by Chris Miller
My jaw dropped. “Sur…surgery? Nobody said anything about any surgery.”
“Ha! Gotcha! Had you worried for a sec, didn’t I? No, no, no, you won’t need surgery; just checking to make sure you were listening. I can put a check in that box now too,” he said, marking the clipboard again. From where I sat I couldn’t see his paper, but I was willing to bet it was randomly placed. I hadn’t known Dr. T very long, but I knew enough to realize he was possibly off his rocker. After all, there’s a fine line between trying to have fun and complete insanity. I was beginning to think he had already crossed that line.
“Listen, Hunter, I’ve got a series of quick questions I’m going to shoot at you, and you’re going to give me your best answer, okay?”
I shrugged my shoulders and nodded.
“Okay then,” Dr. T said, clearing his throat and posing his first question in a serious tone. “What was the last thing you remember doing?”
“Slapping your hand,” I said. Somewhere in the corner of the room, Emily stifled a chuckle. The doctor stared blankly at his clipboard, blinking for a moment before catching on to the absurdity of the question.
“Right, of course. Touché,” he said. If he smiled at all, the mustache kept it well-hidden. “I meant the last thing you remember before coming to the hospital. Just close your eyes and blurt out the first thing you see. Anything will do. Go on!”
I closed my eyes and started imagining what it was that I had done earlier that night. All at once an image came to mind.
“The fair,” I nearly shouted. “We were at the fairgrounds.”
“Good, good! It’s a start. What happened at the fair?”
With my eyes still closed I recounted my evening for him exactly as I remembered it.
“I was waiting to meet up with my friends, Stretch and Stubbs, but they didn’t show. Trista came and invited me to hang out with her. That’s when we bumped into this new kid, Rob, who was being chased by Cranton.”
“So this Cranton was a friend of yours then?” the doctor asked.
“No, I don’t think he’s anyone’s friend, not really. He just likes to pick on people for the most part. Anyway, he started chasing all three of us. We were racing through the crowds, trying to get away, and had to hide behind a hay pile in one of the livestock barns. He almost found us but…but…something happened…I can’t remember what. We ended up running to the Sky Cars and the lights went out…and…we fell….”
“You fell? You mean you fell out of the Sky Car?” Dr. T asked.
“No, the whole Sky Car just fell off the cable. But…something happened and….”
“Yes, yes, go on, what happened next?” Dr. T asked, leaning forward in eager anticipation.
“We started to fly away. That’s the last thing I remember,” I explained, realizing how utterly absurd it sounded.
“Fly away?” both the doctor and Mom said at once.
“Yes, one minute we were falling and the next we were flying.”
“In the gondola?” the doctor asked.
“Yes, the whole thing just floated up into the air,” I answered.
“But where did it take you? And how?”
I didn’t know. Something had happened…something important, but I couldn’t recall exactly what it was. I knew it was there, but the answer lay hidden behind a black cloud. I opened my eyes.
“I don’t know…that’s where my memory ends,” I answered.
“Hunter, this isn’t the time for joking around!” Mom said sternly.
“I’m not, I swear it happened just like that. Ask Rob or Trista!”
The doctor held up a hand.
“It’s okay, Ms. Brown. In fact, it’s fairly common, considering the circumstances, to have his memory be…a bit sketchy. I have no doubt that what Hunter is telling us is truly what he sees.” With that he turned and asked, “I am curious though, if you had to guess, what time would you say this happened?”
“Around nine o’clock.”
“And you said this Rob kid was with you and the girl…uh…Trista?”
“Yeah, why?”
Dr. T didn’t answer at first; instead he jotted a few notes down on his clipboard before addressing me again.
“Son,” said the doctor at last, “I haven’t heard any reports of a Sky Car falling, but you were involved in a very serious accident—a fire to be exact. We just want to make sure that everyone else involved has been accounted for and treated. You’re very lucky to be alive.”
“But I don’t remember a fire at the fair,” I said, turning to my mom and Emily for reassurance that I wasn’t insane.
“No, sweetie, the fire was at your school,” Mom said, feeling free to speak of the incident now that the doctor had started the conversation.
“But I wasn’t at the school; I was at the fair. How come I don’t remember any of this?”
Mom looked to Dr. T, who did his best to explain. “Even though you didn’t sustain any major injuries, you likely inhaled a lot of toxic smoke. We don’t know for sure yet, but I believe there were a substantial amount of chemicals mixed in the flames. It’s the most likely reason your memory isn’t completely…shall we say…intact. But don’t worry; your memory will be replaced in time. For now, however, you’ll just….”
“Replaced? Don’t you mean returned?”
“Yes, that’s what I said; it will return in time.”
It wasn’t what he said and I knew it, but there was no point in arguing with him about it now. It would only prolong his visit…and my confusion.
“Other than your temporary memory loss, I’d say you’re a pretty healthy boy. Still, I’d like to keep you overnight for observation. We’ll have you out of here by noon tomorrow. Sound good?”
“Yes,” I answered, still trying to remember anything about a fire.
Mom was smiling, clearly happy to hear that everything was going to be fine. The doctor gathered up his coffee and headed for the door. Before he left the room, he motioned for Mom to come near and whispered something to her. Whatever he said caused her face to lose its glow.
“What was that about?” I asked after he was gone.
“It was nothing. The doctor just wants me to keep an eye on you, that’s all,” Mom said. I could tell she was lying, trying to protect me from something. But what?
“Oh hey, look,” Emily interrupted, gesturing toward the television, which had been left on in the background. “The school fire made the news!”
She pointed the remote toward the TV and raised the volume.
We quickly turned our attention to the broadcast as a smartly dressed field reporter gave the update, live from the scene. In the background floodlights lit up the now blackened south wall of Destiny Hills High School. A ladder hose continued to douse the building in a preventative stream of water.
The story focused on what few facts they had. The school had been broken into after hours by what appeared to be more than one vandal. At precisely 10:48 p.m. emergency crews were alerted by a 911-call that a fire was spreading through the south wing of the school. At least two teens escaped the scene and were taken to a local hospital where they were being treated for minor injuries. Another person of interest was being held for questioning at the police station; no names were being released. Whether the fire was an arson attempt or childish prank gone wrong had yet to be determined.
At this point, the report cut away to a previously filmed interview with the lead detective on the case, Arthur Vogler. The intimidating, bald, African-American man wore his mirrored sunglasses throughout the interview. I wondered what he had to hide.
“I can assure you that the Destiny Hills Police Department is treating this investigation with the utmost seriousness. It is a crime against our school and our community and we intend to make sure that everyone involved in this reprehensible act is brought to justice.”<
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I had a sudden cold feeling at the back of my neck as Detective Vogler ended his interview. He almost seemed to be glaring straight through the camera and into my soul. I wouldn’t call the feeling fear, exactly, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling at all. I knew for certain that I was one of the teens that would soon be meeting this giant.
Mom gripped my hand tightly. Emily’s eyes darted to my face, and then quickly away. They knew something.
“Well, that’s enough of that for one night,” said Mom. Emily was already a step ahead of her, pointing the remote at the screen and killing the broadcast before it finished.
“He’s coming here, isn’t he?” I asked Mom nervously.
“Who’s coming?”
“Vogler. You know, the detective on the news.”
Mom was never good at keeping secrets. She looked down and nodded slightly. I could tell she was bothered by it too, perhaps even more than I was. After all, she had no way of knowing if I was to blame for the fire or not. Come to think of it, neither did I.
“He’ll be here first thing in the morning,” she answered, an awkward pause filling the room before she continued. “The doctor recommended they put it off until after your memory returned, but he said Vogler was very persistent. He wanted to meet you as soon as possible despite your condition. I’m sure it will be nothing, just a simple introduction to get to know you.”
“Right, he looks like the type who could use another friend,” I said with a smirk.
Mom frowned at the remark, but held her tongue. I could tell she wanted to scold me for it, but this was neither the time nor the place.
“Just promise me you’ll be on your best behavior when he does come,” she said at last. “No goofing off. The last thing we need is to give them further reason to suspect you. After all, it’s not like you’ve had the perfect record at school lately. It would be easy to…” Mom stopped short, not wanting to complete the thought out loud.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I replied. “I might not remember what happened, but I wouldn’t set the school on fire. You know that, right?”
Mom nodded. “I know that and you know that but it’s them I’m afraid of. I only hope someone else can shed some light on what happened.”
Mom was right, of course. Since I had no memory of what actually happened, the detective would be relying primarily on the testimony of the others involved in the incident, which made me wonder.
“Who else was there?” I asked.
“Just Trista…” Emily answered. Trista was good. She was a friend. But then Emily finished her sentence. “…and Cranton.”
“Cranton!” I shouted, catching the attention of the nurses in the hallway.
“Hunter, not so loud,” Mom hushed. I tried to keep my cool, but this was not good news.
“You don’t understand. Cranton hates me. He takes pride in inventing new ways to pick on guys like me.” My stomach sank. There was no way Cranton would take the fall for something he could pin on someone else…especially with the possibility of juvenile detention at stake. For all I knew, Cranton had planned the whole thing to begin with. It was probably his twisted way of getting even with me for the prank I’d pulled on him the previous year.
In an effort to calm my anxiety, Mom leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“Hey, weren’t you the one who just told me not to worry?” she said. “Look, I’m sure everything is going to be fine. We all just need to get some rest and let the morning worry about itself.”
“I wish Dad could be here,” I said, almost unintentionally. It had been a long time since I had risked broaching the subject of Dad. So much went unsaid between Mom and me lately. With the busyness of her schedule, trying to play the role of both mother and father, she carried a lot of stress on her shoulders. We kids knew this and we knew our role was not to burden her with questions that would add more stress than necessary. Even now as I said it, I could tell the words had re-opened a deep wound. Her smile faded and a fresh set of tears pooled in her eyes.
“I know, Hunter,” she sighed. “Sometimes I do too. We all miss him, but we have to accept that he’s…he’s just gone. We’re on our own now. You’re my main man, right?” She messed up my moppy blond hair a bit in a playful attempt to lighten the mood. I nodded back, silently agreeing that we would once again avoid the subject.
With that she stood up and moved toward the door. Emily followed.
“Mom,” I called out before the door closed.
“Yes,” she answered, turning toward me once more.
“I love you.” It was another one of the things we had not said lately.
“I love you too, Hunter. Try and get some sleep. Visiting hours start at eight, and I promise I’ll be the first one in line,” said Mom, closing the door behind her.
But I couldn’t sleep. Not with so many unanswered questions swirling through my mind. I wanted desperately to know what I had forgotten, but there were too many missing pieces, too many lost memories.
The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that something had happened at the fair, right after the gondola fell. Something important. Something big.
Chapter 4
The New Plan
A black fog blanketed the Underworld, providing the perfect cover for evil to lurk, an impenetrable curtain of eternal night. Throughout history, the world above had seen many changes. But for ages untold, the fog had remained untouched, undisturbed and unsearched. This ancient and undying guardian was a barrier between the world of the living and the world of the dead.
Silently, a tall determined figure cut through the haze across the desolate landscape. He came alone, and yet…he wasn’t really alone. There was the fog. There had always been the fog. Nothing escaped its touch in this place.
In spite of the bone-chilling blackness, the wanderer continued across the ashen floor, undeterred by the evil of the place. His hooded, black cloak billowed behind him as he moved with a swift, uncanny sense of direction. Black on black, his motions blended with the space around him. Were it not for a hint of light emanating from the stone atop his gnarled walking staff, the darkness would have been complete. As it was, the faint glow was more than enough. He knew his way. His path was set.
The emptiness appeared to guide him, full of dark magic and untold secrets. Out of the abyss of darkness, a single jagged white stone emerged, jutting up from the parched ground like a crooked, decaying tooth. There was a mark on its surface, a gruesome double §, the mark of the Shadow. The traveler approached the stone without fear.
He wasn’t being followed, but he glanced over his shoulder a time or two before continuing further. When his attention returned to the stone, he stooped low and touched the mark with something barely recognizable as a hand—a mass of scar tissue, gnarled, boney and dead. Almost immediately, a soft wind began to blow. The traveler backed away in anticipation of what was to come.
The first movement was subtle, as sand and small bits of rock began moving away from the stone on all sides. Layer by layer the sand peeled back, dropping to expose more of the stone buried beneath the surface. The supernatural excavation quickened until a long trench was formed by the unseen force. Giant mounds of ash rose on two sides of the stone in a sort of reverse landslide. When the last of the ground swells stopped and the movement had settled, the visitor looked over the completed structure that had been revealed beneath the ground.
Before him stood a monolithic structure in the shape of a serpentine head. The mouth was gaping wide open. Remaining bits of sand and dirt toppled down from the face of the statue like miniature waterfalls, cascading from the gaping mouth and fangs like venom. Beyond the jaws, a pair of giant doors sealed the statue’s throat, daring those who entered to be swallowed whole. Unafraid, he started his approach down the trench toward the underground entrance.
Here, amidst the deepest bl
ackness, hidden from all living things, the most secret of Shadow strongholds remained as it had for ages—known by name as Death’s Den, and rightly so, for nothing living had ever passed through its gates and survived. The Den was home to only the darkest of spirits and the souls of the damned. Here the very spirit of Sceleris, the first of the Fallen, resided.
The traveler stopped at the entrance and knelt in acknowledgement of an ancient phrase etched over the doorway. He had no need to read it; he knew it well.
BOW THE KNEE TO ENTER YEWHERE THE LIVING CANNOT BE
With a slow and mighty groan the massive doors cracked open, granting entrance at last. As Death’s doors opened, a green aura gloomed out from the statue’s throat, highlighting the traveler’s face beneath its black hood.
He appeared to be sixteen at most, a boy with light blond hair, which dangled in his face from time to time. He had a rugged look of youthful adventure and mischievousness about him. If you passed him on a city street, you might think he had his whole life before him…but this was no ordinary boy. In fact, he was no boy at all.
As he marched into the gaping mouth of the stone serpent, his features shifted to that of his true nature. His skin shriveled and darkened against his boney skull, and his black eyes disappeared entirely, leaving gaping holes where they once had been. He reached up and pulled a white skull mask down over his face.
He was a feared warrior, a mighty leader among the Shadow. His eyes were as black as midnight and his heart was darker still. He had been known by many names over the years but the title of Venator suited him best, a title bestowed on him by none other than Sceleris himself. He was the embodiment of sin, the hunter of souls and the right-hand man to Sceleris alone. At least, that is how he thought of himself.
His mission was to work on behalf of his spirit-lord in order to stop the Codebearers’ rise to power. Unfortunately, his job had become more difficult of late. He had been charged with the task of harvesting the soul of a boy, targeted by his master as a threat. He had performed this simple job on countless souls before, but this one refused to cooperate. Despite his best efforts to mislead him, something would always manage to save the boy at the last possible moment. It was exasperating to say the least.
