Hunter Brown and the Consuming Fire

by Chris Miller

  It was a simple enough question but the answer was hard to admit. “No… I haven’t heard anything.”

  “I see,” Ms. Sheppard’s eyebrows raised as she scribbled another line down. “And has anyone new been in contact with you?”

  Again I shook my head. “No. The cloaked stalker this morning was the first.”

  “Of course,” she conceded, crossing out some of her notes. Satisfied with her work, Ms. Sheppard reestablished our eye contact. “For what it’s worth, Hunter, I don’t think you’re crazy.” Her sincerity was striking.

  “That’s a relief,” I said, cracking a smile. At last I had found someone to talk to—someone who believed me.

  “Actually, I’m quite impressed with what I’ve learned about you today. You are coping remarkably well!”

  “Coping?” I wondered. “What do you mean, coping?”

  “It’s not easy for a young man to deal with the loss of a father, or an impending move for that matter. In all of your stories I am encouraged by how you seem to be engaging your inner struggles, not just simply ignoring them. This is a positive sign.”

  “Stories?” I snapped back in defense. “You think these are all just stories to me?”

  Ms. Sheppard quickly qualified herself, “I believe you have developed an extraordinary gift, something called second vision—the ability to externalize your emotions in a way you can actually see.”

  “Second vision?” I asked.

  Sheppard nodded back, but I wasn’t buying it.

  “Sounds like shrink code for nut case if you ask me!” I said in frustration, standing up to leave. “Why did I come here anyway? I should have known you’d be just like everyone else.”

  “Wait,” Ms. Sheppard called, grabbing my sleeve before I could turn for the door. “Please let me explain.”

  “Why should I?” I challenged. “You think I’m just seeing things…some skewed version of reality.”

  “No, Hunter, just the opposite. I believe second vision allows your mind to see reality in its purest form—a world most people are unable to perceive. What you experience is real, Hunter—a world connected to your own, like two sides of the same page.”

  I had heard those words before in Solandria. Perhaps she wasn’t as clueless as I had thought.

  “The point is, when you go there and fight your enemies, you are accomplishing real objectives in your life. It’s an amazing gift, Hunter, not something to be ashamed of.”

  “Then why does everyone treat me like it is?” I asked.

  She motioned for me to sit again. I did, but I wasn’t at all comfortable with the conversation.

  “They don’t understand how great you are,” she said. “Normally, in cases like yours, the visions are not quite as defined. But there’s something different about you, Hunter…something I can’t quite put my finger on.…”

  Without explanation she reached over and quickly pulled the silk cloth off of the orb. Until that moment, I had practically forgotten it was there. My heartbeat quickened and I found myself gazing into the mysterious darkness beyond the glass ball. Ms. Sheppard’s voice became little more than a murmur. Suddenly, the only thing that mattered to me was gazing into the orb and seeing the scarlet glow that began to grow in the center of it, moving and swirling in all directions like a small cloud of fluid. A strange sensation fell over me—a feeling of numbness and indifference. The fluid within the orb continued to swirl with life, then faded away once more into absolute emptiness and I felt as though the orb was calling me into itself.

  All the while Ms. Sheppard’s voice droned on and on, her words shifting in and out of my comprehension.

  “…be careful who you trust…distortions of truth…only you can decide…there is no black…no white…only grey…only you…”

  My vision blurred as I gazed into the blackness until at last an image took form. It was subtle at first but then became more defined. I could hardly believe what I was seeing, but there was no doubt about it; there before me was the face of Venator, my former enemy. His skull-mask fell down to reveal my own face behind it. Then I watched as his features changed before my eyes—his face bulging and shifting into something new—someone else.

  “Don’t you agree, Hunter?” Sheppard asked loudly, breaking my trance.

  “Huh? I’m sorry; what were you saying?” I asked, shaking myself awake. She repeated the question as if nothing had happened. The silk cloth was back in its place exactly as I had left it, covering the ball.

  “I was just pointing out that you need to realize you do have a choice in all of this. Your inner strength is what created this magic to begin with, not some book or Author. So use your power to better yourself as long as you need—just don’t let it start controlling you. We wouldn’t want any more bathroom barge-ins, would we?”

  “No, I guess not,” I said, still somewhat in a daze. I was unsure of what to believe about my so-called gift of second vision or Sheppard’s ball for that matter. My head was foggy and unable to process what had just happened. All I wanted at this point was to go home and rest.

  “Excellent!” She beamed proudly at my response and drew in a deep, satisfied breath. “Well, I think that gives you plenty to think about for today, don’t you?”

  “So…that’s it?”

  “Yes, for now,” Ms. Sheppard efficiently gathered her papers and stood, inviting me to do the same. As she directed me out the door, she offered me one of her business cards.

  “I’m very interested in hearing how things go for you. I trust that if anything new comes up—I mean anything or anyone—you will call. I want to help you sort through it.”

  I accepted the card, threw her a quick wave and hurried on my way.

  As I walked home from school with my skateboard tucked tightly under my arm, a light rain plopped against my face. Considering how the day had turned out so far, I was in no rush to hurry it along. There was a lot to think about.

  As I walked I tried to make sense of it.

  Was everything I had experienced just a part of my “second vision” as Sheppard had suggested? Did I really just make it all up to cope with life? If they were real, why hadn’t I heard anything from the Author or Evan or the others? And what of Sheppard’s orb? Was I just imagining the image inside it or was what I had seen inside it real?

  I became so lost in my train of thought that by the time I arrived home I couldn’t recall which route I had taken to get there. I shuffled up the sidewalk past the weathered “For Sale” sign posted in our front yard. The flyer box was empty again, which meant we’d probably be expecting visitors within the week.

  With Emily at track practice and Mom still an hour away, I knew I had plenty of time to stress over the details of what I was going to tell Mom about my actions today. Climbing the steps to the front door, I dug the house key from my pocket and reached for the doorknob.

  Immediately, I knew something was wrong—the door was already cracked open.

  Oh no! Did I forget to lock it in my rush out the door this morning? I thought to myself. I stepped into the house and realized that my little mistake had not gone unnoticed.

  Our house had been ransacked!

  Chapter 5

  A Guest Uninvited

  All the blinds in the house had been pulled down and the lightsturned off. A sickening feeling gripped my stomach as my eyes took in the grim scene. The coffee table in the living room was overturned and the corners of the couch cushions were shredded, spilling their fluffy innards all over the floor. The shelves of our entertainment center had been unceremoniously emptied, with books, DVDs and picture frames tossed carelessly about the room. It was probably much worse than I could see in the shadows.

  I had just reached for the light switch when a loud crash from the kitchen stopped me dead in my tracks. I was not alone. Whoever had destroyed the house was still lurking nearby, rum
maging through our things.

  My first instinct was to run for help, but in our neighborhood it could be nearly thirty minutes by the time the cops arrived, and by then it would be too late. I had to have more to go on. I needed to catch a glimpse of the intruder so we had a chance at capturing him. Then, I could run.

  Swallowing hard, I slipped into the hallway and pressed myself against the wall to listen. I heard pots and pans spill to the floor with a terrible clatter. What a clumsy crook, I thought to myself. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a thief. The thought suddenly struck me that this might be the same shrouded stalker who had attacked me at school. He apparently had not found what he was looking for in my bag and now he was searching my house! This new revelation made the hairs on my neck stand on end.

  Calm down, Hunter. Don’t let your imagination get the best of you. He doesn’t know you are here yet. Just one look, that’s all you need, I reassured myself. Despite my pep talk, my imagination still ran wild with possibilities until a small squeaky voice shattered them all.

  “Yum, yum,” the voice said happily, amidst obnoxious smacking and crunching. From the sound of things, my uninvited guest had helped itself to a snack from our kitchen. Now, more curious than afraid, I turned the corner and entered the room.

  A hazy white cloud billowed in the air like a dense fog. Apparently, one of the sounds I had heard earlier was Mom’s porcelain container of flour, which had been smashed on the floor, spreading flour-dust throughout the room. A trail of three-toed footprints led through the powder to the far side of the center island where the munching sounds originated. From where I stood I couldn’t actually see the other side, but I knew something was there. The pantry door was wide open and a variety of snack foods were being flung out in every direction, some landing near my feet.

  “Come out of there!” I shouted, flicking the lights on, hoping to catch the thief red-handed.

  Whatever it was let out a terrible scream and scurried away.

  Before I could catch sight of the thief, the basement door shot open, followed by a painful tumbling down the stairs.

  I made my way across the kitchen, carefully stepping around the mess of crackers, cereal and other snack foods the intruder had torn into. A cold draft blew up the stairwell as I stared into the darkness below. I grabbed the flashlight that we’d hung inside the door, switched it on and started my descent with cautious, creaking footsteps.

  At first glance the dim basement appeared unoccupied, lit only by what little light spilled in through the small below-ground window cracked open above the dryer.

  “I know you’re down here!” I yelled. “Come out where I can see you!”

  A scuffling sound seemed to come from behind one of the shelves. I targeted my flashlight in the general area and watched for movement in the shadows. Not finding anything, I continued down and clicked on the single pull-chain light.

  The basement was an organized mess, a clutter of junk we had accumulated through the years. Piled high on several rows of slightly bowed shelves meant to hold half the weight we had put on them, was all our junk. It was here many of our childhood memories were stored. Boxes of sports cards, winter coats, toys we had outgrown, and of course, Emily’s old trophies from past years in gymnastics, track and basketball. There were even a few choice items Dad had left behind, like his bowling balls, fishing rods and a pair of rubber boots still covered in mud. A pile of freshly folded laundry sat atop the dryer, pressed, folded and ready to be delivered to our rooms. Everything seemed to be okay.

  A gurgle of water rushed out of the basement boiler and up into the pipes overhead. The sound startled me for a moment, but it stopped nearly as soon as it started and everything was quiet again. That’s when I heard something that didn’t belong.

  Shrump. Shrump. Shrump.

  A dirty grinding sound seemed to be coming from behind one of the three rows of shelves. It was the kind of sound that made you grit your teeth and tighten your fists.

  Shrump. Shrump. Shrump.

  Stepping slowly forward, I peered down each aisle of shelves, hoping to find the source of the sound. The first aisle was empty; the second was occupied mainly by a large roll of spare carpet. The third and final row seemed empty as well until something short and square scooted out from beneath the utility sink and bumped into my foot.

  It was a small box, turned upside down to cover whatever hid beneath. The box spun around and shuffled back toward one of the shelves, bumping into the side of it as well. What lay beneath was not nearly as threatening or large as I had once imagined.

  Sh-rump. The box slid to a stop.

  “Well then,” I wondered aloud, “what do we have here?”

  Bending low I grasped the box with one hand and lifted it gently, aiming the bright beam of the flashlight beneath it to reveal the intruder. A ghostly burst of black smoke rushed out into the room, followed by a horrible high-pitched shriek that chilled me to the bone.

  “Ah-eeeeeeeee!”

  The sound alone made my heart skip a beat and I stumbled back from the shock of it, nearly falling on my backside. The dreadfully angry racket, filled with terror and rage, seemed to circle the room with incredible speed. A powerful gust of wind blew past my face, shattering the light bulb in the socket. With the light gone, the room fell silent once more.

  What was that? I wondered, suddenly very afraid of what I had just released. This was no ordinary creature.

  I stood up and listened for any sound of life nearby. My heart drummed loudly in my ears, pacing off each second with its heavy beat. Just then, something cold touched the back of my neck, and my stomach dropped another inch.

  “Stay back,” I whirled around in fright, swinging the flashlight in self-defense. Nobody was there. The only thing moving in the darkness was the dancing chain of the ceiling light. I sighed in relief and caught the chain mid-cycle to stop its swinging.

  With the light bulb shattered, all I had left was the light from my flashlight. I traced the bright beam anxiously across the wood ceiling overhead then down the walls and all around the room.

  A clattering of aluminum cans in the corner directed my attention to the toppled recycle bag. Uncrushed cans were rolling every direction across the cement floor. I followed one of them with my light as it landed beside a ratty old blanket that was lumpy with movement.

  “Hey, I know you’re under there!” I shouted. My voice warbled nervously. I grabbed a shovel for protection with my free hand and added, “Whatever you are, come out now or I’ll…I’ll pound you flat!”

  The lump stopped moving, but there was no response.

  I balanced the flashlight on the edge of a shelf, carefully aiming its beam toward the blanket. Then, gripping the rough wooden handle of the shovel with both hands, I stepped forward to face the lump. As I approached the blanket, the thing moved again and started cooing softly. The sound was surprisingly friendly and cute—like a small helpless kitten.

  “Sure…now you act nice!” I muttered to myself as I approached the blanket with shovel in hand. What kind of cold-hearted person could smash a purring kitten? Now, I had to see what hid beneath before I attacked it.

  Thinking better of my “pounding” idea, I lowered the shovel and lifted the edge of the blanket with the tip. Another horrid blast of wind and black smoke blew past me as before. Only this time, the high-pitched squeal that came with it sounded closer to a word than a scream.

  “Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!” the invisible thing shrieked.

  The flashlight fell to the floor, spinning in place and casting a dizzying array of shadows on the walls. I dropped the shovel and covered my ears at the sound. A second gust of wind passed overhead, blowing my hair back with its force. I ducked and covered my head in fright.

  “Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!” the scream wailed again.

  This time I understood it.

  “Light?”
I said, eyeing the flashlight that was still spinning. Maybe this thing was afraid of the light. Of course, it all made sense now. That’s why all of the blinds in the house had been pulled shut. I reached out and grabbed the spinning flashlight, putting a stop to the crazy display of light and shadow.

  “Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!” the scream grew unbearably stronger.

  I covered my ears in pain. As much as I wanted to keep the light on for protection, I couldn’t possibly stand the sound much longer.

  “Okay, I get it. You don’t like light!” I screamed back.

  I flicked the light off, but knew I had to come up with another plan quickly. Sitting alone in the dark was not an option either. Grabbing a dark sock out of the dirty clothes pile, I pulled it over the end of the flashlight to diffuse the beam to what seemed like a safe level. Perhaps the diminished light wouldn’t be a problem. I flicked the flashlight back on, satisfied with my quick thinking.

  “There…no more light…” I said aloud, wondering where the thing might pop up next. “You can come out now!”I caught a brief flutter of motion out of the corner of my eye as the pile of laundry Mom had neatly folded toppled to the gritty cement floor.

  Something moved beneath the heap of clothes.

  Aiming the now dull light beam at the fallen pile, I watched with amazement as a small creature, not much bigger than a fat guinea pig, popped out from a T-shirt and peered at me with two enormous blue eyes shining in the darkness.

  Those eyes. The eyes in the orb, I thought at first. But there was something different about these eyes…they didn’t frighten me. For some reason, I felt at ease as I looked over the creature.

  Amidst a frazzle of grey, fluffy hair was a round little blue face. Its gleaming eyes bulged out of its face like oversized orbs, gazing back at me with unblinking wonder. A long furry tail curled up behind it, making it look more like a monkey than a rodent—but definitely a cross between the two.

  “Light gone?” it asked curiously in a weak voice.