Firebloods

by Hays, Casey

  “The number you have dialed has been disconnected. If you believe this message is in error…”

  I end the call. I don’t get it, and I have no clue what Kane thinks he’s doing or why the others are playing along, but I’m not about to let him get away with it. I toss the keys onto my bed and head for the shower.

  Forty-five minutes later, I pull into Kane’s driveway on Longridge and cut the engine. His dad’s second truck is not parked in its usual place, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he took it to work today. I bound up the walk, ring the bell, and step back, waiting.

  All the blinds are closed, which is never the case during the day. Gema O’Reilly loves light. In fact, she had several more skylights installed just last year. Frantic, I ring the bell one more time before I open the glass screen and bang on the door.

  “Kane! Gema? Connor?”

  I beat my fist into the wood and ring the bell three more times. Nothing. So I sweep around the corner to the tall, side gate. It’s secured with a huge padlock. Damn it. I rub at my forehead.

  Don’t panic, Jude. Connor is at work. That’s it. And Kane is probably with him.

  I think this, but my heart races all the same. Because I need to see him. I need this insanity to end. He has to be at the garage.

  My cell phone chimes. It’s Frankie. I press the phone to my ear.

  “Jude? Don’t hang up. Listen, I need you to come to my house. Right now.”

  I straighten. Her voice sounds strange. “Why? Is Kane with you?”

  A pause. “Would you please just stop that?” She huffs an exasperated sigh. “It’s about the audio. It picked something up last night.”

  Curious, I switch the phone to my other ear and head for my car. “What is it?”

  “Just get over here.”

  She hangs up. I slide into the seat and clutch the wheel. I don’t want to listen to her stupid audio; I want to find Kane. My mind races over the events of last night. Something happened to me, and it has fogged up everything until my imagination runs wild with nightmares. I’ve never been one to believe in things like alien abductions, but if I ever suspected one, it would be now.

  I ease out onto the street. I’m not going to Frankie’s before I run by the garage.

  I dial Kane’s number again, get the same response, so I call Gema. Her phone goes directly to voice mail.

  “This is Gema. I may be in France, so leave a message.”

  “Gema, it’s Jude. I’m looking for Kane. If you get this message, could you have him call me? His phone is disconnected. Thanks.”

  I chew on my lip. We went in search of clues, but what if we opened up a world of trouble instead? The man who posted that video? Frankie said he couldn’t even remember filming it. And now, Kane is missing, and my friends’ memories are wiped out. Something feels really creepy about all of this.

  The second I pull up to O’Reilly’s Auto Repair, I know it’s closed. I sit in front of the big, white, garage doors completely confounded.

  Kane, where are you?

  Fear mounting in my bones, I throw the car into reverse. Maybe I do need to hear what’s on that audio.

  ***

  The audio frequency scan scratches across Frankie’s computer in blue waves. I sit in front of it, a pair of headphones tightly secured against my ears. Frankie taps my shoulder.

  “It’s coming up right here.”

  Nodding, I readjust the headset. The scratchy waves race up, down, across, up, down… and then, I hear it.

  At first, it’s a low humming, like the sound a refrigerator makes in the middle of the night when the house is quiet. But the sound grows—a whooshing—like a whirlwind. And then… what is that? I press the headphones closer and lean toward the computer, as if this will somehow give the sound clarity. I wait.

  Before I can blink, the high-pitched blood-curdling screech stabs into my ear, piercing me fresh. I yank the headphones off, and scurry to my feet, toppling the chair to the floor. Frankie jumps.

  “Did you hear them?”

  I focus on her. “All I hear is screaming. It’s the same as last night.”

  “Last night?” Frankie paces a few steps and swings back toward me. “Wait a minute. You heard something last night? With… just your natural acuity?”

  “I don’t know. I guess so. I heard this.” I shake the headphones at her, frustrated. “It was too loud; I couldn’t take it, and I passed out.” I frown, remembering. “I passed out. At least… I woke up this morning, and the last thing I remember is—” I stop. Should I mention Kane again?

  “I don’t remember that,” Frankie insists.

  She takes the headphones and slips them on. I study her face as she concentrates, impressed that she can tolerate that noise. How? I have no idea. I slump onto the end of her bed and check my phone. There’s a blinking text message from an unknown number. I jerk upright and press the message.

  IT’S KANE. I’M FINE. DON’T SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE. I’LL EXPLAIN TONIGHT.

  My heart races; I work my thumbs frantically.

  WHERE ARE YOU?

  No answer.

  KANE?

  Frankie slides the headset down around her neck. She rights her desk chair and sits, facing me.

  “I don’t hear any screeching. I only hear the voices.”

  I forget the text and whip my head in her direction. “What voices?”

  She spins around and rewinds the audio, disconnecting the headset. “These.”

  The minute she presses play, her room floods with screeches. I bounce to my feet, palms against my ears.

  “Turn it off.” I cringe under the pain. Frankie stares, wide-eyed. “Turn it off!”

  She does. A knock at her door makes us both jump.

  “Frankie? Is everything all right in there?”

  Frankie leaps to the door and cracks it. “Yes, Mom. Sorry. We’ll keep the volume down.”

  I sink to the floor, my face in my hands. Frankie joins me.

  “I’m sorry, Jude.” She grips my wrists, pulling my hands away. “I didn’t realize.”

  I nod, working to control my breathing. “What do you hear?”

  She shakes her head. “Voices. At least two. They’re very low. I have to strain to hear them, but they’re speaking in a language I’ve never heard before. I thought you would hear it too. I want to try and increase the levels. See if I can make out the words better.” She pulls back, her hands falling to her lap. “I guess you won’t be able to help me with that.”

  “That’s so weird.”

  “Well, no offense, but a lot of weird things have been going on with you today.”

  No kidding. Instead of answering, I climb to my feet and sit on the end of the bed. My entire body shakes. Frankie sits down beside me.

  “Who do you think it is?” I ask. “Whose voices?”

  “I know what I want to believe,” she answers. “There just isn’t enough evidence to prove it yet.”

  I nod. “What about the video?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve only watched a bit of it. But… it’s blank.”

  “It is?”

  She nods. “I can’t explain it, but nothing’s on it. No footage of us at all. Not even Jonas’s little anchor monologue. It’s as if I never turned the recorder on. But I did. I watched the feed myself.”

  And there goes any visual proof.

  “Why do you think we’re not hearing the same thing on the audio?” I ask. “In your scientific opinion?”

  She works to straighten her glasses. “Well, perhaps your hearing levels are sharper. They may pick up tones at higher frequency, so the sounds resonate along your cochlea differently than mine.”

  I pinch my nose in confusion. “Is that normal?”

  “It’s a little odd that you hear something so sharply when I can barely make out the voices, but not everyone can hear the same pitches. That’s why some people are tone deaf.” She pauses. “And… this may be poor timing, but I think we’re truly on to something
.”

  I give her a sidelong yes-your-timing-is-impeccable look before I drop my face into my hands again. I rub at my eyes. The project is not on my mind. Kane—he’s all I can think about right now. And thanks to this stupid text, my anxiety has blown its top.

  “I think… I need to take a break today,” I admit.

  Frankie nods. “That would be wise. In the meantime, I’ll sift through the rest of this audio and work on deciphering some of it.”

  “Okay.” I stand. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I manage to get out of her house without running into little Matty. The last thing I want to do right now is make small talk with a seven-year-old. I don’t want to see Jonas or Devan, either. I glance at the text message. Until I talk to Kane, I think I need to stay away from all of them.

  ***

  I don’t want to go home, so I end up at The Nest on a stool at the counter. I order a burger and fries. Charli sets a foamy soda in front of me.

  “By yourself today?”

  “Yeah.” I take a sip.

  “Hmmm…” She tilts her bun to the side. “Where’s that little sexpot, Kane? I thought you two would be riding off into the sunset by now.”

  I jerk my eyes toward her. She remembers him! I heave a sigh and shake my head with a small laugh of relief. So I’m not crazy. My fingers tighten around the plastic cup. I’d almost decided that text message was another joke. I know, my thinking is irrational, but wouldn’t yours be?

  “He’s on my bad list right now, Charli. I don’t think you’ll want to be around when I wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze the life out of him.”

  She chuckles. “Love. It bites, doesn’t it?”

  I smile. “You think?”

  She shrugs. “It took me five kids before I learned my lesson.”

  The cook calls up my order. Charli reaches for it and sets it in front of me. She leans on her elbows and looks me square in the face.

  “Let me give you some advice. Before you kill him, make sure he’s not a prince disguised as a frog. There are still a few left in this world.” She pats my hand with a wink and turns away.

  I scowl. Oh, his prince status has dropped several notches. My cell rings. I scramble to dig it from my pocket. It’s Jonas. I sigh and place the receiver to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, are you feeling better?”

  I take a minute to sort out a sarcastic comeback. “I don’t know. Have you seen Kane?”

  He sighs. “Jude, this is ridiculous. How long are you going to keep it up with this make-believe friend of yours? You’re acting insane, and it’s not funny anymore, all right?”

  I frown. He thinks I’m the crazy one? My initial reaction is to lash out, but honestly, he sounds sincere. As if he believes what he just said. But if that text is from Kane, then he’s not a figment of my imagination. And maybe I can’t get a hold of him or his parents, but their house and their business are still standing right where they’ve always been, and that’s proof enough for me.

  I didn’t mention Kane to Frankie again, but I read Jonas, and I have to conclude that this is not some sick joke. My friends genuinely don’t remember him. My mind relives the sound of the screeches, the bright light, Kane’s voice in my head.

  What happened at that campground last night?

  I flood with an uneasy fear.

  “Jude, I’m coming over.”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I’m not home, Jonas. And… I’m fine, okay? I just… had a weird moment. I’ll stop bringing up… my make-believe friend.”

  “Okay,” he laughs. “What was up with that anyway?”

  “Childhood trauma, maybe?” Yeah, that’s plausible. At any rate, I pray it puts this conversation to rest. “Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

  “Okay, good.” A pause. “Have you heard from your mom again?”

  “Not since yesterday.”

  “Well, call me if you need me.”

  “I will. Talk to you later.”

  I hang up, still uneasy. The sounds of the dining customers murmur behind me. The bell jingles as someone enters. I dial the number to Kane’s text. It rings and rings with no answer. I toss my phone aside and finally take a huge bite of my burger, chewing slowly.

  “Hello, Jude.”

  The Irish accent cuts through the noise of the diner. I half turn on my stool.

  “Hi.” My mouth is full, muffling the sound.

  “You’re eatin’ alone, are you?” He takes the stool next to me. I swallow my food and wipe a napkin across my mouth.

  “Yeah. I needed some ‘me’ time.”

  “I see.” He thumbs over his shoulder. “Should I go then?”

  “No.” I say it too quickly, and the word is followed by a heavy flush. It penetrates my cheeks like fire. He represses a smile. “I mean, if you’re hungry, you should order.”

  “All right. I will.”

  He raises a finger to get Charli’s attention. I shove a fry into my mouth and look the other way. He orders and turns his attention back to me.

  “So. Are you enjoying the summer?”

  “Sure,” I smile. “Other than this project Frankie has me working on.”

  “Oh? And what project is that?” He takes a sip of his soda.

  “Just… a science fair thing.” I blow it off with a wave of my hand, but the camping trip flashes through my mind. I change the subject. “And you? Are you enjoying being back in the States?”

  “I am. Me aunt took us to Vegas last week. Rode on a roller coaster, watched a Vaudeville show, and ate at an all-you-can eat buffet.” He winks. “I ate all I could.”

  I laugh, biting off the end of a fry and pointing the rest at him. “Just wait until you’re old enough to play poker. I hear that’s when the real fun begins.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  We sit in silence for a minute. Until…

  “Where’s your boyfriend?”

  I glance at him. He remembers, and that small validation makes my heart jump. And after that little semi-cockfight confrontation on my porch, of course Rylin would assume Kane was my boyfriend—even before he was. Talk about territorial.

  “I don’t really know,” I answer. I shove the rest of the fry into my mouth.

  “Did you two have a fight?”

  I sip on my straw. I’m not about to spill my troubles to a boy I hardly know. I don’t care how nice he seems. He takes the hint in my silence.

  “Sorry. That was a little forward.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper. I pick up the salt shaker and sprinkle my fries—just to do something.

  “It’s just… I don’t think heaven or hell or anything in between could keep me away from you if you were mine.”

  Well, that was about as forward as he could get. I sweep toward him, focusing on the few freckles that dot the bridge of his nose. To top it off, Charli sets his meal in front of him at the exact moment he says it. She lifts a brow at me, and it takes nothing to read her thoughts she’s so transparent. When she doesn’t move, I tip up my chin.

  “Thank you, Charli. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

  She leaves us with a smirk. Rylin reaches across the counter right past my plate for the ketchup and drags it back toward him. Our eyes meet briefly.

  “I hope I didn’t offend you, Jude. In all honesty, you stun me a little.”

  “Oh.” I squint at him. “Thank you, I think.”

  He laughs. “It’s definitely a compliment.”

  I hate to say it, but I’m flattered. He’s so gentlemanly, and I’m drawn in to him. I meet his hazel gaze.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” he says. He opens his burger and dumps ketchup inside. “But how well do you know Kane O’Reilly?”

  The question takes me by surprise, but the challenge in his voice makes me lower the burger and assess him. He has no business asking, and the assuming tone in his voice bothers me. Granted, Kane has some explaining to do, but now I am offended. So I respond with a ques
tion of my own.

  “How well do you know him?”

  Rylin hides a smile before he shrugs and lifts his burger to his mouth. “Well, we had the same class in grade three. Our parents are friends, and so Kane and I got wrangled together on occasion when we were lads. Had to attend a few functions with each other. Birthdays and such. Otherwise, he doesn’t really care for me.” He angles his head at me sidelong. “You may have noticed.”

  He takes a huge bite, chews, swallows.

  “I noticed.” I lift my burger, lower it. “And for the record, not that it’s your business, but Kane is one of my oldest and best friends. I know him very well.”

  Rylin holds my gaze. “I wonder,” he whispers.

  Something in the way he says it makes my head swirl. A familiar dizziness swarms over me—the same dizziness that captured me on my porch yesterday when he complimented my ring. It comes on quick and heavy, so heavy I have to brace myself against the counter to keep from falling out of my seat. And then, the music sweeps in—low and very quiet, but definite.

  “Whoa.” I close my eyes until the sensation passes.

  “You all right there, Jude?”

  Rylin touches the small of my back—a slight, soothing pressure—and my spine prickles. It repulses me, but oddly, I have the strangest urge to beg him not to pull away.

  What?

  “Yeah,” I manage. “Just a dizzy spell.”

  I spin the stool, angling myself out of his reach, and I see something in his eyes. They flicker with a foggy aqua tint, full of desire. It’s weird. And you know what’s weirder? That fog mingles with the music in my blood. It rumbles through me, alive and ferocious, searching for something it’s never been able to find. I feel my own desire in it, running up next to it but never crossing over. An avalanche of images caves in on me, so forceful they make my chest hurt. Third grade memories of music and mystery. Fourth grade images of the boy next door with the wavy, reddish-blond hair and a hint of Irish accent. Fifth grade… and sixth. Smells of mint and aqua eyes and the music that so definitively ties Rylin to my childhood. And inside all of it, a strange warning swarms, swirling in with the memories. I mentally pull away.

  Just like that, the feeling lifts. The music goes silent, and the sounds of clanking, and water running, customers talking—all of this slides back into the scene. Rylin is just a boy I’ve become reacquainted with who chomps on a burger while he smiles at me. I clear my throat and focus on my plate.