by Jo Ho
Moving back a few steps, I took a running leap at the fence and scrambled awkwardly over. I wouldn’t be winning any awards for my effort but at least I made it over. I landed ungracefully on the grass and sprang after them without a second’s thought. Stan had gotten Lucas inside the house and was taking off his belt. I sprinted up to the patio door just as he whipped back his arm.
THWACK!
I started banging on the glass with my fists. Stan stopped, startled, seeing me at the door. I guess he wasn’t used to a witness, but he was beyond reason, the drink clouding whatever judgement he might have had. Letting go of Lucas, he rushed towards me.
“Lucas… RUN!” I screamed at him.
He looked at me, startled, then bolted away, back into the house. I allowed myself a moment of relief when I saw he was safe for now, but then I realized Stan had a new target — me!
As he reached the door, I ran back to the fence, frantically scrabbling to get over it. I got one leg over and was swinging the second one around when my foot was seized! Terrified, I glanced back to see Stan with it in his meat hook hands. He yanked — hard — and I felt myself free-falling backwards.
I hit the ground with a thud. Pain flooded my side where I had landed. Something cracked beneath my hip. In the back of my mind, I knew it was my phone.
I had broken my phone and possibly, my lifeline.
I couldn’t hear Chris’s voice anymore. It was then I understood the very real danger I had put myself in. I was alone and utterly vulnerable.
Winded, I couldn’t immediately move and Stan knew it. He loomed over me, a towering presence with a menacing smile. Still holding onto his belt, he raised his arm ready to lash out at me. There was nothing I could do but raise my own over my face to block the inevitable blow. I squeezed my eyes closed, bracing myself. An image of Janet doing the same thing flashed across my mind.
So this is what that felt like.
But the blow never came.
I opened my eyes again. Stan was frozen, ready to strike, but he stared out over the fence into my backyard, at something I couldn't see from my position on the ground. As I watched, the blood seemed to drain from his face, until he looked positively terrified.
I couldn’t see or hear anything, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t distract him for long. Seeing my chance, I kicked out with all my might. My feet caught him smack bang in the stomach. Unprepared for my attack, he went flying backwards, hitting his head on the ground. Holding his head, moaning, his rage seemed to have vanished completely, taken over from pain.
I scrambled to my feet, backing away.
In the distance came the welcome sound of fast-approaching sirens.
14
Aftermath
The next hour flew past.
Having been alerted by Chris, the cops arrived and quickly surrounded the property. Within seconds, they had Stan in handcuffs and a paramedic saw to my injuries, which luckily, consisted of only bruises. I was more concerned for Lucas, who they finally found, hiding under his bed. He sat across from me now, swinging his legs, eyes pinned to the floor as a social worker tried to talk to him. They discovered Janet in the bedroom with a swollen black eye, having been “taught a lesson” by Stan, earlier.
A policeman, Officer Wells, stood by me, having taken my statement. Lines covered his weathered face, though his eyes shone kindly. Despite many years on the job, he hadn’t lost the drive that had originally drawn him to this role.
“That was a brave thing you did there, Kim. Probably saved that boy,” he said now.
“I almost got us both killed, so… I have a different view of the situation,” I replied shakily. I was happy we were safe, but I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been. It could have turned out so much worse.
“You’re too hard on yourself. Do you know that less than 2% of the kids your age who witness a crime actually report it? Because of you that man won’t be hurting them any time soon.”
Hearing his words perked me up some.
“I’ve been working this area for twenty-five years now and there hasn’t been one report logged on this house. Not one. No one knew how much Lucas and his mom were suffering.”
“She never said anything?” I asked. It seemed so improbable to me that his mom would accept that treatment for them both.
He shook his head. “Abuse is a strange thing. It never starts in an obvious manner. It’s insidious, and by her account, it only began two years ago, after he lost his job and started drinking. Don’t be too hard on her. She was scared too.”
A voice cackled over his comms, I wasn’t able to make out the words but he seemed to understand them fine.
“Roger that,” he said into it before inclining his head at me. “We’ve managed to reach your folks, they’re on their way home now. Come on. I’ll walk you back.”
We went out the front door, around the front path and into my house which seemed serene in comparison to the commotion next door. I lead him into the kitchen.
“Do you want a coffee?”
“I’d love one, thank you.”
I grabbed a mug and crossed over to the machine. As I was pouring his drink, I noticed my hands were still shaking. He must have noticed too, as he deliberately looked away. It was as he was taking in the room that I saw he seemed sad.
“Is everything OK?” I asked, curious. He smiled, caught.
“Sorry. I was just seeing what changes you’ve made to the place.”
I handed him his drink. “Oh, you’ve been here before?”
“Yes. I knew the family who lived here before you. They were really good people. Did a lot for the community.”
“Do you know why they left all their furniture? Didn’t they need it for their new house?” I asked.
“Well, the couple divorced after their daughter died of cancer, so I believe they just wanted a clean slate. She was a lovely thing, always helping around the neighborhood, ever since she was little. She made food drops to the elderly who lived on their own — even forced the local council to keep the library open when they threatened to close it. She loved to read — history — I think it was. Can’t count the number of stray dogs she saved.”
“Wow. She sounds like a great person,” I said, awed by my predecessor.
“Yeah,” he said. “That Lacey was one of a kind.”
Hearing the name, blood pounded in my ears. The room spun, swirling around me. I felt like my body was becoming detached from my head. When my voice came, it sounded really far away.
“Her name was… Lacey?”
“Well, it was actually Alyssa, Alyssa Lewis, but everyone called her Lacey. Funny thing actually — that’s who Stan said he saw… When he had you down on the ground and you said something scared him? Stopped him from hitting you? He swears it was Lacey, standing right there.”
15
Revelations
Mom and Dad arrived home in the next moment, which was lucky really, as I had lost the ability to speak.
After they checked me over and were assured I was fine, they continued talking to Wells, informing him that they were going to press charges which apparently, would also help Lucas and his mom’s case.
I escaped as soon as I could, racing upstairs to my room. Since the moment Wells had told his story, I had felt a desperate urge to finish reading the notes in the tin. Surely, surely, there was some kind of logical explanation for all of this?
Snatching up the tin, I flicked past the remaining notes, until I got to the very last one. My eyes ate up the messily written words hungrily.
It’s not long now. I know I will go soon, and I’ve made my peace, but I feel bad for my parents. They’ve been at each other’s throats this whole time, each blaming the other for things they couldn’t possibly have known ahead of time. I really hope they can help each other through this. Please don’t let them suffer any more. And then there’s Lucas.
I keep seeing him outside, alone and cold.
I hope someone watches out for him after
I’m gone. — A
That was it. Her last note. Lacey must have died soon after.
Mind whirling with my discovery, I opened my laptop and went to Facebook. This time I knew exactly what name to put in… Alyssa Lewis.
Her profile came up immediately.
And there it was… her unmistakable face. My Lacey. I clicked on the profile, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. There were a ton of messages being posted to her page, all from friends who still missed her. By their posts, I figured out that Lacey had died three or four months ago. Her friends were still tagging her on photos. I scrolled through the pictures reeling at seeing Lacey’s smiling face.
How was any of this possible?
Despite the proof, my brain was still having a hard time assimilating all this information until I scrolled right to the end of the page, where the last photograph showed Lacey wearing that same wool hat I had seen her in, except here, Lacey looked pale and frail, and most of her hair was gone.
“It’s my favorite because it doesn’t scratch.”
Lacey’s words reverberated in my head. I held my breath. Still unable to voice the truth. My mind flicked back everything I had learned up until now…
“I’m not on Facebook anymore.”
“I don’t actually have a phone anymore either. It was cut off.”
She had been telling the truth, I just didn’t know it at the time! And now other examples came crashing into my mind. Like how I had spilt hot coffee on her hand but Lacey said she couldn’t feel it. I remembered how I have always felt cold in this room, despite the temperature outside. And maybe this was why I had trouble sleeping here, maybe it’s because…
Lacey was a ghost!
I sat back on my heels, stunned, unable to take it all in. As I stared blankly around the room, my eyes caught the sign on the bookshelf.
“Dum vida est spes est”
And suddenly I remembered Lacey saying those very same words to me. I typed them into Google, which politely informed me that the words were Latin. Moments later, the translation appeared on the screen:
“While there is life, there is hope”
And even beyond life it seemed. I sat there stunned as I tried to come to terms with all these revelations.
16
Home
I must have sat there in the dark for at least an hour.
Although I had finally accepted the truth, it would be a very long time before I would get over it.
Lacey had come back to help us both.
Hooking up my laptop to the printer, I printed out a photo of Lacey — the one with the wool hat. Placing it on top of Lacey’s notes, I slid the tin back into its home beneath the floorboards when thundering footsteps raced up the stairs.
Suddenly, the door was flung open and in dashed Chris! It was so sudden, so unexpected that I wasn’t sure he too wasn’t some kind of mirage.
But then Chris sprang across the room to me and crushed me to his chest. I could hear his heart beating wildly against my face.
It was the most wonderful sound I think I’ve ever heard.
“Do you have any idea how scared I was?” he said, planting his lips on top of my head. “I’m so glad you’re OK.”
And you know what?
So was I.
17
Tomorrow
Days later, life settled back to normal. It was almost as if that momentous thing hadn’t happened, except several things had changed.
Dad was still looking for a job, but he’d already had several interviews for one… he was pretty confident he would land the gig and Mom wasn’t pressuring him on which job to take now. I think she realized that he needed to be working, to be providing for us, to be happy. And since living here was so much cheaper than The Bluff, he could afford the salary cut.
And Chris and I? Though originally we were planning on going to college in California, I felt I couldn’t leave my family after all we had recently gone through. So instead, he was transferring to a local college in Chicago — and we would be back to seeing each other every day again! I was thrilled!
I haven’t seen Lacey again, and things don’t bump in the night anymore. That could be a coincidence but I like to think she must be at peace, having finally helped both the boy next door and me.
Sounds came from outside, drawing my attention to the window. I looked down to see Lucas — wearing a jacket — happily kicking a soccer ball around with Mark. They were shrieking and laughing, the way kids their age should be. The boys must have seen me move to the window as they both looked up. They waved at me, and I waved back.
And as I went to finish the last of my unpacking, Lacey’s words — which would be forever scorched in my heart — echoed in my head.
“At least when you’re watching them, they’re not alone anymore.”
I smiled to myself.
The End.
Wanted, Book 1 of The Chase Ryder Series
WANTED
Book 1 of The Chase Ryder Series
A YA sci-fi thriller by Jo Ho
"I pounded my fists at the door, banging and screaming until my hands were throbbing with pain, but it was no use. I sank to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest and cried, as I waited for them to kill my best friend."
Teenager Chase Ryder has been living rough on the streets of New York for months – a harrowing experience yet still better than what she endured at home.
When she and recently widowed vet, Sully, rescue a super intelligent Collie, Chase finally finds herself part of the loving family unit she has always craved, but every display of Bandit’s special skills brings them one step closer to the mercenary billionaire who created him… and he wants his expensive experiment back.
With the enemy's personal SWAT team out for blood, a devastating turn of events finds them running for their lives as they fight to save one of their own.
* * *
Read the first few chapters of Jo's debut book here.
Prologue
NEW YORK CITY, NY
He had been running now for days.
The hot asphalt stung his cracked soles and the burning sun pounded onto his thinning frame, but he knew he couldn’t stop. He had to get away.
A battered blue truck thundered past and he flinched. No matter how often it happened, he still wasn’t prepared for the rush of sound that roared into his ears. Where he was from, there were no cars. No vehicles of any kind.
He lifted his nose to the wind and welcomed the heady sensation of another new smell to add to his collection. Juicy, with a hint of smoke. He licked his lips, mouth watering in anticipation. Crossing onto the sidewalk, he moved towards the aroma, to where an overweight man in a greasy apron cooked on a stand. Meat patties sizzled on the grill.
He hadn’t eaten since the escape, and now his stomach protested painfully. He padded up to the man and gave him a hopeful look, but clapping eyes on him, the vendor grabbed a broom and started shaking it in warning.
“Get lost you filthy beast!”
Red from the heat of the flames, perspiration slid down his wobbly chin and landed with a plop an inch away from the meat. When his target failed to move, he glared down at the optimistic hopeful and--
WHAAM! Steel-capped boots lashed out onto his rump.
The sharp stabbing pain shocked the brown and white dog who had never felt anything like it in his life.
He blinked back tears and howled.
The CEO
The CEO wasn’t pleased.
Though considered an attractive man by many, The CEO had an eerie way of smiling that never reached his blue-grey eyes. Of slim build, he took great pains with his appearance, which showed in the Saville Row tailored suits he’d had shipped in from London. Custom made, a single suit could feed a starving African nation for a week — not that he ever would, abhorring charity as he did.
Deceptively soft-spoken, The CEO’s calm exterior masked a ruthless streak that terrified men twice his size. Any who failed to do his bidding h
ad a way of vanishing, never to be seen again.
The CEO stood by his desk in the glass office overlooking The Facility. Pouring himself a glass of Cognac, he sipped at the drink, letting the warmth of the liquid slide down his throat.
For all intents and purposes, The Facility was a high-tech laboratory where secretive experiments were being conducted on a daily basis. White-coated scientists rushed around below conducting wide-ranging research, but few knew the real reason for The Facility’s existence. Only The CEO’s most trusted advisors had the key to that secret, which essentially included only two people: the muscle, and Dr. Elora Robins, the brain.
After years of research, they had finally created the perfect specimen, only for him to escape. The CEO frowned, remembering the ineptitude of the staff member who was ultimately responsible. His name was Julio and he was one of the night janitors.
Julio had worked at The Facility for close to twenty years, when its number one focus was genetic engineering and DNA splicing. An illegal immigrant, The CEO had hired him specifically (as he had done with all low level staff) as he knew Julio couldn’t afford NOT to keep quiet about what went on in the lab. As an added bonus, Julio also worked for below minimum wage. The CEO had never understood anyone who paid higher rates to such low dwellers, unless they liked flushing company profits down the drain.
On the night of the escape, Julio had been suffering from a bout of food poisoning. It seemed he’d left out some food at home that had been visited by houseflies. On his fourth trip to the toilets, when the nausea and diarrhea had almost forced its way out, Julio had left a security gate unlocked.
