“Are you the owner of this home?” the officer to the right asks, cutting off the tall, burly officer to the left. That doesn’t stop the officer to the left from standing right in front of me, patting me down to ensure I have no weapons.
“What are you doing?” I ignore the officer’s question and instead focus on the man who is now checking the inside of my shoes for any weapons, his head located right next to my crotch.
He stands up, seeming satisfied upon finding no weapons. “We are holding you here temporarily until we can get a better idea of what happened.” He pulls out a set of handcuffs from the belt on his waist, which also has a pistol holstered in it. I comply, letting him handcuff me, Riva letting go of her grip on my bicep as the cuffs click around my wrists, locking me in.
I know a few things about people that almost always work by this point in my life.
One is that being nice and listening always makes someone more likely to trust you. The other is that telling most of the truth is always better than telling none of the truth, and if done correctly, it is better than telling all the truth too.
I glance again at the chaos that has ensued in my once peaceful front yard. Multiple police officers are on the floor, detaining people that are so far gone, they probably can barely register the tragedy that happened.
I have no clue where this is headed, or even the legal ramifications of any of this, but all I know is that I will say whatever I need to keep me and my father out of jail. This is all Jake’s fault. I grind my teeth together as the officer steps back. The adrenaline and anger rushing through me now have me more fired up than scared. I finally have the law here with me.
But I can’t knock the fear in the back of my mind. I can’t ignore the part of me that knows the law means nothing without any power to enforce it.
“Here, let’s walk down to our police car and have you sit inside, get away from all this craziness.” I keep my demeanor calm the whole time he speaks to me. The side of me that I always try to suppress is now fully out. I turn off all my emotions, the thought of the half a dozen people falling to the rocks below nothing but a faint echo in my mind. I can’t let the sadness or grief overwhelm me right now. I need to focus on myself. I need to make sure I come out on top, and that Jake is left with nothing.
I glance at him as I walk down the steps, neither Riva nor I having it in ourselves in that moment to say a temporary goodbye. I never even thank her.
I stare at him, drilling my disgust into the back of his head with my eyes. He has his head turned to me as he stands up, glancing at the stars above. But when I see his short, wide body from behind, it doesn’t even look like the Jake I have grown to love over the last decade. He looks like a monster. He looks like a killer.
I feel my hologlasses buzzing in my pocket as I walk down the steps away from Riva and away from the house where I both had and then lost everything. I try to ignore it, but for some reason whenever you get a notification you don’t want, it seems to have a different fuzzy tone to it. It’s almost like the computer itself knows that you are about to be fucked over, or maybe it’s my own mind.
Either way, I don’t need to look at my phone to get the answer.
Everyone in the yard is already yelling at me the one thing I dread more than anything else.
“You’re done, buddy!” Maken’s voice is the one that rings louder than everyone else’s. He is one of the only people who look to be genuinely happy amidst the crowd of traumatized, crying, shocked people. “My new manager Jake here got it all on video.” I force myself to look away as Maken puts his arm around Jake, the nightmare of all nightmares of my life playing out in real time in front of me. “League commissioner has already released an official statement banning you from the finals until further notice! Looks like I get my own shot at winning now.”
This can’t be real. This must be a dream.
I dry-heave as I step off the driveway and onto the cracked pavement of the street.
The dirt and other particulate matter that resulted from the back of the house collapsing creep into the air around me, and I suddenly feel my lungs beginning to burn. The awful feeling that started in my stomach and bubbled to my throat now overcomes my whole body as a rush of blood swathes my head. I step into the police car. My breathing grows heavier as I feel the presence that I have been fearful of all week.
The spaced-out, devastated look in Jake’s eyes as I glance at the crowd one final time before the door shuts says it all. He isn’t capable of any of this. The Jake I have known my whole life would never hurt me like this.
It was them.
I choke on my saliva; no words are able to come out as both officers look back at me from the front seat. All I can feel is the terror.
Every night I wake up with nightmares. Every day I look behind my back to make sure they aren’t watching. I know they are here now; they were behind this. And even the police can’t do anything to protect me.
They don’t have the power.
“Do you need medical attention?” One of the officers taps the device on his chest, preparing to alert even more emergency responders to make their way over here. There is no doubt that the news crews and reporters will be here in no time, showcasing the tragedy for everyone in the world to see, including my father.
“I’m having a bit of anxiety.” I put a hand on my own chest. I feel the rapid palpitations of my heart, well aware that I look on the verge of hyperventilating.
“Okay, do you need a minute?” One of the officers steps out as a round of chatter booms from the device. I am now left alone with the super pale, bald, skinny one.
“No, no.” I look around, a streak of light passing by outside as someone lights one of the many firecrackers that was brought to the party.
I feel my hologlasses vibrating in my pocket again, likely my dad furiously trying to get a hold of me. My palms sweat a disgusting amount, and I can even feel all the worry dripping out of my armpits in thick beads of sweat. I already know what my dad is going to do. He will blame this all on me, on how I didn’t keep tabs on Jake nor miraculously got everyone out before it collapsed. He will bar me from ever working for Chimera, refuse to pay for my college. He will abandon me, and so will Deadwave.
I will have nothing.
I need to fight for it. I need to save my life before it’s ripped away forever. I need to save myself before they kill me. The police aren’t the answer, but I know exactly what is.
“I’ll tell you everything now.” I gulp. The officer eagerly glances at me as I open my mouth and tell the story I never thought I would have to tell.
Needless to say, it sucks to have to recount such a horrid experience, even just minutes after. But by the end of it, I have him right around my finger. He feels for my struggle and understands what I’m going through. He knows the pressure my dad places on me, and that Jake and I recently had a falling-out when he is practically my brother. He knows how it happened, the way it looked when the bodies fell. He knows that everyone here is innocent. That it was a freak accident. Except in reality it’s not.
As soon as I close my mouth, the officer immediately unlocks my handcuffs and shoots me a surprised yet empathetic look. He knows I have no business being here, but then again none of those people had any business falling dozens of feet to their death, but they did. I shake his hand as I prepare to exit the police car. The majority of the crowd had dispersed in the few minutes I had talked to him. Meanwhile, the first responders are still hard at work, trying to pull the bodies out of the water. A medical helicopter even hovers above the dark waters, its propellers spinning a few yards from the remnants of the house.
I get out of the car as fast as I can. I don’t even wait for the police car to begin running up my street. I hear Riva call out behind me as she instantly shoots up from her seat on the side of the street. I can’t let her see this. I can’t let her be a part of this.
I continue running forward, ignoring her calls, numb to the vibrations in my
pocket, deaf to the sirens, and blind to the flashing lights. I keep going through the darkness. The second my legs hurt, I only run faster. I deserve this pain, I deserve to feel an ounce of what they felt.
The road smoothly meanders into the larger main road that leads to the shops and restaurants at the cove. For dozens of summer days, Jake and I would walk from our house to the town and get ice cream or watch the sea lions playing on the rocks when we were kids. This time I run right on the side of the cliff, the divider separating me from the perilous fall inches away as I grow closer to my destination.
I skip the ice cream shop, not even wanting to look as I pass a row of restaurants that will forever hold some of my greatest memories. All of it is from a past life now. Nothing will ever be the same.
The sounds of the waves are the only soothing noise to my ears as I approach the park that I had my eyes set on since the second I bolted away from that car. No one is in sight, not even any drunks roam the street on the beautiful night that is a bit chilly from the salty gusts of wind from the ocean.
I walk down the small staircase to the small patch of sand between the large rocks that line the shoreline. I keep running, jumping over a maze of rocks, my grown self easily completing the task of climbing into the cave when it was a feat years ago.
The cave is small enough so that there are never any sea lions, but big enough to allow the rough edges and beautiful curvature to the rock structure to cause wonder in anyone. On either side the cave is bordered by the ocean, the salty wind whipping through the structure and incessantly whispering in my ear.
I sit down, the jagged edges of the rock digging into my back.
I close my eyes and let the darkness absorb me. I want to stay like this forever. I want to stay in this state of tranquility.
But then they come. I knew they were going to come. I need them to.
I feel a mask press up against my skin as a thick, metallic gas coats my airways. There is no break in the silence as two hands pick me up and my senses melt away into nothingness.
Chapter 30
A dull ring echoes in my ears.
My body instantly shoots awake. My eyes dart around, quickly taking in my environment. I am tied with rope to a large metal beam and sitting on a dirty cement floor that is littered with cracked glass, trash, and ripped, dirty clothes. The only light is from the moonlight above, but even from that I can tell that I am in an abandoned warehouse, likely outside of downtown San Diego. Graffiti consisting of gang signs, profanities, and satanic symbols line the walls in the distance. The mold and bullet holes on the walls make it seem like the place can fall apart at any moment.
They really got creative this time. My eyes spot the multiple barrels hanging from the ceiling, and I can’t help but wonder if dead bodies are inside them.
“We are very sorry to hear about tonight’s events,” a woman says, her voice having a pompous character to it. Even though I can’t see her at all, I imagine her wearing a one-of-a-kind purple designer dress.
I don’t respond, instead gulping rather loudly. I try to swallow a scream from erupting out of my throat as I feel a cold finger running down my arm. This was a bad decision. I should have never let them get close to me. I glance around at the darkness infesting the large, completely empty warehouse. Part of me regrets ever wishing that they would find me alone tonight, but I’m too desperate to go at this alone.
I need their help. I need them to save me before everything collapses. They are the only ones with that power—at least, I hope they have the power.
“We know how much Deadwave means to you. We are very saddened to see you suspended from the tour. We all thought you had great prospects to possibly win it all.” The voice, despite it speaking at a low volume, booms off the metal walls of the warehouse.
“Don’t say you’re sorry for something you did.” I bite my tongue as the words come out. Going into this, I know I need to put on a front for these people. I need to let them know that I’m aware of their games, but that I also want to play. I want to play on their team.
“We didn’t do anything.” I can feel the figure behind me smile with those words. A chilling sensation courses down my spine as I imagine how many more people are stationed directly behind the metal beam and out of sight. “We didn’t make the choice to throw that party. Your friend did.”
“You forced him into it.” I am careful to not have my tone grow too angry as I clench my fists, my entire body tense with indignation. “You probably threatened his life.”
“We didn’t threaten to take anything away from him.” There is a pause between her sentences as the tension in the air threatens to explode. “We told him the truth about his life. The truth about his family. The real reason his father was killed.”
“What are you talking about? You have no idea what happened to him!” Suddenly a rush of vitriol and adrenaline overcome me. These people are now mentioning some of the most sacred things of my past, the biggest secrets that no one in my family talks about. Things that I don’t know the answer to and that my parents have always told us no one does. Jake’s dad was killed in cold blood years ago, and my dad has always said it’s best not to think about heinous crimes like that. There’s no way these people know the truth, and that my father wouldn’t know it—that I wouldn’t know it.
“The real answer is that you have no idea what happened to him.”
“No one does. His dad was killed out of the blue, and his mom went mentally insane. No one knows how or why.” I pause, rubbing my sweaty palms against my pants. “No one does.”
“You have always been lied to, my friend.”
“We aren’t friends. Don’t call me friend.”
“Well, if you’re not a friend, then you are an enemy.” I catch a glimpse of her tall, lean figure in my peripheral vision as she holds up a finger to her lips. She whispers, “All of our enemies are dead.”
I sit still, my mouth frozen shut as I struggle to find any words to respond. These people are serious, real serious. I think this is old news by now, but to be this close to death is not a feeling one gets used to.
“The stories, or lack thereof that you have heard in the past, are all lies.” There seems to be an almost hissing quality to the way she speaks. “You have been lied to your whole life about almost everything. We want to set you free with the truth. We want to help you get out of this mess.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“You shouldn’t believe anything, my friend.” My skin crawls at the way in which the word friend bounces off her lips. “But our minds often have to choose to believe in something. And I’m not telling you to trust us. But if not us, who else? Who else can help you? Who else can show you everything you have been needing your whole life?”
I stay silent, unable to answer the question with a straight yes or no.
“I get it. What we are asking of you, after all we have already asked, is not easy. We want your trust. But we don’t expect you to be ready for that. We don’t wanna share with you the whole truth yet, open your eyes to the real darkness in this world. You’re not ready for that yet. But we do wanna start over.”
There is a long pause, and my heart practically thumps out of my chest with each passing second. “We feel we got off on the wrong foot in this relationship. Asking you to steal patents from your father wasn’t the right thing to ask of you.”
“Yeah, obviously.” I finally speak up. My eyes are closed as I respond, the stress of the moment causing me to let out a huge sigh.
“Instead, we want you to kill him.” Her voice seems to blacken with the atmosphere of the warehouse.
I sit there, unable to speak, my nerves going haywire as I hear the dull echo of the footsteps circle around my back to the other side of me.
“And if you agree to kill him, by the morning we will clear up all the press about your little house-collapsing incident. In no time your name will be cleared, your suspension will be lifted, allowing you to compe
te in the finals, and your dad’s company and assets will be safe.”
“Why do you want me to kill him?” The words are so jumbled as I speak that they are barely audible. My brain is spinning with a thousand different questions and a million different emotions. I know the right answer to this, I know what my gut is saying, and that’s what scares me.
“To tell you that would be to tell you the truth. You’re not quite ready for that, friend. You can’t become one of us yet.”
“Then why can’t you kill him yourself?” I retort.
“It would break the covenant that has existed for decades. It would break the foundation of what holds us together.” Her voice swells into a volume just beneath a yell. “You have to do it, my friend. You have to do what has needed to be done for years.”
My breathing now matches my heart in its fervor. I can feel my entire body kicking into hyperdrive as her words flood my ears. All the anger for my dad, my suspicions of him, my jealousy of him, and sadness about our past fester into a series of disgusting thoughts. If this is the only way to save myself then maybe this isn’t bad. My dream will be saved, and the one thing holding me back from all the freedom I want will be gone. All the pressure will disappear. I can finally live the life I want to live.
He never even showed that he loved me anyway.
“I’m not throwing my entire life away to win the Deadwave finals.” My voice shakes. I tune out all the emotions pleading with me not to work with them and instead channel the familiar drive in me that will always do anything to further along my goals. “I can’t go to jail to preserve some covenant and kill my dad.”
“You wouldn’t get caught. There’s nothing in the covenant that says anything about covering up a murder. And you will know when it’s time. We will make sure to tell you; we will give you an exact plan to execute, and if you fail, we kill you immediately.”
“And what happens if I say no in the first place?”
Deadwave Page 22
