Vestige (13 page)

“But my mom…”

“Do you think she’ll take it?”

“No. It’s hidden. She might not even know about it, but I don’t want to risk running into her. We have to get it tonight.”

“Let’s put this stuff away, and then we can go back.”

“Thank you, Micah. You’re—”

“Shh.” Micah pressed his index finger to his lips, let go of the wagon handle, and extended his arm in front of Clarke.

“This is my house,” he whispered. “I think someone’s in the yard.”

“Who do you think is back there?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. Shh.”

Micah looked like a statue, not a single muscle flinched. When Clarke saw his shirtsleeve tighten around his bicep, her heart fluttered. She lifted her open hand intent on touching him, but he moved before she made contact.

“Cody, is that you?” Micah yelled.

“Yeah. We’re up in the tree house.”

Micah dropped his defensive position, and left Clarke and the wagon standing at the end of the driveway. “Who’s up there with you?”

“Amber, Dustin, and Jess. Are you coming up, or should we come down?”

“We’ll come up.” Micah motioned for Clarke to follow him.

Clarke hesitated. Every ounce of confidence drained from her body. The past two days had been perfect, just her and Micah. He belonged to her now, not them and especially not Jess. Micah would be different around them. She just knew it. And how would they treat her? Jess and Amber wouldn’t be nice. This wasn’t good, not good at all. Clarke sighed, picked up the wagon handle, and followed Micah.

Once in the tree house, Micah and Clarke squeezed into the tight circle of bodies. The six of them barely fit.

“Hi Micah,” Jess said coyly.

“Where’ve ya been?” asked Cody. “We looked for you at the village hall today.”

“We got our tags.” Amber held up her hand to show off her new tattoo. “Jess and her family were the first to get it.”

Jess held up her hand too.

“No way, you all got them?” asked Micah.

“If you get a tag, you get free stuff,” answered Dustin.

“We didn’t get tagged yet,” said Micah.

“You’d better. You don’t want to get arrested,” said Amber.

“And you’ll get free stuff,” said Dustin.

“Yeah…free stuff…. We heard you the first time,” said Micah.

“You should have been there,” said Jess. “We met the secretary of homeland security. He’s super nice.”

“Jess is hot for an old man.” Dustin looped his arm around Jess’s neck.

“No I’m not.” Jess slapped at Dustin’s hand and looked at Micah.

“There
is
something about him,” said Amber.

“His wife is hot too, but she looks older than him,” said Cody.

“Did a lot of people get tagged?” asked Micah.

“I guess. People were still in line when we left,” said Cody.

“What about school? Are you guys going tomorrow?” asked Micah.

“It’s closed,” said Jess. “Almost all the teachers are gone. My mom says that it won’t reopen until everyone’s tagged. They need to know how many teachers and students they have.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if all the teachers disappeared? We’d never have to go back to school,” said Dustin.

“Did you hear anything about the missing people?” asked Clarke.

Jess glared at Clarke. Clarke glared back. Jess looked away.

“You guys didn’t hear?” Amber added. “They caught one of the terrorists responsible for the kidnappings.”

“Yeah, they arrested that crazy homeless guy,” Dustin said. “You know, the one who is always preaching about the end of the world.”

“You mean Jon?” Micah asked. Sure, Jon was crazy, but he seemed harmless.

“Micah, why are you on a first-name basis with a terrorist?” asked Dustin. “I wouldn’t let anyone else know that. They might think you’re his partner.”

“Did they find any of the missing people?” Clarke asked again.

“Not yet, at least that’s what Jess said earlier. Right Jess?” Amber looked at Jess. Jess looked back at Amber and widened her eyes.

Amber shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry…” she mouthed.

“They’ll probably water board that homeless dude until they get some information out of him,” said Dustin.

“That homeless dude couldn’t think his way out of a paper bag let alone plan a kidnapping on a massive scale,” Micah said, careful not to use Jon’s name again.

“Morons,” Cody interrupted. “All those people are probably dead. Where would they go without anyone noticing?”

Clarke gasped, and Micah grabbed her hand.

“You asshole!” Amber punched Cody in the arm and began to cry. “How can you say that? You know that my mom’s missing.”

Cody rolled his eyes. “And you think that homeless guy kidnapped her? How did you get so smart, Amber?”

“Are you two going out?” Dustin pointed at Clarke and Micah.

Clarke wanted to say yes, but they hadn’t officially discussed their relationship status, so she shrugged her shoulders.

Micah looked at Clarke and squeezed her hand. “Yeah, we are.”

Clarke's eyes met his. She couldn’t help but smile.

Jess slid onto Dustin’s lap. “Me and Dustin are going out too.”

Silence. Jess’s comment was equivalent to blowing a whistle at the starting line of a race, and everyone seemed to know it. The competition had begun, only Clarke didn’t want to participate. She hated that mean girl bullshit. She had enough drama in her life.

“As soon as we got our tag, we were able to get our rations. They gave us a ton of food, and it was all free,” said Amber.

“You hear that, Dustin? You can get free stuff,” said Cody.

Amber and Jess giggled. Dustin’s ears turned red.

“After we got our rations, this old lady wanted to trade with us. She gave us two cases of beer for some of our food,” said Dustin.

“We figured we could party here. You know, since your parents are gone,” added Cody.

“Yeah, sure,” said Micah.

At that moment, the streetlights went on and the familiar hum of EMF replaced the silence.

“Yay, the powers back on. Can we go inside? I’m kinda cold,” said Amber.

“Um…I guess.” It was bad enough that he had to explain the blood spatter to Clarke. Now, he had to worry about these guys too. “Just give me a minute. I want to make sure the house is empty. You know…in case someone came back. I don’t want to get caught with all this beer. Wait here.”

Micah climbed down the ladder and headed into the house through the back door. Once in the living room, he hesitated before turning on the lamp. He took a deep breath and faced the wall.

Micah froze. “What the…” It was clean. The wall was clean, not a drop of blood anywhere. He exhaled. Yes! It was a dream…his dad, the gun, all of it…a dream. Thank God!

Micah ran his fingers through his hair as he turned away from the wall. That’s when he saw it, the empty bottle of Johnnie Walker on the floor with a piece of rolled paper sticking out of it.

A bolt of energy burst from his stomach out to his extremities. The hair on his arms stood on end. He took a couple of steps, picked up the bottle, and slowly removed the paper. As he unrolled it, he could smell earth and mildew.

Hey Cousin,

I thought you could use a hand with the mess. A dirty house is hell. You owe me one.

-Grimshaw

Was this a joke? Did Cody write this? But he didn't tell anyone about his dad or Grimshaw. Micah's hands began to tremble. He could feel the depravity drifting up from the note.

His heart pounded, about to explode out of his chest. His vision narrowed, and his hearing ceased. He felt as if he were being pulled into a deep tunnel. He lost his grip and the bottle slipped from his hand, shattering as it hit the floor.

“Micah, Are you okay?” Clarke ran into the room. “What was that noise?”

“Clarke…why are you in here. You should’ve waited outside.”

“I don’t think your friends like me very much. After you left, they ignored me.”

“They just need to get used to you.” Micah tried to stuff the note into his jean’s pocket without Clarke noticing.

“What broke?”

“Oh…I um…I just dropped a bottle. No biggie. Can you get the broom and dust pan from the kitchen?”

“Sure.” Clarke turned back towards the kitchen.

Still shaking, Micah knelt down to pick up the larger shards. His hand seemed detached from his body as it picked up the mouth of the bottle. Instinctively, he looked under the couch. There, he found the gun, his dad’s gun. He reached for it, trading broken glass for cold steel. He turned it over in his hands, massaging the barrel. He held his breath as he pushed open the cylinder to count the bullets…one was missing.

Micah tried to exhale, but he choked on his certainty—the bottle, the note, the empty chamber, all proof. The boundaries between his dreams and reality dissolved. His dad had killed himself, and Grimshaw took him away.

“I could only find this whisk thingy. That should work, right?” said Clarke.

Micah stood, shoving the gun into his waistband. He tried to conceal the weapon as best he could. With no spatter to explain, he would be keeping all of this Grimshaw stuff to himself for now. “I’ll clean this up. Why don’t you tell those guys that it’s okay to come in?"

“How ‘bout I clean, and you get your friends,” said Clarke.

“Yeah…um…sure. I’ll be right back.” Micah looked back at the wall one more time before leaving the room.

As Clarke swept the broken glass into the dustpan, she saw the outline of her reflection in the bare hardwood floor. She did her best not to scratch its pristine finish. When she stood, she took a moment to look at the rest of the living room. Everything was perfect, from the way the chenille throw draped over the arm of the leather sofa to the placement of the candles on the strategically distressed coffee table. This room looked as if it had sprung from the pages of a Pottery Barn catalogue.

“Clarke, are you coming,” Micah called from the kitchen.

“Just a sec…” Trying to steady the dustpan with one hand, she reached to turn off the lamp with the other. Once the light left the room, the world outside the house came into view through the living room window. Clarke could see the sidewalk beyond the porch where a figure stood facing the house. Startled, she moved closer to the window. As she peered out, she could see the priest from St. Francis, standing, watching. “Huh…weird. I wonder what he’s doing.”

“Clarke, do you need help?” yelled Micah.

“No. I’m coming.” Clarke turned away from the window.

In the kitchen, everyone sat around the island with a can of beer in front of them.

“Want one?” Cody asked Clarke.

“No thanks,” she answered.

“Suit yourself.”

Micah didn’t want to drink either. He needed to keep things straight. If his dad killed himself, then Grimshaw had to be some sort of spirit. Maybe the grim reaper? Or maybe he was the…. No, Micah couldn’t accept that as a possibility. The thought was unbearable. Micah felt his eyes well up as he recalled his last encounter with his dad. If only he had known what his dad was planning to do, he would have stayed with him. Or he would have tried to stop Grimshaw from taking him away.

But something didn’t make sense. Why would Grimshaw come back after taking his dad? Why would he care about a mess? And what did “Hey Cousin” mean? Was Grimshaw planning to take him too?

As his friends partied, Micah grew more and more agitated. Should he tell Clarke about his dad, and the note, and Grimshaw? If she were going to stay here with him, didn’t he owe her the truth? But if he told her everything, would she even believe him? And if she believed him, would she stay?

*****

Even though it was a cold night, Thomas decided to go for a walk. Some fresh air might help his condition. He still saw the auras, but the expected throbbing never materialized. Regardless, Thomas worried about the persistence of the glow. Maybe he had a brain tumor.

He wandered around town for at least an hour before he found himself standing in front of the keyhole house. He heard voices coming from the back but couldn’t see anyone. The house’s windows were dark; the golden beams from his dream, absent. He stood there recalling the dog, the smell of sulfur, and the heat. Even though his dream had been a bad trip induced by pharmaceuticals, he remembered it vividly.

Suddenly, a light poured out from the windows. It wasn’t an artificial light like that from a light bulb, but a natural light like that from the sun. Not only did it fill the house, but it also illuminated the space in front of the house. Thomas could clearly see the source—a teen boy. He felt light-headed. “My God…can this be real? Is he the Guardian?” Thomas watched as the boy moved about the living room.

Before long, a girl entered the room; her body encased in a globe of murky gray. But when she stood close to him, her gray disappeared as if it were canceled out by the gold.

Thomas scratched his head, once again questioning his sanity.

After about ten minutes, the light went out, but Thomas lingered. What should he do? Should he walk up to the door and ring the bell? Vincent would have known what to do. Not having the answers, Thomas turned and headed home.

*****

The six teens sat in the kitchen for a couple of hours before the party moved to the living room. Cody and Dustin finished the case of beer themselves and passed out on the floor. Jess and Amber curled up on the couch together. They whispered and giggled as they watched Micah. Clarke and Micah sat together on the love seat across from the couch.

Micah kept to himself most of the night. He would answer a question every now and then, but his mind seemed to be somewhere else.

“Micah, you okay?” asked Clarke.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ve been quiet tonight. Are you mad about something?” she asked.

“Nah, it’s just being back here, I guess. I’m thinking about my family. This whole thing is starting to sink in,” said Micah.

“I know what you mean,” Clarke said. “Since we left my house, I guess I’m thinking less about my dad. I’m sorry that your whole family disappeared.”

“My mom and brother disappeared, but my dad…I don’t know.”