by Logan Fox
Our father’s prayer.
It’s been underlined several times.
The word “forgiveness” was circled so hard it tore through the paper.
I snap the book closed. Turn.
My brothers are facing me. Zach is frowning, and as soon as his eyes dart down to the bible, he walks up to me.
“Luke eleven,” I tell him, slamming the book into his chest.
And then I’m bolting out the room, down the stairs, through the passage.
4-2-1-1
The basement door unlocks. I shove it open, take a step.
But then the smell hits me.
I freeze.
I’m still standing there at the threshold, staring into a black void, when the others arrive.
“Fuck,” Cass mutters somewhere behind me. “There a light or something?”
“Probably one down there,” Apollo says. “But, like, you’d have to find it first.”
“Anyone have a flashlight?” Zach’s voice is tight.
“Got one on my phone,” Cass replies absently.
But none of us move.
We just stand there, staring into the dark.
Which is absurd.
It’s just a dark room.
A few stairs.
If Cass gives me his phone, there’ll be light. Then I can go down there.
But it doesn’t matter what logic my fucking brain throws at me, I override it every time with, “it’s a fucking pitch-black basement.”
Maybe I wouldn’t have had an issue if Zach hadn’t told me that this was where our Ghost lived.
Because then it would just have been a normal basement. A cavity at the bottom of a house. Nothing to it.
But it’s not.
It’s our fucking Ghost’s basement, and that changes everything.
Apollo clears his throat. “So…uh…are we going down?”
“Yeah, course,” Cass says, but as if he’s lost in a dream.
“Why wouldn’t we?” The words come out by themselves—I wasn’t even aware I was going to speak.
My skin starts crawling. I take a step back. And as if that breaks the spell, Cass and Zach and Apollo all move back with me.
We press up against the wall, staring at the rectangle of night in front of us.
Cass fidgets in his pocket. Pulls out his phone. He turns on the light and shines it at the hole.
It’s like it hits an invisible door someone painted black.
Fuck.
“Okay,” Apollo whispers. “Look, it’s just a room, right?”
He takes a step forward. Then another. I stare at him, taking in his long blond hair, his lean frame. He puts his arm out behind him. “Phone.”
In that moment, I’ve never had greater respect for him.
And he doesn’t even look back. Doesn’t take even a second to see what we think. He just grabs the phone as soon as Cass puts it his palm, pushes back his shoulders, and heads for the darkness.
The second it swallows him, the three of us surge forward and cluster around the dark doorway.
“Apollo!” Cass calls out, like he’s convinced Apollo’s already been murdered.
“Yeah?” With the phone shining ahead, he’s a starkly contrasted silhouette. The beam of light from the cell isn’t as powerful as a flashlight, but it chases away the shadows long enough for Apollo to pick out a few shapes in the darkness.
Stairs.
Plastic flooring.
As soon as he reaches the ground, he points the light across the room.
“Mother of God,” Zach murmurs.
“Nope,” Cass says, sounding like he’s about to get sick. “Try, Father of Hell.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Apollo
I wonder if they can see how much I’m shaking? I’m holding Cass’s phone as tight as I can, but there’s nothing I can do about the way the light shimmies and shakes all over the place.
If my brothers weren’t all standing there at the top of the stairs, I wouldn’t even have thought about setting foot down here.
Yeah, it’s just a basement, but come on.
It’s as much a basement as we’re a bunch of friends.
Every inch of this place is dripping sinister and oozing malevolence. I suddenly wish I had some kind of biblical training so I could exorcise this place and be done.
But instead I have to creep around and look for a damn light.
I find it, eventually. It takes me a lot longer than it should have, but that’s because I can’t stop looking at everything else in here.
The bed.
The teeny tiny little toilet.
The camera on its stand.
Especially the camera.
But I can’t think electronics right now. This isn’t the time to veer off on a tangent.
As soon as I spot the string for the light, I tug it.
Light blooms, but the way that swinging lightbulb makes the shadows dance and weave is giving me the heebie-jeebies.
“Okay, guys, it’s safe!” I call up.
I don’t dare turn my back, because I know how that ends. So I just back up a little as I wait for them to join me.
But they don’t.
And when I finally have enough courage to look behind me, I see the terror on each of those three faces.
Crap.
Why the hell did I have to choose this moment to be so damn stupid?
“Really?” I purse my lips. “Just me then?”
“You’re doing so well, buddy!” Cass calls out. “Just keep going.”
I shake my head, throw them the finger, and go back to staring at the room. “What am I looking for?”
They don’t answer, because I guess it’s obvious.
A fucking clue, idiot.
But like…what?
Hair? DNA? Fingerprints?
Or stuff like whether the bed was chosen at random or for specific child molestation purposes?
The camera catches my eye again, and I realize why.
I know there won’t be a tape or anything inside. I mean…duh.
But as soon as I make a beeline for it, Zach calls out, “Leave it alone, Apollo, the rest of the room is more—”
I throw him another zap. “You wanna micromanage me, then come down here and do it yourself,” I yell up.
“There won’t be a tape in there,” Rube says.
“I know,” I say, drawing out the last word. “But this is…”
I trail off, rolling my eyes. Every time I talk tech, my brothers’ eyes start glazing over. Only Cass humors me every now and then, but I doubt even he would understand.
This camera is old. Like the eighties old. But it’s in amazing condition, especially considering the fact that it’s been in this damp basement for God knows how long.
I want to take it off its stand, but I’m sure there are all sorts of fingerprints on it. Luckily I’m wearing long sleeves today—I pull them over my hands and use them to pop open the cassette compartment.
“It’s empty,” I call out.
“Told you,” Cass says.
But then I turn the camcorder around, and frown. Under the fat sans-serif type of the brand name, there’s a slanted word in script. It has the eighties jagged feel to it, like ACDC’s logo.
LIMITED EDITION
Right. Got it.
My brothers step aside so I can come out of the basement. Cass puts out a hand to stop me. “Where you off to in such a hurry?”
“Library. Or internet cafe, whichever comes first,” I tell him. Then I hold up the camera for them to see. “Unlike the van, this thing is one in a million.”
“How’s that going to help us?” Rube asks as I start walking away.
“Don’t know yet,” I call back. “But I’ll let you know soon as I figure it out.”
Cass drives me to the local library while Rube and Zach stay behind in Trinity’s old house. I’m not sure that’s the best idea, seeing as how Zach flipped out earlier, but I guess if they do rip t
he whole place apart it might end up being all cathartic and shit.
I don’t really care.
I’m too focused on how this camera is going to help us find Trinity.
It doesn’t look like the kind of tech that’s been in use since the eighties. It looks like a camera you buy on eBay at a ridiculous price because it’s vintage, barely ever been used, and has some of its original packaging.
I’m hoping it’s unique enough to have left a trace I can find quickly and easily.
And if it’s not? Well at least I’m keeping myself sane and not constantly adding to my rather inventive list of things someone evil could be doing to a pretty girl like Trinity.
Cass watches me over my shoulder, but unlike Rube or Zach, he doesn’t ask me what I’m doing every two seconds.
I’m grateful for that. I never mind explaining shit, but right now it would just slow me down.
Instead, he lets me get into the zone, and once I’m in…
“You should blink,” comes his voice.
I sit back, shake my head, focus on him.
“What?”
He points at his eyes. “You have to blink every now and then. Keeps them moist.” He stretches out his arms, jaw cracking with a yawn. “Let’s get a coffee and a smoke.”
“Dude, I was right…” I shove my palms over my eyes and massage my eyelids. “I was in the fucking zone.”
“Yeah, well, you’re going to develop a hunch if you keep sitting like that. And I can’t be seen hanging around with hunchbacks.” He slaps my thigh. “Come on. Up and at ’em.”
God.
I look back at the computer. I can’t even remember what thread of a thought I was following before he so rudely interrupted me.
We’ve been here twenty minutes, and the only thing I’ve discovered so far is that this camcorder isn’t as unique as I thought it was. They’re all over eBay.
I follow Cass to a food truck, but I wave away his offer of a burrito with my coffee.
I need blood in my brain, not my stomach.
Cass is halfway done with his burrito and I’m halfway done with my cigarette when a cloud passes over the sun. I squint up, staring at the gray-tinged cloud and its now radiant halo of golden light.
“How did Rube figure out the code for the basement?” I ask Cass.
He shrugs. “Don’t know. Said something about a bible verse.”
“I know, I was there.” I roll my eyes. “What does it say?”
“Fuck knows.”
I pull out my phone. “Do you remember what it was?”
Cass stares into the distance, chewing ponderously. “Luke…something.”
I give him a deadpan stare. “Really? Could you try harder?”
“Why?” Cass crumples up the burrito’s packaging and overarm tosses it into a nearby trash can. “It worked.”
“It’s significant.”
“Everything in that book’s significant to bible belters,” Cass says. “Literal needle in a haystack.”
“That’s not—” I cut off with a sigh. “Screw it.”
I start searching.
inspiring bible verse luke…
Google autocompletes on that, so I give the first search term a try.
I tap on the first result, and it takes me to a bible website. I read the first verse of Luke chapter eleven.
It’s a prayer. A common one because even I’ve heard it before.
I guess Luke’s the forty-second book in the bible. Forty-two-eleven.
It was the combination to the safe, which is now missing, and the basement. What’s the chance it’s also the password used to encrypt the file on Gabriel’s computer?
But it’s not a pin number like the basement door…
“Library. Now.” I call over my shoulder, already headed in that direction.
“I haven’t had a smoke yet!”
“Save it!”
I have a feeling he’s going to need one when we’re done, anyway.
We race back to the library. I remote access my PC back in California and quickly add the entire prayer to my cracking program.
It takes milliseconds to parse.
The file pops open on the library’s computer.
I’m wrong, though.
Cass won’t need a smoke.
Neither of us will.
We need someone with a stronger stomach.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Zach
“You ever wish you could wipe out your memories?” Rube asks.
We’re in our Ghost’s bedroom. Neither of us would even consider sitting on the mattress, so we’re squeezed in beside each other on the blanket box at the foot of the bed.
I don’t even have to think about it. “No.”
“Not at all?”
We’re smoking a cigarette. It’s our third in a row—we’ve been putting them out on the carpet in a blatant show of disrespect.
It should feel petty, but instead it feels amazing. Like we’re extinguishing each and every one on the Ghost’s bare skin.
“No, because then they’d get away with it. All of them.”
“So revenge is better than forgiveness?”
I turn to him, narrowing my eyes. “I’m sorry, did I miss something? The last time I checked you were going to gouge out his eyeballs with your thumbs and then piss in the sockets.”
He looks away. “If we hadn’t come back here…”
I inhale deep.
Oh.
That’s what this is about.
“Rube, it’s not our fault. It’s not her fault. It’s theirs. Whoever took her. They initiated it, not us.”
“Would have had a hard time initiating anything if—”
I bang my fist on his thigh. “We’re going to find her. And we’re going to kill whoever took her, like we should have Gabriel.”
Rube is silent for more than a beat, so I look up at him. He’s frowning. “You don’t think it was Gabriel?”
I spread my hands like a prophet. “You really think it was?”
“Everything points to—”
“Exactly. Everything always points to him.”
Rube’s frown grows deeper. When he speaks, it’s slowly and carefully. “Yes, because he was the Guardian, and—”
He cuts off when I shake my head. “You know what. You’re right. Maybe it would be better if our memories were erased because we always storm in without thinking things through. We’re so consumed with rage, and hate, and revenge, we don’t ever stop to just…think.”
“You believe Gabriel was set up?”
I lay my hands in my lap, palms up, one on top of the other. I’ve been trying to meditate and shit—my therapist recommended it—but the only thing that happens when I close my eyes is that I’m immediately transported back to the basement.
It’s always been the case.
Which is why I get so little sleep. It takes a lot of effort to convince myself that I won’t wake up with some guy’s hand down my fucking pants.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I tell him. “And I don’t know where Trinity is. And I don’t know if we’ll ever find her.”
I see Rube’s shoulders sag in my peripheral view.
“Maybe they’ll find something,” Rube says. “Apollo’s good with that shit.”
“It’ll have to be a fucking miracle they find.” I shake my head again. “I don’t think anything less is going to cut it. Not this—”
There’s a shriek of tires outside.
We’re up in an instant, storming to the bedroom window. It looks out on the street, to our SUV that’s just pulled up into the driveway.
Guess there’s no reason to be circumspect anymore. If anything, I hope we draw someone’s attention. If they come for us, at least then we’ll know who took Trinity.
Apollo jumps out of the passenger door, Cass a beat behind him. They race up to the front door.
Rube and I meet them halfway down the stairs. It’s crowded with the four of us, bu
t that doesn’t matter.
Apollo’s holding out his phone. “Watch it,” he wheezes. “One of you—”
Cass snatches it. “Christ, Apollo, get some fucking exercise.” Then he looks at me, at Rube. “He figured out the password. He opened the file.”
“The one from Gabriel?” Rube asks, reaching for the phone.
Cass pulls it out of reach.
For a second, just one weird fucking second, I think he’s screwing around with Rube. That if he tried to go for it, Cass would pull it away again. Like driving away from someone before they can get in the car. But just a few feet. And then you apologize. And then do it again.
“Rube, my man,” Cass says quietly. Then he shakes his head. Looks at me. “I…don’t even know if we can.”
“Can what?” Rube growls, going for the phone again. This time Cass lets him take it.
“Watch it,” he says. Crosses his arms. He and Apollo share a look, and then drop their gazes. “We couldn’t.”
“It’s a video?”
They nod, still looking down.
Christ.
There’s a mess of noise from the phone. Rube turns it on its side, lifts his chin a little. But he’s holding it. He’s watching it.
I shift a little, peering over his arm at the screen.
Darkness. Then a flash of light. Pale blue carpet. Neat, clean. Suggestion of furniture which quickly resolves into a dark blue chest of drawers painted with big yellow stars. There’s a red toy robot on top, and a random assortment of He-Man action figures.
Jesus Christ.
But Rube says nothing.
And we keep watching.
The view pans to a bed. There’s a little boy sitting on the side. He has tear tracks down his face and his red Spiderman T-shirt is damp with spilled tears. He’s still hiccupping, and as the person holding the camera phone goes closer, he lifts a little fist and wipes it over his eyes.
“Hey, Justin,” someone croons softly. “Don’t cry.”
The boy frowns hard at the person holding the camera. “I wuh-want my muh-m-mommy.”
“Oh, I know. I know. She said she’ll be here any minute now.”
I glance up at Cass and Apollo. They’re staring at us now, both wide-eyed, like they’re waiting for us to shout Uncle.
