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

by Richard M. Heredia

  “You have a heavy burden to bear, Tony-Boy. A burden that none of us understand. In that, I am not jealous in the least. But, it does not have to be borne alone and in secret, especially not out here in the cold of this unforgiving tempest.”

  “I know. I don’t want you to think I am out here wallowing, feeling sorry for myself or anything. I just couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake-up Sophie, so I sort of squirmed my way over here to think a bit. Maybe clear my head enough so that I might be able to go back and rest.” He glanced from the great cat to look out into the store. The terrible itch of inaction and lassitude bubbled up through his mind once again. Yeah, dumbass, and with every step you take toward doing something about it, it takes you a step closer to your death! He closed his eyes against the thought, rubbing his temples with the thumb and middle finger of his right hand.

  “Think or no think, Anthony, it will not change whatever is lying before you,” began Garfield. He too peered out into the roiling snow and clouds and wind. “From the moment you were born, your fate was no longer your own. Your tale had already spun its' course." He paused to swallow. "What you do with that fate will determine your lineage. There is no hiding from that truth. No matter how much thought or consideration, or planning or scheming, it will always be before you. There may be a delay or it might go ignored, but it will wait. Fate has all the time in the world.” He chuckled, disdainful of things he could not control. “Don’t waste your time fretting over things that cannot change, that you have no power to mandate. It only serves to muddle your thoughts, cloud your vision. That can be dangerous. It can cause you to lose the clarity you might need when you need it most.”

  “You’re right. I know that, Garfield.” He’d been sarcastic. “It’s just my so-called fate is pretty damned scary, you know?” he divulged, not embarrassed to reveal his innermost thoughts to the feline he had loved for so long.

  “So what,” was the other’s quick retort. “So it’s frightening. Will that aspect change over time? Ever?

  Anthony stammered. “I-I don’t think so…”

  “Again, you are contemplating that which you cannot change. Again, you waste your energy, energy you will need later.” Then to Anthony’s shock, the huge cat rumbled with a short laugh – a real one, devoid of sarcasm. “You should be in those coverings with that sweet little morsel of yours and not out here wasting your time here with me.”

  “Garfield!” hissed Anthony in mock outrage.

  Garfield turned to look at him again, his brow had risen. “Oh, are you telling me you would much rather be out here freezing off your haunches than be in the arms of the pale beauty who loves you more than life itself?”

  It was Anthony’s turn to chuckle. “Well, no, but -.”

  “There are no ‘buts’ about it, Tony-Boy. Go back and crawl into bed with your mate, whisper sweet things to her that having meaning and are worth saying. That is what you should be doing. That is definitely not a waste of time. It would be time well spent indeed,” concluded the great cat with a smug cast.

  Who the hell was this standing here next to me? No way, not Garfield, that’s for sure.

  Anthony stared at Garfield with a frown. “Since when did you become all soft and mushy inside?”

  Garfield’s returning stare had changed completely - flat and emotionless. “I don’t like to waste time. I thought you’d have figured that out be now.”

  Anthony was about to answer when…

  “Babe, is that you?”

  Sophie!

  He spun on his heel and peered back into the darker recesses of the store where the rest of the group was sleeping. He saw the tall, athletic form he was on the verge of memorizing, walking toward him, weaving as if still half asleep.

  It was her. She walked forward on the tips of her toes. Her arms she had crossed at her chest, her hands rubbed with vigor at her biceps underneath her nightgown.

  She’s cold!

  He took a few steps toward her, meeting her halfway and took her in his arms in one fell swoop. He could tell immediately, she was freezing.

  “Jeez, girlie, what the hell are you doing out here without a jacket?” he admonished, unzipping his and pulling her into warmer confines, encircling her with his arms.

  “I woke up. I thought I heard someone shout something, then I heard voices. You weren’t there, so I got scared. I came to look for you,” she said in a tiny voice, still slurring, as if sleep was loath to leave her.

  “It was just me and Garfield talking,” he replied, turning to show her the feline, but the cat was nowhere to be seen.

  Freakin’ punk cat!

  He turned back to her and hugged her to him.

  She let herself conform to his body.

  “Anyhow, you should be out here without the right clothes on, ok?”

  “Okay, Baby, just come back to bed with me and hold me. Ok?”

  “Sure.”

  “Will you hold me all night long?”

  “Of course.”

  She breathed with longing into his chest, muttering, “Yummy.”

  They both turned and made their way back to the air mattresses and the soothing warmth of their sleeping bags. He held onto her beneath the folds of his jacket, one arm about her shoulders, while she held onto him about the waist.

  Don’t waste your time. Love her with every ounce of your being, for as long as you can…

  “I love you, Sophie.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  He smiled when she squeezed him tighter.

  I will savor every ounce of my love for you with every last second I have. I promise, Sophie. I promise.

  ~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~

  ~ 41 ~

  Conspiracy

  Sunday, November 28th, 11:53 pm…

  There was little doubt now. Every time Marissa Avalon thought about it she knew this was all a conspiracy and she was smack-dab in the freakin’ middle of it.

  Hindsight being twenty-twenty, she should have guessed this was something bigger than just child abductions. Seeing the man-with-the-melting-face bring in Alicia earlier that day should have been clue enough. But she had been so preoccupied with eating and then caring for her long-time friend. She had not taken the time to put everything together.

  When Mr. Mush-Face brought the boy, Jeremy, Christina had jumped up, as if electricity coursed through her butt from the floor. It was then Marissa had been able to see through the muck muddling her mind.

  Speaking what she felt was true, the boy was cute. He was more than half a foot taller than Christina with a muscular frame. He had ginger-colored hair, cropped short, fuzzy about the sides with grey-blue eyes. They were captivating to the point of being exceptional as far as the third grader was concerned. And, he was Caucasian.

  Slung over the horrid creature’s shoulder, Marissa could see the boy was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a zippered, fleece sweater. It had been bright orange of all colors. He wore Vans, the laced-sort that matched his outer-garment perfect.

  “Oh, Jesus!” Christina had exclaimed. She rushed forth, as near the man-with-the-melting face as she dared. She'd been rubbing her hands on her legs as if her palms were sweaty and the added friction was necessary to dry them.

  Marissa had frowned, glancing at the two for a second. Then she realized the older girl knew the teen, just as she had known Alicia. What the heck is going on? she remembered asking herself. She edged away from the desperate clutches of her friend. She left her propped-up against the wall of the bomb-shelter.

  Alicia had cringed at the sight of the hulking thing.

  It placed the teenage boy on the floor, tossing another bag of food upon the ground next to him. “Teach him,” was all it had said before it spun upon its’ heel and was gone.

  The chain and the padlock rattled for a few seconds as it once more secured the door against their escape.

  “Jeremy! Are you ok?” inquired the older girl the moment she felt safe enough to approach the supine figure.
/>   The boy had swiped at his eyes, groaning, holding his head as if it pounded.

  “Jer, are you ok? Did it hurt you?” Christina sounded frantic. She had come beside Jeremy, the fabric of her pants scraping across the hard concrete. She had searched over his person with her hands.

  “W-what the fuck happened?” he sputtered, then coughed. It was evident the creature had gassed him as he had the rest of them.

  Marissa cringed at the terrible taste it had left in her mouth, the ache that had seeped into her bones. It had made her feel infirm, uncoordinated. It had also seemed like a lifetime ago when the Thing brought her below ground, and yet it had only been a few days.

  She watched.

  Christina explained what had happened to the semi-conscious boy.

  Hanging back, Marissa had relived what had gone before in her mind.

  Out of the sheer need to be touched, Alicia had crept up to her from behind. She had hugged Marissa around her midsection, placing her cheek upon her back.

  “It’ll be ok, Allie. Everything will work out just fine,” Marissa had murmured to her friend, patting her on the wrist.

  “You mean to tell me we’re all part of the same thing?” the boy named Jeremy had asked. His eyebrows were somehow above his hairline.

  “Yes.” There was nothing more for Christina to say.

  “Just like Anthony and his sisters?”

  “Yup.”

  Still, it was not until an hour later that Marissa began to realize the true scope of their predicament. That was when another of the liquid-faced creatures brought in yet another of her friends. He was the long-haired boy named, Miller, who, like Elena and Mikalah, she had known since kindergarten.

  He was much bigger than her though she was six months older, but then just about everyone was bigger than Marissa. He was still unconscious, his jaw slack, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. His light-brown hair was covering the rest of his face. He wore sweats and a thick, woven sweater over a black t-shirt. His feet were in socks. His blue and white sneakers were in the free hand of his captor.

  Like Christina, her and Alicia had jumped up at once, gasping, shocked to see another of their friends. They were at his side the moment the man-that-was-not-a-man placed him on the cold, hard concrete.

  Immediately, Marissa began waking him up.

  But, before he so much as blinked, the door was flung wider when not one, but two! of the men-with-melting-faces showed up at the same time. One was carrying an unconscious Filipino girl and the other held a dark-skinned boy across his abdomen using both arms.

  Marissa had scurried against the wall horrified over the sudden worsening of the situation. She had Alicia in tow, leaving Miller sprawled on the floor. The bigger girl had somehow been able to shrink her much larger body behind Marissa’s smaller form.

  Christina and Jeremy had clung to one another in sheer terror.

  More food was strewn before them, while the three creatures exchanged a smirk.

  “Now, you begin to know what stands against you. Everywhere, all about the World of Man, the Lesser will soon fall under the sway of the Seeker. Soon we will bleed you all upon the Throne of Jüle and the Great Maelstrom will be forever loosed upon the four universes.” Its’ hazel eyes became dark brown, its’ face shifting from African to Scandinavian, its’ sex female to male.

  Another had chuckled and continued. “There will be no hiding from that storm.”

  “Indeed,” said the first one in agreement.

  Then, to her astonishment, a fourth came in. It strained under the tremendous weight of a boy big enough to be a full grown man, but whose face belied that of a teenager.

  “Bring in the food,” ordered the fourth. To Marissa, it appeared in charge, though he looked no different than the other three.

  Two of the creatures walked out of the Bomb Shelter, returning in a few seconds. Each of them carried two huge, burlap sacks of what Marissa had hoped was food they could eat like the last time.

  “Teach them,” said the fourth, pointing at the four of them who were conscious. “There is food and more toiletries for the new ones, courtesy of the Seeker of course. She wishes you all remain in the best health possible. Your blood will be all the more rich, because of it.”

  Behind him, the one who had not moved, laughed.

  They had left as a unit, barring the door from the outside with chains that sounded big enough to keep King Kong from escaping.

  After a short time, the four new comers came-to and details of their predicament explained.

  Meanwhile, those who had been captive the longest began to inventory their food and drink situation. It was something they had learned to do every time one of the creatures brought in a full satchel. Sometimes they proved bountiful, other times meager. Marissa and Christina preferred to know in advance if rationing would be necessary.

  The tan girl was Juanita Papilon. She was a stunning seventeen-year-old. She wore a loose, knit shirt, blue jeans and white Sketchers. She attended Franklin High School. They were all meeting her for the first time. Though she did not profess to know Anthony Herrera or his sisters, she did espouse to know Andrew Ibarra. This seemed to make the workings of their plight evermore vast.

  The dark-skinned boy was Chamondalar Demondrad. It was a mouthful of syllables that Marissa was dreading having to memorize. She felt relief when he said he preferred, Chum-Lee, because even he was aware his name was a grim feat of enunciation.

  He was wearing tan Chino’s, a darker Izod polo shirt and black leather shoes over equally dark socks.

  To the third grader, he came across somewhat nerdy, but who was she to judge? He had proved kind, even gentle as time passed. There was little doubt though their situation frightened him. The delicate features of his visage and large, chocolate-colored eyes looked strained.

  He too was a student of Franklin High, but he did not know J.J. or Andrew when Christina had asked.

  Miles Novello, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. The six-foot, two hundred pound boy was from the same circle of friends as Christina and Jeremy. He had known Anthony for some years now.

  Marissa sat back from the older kids, her eyes narrow; trying to piece together everything she had witnessed. She knew without a doubt, it was all connected.

  “Have you guys heard from anyone else?” asked Christina, desperate for news. Her confinement was only hours shorter than Marissa's.

  They were all gathered around the lantern. Their “good” food and personal belongings they had organized against one of the walls of the shelter. There had been a lot of it as well as more toilet paper, toothbrushes, underwear and a few hand towels.

  For the most part, Christina’s friends shook their heads in the negative.

  “After everything that has happened this weekend, I had little chance to talk with anyone,” replied Jeremy. His green eyes stared at the ground before him.

  “I was too busy at work,” added Miles. Wayward thoughts of Deborah Murdoch kept surfacing in his mind. The realization he would be unable to get to know her better saddened him. He peered down at his Novello’s t-shirt, his heart aching at the memory of his last pizza delivery.

  “How about you guys?” asked the half-Asian girl. She was nodding toward Chum-Lee, J.J. and Miller, who were sitting apart from the others. They seemed shell-shocked that they’d been victims of a crime.

  “Not much,” began Chum-Lee in his soft, British-accented tones. “I only know that the Event was still on-going.”

  Christina’s brow furled, but she said thanks to the exotic looking boy.

  “I wish I knew what was going on,” stated Christina with a degree of force behind her words.

  “Something big… for sure,” said Marissa from her position near the wall.

  The five older teens turned to look at her, each of them frowning gravely.

  Christina clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “She’s right.” A pained smile etched her lips. “Now we know t
here are more than one of those things out there gathering up kids like crazy. Who’s to say there aren’t five or six, or a dozen of them?”

  The boys shook their heads.

  “What are those things?” asked J.J., shaking. The thought of someone touching against her will appalled her every sense.

  Christina’s mouth sagged to one side. “I don’t know.”

  “They’re awful.” The Filipino girl quivered once more.

  “I wonder who’s telling them what to do,” mumbled Marissa.

  “What did you say?” asked the handsome Caucasian teen.

  The third grader cleared her throat. “I said, I wonder who or what’s giving those things orders. I mean, how do they know who to grab and who not to grab? And who’s the Great Maelstrom guy? And what the heck is the Throne of Jüle?”

  The half-Asian face of Christina filled with admiration despite the dreary topic. “You guys will find out soon enough that little Marissa hear doesn’t miss a thing.”

  “Sure seems like it,” said Jeremy with a heartfelt look.

  “She’s always been that way,” mumbled Miller, a half-smile trying to play across his lips, but failed after a time.

  The third grader ignored the compliments. “I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  “We all have.” J.J. was edging closer to the smaller female, her comment meant to urge her onward. Maybe the little tyke was onto something.

  Marissa’s eyes sparkled as her mind took her thoughts a step further. “What do you think ‘Lesser’ means?”

  That made them all jerk backward. The question had caught them by surprise.

  “What’re you talking about?” asked Miles.

  “When those things dropped you all off, one of them said, ‘all about the world, the Lesser will soon fall under the sway of the Seeker’. What do you think that means? The Lesser…,” she repeated, her voice far away.

  Chum-Lee shrugged, spreading his hands to either side of his shoulders.

  “I have no idea,” retorted Christina. She glanced at the others to see if they had a clue. From their looks, she could tell they were as much in the dark as she was.