Warrior Saints - Creator

by Carla Thorne

  Mr. Parrington slapped him on the back. “Good job.”

  A small woman with blonde hair like Mary’s and huge hazel eyes crashed through their circle and grabbed Mary with such force she dropped her bag.

  “Oh, Mary, thank God. I had to find a safe place to park. Are you all right? And Deacon? You OK?”

  “Sure, Mrs. H.”

  “We’re fine, Mom. It’s Mr. Berry who’s had a bad afternoon.”

  “C’mon. Let’s get you out of this mess.”

  Mr. Parrington’s radio crackled above the noise. “Be right there,” he answered. “Sorry, Mrs. Hunter, these four have to wait to speak to the police.”

  “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “First on the scene. We need witness statements.”

  She pushed a piece of sweaty hair away from Mary’s forehead. “Oh, baby. You saw it all?”

  Mary stepped back. “Stop. I’m fine.”

  “All right. I’m going to take them inside where it’s cool and get them some water.”

  Mr. Parrington nodded. “Call whoever was here to pick you up and let them know where you are. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

  Deacon fished keys from his pocket. “Here you go.”

  “What’s this?”

  “The keys from the car.”

  “The car?”

  “Yep. Couldn’t risk it moving again.”

  “Right. Thanks, Deacon.”

  “C’mon, guys.” Mary’s mom gathered us like ducklings under her wing. “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Ivy.”

  She turned her attention to Scout. “And you are?”

  “That’s Scout, Mom. From church and junior high debate last year.”

  “Oh yeah. Good to see you. How’s your grandma?”

  “She’s fine, ma’am.”

  The blast of cold air from the Saints Café hit my sweaty face and made me shudder inside and out. If Mr. Berry was in shock, I’d passed that and had run dead-on into a catatonic state. I’d seen things, I heard voices. I’d felt an imaginary hand graze my face—not to mention hallucinating a snake. More than ever, I knew I was mentally ill. Nausea swept over me, but somehow I stopped the gag that was lodged in my throat.

  Mrs. Hunter led us to a bare spot in the corner. “Wait here. I’ll find something to drink.”

  I braced myself against the cinderblock wall. “My bag is out there somewhere.”

  “Mine too,” Scout said. “We’ll get them. You can use my phone to call your mom.”

  I nodded and turned the phone in my hands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m trying to remember the number.”

  “Take your time,” he said, and continued to watch me like a protective mother hen.

  “Please, Scout, go ahead and call your ride while I think.”

  “I already texted my grandpa. And uh… I know you told me not to ask, but are you OK?”

  Of course I wasn’t OK. The calm I’d experienced earlier had long since disappeared. Queasiness came in waves and I was afraid I’d barf on Scout’s shoes if he didn’t back up.

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “Just checking.” He moved closer still. “Hey,” he whispered, too close to my face. “You knew about this, didn’t you? You said something about that car right before this happened. And you also said something in the garden.”

  So that part was real. I’d said it out loud during the whole snake debacle. And that snake was real because Mary admitted the snake was real and everyone saw it. But there’d been no snake around my ankle after school. But I saw a snake around my ankle after school…

  Confusion clouded my thoughts again and my stomach churned.

  Scout waved his hand in front of my face. “Did you know about this car thing?”

  Mary’s head snapped up from her phone. “Wait a minute. What did you say, Scout?”

  He shrugged it off. “Nothing.”

  “No, wait. Ivy, you said something about Mr. Berry and a car when you fainted in the garden. How did you…”

  I pressed my arm against my middle in a lame attempt to stop my raging guts from turning inside out.

  “That’s right.” Deacon came closer too. “You did say something about this.”

  Scout’s lips were pressed together like he was trying too hard to keep words inside. I glared at him. Don’t do it… Don’t say a word…

  Mary touched my arm. “It’s OK. We’re not going to say anything. It’s too weird, that’s all. This whole week has been weird. That snake thing, this accident. What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know,” Deacon answered. “But we can’t talk about it here.”

  Anxious students and parents poured into the café. The sound hurt my ears and did little to slow my pulse as it hammered away in my head.

  “Let me think,” Mary said. “We’ll talk at the game tonight. Beginning of the third quarter. The Valley of the Dry Bones. Wayne’ll be there, so watch out for him. Come down the trail behind the visitor field house. There should be enough light. We’ll meet under the footbridge.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Who is Wayne?”

  “He’s the campus rent-a-cop who watches the gates during the football games.”

  Deacon snorted. “But don’t worry. It’s not hard to outrun Wayne.”

  “It is if he’s in his golf cart,” Scout added.

  “No, dude. It’s really not.”

  “I’ve got water.” Mrs. Hunter pressed through a group of kids to reach us.

  I took a bottle and slid down the wall.

  Scout plopped on the floor beside me like a large teddy bear. “How long do you think this will take?”

  “Who knows?” Mary said and did the same.

  Deacon crouched in front of them. He took a long drink and toyed with the lid in his hand. He gave me a goofy thumbs-up. “No worries, Ivy. We’ll figure it out tonight.”

  I would have loved for that to have been true, but I didn’t count on it.

  He let out a half-snort-half-laugh combo and used his water bottle to point at Scout. “You were right,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “That purple shirt you’re wearing. You do look like a bunch of grapes.”

  “Ha-ha,” Scout grumped back and punched him in the arm.

  As Deacon lost his balance, he instinctively reached out to brace himself. His hand covered mine on the floor. Water splashed out of his bottle as the cap bounced away.

  Searing heat scorched my skin as a fiery jolt travelled up my arm. The drop of water that landed on his index finger dried up before it had a chance to slide away.

  He jerked it back.

  I met his nervous gaze. He looked away.

  I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

  I glanced at the reddened back of my hand, totally surprised it hadn’t gone up in flames.

  Chapter 7

  Deacon

  I slipped past the two parent volunteers who guarded the path behind the visitor field house. Members from the opposing team’s band marched past the end zone and filed into the same area, making it easy for me to disappear over the hill and into The Valley of the Dry Bones.

  Chatter from the crowd behind me swelled into applause as the Pride of the Stonehaven Saints halftime show ended with the fight song. My fingers tapped out the rhythm from deep within the pockets of my cargo shorts. Go! Tap-tap-tap-a-tap. Fight! Tap-tap-tap-a-tap. Win! Tap-tap-tap-a-tap. Go! Fight! Win!

  The longer my hands stayed busy accompanying the Saints drumline, the less of a chance my bizarre hand disease could scare me, burn a friend, or plain burst into flames and disintegrate into ash before my eyes. I had no control over the sudden and random heat that accumulated in my palms and transferred to whatever and whoever I touched. It had gotten stronger and more frequent. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out what a freak I was. Mary must have known something after the snake thing, and Ivy definitely knew after I blistered her hand in the
cafeteria. What would happen when everyone knew? And how was I going to explain it when I didn’t understand it myself?

  I’d looked online. Useless. I didn’t take medication and I wasn’t a hundred and five, so it wasn’t physical. What was it then? Mental? Environmental? Spiritual? Everything I knew about God and Jesus came from my great-grandfather and my adoptive parents. I had a Bible app on my tablet, but who could make sense of that? And what good or holy thing could come of fireball hands?

  Nothing.

  If not God, it had to be the devil.

  I didn’t know much about my real parents, but what I did know wasn’t all that pretty. My great-grandfather did his best with me until he died, but he sure spent a lot of time warning me away from the secret religious ceremonies often held in our tiny parish in Louisiana.

  And though he loved my mother, he’d become convinced she’d strayed from tradition and had become involved in something dark.

  Maybe she had. Maybe she made a bargain, and my flame-thrower paws were the devil’s way of marking me.

  Maybe I was doomed.

  Goodbye, normal life, see ya later any chance of ever holding Claire Cannon at the homecoming dance.

  Hello, hell fire.

  “Deacon, hold up.”

  I jumped and tried to cover my surprise. A shock of warmth pulsed in my hands then faded away. “Geez, Scout, don’t sneak up on me. And be quiet. We’re trying not to get caught down here.”

  “Sorry. Wasn’t sure it was you.”

  “It’s not even that dark yet. Watch that rock.”

  “What roc—” Thump!

  “That rock,” I snorted.

  “Thanks, bro.”

  I side-stepped two more jagged stones and swatted mosquitos off my neck and ankles. The last daylight slipped away, leaving us to rely on the bright Friday night lights that spilled out of the stadium, and the full silver moon that kept us from fading into total black.

  Scout’s shoes scraped along behind me as a narrow beam bounced around him.

  I ducked to avoid being exposed. “Turn that thing off. What did you bring down here, anyway? A floodlight?”

  “It’s the light from my phone. I do have a small flash—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “What? Flashlight?”

  “Yes, flashlight.” I swatted at a buzzing sound near my ear. “Who brings a spotlight when they’re trying to stay undercover in the dark?”

  “Humph. Who doesn’t bring one?”

  “Never mind. Mary is probably already here. Weird how that girl gets around. Like a ninja with built-in night vision or something. Nothing bothers her.”

  “Yeah, duh. She picked up a snake.”

  I shuddered and tried to shake imaginary creatures off my back. “Don’t mention that snake while I’m walking through a field in the dark.”

  “Would a flashlight help?”

  “Get down here, you two.” Mary’s hoarse whisper was close, but where?

  She stepped out from under the bridge like some creepy pale blonde ghost and seemed to float there in the shadows.

  I slid down the last rocky slope to the base of the support beam. “I don’t get it. Snake handling? Night stalking? Why couldn’t we meet in the dark corner of the parking lot or under the bleachers like everyone else?”

  Scout made his own clumsy skid down the final stretch. “Whoooaa… Do you think bats live under this bridge?”

  That did it. I punched him in the upper arm. Hard. “What is it with you people?”

  “Ouch! Was that necessary?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Calm. Down.” Mary slipped farther under the bridge and behind the brace. “If bats live here, they’ve gone out for the night.” She clicked on a tiny penlight. “Relax, Deacon.”

  “You relax, Jane Bond. Why all the spy stuff? And what if we get caught down here?”

  “Forget it,” Scout said. “Wayne’s eating a hot dog in the ticket booth. There’s no one else down here.”

  “Keep your voices down anyway,” Mary said. “Did you hear the latest on Mr. Berry?”

  “Yeah, they made an announcement. He’s still in the hospital, but he’ll be fine.”

  “That’s what I heard too.”

  Mary bent to scratch her leg. That made me feel like something was crawling up mine.

  I stepped side-to-side like some lame dancer at the prom in case a giant hairy spider tried to camp out on the end of my shoe and hold on. “Can we get on with it?”

  “Where’s Ivy?”

  “Why are you asking me?” Scout asked.

  “Because we were all together a while ago. Thought maybe she came with you.”

  “I didn’t see her up top. Thought she was with you.”

  “Not here.”

  Scout checked his phone. “I texted. No answer. And she hasn’t posted on Instagram since… Wow. July.”

  I stopped lame-dancing and kicked a rock—to shake loose the spiders and all. “That’s it, spy-nerds. She’s not coming. She was all freaked out today so why would she come here to this spooky place? She doesn’t know about this.”

  “Stupid me,” Mary said. “I thought one of you was going to bring her because she’s new.”

  “We can’t bring her if she doesn’t come to the game.” My voice got higher and squeakier as I talked.

  “Whisper,” Mary warned me again. “You never know who might be listening.” She clicked off her light. “All I wanted was a place to talk in private. Am I the only one who thinks this week has been one big game of Creepy Bingo? Snake, principal’s office, eerie chills, accidents—oh look, free space—yay! Creepy Bingo!”

  “My whole life is Creepy Bingo,” I said. “And it’s gettin’ creepier by the minute under this bridge, so let’s go. We can talk to Ivy on Monday.” I blinked as my eyes continued to adjust between the dark night and the faint glow from the field. “Wait a minute. Where’s Scout?”

  Mary’s ghosty hair whipped as she spun to look. “He’s here somewhere.”

  “I’ve got no time to save him if some mutant bat dragged him away.”

  “You’re ridiculous, Deac,” Mary said and laughed. “You can barely stand still down here, let alone fight with a bat in the dark.”

  “Go ahead. Laugh. But it’s the spiders that’ll get you. They drop on your head or crawl up your leg and—”

  “And what?” Scout asked from behind my right shoulder.

  My hands warmed and my body shook from the surprise. A bolt of fear sliced through me. I opened my mouth. Thank God nothing came out. Not only would we be busted off limits, but everyone would know how I’d screamed like a ten-year-old girl.

  “Holy crap, Scout!”

  “What?”

  “Was that necessary?”

  “Probably not.”

  I once again shook off the heebie-jeebies. “How did you get behind me?”

  “Out the other side of the beam, up over the top, down behind you. If I’d been a spider I’d a bit you.”

  “You want a flashlight upside the head?”

  Mary laughed again and glanced at her own phone. “Whatever. Ivy hasn’t answered me either. Let’s go.”

  “No, wait.” Scout disappeared into the blackness under the bridge. “Come check this out.”

  I wanted to ask if it was something dead or slimy, but I’d already proven myself a weenie so I thought I’d keep my mouth shut. I chose instead to stay close to Mary. I already knew she wasn’t afraid of jack.

  Stinky, musty air rushed up my nose when I tried to get a deep breath without sucking a bug through my mouth. “Is there water in this ditch?”

  “Nah,” Scout said. “Not enough rain around here to keep standing water.”

  “It rained today.” Mary slowed for a sec before she hopped to her left and then back to avoid whatever was in her path.

  I did the same.

  “Yeah,” Scout continued. “But all that did was wet this old wood and make it stink. That reminds me. Wa
tch out for the moldy, slippery stuff on the ground.”

  Good to know.

  “Are we about there?”

  “Yeah, Scout,” Mary added. “Are we about there? Deac here really doesn’t wanna do a face-plant into this muck.” She cuffed me on the arm.

  I nudged her back. “Neither does Mary.”

  “Yeah, we’re here. Stop playin’.”

  We emerged on the other side.

  “What are we looking at?” Mary asked. “Nobody really sneaks out past this side of the bridge. It’s too open and a long way to run to the tree line if Wayne wanders down here.”

  “Girl, who are you? And how often do you sneak around out here?”

  “There,” Scout said. “It’s a fire. I saw it better when I came across the top of the bridge.”

  I strained to catch sight of the distant flicker. “That’s a ways out. Is that school grounds? Or someone on their own property?”

  Scout pulled out his phone and looked at the compass. Yes, he really did, and I decided to let that one go by. Far too easy.

  “Nope. If the lower school is over there, and the boundary line is that way… It’s still school property. This stretch is where they’re planning that expansion we heard about in assembly.”

  “Stupid,” Mary said. “Why would someone do something that’d draw so much attention? Why would they do it here? They had to carry in stuff to burn. I don’t get it.”

  “I doubt they walked through the front gate with a bundle of wood,” I offered. “They could’ve come in way down there from the other side of the lower school.”

  “She’s right,” Scout said. “It’s stupid. And dangerous. If they take off, who’s minding the fire?”

  “Scout, man… You’re killin’ me.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s check it out.” Mary stomped off into what sounded like tall, crunchy grass.

  The glow of the rising moon barely outlined her body in the changing shadows that played tricks with my eyes. Scout followed, and they morphed into one eerie, cricket-smashing blob in the field.

  It only took two steps for something to land on my arm. A grasshopper, I guessed, by the fluttering sounds in the grass. Might as well have been that mutant bat.

  “Hang on,” I begged. “Wouldn’t it be better to walk along the tree line instead of out here in the open field?”