The Legend of the Firewalker (3 page)

She took several steps back. Now, her back was against Amanda’s desk. Frantically, her hand searched the table. She was desperate to find something to protect herself with, but little stabs of sharp pain suddenly shot up her arm. Leah looked down and shards of glass from the lightbulb had sliced into he
r palms and fingers. Among the tossed paper and glass, she could make out a small shape in the darkness. Instantly, Leah recognized Amanda’s cell phone. She plunged for it, causing a wave of ripples in the air. 

The phone, closer now, was no longer washed in gray, and the light from the LED display illuminated the apple-red color in the darkness. Without hesitating
, she dialed 911, but there was no dial tone, just silence.

Abruptly, a high-pitched wail filled the air, and goose bumps rushed down her back.

“Leeah!”

2

NIGHTMARES

Nathan let out a huge gasp as he suddenly awoke from sleep. He instantaneously sat up in bed. His face and chest were drenched with sweat and his palms tingled. His heart pounded ferociously against his chest and his breathing was l
abored. 

Frantically, he looked around the room only to be caught off guard by the piercingly bright sunlight that crept through the curtains to his bedroom window. Groggy, he shielded his eyes, as faint memories of the dream that had just terrified him began to replay in his mind.
Who is she?
he wondered.
And why am I having the same dream about her over and over?

Every night since return
ing home from school for summer, he has dreamed about her. The dreams have become so frequent that Nathan stopped counting the number of times in which he awoke in the dead of night drenched with sweat. For hours, he would stay awake, trying to recall some small detail about her, to identify her, retracing her steps.

Nathan shivered. He always remembered her tousled brown hair and the blood that glowed brightly against her fair skin. “It all seems so real,” he murmured. He also r
emembered her flailing arms as she fought desperately against an unseen attacker. “This just can’t be real,” he reasoned. 

Like he did on most nights after awakening in the dar
kness, he sat in bed recalling the scratches and blood on her, and trying hard to remember from whom she’d been defending herself.

Suddenly, Nathan shivered again. He didn’t want to a
dmit what his mind had been circling for weeks. “The scratches,” he muttered. “There were so many of them, and they appeared all at once. She just couldn’t keep up her defense.” He slowly shook his head. “It was like she was overwhelmed, as if she was fighting against more than one person.”

He looked down and was drawn to the tingling sensation in his hands. The sensation in his palms was just as frequent as his dreams, and he found it equally annoying. The first couple of nights home, he thought maybe his hand had fallen asleep, that he was just sleeping wrong. It wasn’t until both hands started having a prickly feeling that he actually co
nsidered something was amiss.

On most days he just ignored it, and it usually went away before he finished brushing his teeth. His only working the
ory was that the tingling was from all the heavy weightlifting he’d been doing and that he might want to consider investing in some workout gloves. Now that he was back home, he was taking full advantage of the weight room at the Devaro Mansion. He detested using the gym at school because the weight room was always crowded. But despite that, he’d still managed to keep a somewhat consistent workout schedule. 

Since returning home, he had also made a concentrated effort to sleep in and to avoid Lafonda Devaro as much as possible. He had managed to avoid her at school practically all year, only having to see her during the holidays, when they returned home for breaks. It was easy for him to avoid her most of the time because they lived in different houses. Nathan lived with his grandfather Rodion, in the medium-sized, two-bedroom cottage behind the main house and near the garden. His grandfather, the caretaker for the Devaro e
state, maintained the grounds on the property.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lafonda
— they had actually been close while growing up. But once they entered high school, her new friends and their big houses, fast cars and money kind of complicated things. Although in his mind the money issue created distance between Lafonda and him, he knew he could always count on her if he ever needed her.

The Devaro Mansion was the only home he had ever known, and the Devaros were the closest thing he had to an extended family. Without them, it would be just him and his grandfather. As far as he knew, his grandfather had always worked for them.

It was still midmorning when he finally decided to get out of bed. Nathan’s hand prickled as he pulled back the curtains and opened the window. He took in a deep breath as the warm air rushed across his bare chest.
I’m up a little earlier than usual,
he thought with a sense of accomplishment. He rarely got out of bed before noon.

Nathan showered, put on a pair of shorts, and wore his favorite IUCF T-shirt. He bought it when he first arrived
on campus the previous fall, and it was his favorite because it had no sleeves. He hated wearing anything that was too constricting, especially on his arms. 

He stared in the mirror at the now over-washed T-shirt and thought it was interesting that before, he had never d
esired to wear an IUCF one, even though campus was a short commute away. Nathan felt that he ended up at IUCF by default and had never really put thought into attending anywhere else. Lafonda, on the other hand, had been set on going there since high school. He thought this was mainly because her father, Avery, and her grandmother LaDonda were both alums of the school.

Nathan’s stomach grumbled as he entered the hallway. As he got closer to the kitchen, he heard his grandfather mumbling something in Russian over the sound of rattling pots and pans. “What the heck is he looking for?” Nathan muttered. “We never use the kitchen.”

Apart from drinks and snacks, they normally cooked or ate at the main house. This was mainly because neither of them could cook very well and both loathed washing dishes. Nathan was convinced that if it weren’t for Lafonda’s grandmother, everyone would starve. Lafonda wasn’t a wiz in the kitchen either, and after her dad accepted a position in England, her parents were hardly ever home.

Nathan entered the kitchen to find his grandfather on his knees with his head buried in one of the bottom kitchen ca
binets.

“So, what’s for breakfast, Grandpa?” he asked teasingly and with a half grin.

“I’ll grandpa you!” Rodion answered from inside the cabinet.

“I don’t smell anything burning, so you’re obviously not cooking,” laughed Nathan.

The rattling and clinking sounds of metal abruptly came to a stop. Nathan’s grandfather stood up, revealing a slender man with an olive skin tone. His hair was white but full, and his face was sprinkled with signs of age. Although Nathan’s skin was pecan in color, his grandfather in his youth probably looked much like Nathan.

“Well,” Rodion said, after taking a deep breath. “Look who decided to join the living and actually start their day before everyone else goes to sleep.”

Nathan smiled and casually leaned against the small wooden island in the middle of the kitchen. “It’s summer, Grandpa,” he whined. “Plus, I had all morning classes last semester, and based on that alone, I think I am in need of some much deserved shut-eye.”

“Oh, I’m sure you were stuck with all morning classes through no fault of your own,” Rodion chuckled. “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with procrastinating, or playing vi
deo games, or perhaps registering late, or all of the above.”

Nathan sighed heavily. “Can’t I
do anything without Lafonda keeping tabs on me?” he groaned. “What else did your annoying little spy report?”

Rodion frowned. “First, as if I need to have a spy to know what my only grandson does; and second, I thought we had agreed that I was too young looking and too handsome to be called grandpa.” he retorted. “You know that I’d rather you call me Roy.”

Rodion had taken to the nickname Roy after Lafonda had started calling him that several years before.

“Grandpa!” Nathan whined, through glaring eyes. “Did she happen to mention
that I almost made the Dean’s List last semester? If it weren’t for my Spanish class, I would have gotten all As.”

“No, she didn’t,” grinned Roy, returning back to his search. “But I do recall her mentioning something about
her
making the Dean’s List and earning all As both semesters.”

“Ugh!” groaned Nathan. “Whatever.” His stomach co
ntinued to growl as he perused the refrigerator. “Is there anything to eat?”

“I don’t know. You will have to look for yourself,” said Roy, shuffling through the pots and pans. “And how do you expect her to know all this information about you when you barely speak to her?”

“Whatever,” mumbled Nathan, continuing his search.

The metal clinking sounds from the cabinet ceased again. “Ah-ha!” shouted Roy. “I found it!”

Grudgingly, Nathan closed the refrigerator door and eyed the small orange juice bottle in his hand before opening it. “Do we have anything else?” he complained. “Like, perhaps, food?”

Triumphantly, Roy stood in front of him with a medium-sized silver-colored pan in his hands.

“You spent all that time looking for a pan?”

“Yes. I like to spend my time aimlessly looking for pans I don’t need,” Roy said, sarcastically. He grinned. “LaDonda is baking a multilayered cake for Lafonda’s birthday party tomorrow, and she didn’t have all the pans needed at the house.”

“That’s tomorrow!” exclaimed Nathan, almost spilling orange juice from his mouth. 

“Yes, tomorrow night, actually,” said Roy. “And I guess it’s safe to assume you don’t have a birthday present.”

“Uh, yeah,” stuttered Nathan, his face turning red now. “I guess you can say that.”

Roy smiled, pulled out a brown box from underneath the kitchen island, and began to pack it with various cake pans. “I’ve already taken the liberty of getting a gift for you to give Lafonda,” he said, gesturing towards the hallway. “It’s in the hallway closet.”

Nathan’s face continued to redden as he looked apologetically at his grandfather. “Thanks, Grandpa,” he said. “For helping me not to look so bad.”

“No, problem,” answered Roy with a grin. “Now, do me a favor and help me carry this stuff over to the main house. Do you think you can grab the presents from the closet?”

“Sure thing!” said Nathan, heading over to the closet. “So, what did I get her?”

Inside the hallway closet, next to the front door, were several presents on the top shelf. One in particular, with a large red ribbon wrapped around it, stood out. The shiny red box was really small compared to the others, and the big red ribbon around it dwarfed it in comparison. Based on the size, Nathan guessed it probably was a ring, or a necklace, or some piece of small jewelry.

He headed back into the kitchen, presents in hand, and laid them across the table. “So, which one of these is mine to give?” he asked.

Roy glanced up and followed Nathan’s gaze to the small red box. “You pick,” he said. He paused and then casually pointed. “Why don’t you give her that one?”

Reluctantly, Nathan reached out, but then hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked. “It looks expensive. What’s in it?”

“It’s a surprise,” said Roy enthusiastically. “For both of you.”

“For both of us?” Nathan asked incredulously. “I doubt that I will be too excited about Lafonda receiving another piece of jewelry.” He grinned. “I think her boyfriend has that covered.”

“Well, I think this one will be special,” said Roy conf
idently. “Now, let’s take this stuff over to LaDonda before she starts calling me.”

With presents in tow, Nathan followed his grandfather across the sprawling green lawn and towards the white col
onial mansion adorned with large white pillars. The warmth of the sun felt nice against Nathan’s skin, and he suddenly had an urge to hit the pool.
I wonder why he’s being so cryptic about what’s in the red box,
he pondered.

His grandfather suddenly stumbled in front of him, and Nathan soon began to question who should be carrying the brown box. “Maybe I should be carrying the pans?” he called out.

“I’m fine,” uttered Roy, while attempting to secure the box in his hands. “I know you think I’m an old grandpa, but I can handle it.” He attempted to glance back at Nathan. “However,” he added, gesturing over to the garden with his head, “the weeds have really sprouted up in the garden this year. You think you can help me by cleaning up the garden before you leave for camp? You do remember that you leave for camp on Friday?”

Nathan sighed.
Is it that soon?
He’d thought he would have more time to relax before being thrust into camp to watch over some whiny teenagers.

Although he had turned nineteen about a month earlier, Nathan would hardly consider himself in the same category as the younger teens that normally attended camp. “Of course!” he responded quickly. He said it with such enthus
iasm that he almost convinced himself. “I’m almost ready to go.”

“Nice try,” chuckled Roy heartily. He gestured again. “Let’s go through the back. I propped the kitchen door open earlier.”

As they neared the back of the house, Nathan could hear voices and sounds of laughter out by the pool area. At first glance, it appeared to be Lafonda and her boyfriend, Jim. He noticed the palms of his hands started to tingle again as he placed the gifts out on the kitchen table. “Where should I put these?” he asked. “Are you hiding them until the party?”

“Um
— no,” said Roy, while unloading the box. “Avery and Amelia want to talk to Lafonda after she opens their gift.” He paused to examine one of the larger cake pans before placing it on the counter. “And because of the time difference in London, LaDonda is having a pre-birthday lunch celebration today.”