Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves

by Richard M. Heredia

  It had been a long time since she had let a boy feel her up. The last guy had been too rough, too eager. The moment she had allowed his hand on her butt, he was trying to get inside her panties in the next. The incident had left her turned off to boys. She had withdrawn from them, preferring to hang with her "Besties", than with members of the opposite sex. Vanessa and J.J. were not judgmental or jealous. She hated crap of that nature.

  Am I ready for a boyfriend now? Is it time? Should I finally take the plunge?

  Without fail, the outcomes with Andrew were positive, except when she imagined him out of character. But being overbearing and unwilling to take no for an answer were not traits that described Andrew Ibarra. He was gentle around girls. He was intuitive and genuine. He would not be like that. No, she knew this. Somewhere deep inside, a tiny voice was telling her he would fight to the death over someone he loved. Maybe he did not show it all the time, or maybe he lacked the knowledge, but it still did not change the fundament from which Andrew was forged. He was a romantic.

  And, she liked that.

  And you like him too…

  “That was an uncomfortable stretch of quiet, girl,” prompted Vanessa through the phone.

  “I’m just trying to put things in some sort of perspective.”

  “And?”

  “I think you know the answer already,” retorted Lynn, a growing smile through the indecision written on her face.

  Vanessa chuckled. “That’s good, girl. I’m glad to hear it. Now, we just have to figure out a way to make sure he’s okay.”

  “Or find a way to save him.”

  “What did you say?”

  Lynn’s mind was already a million miles away. “I gotta go,” she said in a hurry, not even bothering to repeat herself.

  “Wait! Wait! Tell me what you said!”

  “Bye!” Lynn Loren tapped the “End” icon, terminating the call, her eyes narrow with determination.

  Aunt Denise, thought Lynn. She’ll know what’s the haps. After all, she does work for the LAPD.

  ~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~

  ~ 5 ~

  Ill Tidings

  Friday, November 26th, the Day after Thanksgiving, the Same Time…

  It was not a meal. A small container of flax & chia seed cracker bread, a half a jar of Maraschino cherries and finger-dipping into Cool-Aide like it was a bag of Fun Dip was not nourishing at all. More than anything it made them thirsty, but that’s all there was to eat.

  Christina sucked on her index finger, tasting for the umpteenth time the semi-sweetness of the cherry flavored Cool-Aide powder. She knew she should stop. After every such delving into the plastic jug she felt just a bit more dehydrated, but she could not stop. The mix was that good.

  Or maybe, Christina, just maybe, you’re a little off your game today.

  She glanced over at the tiny 3rd grader, who had quit the Cool-Aide long ago.

  Christina smiled at the thought, bemused over her clear addiction to the real thing.

  Marissa was sitting near the lantern now, warming her hands against the heat coming off it. The temperature within the passage was dropping with each passing hour and the light was the only source of heat available to them. She had unrolled the thin rug the man-thing had bundled Christina within. She wanted to rest her bottom on anything other than the cold floor. She had placed the lantern at its’ middle.

  Deliberate, she placed the tight-fitting lid onto the plastic container. Christina stood, swiping her hands against her now dirty jeans in an offhanded way. The dust and the sand-like top layer of the concrete floor coated them now, so adding a bit more grime did not matter to the teen.

  She peered again at the nine-year-old who had saved her from asphyxiation. The little girl seemed lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes were searching for something deep in the soft glow before her. The teenager could see her body fill and un-fill whenever she breathed, but she was otherwise motionless. Her long hair cascaded down either side of her head, obscuring detail, but not the entire view. Her narrow face was pinched with concentration and made her v-shaped chin all the more severe.

  She’s too young to be going through something as frightening as this, came the thought. Not sure why, Christina’s heart lurched for the girl she did not know. She turned from her, even as the desire to place a protective shield around the 3rd grader blossomed. Resolution settled upon her shoulders as if she’d made some sort of decision. It was general though, not a thought geared at anything in particular, but it was one all the same. She would look out for the girl regardless if she knew all that much about her.

  Her eyes found the darkness at the further reaches of the passage. Her brow furled on its' own, as if creasing the skin upon her forehead would somehow increase the power of her vision. Yet, her orbs did not penetrate the black veil. Where the lantern-light failed, so did her ability to see beyond. She shivered from the growing chill. Or maybe it was something else, something she felt inside. She could not tell which. Either way she was cold.

  She found Marissa once again. “Why are we here?” she asked no one, but still said it aloud nonetheless.

  Maybe she was asking God.

  “We’re part of the Event,” said the nine-year-old. Her voice seemed light-years away.

  The teens’ grimace spread throughout her visage. “What event?”

  Marissa turned toward her, crossing her legs as she did so. “You know all that stuff that happened with the Plaza, with Vons and the missing kids. It hasn’t stopped. We’re part of it.”

  “How do you know that, sweetie?”

  “Because,” was all she managed before she stopped to wipe at her eyes, angry at being on the verge of tears. Marissa hated crying. It made her feel like such a big baby and she was not a baby, not anymore. She might look years younger than her nine, but it did not mean she had to act like it too.

  “Because…?” Christina prompted, gentle.

  “Because, two of the kids taken were my best friends,” clarified the little girl. Her eyes were accusatory as if she was searching for someone to blame. “I bet you knew some of them as well.” She looked back at the lantern. “I bet my life on it.”

  Christina's shocked was palatable. Why hadn’t she made the determination before? It was so simple. The answer was right there in front of her. Of course she had known some of the kids abducted two days prior - none more than Anthony. He had been her friend for a while now. They were part of the same clique. They were the same group of kids who spent every nutrition and lunch by the picnic table under the towering oak tree toward the back of the school. They had even gone so far as feign they were dating whenever a boy could not quite get it in his head that Christina did not like him. They had even kissed once, taking their rouse a bit too far. It had been a nice kiss though. Christina remembered it well. His lips had been soft. They were warm, almost red before her eyes. The entire group had whooped and hollered something fierce at the sight of them trying to convince some poor sap that they were an item.

  For a split second, Christina had contemplated continuing, but then reality had set in and she had pulled away. She liked Anthony, a lot, and because of it, she did not want to botch things between them. Every guy she had ever dated ended up hating her when they broke up. She was loath to see an expression like one of theirs on Anthony’s face as he considered her. She could not bear that. It would be too much.

  So, she had pulled away, though he had made her weak in the knees, made her heart jump in her chest. She took all the ridicule and fun-loving jibes from her pals with stoic patience. She had peered at Anthony with fleeting, side-long glances through a tumble of her hair.

  He seemed to take in stride, but every once and a while, he caught her looking and his expression would change. He became unreadable within seconds. His gaze was direct and only for her.

  It had made her quiver in strange places. She pushed those yearnings away as fast as she could. She would not go there with him. She liked him too much for that.

>   A few weeks later, with a new beau holding her about the waist, she saw that same frank glare from Anthony for the last time. It lasted no more than a blink of an eye, but it was there. She had seen it. Then, it dissolved into nothing, gone. They went back to being friends, confidantes when things with their significant others got bad. Their window had passed.

  She had not realized she had been staring at the lantern’s light the entire time. A couple of her fingers brushed against her lips, a light touch, a Freudian act brought on by an acute memory. It as a memory she liked to relive now and again. Maybe there was a part of her that still wondered what it would be like to be his girl. She could not help but be curious how it would feel in her heart when Anthony introduced her as his girlfriend.

  It would feel pretty freakin’ good if it were true.

  “What I haven’t been able to figure out is why the Event started in the first place. Why are we so special?” queried the 3rd grader.

  Christina’s glance was speculative. Her tiny companion had a powerful brain in her head, which should not have been too surprising. She appeared bright enough at first glance, but her ability to think with clarity at a time like this at her tender age was impressive.

  And yet, the girl made a valid point. Why were they so special?

  “You don’t have any ideas?” asked Marissa, staring into her hands, her back hunched.

  Too Christina, she looked even smaller than her four-foot three-inch frame. She looked like a Kindergarten child, scared, lost, on her first day of school.

  “I’m still trying to come to grips with the fact I’ve been kidnapped.” Christina strode toward the smaller girl and sat down next to her. “I haven’t had the time to think beyond that.”

  Marissa smiled, some of her vivacious personality coming to the fore. Her eyes twinkled in the steady, blue-white light shining before them. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. The man-thing just carried me over from my house. I wasn’t tied-up like a burrito like you.”

  Christina laughed, feeling a great weight lift from her shoulders. The little girl was magical, a gift on a day fraught with fear. A question entered her mind a second later. “How did you get caught anyway?”

  Marissa’s smile evaporated like water before a tropical sun. “He came through the window. Before I could get away, he had me in his arms. He was so strong I couldn’t get away. Then, I realized we were floating above the trees. I stopped struggling then, because I didn’t want to fall to the ground and crack my head open.”

  Christina blinked. “Did you say you were floating?”

  Marissa nodded. “That’s how he was able to get me in the first place. He came through the window in our living room.” She leaned toward the older girl. “And we live on the second floor.”

  “There’s no fire escape outside the window?”

  The 3rd grader was still shaking her head. “It’s on the other side of the apartment. Outside the window were my Mom and Dad sleep.”

  The teenager fell silent, thinking.

  “I’m not lying if that’s what you’re thinking,” added Marissa, her eyes big. She wanted the older girl to believe her.

  “I know,” began Christina, “it’s just hard to take in, you know. The world has changed so much in the past few hours.”

  “You mean the past few days,” corrected the girl.

  “Yeah, the past few days…” The teen put out her hands to warm against the heat of the lantern.

  “How did the man-thing get you?” asked Marissa after a few moments had passed.

  “In the hallway, I think,” began Christina, her cute brow wrinkling. She tried to put the jumbled of images in her head together to form some semblance of what had happened. “I remember walking out of my bedroom, turning down the long hall that runs down the middle of my house.” She stopped and scratched at something on her forehead, near her hairline. “I saw a figure, standing at the far end. It was huge.” She sat up straighter, rubbing her palms against the denim covering her knees. “He was wearing a hoody or something, because I couldn’t make out what he looked like. Or maybe the light at the other end of the hall was brighter than where I was standing. Maybe I only saw his silhouette.”

  She rocked back and forth on her butt. “I don’t remember much else. I think I heard a noise coming from back in my bedroom, but I’m not sure.” Her face melted into hopelessness. “I can only remember feeling sleepy – very, very sleepy, faster than I have ever experienced in the past. I think I took another step… or maybe I meant to take a step. I know I was going to say something to the tall figure, but it was only a thought I had in my head. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  Marissa peered over at her with eyes as wide as teacups. “You’re lucky.”

  Again, shock struck through Christina like lightning through an oak. Her jaw hung slack below the rest of her face. How in God’s name could I have been lucky?!?

  The younger girl forged through the awkward lull in the conversation. “You didn’t see his face.” Her nod was emphatic. “Trust me, you were lucky.”

  Before Christina could reply, the girl turned away, bursting into tears.

  Overwhelmed by the same strange sense to protect the girl, the same notion she had felt earlier. The teenager ignored her own befuddlement. Instead, she scrambled forth to hold tiny Marissa in her arms.

  Whatever she had seen, it had been horrible. The girl was shaking so hard, she was convulsing.

  ~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~

  ~ 6 ~

  Cruel Consequences

  Saturday, November 27th, 4:19 pm…

  Clarisse McIntyre was lying akimbo upon her full-sized bed. Between her contorted limbs, her comforter had twisted as she wept bitter tears over what might have been. Her corn-stalk-colored hair was in tangles, her green-speckled, light-blue eyes shut to the world. The tanned features of her visage were bunched and wrinkled with anguish. Her fists were balls of righteous anger, her face the definition of despair. Her lips drew back, revealing the teeth below as a desperate keening issued from the core of her heart. For that beating muscle of emotion, seventy hours ago, had broken beyond recognition.

  It had been a wonderful time, though it had lasted for less than a week. Yet, to her, it had seemed like they had spent years together. They had learned, shared and held as they gazed into the others’ eyes and knew what they had, had been was real. He had been everything she had ever wanted in a boy – tall, muscular and athletic, but kind, caring and well-mannered all the same. He was smart. He was funny. He was not into himself though he was in tip-top physical condition and was handsome in a rugged sort of way. And, above all else, he was a gentleman. He had always waited for her to respond to him, made sure she was a willing participant before he made any physical move. He had held her in his big hands and had asked if she was ok, if she felt comfortable. Every time he had asked, it had melted her heart and she wanted nothing more, in that instant, than him. His lips on her mouth, his hands on her body, she had wanted it all. If they’d had the chance, in a few months, she might have given him everything. And she would not have batted an eye. She trusted him, knew he would take care of her, love her and nurture their relationship for decades to come.

  They had talked too. They had not restricted their time together to just wild make-out sessions alone. No, Joaquin had been content to talk as well. Whether face-to-face or on their cells, he had listened whenever she spoke. She had been rapt every time he had opened up to tell her something about himself.

  He had come from a good family. His parents were the cornerstone of his young life. He was not too cool to mention that to her, which was rare among the boys she had dated before him. He had seemed at ease within his own skin, though he was a bit overzealous about the sport he played, but that did not bother her. He excelled at wrestling. Who could begrudge his work ethic, his rigorous training regimen? If he was good enough to one be All-American; maybe he could make the U.S. Olympic Team?

  She sure as hell would have be
en so proud of him, proud of his dedication, proud that he could stick by something so demanding. It would have been incredible. She would have gone to every meet. She would have cheered for him until her throat hurt, until she could not speak anymore. She would have been there, on the sidelines, waiting for him to come from the mats, to come into her arms. She would have kissed him until her lips chapped. In front of everyone, even her parents if they came, she would not have cared one iota if she offended anyone. Joaquin was hers. She was going to show him just how much she appreciated him with every available opportunity. Even after a week with him, she could see that future as if she had been experiencing it for real. Every taste, every smell, every texture and color she had seen was in perfect clarity like 1080p Blu-Ray. It was as vivid as life itself.

  And now, all that was gone, made impossible by the extraordinary consequences of the past three days.

  The Event.

  That incident had taken Joaquin from her. It had ruined what she knew would have been a perfect life and shattered her dreams for all time.

  The Event, according to the tight-lipped authorities, was the country’s worst rash of serial abductions in its’ history. And, it was still on-going. Every day passing had ended with evermore kidnappings. They all had been in the same general area. They were all taken in northeastern Los Angeles. Some debauched group of people was taking the children away. Some unknown enemy was stealing the hopes and aspirations of hundreds, maybe even thousands.