by Shelly Crane
Dang. I turn to see Jeff, he looks like he might cry which in any other circumstance would be humorous. We both nod as she turns away and look at each other.
This is what you meant. This is the human...love you tried to explain to me and I never understood it. It actually hurts.
Jeff is rubbing his chest while he speaks and swallows loudly.
Yes, brother. It does. I smile in spite of it all. In the best possible way.
And Sherry. She loves you even more than Trudy? How do you stand it?
It’s easier than it looks.
I smile at him to convey that it’s a joke, but also not. It’s easy to let someone love you and to love them back.
We are joined by Simon, Ryan, Kay, Danny, Josh and Miguel by the stairs. Max and Racine come to the stairs as well to bid us good luck.
“Guard you in all your ways, brothers and sisters.”
I see in his mind that Max isn’t just talking to the Keepers. He’s talking to us all, a collective unit. A family.
“Thank you, brother,” I say in return.
Everyone is looking at us, watching us as we head upstairs and out to set the trap. Our one shot to get our kids back.
We all have our weapons just in case but our main weapon this time is rope and nets. We all take our places strategically placed so Miguel has help from every direction but before that, we go over the plan one more time.
Miguel gets in place, I can see him stumbling in the middle of the field. It’s been almost an hour.
After what Cain told us, we’ve decided I’ll be the designated person to relay instructions to Miguel in his mind so all the keepers aren’t yelling at him at the same time.
I can see him perfectly from my spot right on the lid of the barn where the cars are parked. He’s trying to walk slow so as not to get too far away from us. He stops to tie his shoe and when he does, that’s when I see the Lighter that’s standing there, no more than six feet in front of him.
Miguel. Don’t react, but he’s there. About six feet to your front. You shouldn’t be able to see him, he’s not illuminated, so don’t panic yet. We don’t want him to know the rest of us are here. He’s trying to sneak up on you.
Miguel straightens then walks forward another step, then two. The Lighter just steps out of the way letting Miguel pass. Then turns to attack him from behind.
“Hello,” he says menacingly.
Behind you. Now!
Miguel twist around and grabs the concealed knife out of his shirt sleeve, popping it out into his palm and swings for whatever he can get a hit on. The Lighter’s arm is the lucky winner and while he’s distracted, Miguel smashes it’s forehead to his knee.
The Lighter yells and falls back but isn’t immobile. We rush in blurs and Jeff and Kay wrap Trudy’s husband’s old fishing net around the Lighter, rolling him in the dirt as the rest of us hold him down and then tie it all off with the rope.
He is not pleased. He is spitting dirt and blinking and yelling. His lip is busted. And red dirt is stuck to his lips and face. His face is so plainly evil yet still so plainly human. His dark hair is coated with dust and the more he thrashes, the more flecks falls back into his face and mouth, causing his human body to cough.
We all pick him up together and carry him, wrapped and rolled up. The designated interrogation room is one of the brand new not quite finished sleeping rooms. Far away from the entrance and far enough away from everyone else, so as not to hear him scream.
I wrap a towel that I left hanging on the shelf by the trap door around his head so he can’t see all the people and so they can’t see him. We asked the others to try to stay in their rooms but just in case. We make it down the stairs easily enough, without incident.
Danny is cursing the thing, I’ve even seen him elbow and knee it a couple times, perhaps subconsciously, maybe not. He’s murmuring and muttering about how they think they can hurt his sister and get away with it. That the Lighter better be glad that Celeste wasn’t hurt. I feel what he feels. I also feel that Danny definitely can’t be in the room while we question the Lighter.
I know Danny. He’ll go off on him. He’ll even think he’s enjoying hurting the Lighter but he won’t and later he’ll feel guilty about it.
I tell Jeff in his mind that only Miguel, him and I should be in the room. He agrees, no one else should see this. Even I don’t want to see it. Even the torturing of a Lighter.
We set him in a rusty old folding chair in the middle of the small room. His hands are still bound behind his back, the net only draped down to his waist, his legs still wrapped in it.
Danny and the others didn’t fight us about leaving like I thought they would. In the end, they know what we will eventually wind us having to do and if we are all honest, no one wants to do this. Even to a Lighter. Even to an evil thing.
His black hair is mussed, still dusty and his head is hanging though he’s awake. Miguel has been slowly bringing in objects. A golf club, paring knife, a book - ironically, a copy of Shakespeare’s love sonnets - and a hammer. Trying to intimidate the Lighter, let him know what’s coming.
I sent Cain to check on Sherry, but not to wake her. She doesn’t need to see or hear this yet. Just as I think about it the Lighter looks up at me. His eyes red with irritation and dust. He laughs.
“You think you can keep her from him? Crandle will take what is his. Did you forget I can see your thoughts as you see them, Keeper?” He crescendos the last words for an annoying effect.
I want to run him through for even speaking of her. And yes, more irritating is I had forgotten Lighters could read thoughts as we are thinking them.
I sigh slowly.
“Quiet, Lighter, or I’ll let Miguel get started on you.”
I nod my head toward Miguel who is twirling the hammer in between his two hands for dramatic effect.
Wow. He seems to know what he’s doing. He’s got the intimidation thing down.
“You think I will tell you anything, Keeper? Especially to your intimidating pet human. I am not so weak as you think.”
“We’ll see.”
I think purposefully about how I kicked a Lighter’s feet from under him and once his head smashed to the ground I drove a broken branch through his neck. I showed him in my mind how Marissa made the Lighter jump off the cliff edge that day like the puppet he was.
I think of the time I once used a sword, back in the day, to impale a Lighter to a tree trunk and then set his accomplice on fire by torch, setting half the woods on fire and killing who knows how many other Lighters back in a fight in England, in the 1700’s.
I also showed him me, stabbing the headless golf club through Phillip’s Lighter body just as he was about to take Sherry to their beloved leader. I smile though the images make me just as sick as I’m sure it does him and Jeff who is also reading my mind. He winces as does the Lighter. I don’t want to remember either.
“Stop it! You think that bothers me, Keeper? I’m not human, fool, not like you have apparently become. You’re weak,” he says shakily but I can see sweat beading on his forehead. Hmmmm.
Lighters don’t sweat.
Lighters can only read our human mind thoughts, not our Keeper communication. I tell Jeff and he agrees with me and we puzzle silently over what in the heck is going on. This should have been harder. He should have only caved after hours of physical torture to his human body. That’s the only way to break a Lighter. Physical pain that they are not use to in their real bodies. I was only trying to show him what would happen to him, not appeal to his emotions.
I wasn’t aware that he had any. That he could have any. I start to explain to Jeff.
The Taker must be passing his emotions on to the Lighters. It’s the only explanation.
Yes. I think you’re right. That may make it easier for us later on. With emotions, they won’t be as ruthless as they could be.
We’ll soon find out. Is nothing ever gonna be the same again? Are all the rules gone out the window?
/> He shrugs and looks at me, shaking his head in confusion.
We can’t think about that now. We have to get this done. Time is wasting.
“Alright, Merrick.” Miguel steps forward. “Enough. Let me have some fun with him.” He smiles the wickedest smile I’ve ever seen on a human as I reluctantly nod. He looks directly at the Lighter. “Oi,” he says too cheerfully.
“Screw you, human.”
“Where are they?” Miguel ask then and doesn’t need to elaborate on who or what we are talking about.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the Lighter says and then laughs a breath of a laugh.
Miguel steps forward and smacks the Lighter across the face with the book. The irony of it still with me as the Lighter’s head whips to the side, he blinks rapidly and licks the blood from his lip, looking shocked as he winces and squints in pain.
“Now, Lighter, tell us where they are? Then I won’t have to use the rest of those thingos over there on you,” Miguel asks leaning over him with both arms on the arm rest of the chair.
“Who?” the Lighter says, spits his blood on the floor between Miguel and I, then laughs again shakily.
Without a hint of expression, Miguel places the Lighters fingers of one hand out of the bind and on a cement block, raises the hammer and smashes down before anyone can think or say anything. The Lighter yells and gasped but when we look Miguel missed.
Or did he?
“Oops. Next time, I guarantee I won’t miss.” Miguel’s voice is so guttural and his eyes are burning with barely checked anger into the Lighter’s as he leans over him so close, his face inches away. “Where are the children? This is your last chance to keep your pretty little fingers.”
The Lighter is shaking, sweating and breathing heavy now. The red stain still on his lip.
“What’s happening to me?” the Lighter breathes, looking around as if he can find an answer. “What’s happening to this body.”
“It’s called being human and...weak as you called it. Now. Answer. My. Question.”
“I can tell you but you’d never make it past even the gate. You don’t stand a chance. I can tell you because you’d never make it anyway. So it doesn’t really make me a traitor. I’d pretty much just be delivering you to them.” The Lighter kept blubbering, trying to talk himself into it, easing his conscience.
But Lighters don’t have a conscience, or shouldn’t.
Jeff is looking at me too, understanding what I’m thinking. He looks just as puzzled. Why are some of the humans immune to the Lighters speak? Why didn’t Phillip’s Lighter grab Sherry and run with her instead of torturing her slowly first? Why would the Takers emotions filter down? Why are there so many Markers? Why? Why? So many unanswered questions.
“You think I can’t get it out of you because you knock back my efforts?” Miguel yelled at the Lighter.
“I think I don’t care anymore,” the Lighter said quietly.
“Enough! Answer my question or so help me-” Miguel yells, raising the hammer in his hand again.
“Wait! No! It’s in the city. A...shed! A big green shed two blocks from the grocery store in town.”
“I’ll get Sherry,” I said leaving immediately, blur running all the way down the halls.
Cain and a couple others are in the commons room but I don’t speak to them. When I open our door she snaps her eyes open and searches, squinting quickly. Once she focuses on me the biggest smile lights up her face. I drop to my knees, yank back the blanket and pull her up in my arms, probably squeezing too tightly but I’m so happy at how happy she is to see me.
“Oh thank God! You’re ok,” she whispers.
“I told you I would be.” I lean down to kiss her quickly but she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me as close as I can get. After a minute of scorching kisses that almost gets her into trouble, I have to pull back.
“Honey. It’s time. You ready?” I ask as I lift and cradle her, making my way out of our room.
“As I’ll ever be.”
You Win Some, You Lose Some
Chapter 6
Merrick carries me into the room and I see the Lighter there, tied up and dirty. His sweat has made little wet trails down his face in the caked dirt. There’s blood on his lip too but he doesn’t look as bad as I had imagined he would.
I’m surprised to find I’m actually happy about that. My humanity must still be intact even after all this, though I would have guessed not. I would not wish torture even on the cruelest creature.
Merrick doesn’t set me down. He cradles me in his lap the whole time as he sets himself on a chair in the corner.
When the Lighter finally looks at me his eyes widen and he sucks in a breath and then coughs, breathing in the dust all over him.
“You,” is all he says as he burns a hole in me with his hate filled eyes.
“Me,” I say, trying to be brave.
Trying to not let it bother me that I am literally three feet from a Lighter. Trying not to let the pain in my leg bring tears that he’ll misinterpret as fear of him to my eyes.
“You look just awful, Sherry,” he says chipper, then smiles. “You look like you may have been worked over by an associate of mine. Gee, I hope you aren’t in too much pain.”
Then he lets out this breathy little evil giggle, making goose bumps creep up my skin. Merrick tightens his arms around me.
“Watch it, Lighter,” Merrick orders gruffly.
It’s ok, honey. He’s just trying to scare you. You’re doing fine. I’m pretty sure he’s lying about where the kids are, just wait it out. We’ll get them back, I promise you. Don’t let him get to you.
“Now,” Miguel starts. “Tell Sherry where the children are.”
“I already told you,” the Lighter says, dragging out the last syllable and twisting his lips.
“Tell us again, you stupid dill,” Miguel says making an advance on the Lighter who flinches.
“A large green shed two blocks from the grocery store in the city,” the Lighter says almost monotone, refusing to look at me.
“He’s lying,” I hear my voice say, but I’m so sad to put any emphasis behind it.
Afraid he won’t ever tell us where they really are, but I force that out and trust in Merrick and Miguel.
“What? No I’m not!” He looks at me with a ‘how?’ on his face. Why do they believe me and not him? Then he looks back at Miguel. “Ok. Fine. They are in the basement of the grocery store.”
“Lies.”
I breath in a frustrated breath.
“Tell her the truth,” Miguel angrily spits out the command as he picks up the hammer once more.
The Lighter just sits there staring so Miguel takes the Lighter’s hand and places it on the cement block upright by his chair. I swallow hard and try not to move.
“Don’t watch, Sherry,” Miguel says as he raises his hand with the hammer above his head.
Fine by me. I bury my face in Merrick’s neck and wait for the screaming but all I hear is the Lighter yelling ‘ok!, ok!’.
“Ok! It’s a big white gated house. Out beside the radio station at the west end of town. Maple Street. Maple Street!” he yells it all in a rush of breaths.
Everyone looks at me expectantly.
“Let’s go,” I nod vigorously and my voice cracks with relief.
After we all get our gear and the rest of us get dressed. We head out after Miguel loads our prisoner in the van. Only a few of them remain, the ones without gifts. The rest of us, even me, make our way to the vehicles and hunker down for the cold ride to town.
They need my lie detecting skills I assume, otherwise there is no way I’d be going. Or maybe after everything, Merrick is just scared to leave me here without him under any circumstances. Whatever the reason. I’m grateful.
Sardined into the three vehicles, we go. No one wants to ride near the Lighter so, he unfairly, has more room than anyone else.
Celeste and Danny joined Merrick, Jeff and I in the van with t
he Lighter strapped in the back. We are all cramped up in the middle seat to be as far away from it as possible.
Danny is explaining to Celeste about how they trapped it and took it down to the room to be questioned. How it didn’t even put up much of a fight. He still sounds angry to me.
I haven’t even really talked to Danny much lately. Not really talked. I miss him. I don’t even know what’s going on with him and Celeste anymore. They apparently are still together but what is to come of it? How are things going? Is he happy? Is she happy?
So I ask him. Not just for knowing the answers but also to take my mind off what’s coming once we get where we’re going.
“So. How are you guys doing?” I ask when I can get a word in.
“Good,” Danny answers, not really understanding my question, just small talk.
“No, Danny. How are you guys doing? You and Celeste?”
“I’m good.” He looks at Celeste and they both smile bashfully at each other, Celeste ducking her head. “We’re good. Really good, considering the circumstances.”
“Uhuh. And how’s your mom Celeste?”
“Good. She’s a little freaked out by all this stuff, my gift and all. She refuses to speak about it actually but...good,” she answers, looking relieved to change the subject.
