Max Baker: Guardian of the Ninth Sector

by Matthew Cronan

  “Nice footwork, Baker,” Corey Peterson yelled at him from the parking lot.

  Max glanced over toward him and saw all of the cheerleaders and all of the football players staring at him. Some of them had joined in with the clapping. Kennedy had covered her mouth to hide the laughter, and Max could feel his cheeks turning red.

  Noah was defending Max, telling some nearby students it was just a new skateboard trick that had gone awry. When Noah heard Corey’s comment, he turned toward him and gave the group the middle finger in retort.

  Max cursed at himself as he ducked into the main entrance of Forest Valley High. In the entryway Noah grabbed Max by the shoulder and spun him around.

  “What?” Max hissed.

  “Easy there, trigger,” Noah said with a grin. “Just need to check your face to make sure you didn’t leave any on the pavement.” Noah touched Max’s cheekbone where the skateboard had hit him. Max flinched. The spot was sore and already felt swollen.

  “How bad is it?” Max asked. Each student that entered the school took a moment to either point and laugh, give an enthusiastic thumbs up, or continue the applause. Max looked away again. He knew that the embarrassment would be short lived, perhaps a day or so, but it didn’t change the fact that this moment was mortifying.

  “Well,” Noah said, ignoring the crowds behind him, “you’ve definitely seen better days…but you’ll live.” He gently slapped the swollen cheekbone. Max winced again.

  Max turned and the two walked up the hallway.

  “Kennedy?” Noah asked.

  “Yeah,” Max muttered under his breath.

  “She’s a man-killer!” Noah exclaimed, causing a group of kids walking in front of them to turn and laugh.

  The duo stopped at Noah’s locker. It was easily distinguishable amongst the sea of clones that surrounded it. Noah had begun putting stickers on it since the beginning of the year. Most of them were punk bands that the two enjoyed, but there were a couple of random ones as well. Max’s favorite was the ‘My Son Made Forest Valley Elementary Honor Roll’ bumper sticker. Noah had made the honor roll once in first grade; Max was fairly confident that this was the same sticker that had been awarded to him.

  “I don’t know what you see in that girl,” Noah said as he traded books from his backpack and his locker.

  “It’s Kennedy,” Max said, leaning up against the locker. “I’ve liked her for as long as I can remember.”

  “Well, do you remember her turning into a jerk and abandoning us the moment she grew breasts a couple of years ago?”

  “I remember that as well,” Max said with a sigh. The details had grown fuzzy at this point, but Max did remember the huge falling out shortly after Kennedy had hit puberty. He couldn’t remember the exact reason why, but it was the last time the three of them had been in a room together by choice.

  “Do you remember that she still has my baseball glove and has yet to offer to return it?” Noah asked.

  “Do you remember,” Max shot back, “when we were in fourth grade and she beat up Ronnie Wilson because he made fun of you for crying at the end of Old Yeller?”

  “Nope,” Noah snapped, “because that didn’t happen.”

  “I remember the crying,” Max said.

  Noah slammed his locker door shut and spun around toward Max, “There was NO crying.” Noah turned and began walking up the hall; Max followed closely behind.

  “I don’t even know why they made us watch that stupid movie,” Noah muttered.

  The first bell of the day gave a shrill ring. The groups of students that had gathered at lockers and around classroom doors began to disperse toward their respective classrooms.

  “See you in third period French,” Max said, breaking away from Noah.

  “Vous sentez comme le boeuf et le fromage,” Noah replied slyly. He spoke slowly in a deep southern accent, which made the French sound choppy and hideous.

  “Your mom smells like beef and cheese,” Max laughed and entered into the open classroom door.

  Chapter 3

  A Chase Through the Night

  Max survived the rest of the day, only having to answer a few questions about how he had been bested by the concrete step, and met up with Noah after school. The two skated over to the Forest Valley Multiplex, a few miles east of the high school.

  They bought two tickets to some PG rated children’s movie about a crime-fighting dog and then snuck into the R-rated alien movie with the blood and the guts and the gore. It was a move that they had perfected over summer break. The key was to sit near the back of the auditorium and duck out when the usher came into the theater to check the emergency exits.

  After the film was over, they hung out in the movie theater parking lot for a while. It was a Thursday, so it was mostly deserted, leaving ample space for the two to try to grind up on the sidewalk, or ollie over a curb block. They skated for almost an hour, all the while talking about girls, or movies, or whether a pirate would be able to take on a robot in hand to hand combat.

  Around 8 pm Max and Noah split up for the first time that day. Noah had to go meet his math tutor Norma, a junior at Forest Valley, at her house across town. They said their goodbyes, and Noah wished Max a happy birthday one last time.

  Max skated down the deserted streets of Forest Valley. It was a small town in southwestern Georgia, about forty-five minutes outside of Atlanta. Forest Valley reminded Max of old horror movies he had seen on late night television; the black and white films with ridiculous plots and horrible acting. Every night, approximately 15 minutes before sundown, the majority of the population would retreat to their homes as if some demonic cult or hoard of vampires roamed the streets at night. It was the oddest thing to Max. During the day, the town looked normal and the streets bustled with life, and like a switch being flipped, every night Forest Valley turned into an abandoned ghost town. Max wished it were vampires, or zombies, or some other supernatural phenomenon that caused the town fall silent, but in actuality it was nothing more than the senior citizens readying themselves for their 7:45 bedtime.

  Max turned down Oakwood Drive and rode silently past the dimly lit houses. He couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his gut that he was being followed, but upon examining his surroundings he was quite sure that he was alone. Nevertheless, he picked up his pace to escape the rising feeling of dread.

  It was the same feeling that could make a person walk nervously around their house, flipping on closet lights and checking underneath beds for the boogeyman. That feeling was lying heavy in his guts.

  He stopped for a moment and surveyed the darkened landscape. He stared out into the distance from which he had come. He was looking for any sign that he was about to be attacked, or worse – eaten by a maniacal alien that had been sent to Earth to destroy humanity. Luckily, he didn’t see anything following him, alien or human, but as he continued on toward his house, he still couldn’t shake the feeling.

  He was about a mile from his house when he finally spotted it. Roughly 300 yards behind him was a car; it crawled along slowly while its headlights remained off. At first glance, it looked as if the car was just sitting awkwardly on the side of the road; its front end protruding more toward the center of the road than the back end. As Max got further down the street, he noticed the car was not only following him, but it had narrowed the gap between them.

  Crime had never been a real problem in Forest Valley; in fact, most residents felt comfortable leaving their doors unlocked during the day as they left town to go to work. Max and Noah had tested this theory and proved it correct countless times a few summers ago. They had snuck into random neighbors’ houses in search of unguarded candy. They had also found out that while some people chose to leave their front doors unlocked for the entire world to come and go as they please, some of those same people chose to leave giant guard dogs wandering free inside. A vicious pit bull named Biscuits had convinced the boys that breaking and entering in the name of free M&Ms just wasn’t worth it.


  Max glanced over his shoulder again and saw that the car had gained another 50 yards on him. He knew that something was amiss. The feeling in his gut said that making a run for it was a way more viable solution than standing around and finding out why some stranger was creeping around in the dark with no lights on. Forest Valley wasn’t known for crime, but Max had seen enough documentaries about serial killers to know that they could spring up from anywhere. Jeffrey Dahmer was from a small town called West Allis, Wisconsin. Ted Bundy was born in Burlington, Vermont. Now that he thought about it…Forest Valley had serial killer written all over it.

  After riding another 20 or so yards down the sidewalk, Max saw his opportunity and hopped off of his board. He ran through the Taylor’s front yard toward their privacy fence. The Taylors’ were notorious for keeping candy dishes stocked full of fun size packs of Skittles and Kit Kat bars. He reached their privacy fence and immediately saw that the gate leading to the rear of the house had been padlocked. Perhaps they had finally caught on to kids using their pool, Max thought to himself.

  Behind him, he heard the car’s engine come to life and heard the car roaring down the street toward him. He threw the skateboard over the fence and jumped up as high as he could. His fingertips grabbed the top of the fence, but quickly slipped off. He abruptly fell back down to earth. It was then that he realized that should he not end up on the serving platter of some demented cannibal, working on his vertical jump would definitely be a priority.

  As the car raced closer, Max felt his heart thundering in his chest. He could feel his fears transforming into pure adrenaline. For one brief moment, he felt something stir inside of him – something electric. The world seemed to slow, and he became completely aware of himself and his surroundings. He could hear the Norman’s dog barking down the street. He could hear the crickets humming away from the bushes beside him. He could hear the rubber tires squealing on the blacktop behind him. He squatted and took another leap toward the top of the fence, barely grabbing onto the edge. He pulled himself over the top, taking caution as he swung his legs over, and then quietly dropped down to the ground below. He gracefully landed on the balls of his feet. For a moment, he felt like extending his arms high in the air to celebrate sticking the landing, but thought better of it.

  On the opposite side of the fence, he heard tires screech to a stop and a car door open. Yellow beams of light washed over the backyard through the fence. Rather than run for it, Max hunched up closer to the fence. He dropped his posterior to the ground and made himself as small as he could; he quickly brought his knees to his chest and locked his arms around them.

  Looking above him, he could see the outline of whoever was chasing him peering through the slats of the fence. Narrow beams from the headlights were shining through the small spaces between the boards, covering the ground in front of him in light and shadows.

  Sitting in the dark, Max’s heart raced. He wondered how his pursuer could not hear the echo of it beating inside of his chest. Max tried to focus on slowing his breath while he listened to the footsteps pacing back and forth on the other side of the fence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his fingertips were pulsating with a faint blue light. They looked similar to how they had in the bathroom earlier that day, only they were more pronounced – brighter. He shook his hands quietly, thinking that it was due to a lack of blood circulation. Or maybe it was due to an excess of blood circulation. Whatever it was, he knew that it was unhealthy, but he didn’t have time right now to deal with a strange medical condition.

  Breathe easy, Max thought. Breathe easy and do not panic.

  On the other side of the fence, Max heard faint beeping noises and then ringing. This seemed like a really inappropriate time to be taking a phone call in Max’s opinion. Then again, he had never chased anyone before, so what did he know.

  “I lost him,” a man’s voice said. He had a thick accent, but not one that Max recognized. It sounded a bit like Eastern European, thick but not gruff. It was smooth like a British accent, but not as formal and proper. There was a subtle hint of music in it like an Irish or Scottish accent. Max couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

  “Yes…I am sure that he is the one,” the voice said angrily into the phone.

  The one what? Max thought. He quickly searched his mental database for anyone and everyone he might have wronged over the past several months or years but came up blank. He knew that the list of elderly neighbors that he and Noah had stolen candy from was quite long, but he didn’t think that any of them would have been angry enough to chase him down through the suburbs. Being past 8 o’clock, he imagined that most of them were tucked securely into bed or having a midnight snack of liver and prunes. Max didn’t know a lot of old people, but he imagined that they ate things like liver and prunes.

  Max could hear the voice getting fainter and fainter on the opposite side of the fence. Through the space between the slats, he could see the silhouette of the man as he walked back toward his car. He rested his head against the wooden fence behind him and sighed deeply. Whatever this was all about, he had avoided it. Whatever it was, Max had come out of it victoriously. He had emerged unscathed.

  And then he felt it…

  The buzzing caused his heart to jump into his throat. In his pocket he felt his cellphone spring to life as it began to vibrate angrily. He knew that he only had a couple of seconds before the ringer would erupt and reveal his position. Panicking, he covered it with his hands through his jeans. His fingers furiously felt through the thick denim for the volume button. If he could just press it, he knew that he would be safe...

  But he was too late.

  The guitar intro to Guns ‘n’ Roses ‘Sweet Child of Mine’ ripped through the frigid night air, shattering all of Max’s hopes that this chase was over. He grabbed his board and took off toward the opposite end of the yard before he could discover the stranger's reaction.

  As he ran toward the back of the lot, he tripped the home’s motion sensor that was mounted above the swimming pool on the rear of the house. It had been installed last year when a couple of the football players had been busted skinny dipping with a few of the cheerleaders; to Max’s knowledge, Kennedy had not been involved in the incident and he was thankful for that. The bright fluorescent lights poured over the entirety of the backyard, erasing any shadows or hiding spots.

  “Give me a break,” Max said aloud as he ran. He tossed his board over the backside of the fence. In one single jump Max was able to grab hold of the top of the tall fence and swing himself over. He had jumped much higher this go around, and he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

  As Max hit the ground on the other side of the fence, he thought he saw his entire hands pulsate with a bright blue light. He stared dumbstruck at the blue palms of his hands as they quickly faded back to his normal skin tone of pale white. Max again shook off thoughts of some freak medical abnormality and chalked it up to the adrenaline. It must have been pumping so hard that it was causing hallucinations. That seemed logical. It seemed like something he might have heard about in his anatomy class once. Max forced those ideas out of his head as he sped toward the adjacent street.

  The car spun around the corner, wheels screeching along the blacktop. The car had a beat on him. Max continued to run perpendicular to it, determined that he could run fast enough to beat it. In his mind, he would dart in front of it and cross the street into the yard ahead of him. From there, he would be on his own turf – just a few blocks from home. If he couldn’t lose him at that point, he knew enough hiding spots in the area that he could wait it out.

  He felt like someone playing chicken with a train as he made his move and raced out onto the asphalt. The moment his feet touched the blacktop he knew he had made a mistake…he had mistimed his route. He found himself directly in the path of the speeding bullet.

  Max had always heard that right before you die your whole life flashes before your eyes. As that moment slowed to a stop, it wasn’t h
is life that he saw. An image of two red moons hanging over the heart of an abandoned city flashed before his eyes. He blinked once. The city disappeared. He was now looking at a large, stone castle. It was far ahead in the distance, at the end of long, winding dirt path. A solitary light illuminated from it like a lighthouse beacon calling him home. Max blinked again and saw the headlights filling his vision. As the car came within inches from striking him, Max thought he heard it accelerate.

  A second before the impending impact, Max’s instincts took over. He leapt as high as he could into the air; his hands were once again radiating with the bright blue light. He placed one of them unconsciously on the hood of the car, using it to lift his legs higher in the air to avoid the brunt of the collision. Instantaneously, the car stopped. Max tumbled head over feet, landing in a pile in the center of the street.

  The engine had died the moment Max had touched it. The air was quiet and still as Max lay on his back in the middle of street. He looked over his feet at the motionless car. The only sound he could hear was his skateboard rolling slowly down the street toward the yard ahead. Over the top of his feet, Max could see smoke rising from under the hood.

  Max heard the car door open, and he knew he couldn’t wait there any longer. He hadn’t come this far to get caught. He got to his feet hastily, leaving the skateboard behind, and booked it the rest of the way across the street, ducking behind the house on the corner.