before stepping back to get a good look at him.
“You look good, Phiphi,” I tell him, using the nickname that set his teeth on edge when we were kids. “How you been?”
“Okay, I guess. Miss you...” He glance down at my feet. "Slippers?"
“Nothing new," I exclaim. “Common, let’s go back to the house.”
Phoenix nods and follows my lead out of the park. After a few moments of companionable silence, I turn my face towards him. “So did you just… up and leave Alaska? Buy a plane ticket and go cross-country to see me?”
“Well… yah,” Phoenix blushes, I laugh and punch him in the arm playfully. “You shouldn’t have done that, plane tickets are expensive.”
“Dad paid for the round-trip, said I needed to see you. I’ve been feeling a bit down.”
“I’m sorry,” I frown.
“Naw, naw, I’m good now. I’m staying in a motel up town, my plane came in late and I know you would’ve been sleeping or something so I didn’t bother you.”
“Er, yah…” I mumble, keeping my head down. I feel kind of bad. Phoenix could’ve stayed at my house last night instead of some smelly motel. I had been awake…
“Actually I was pretty worried that you would be out of town so it all would’ve been for nothing.”
“You know no one would invite me out of town in this place,” I joke playfully, smirking up at him.
“I guess you’re right. It’s because you’re so horrible, you know.”
“Hey!” I smack his arm. We’re at the front door to the house now, and I open it, holding it for Phoenix as he steps inside.
“Didn’t lock the door…?” Phoenix scolds me but shrugs it off. He takes off his black sweatshirt and throws it across one of the dining room chairs like it belongs there. Maybe it does. “I’ve never seen your place...it’s nice.”
“Thanks,” I pour him some orange juice, not even having to ask what he likes to drink in the mornings. He’s the opposite of a coffee person. “So why were you out wondering in the park?” I yell, hoping he can hear me since he's made his way to the living room.
“Same reason you were!” Phoenix bellows. I can hear the static back round of the T.V. turning on from the living room. I don’t even have to think to imagine him rummaging through the entertainment center for video games. Annie and I don’t even have a X-Box, or PlayStation, but he’ll look nonetheless.
“Same reason? You mean you were on an epic adventure through perilous lands to find the true meaning of your existence?” I shout back at him, smiling and tossing ice cubes in his juice, then I pour myself some. Gripping the glasses, I turn and head for the living room. I can’t hear Phoenix’s scuffling anymore, which probably means he’s stretched out on the couch, watching some melodrama. I reach the living room and hand Phoenix the glass. He gulps it until it's about half-empty-
Or half-full.
I realize I haven't been in contact with Sam all morning. Shit. Should I call him? Why hasn't he called me? My eyes instantly go to my robe pocket. No phone.
"I'm gonna go the the bathroom, quick..." I mumble as Phoniex adjusts the volume on the T.V, almost to full blast. I swear he's as deaf as and eighty-plus, sweater vest-loving man. I scamper out of the living room and head down the wall, passing the bathroom door and slip into my room. My phone lights up on the bedside table. Sam is on the I.D.
Call me. I need to know you're okay.
I've gotten three texts and two calls since 6 a.m. this morning. Shit!
I'm about to dial Sam's number when I hear a loud thump over the loud volume of the T.V. I flinch and the phone drops, clattering against the phone and vibrating with another text.
I have a weird feeling. Call me, or I'm coming over.
I ignore the phone and sprint to the living room. Phoenix isn’t anywhere. In my mind I see his long frame lounging on the tan couch, watching T.V., but there’s only a DVD remote, resting in his place.
“This isn't funny." I growl to no one in particluar. "Where are you, Phoenix?" No answer.
Okay. Look around you. What do you see.
I see Phoenix’s sweatshirt laying on the couch with no Phoenix inside it. I see both of our glasses on the table. Mine's empty, his isn't.
What can you perceive from that?
That he was here and now he’s not and I can’t find him.
Now, what do you hear?
A couple birds. But silence, mostly.
Listen harder.
I do. All of a sudden I can hear more thumps coming from the sliding glass door leading to the back yard. Now there are some muffled cries. I cross the living room quickly and pull back the sliding glass door with as much force as you could without breaking it. There is a huge mass huddled over a now-whimpering Phoenix. I breathe a sigh of relief for finding him before I realize that he isn't in the best situation. The attacker's face is hidden, but Phoenix is in plain sight. He has a cut on his cheekbone that’s dripping blood, and my face takes on a sickly pallor. There’s more red streaming out of his nose and filling his mouth. I can only stand still. My legs won’t work. My arms won’t reach out to protect him. I’m completely helpless. I can’t save my best friend.
“Help!” Phoenix whimpers, taking a swift kick to the gut, blood spurting out of his mouth. The sight petrifies me. The hulking figure brings back his elbow, almost connecting to my face, and punches Phoenix in the jaw. The sick cracking sound seems to vibrate against the walls of the house. I would have gone completely insane from seeing this, but it didn’t matter now. I can feel my limbs again. My head is clear and I move.
“Fuck…” I manage to curse, and kick the stone figure in the side. The figure doesn’t even flinch, but my face scrunches in pain and the yard fills with a scream. I just broke my foot.
Phoenix tries to get up off the ground, some part of him still fighting the pain to come and protect me, but the figure pummels him to the ground before finally turning to my direction. I can’t see his face. It’s covered by a thick hood, it's color the deepest midnight black that matches the cloak covering his entire body. I search for some kind of feature, some kind of body part that would give me recognition of who this is: a pair of eyes, or a nose, maybe, just something to prove that it’s human. But I get nothing. What I do get is a growl, coming from deep within the figure. The sound causes the hairs on my neck to rise and wave at the figure, saying: “look at me! I’m about to piss my pants!”
A voice rises from deep within it, sounding like the devil himself. If only I were an exorcist. It speaks.
“You’ve been warned. He is not one to be toyed with, so take this seriously. The reason you are not dead is because I’ve been asked not to taint you, he likes his prey fresh, be grateful. Accept his letter.”
A dark, forest green hand covered in shiny, almost metallic-looking scales with pointed finger nails holds out a plain envelope with no name or return address. My body is frozen in fear save for my right hand, which mechanically reaches out to grasp the envelope, creasing the paper. A faint moan comes from Phoenix, who is covered in his own blood, and coughing up some too. My ears pick up a faint gargling sound coming from his mouth. Holy shit, is he choking?
Pay attention to the thing in front of you.
“Read it alone. Burn it when you’re done, and comply with his wishes. You will be tracked down and killed at his convenience if you do not.” Its hand fades back into the folds of his cloak and it walks to the end of the street. I never take my eyes off the midnight mass until it opens the door to a black, unlicensed car, and lithely glides into the passenger seat. The door closes with a slam and my nostrils flare at the reek of rubber against the pavement as the car slides out of my sight. I release the breath I was holding. Then I remember Phoenix. Shit, shit, shit. My knees bend to the ground so I can have better look at him. Oh god, he’s choking on his own blood. He doesn’t have the strength to sit up.
I slip my hands under his back and force him into a sitting position, and pound his back. He’s able to spit out the blood that dominated his mouth and I hear shallow, but quick breathing. He's alive. That's all that matters.
“I need to take you to a hospital.”
End of Chapter Eight.
End of Chapter Eight.
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