Unleashed: A Rouen Chronicles Origin Story

by Raven Steele

  Albert drove fast, ignoring stop signs and darting through the scarce traffic of Coquille. The cold, fall air should’ve chilled him at this speed, but he was warm, almost feverish.

  “Where are we going?” Mindy yelled over the roaring sound of the bike’s engine.

  “I thought we’d go to the coast,” he called back. She didn’t protest so he guessed it was okay.

  Albert took the back roads to Bandon. There’d be no cops there, and even better, the roads were super windy. Just the way he liked them. He went fast, pushing on the brake only when he felt the back tire begin to slip. Cottonwoods and tall elms, shoved occasionally to the side by fat pine trees, pushed up against the road, squeezing it as if to make the pavement smaller. That’s how all of Oregon felt to him: constricting.

  Except for now.

  He punched through the dense forest, his driving skills having gone up several notches. He knew when to lean, how far, how fast the bike could go before it would crash and burn. All his senses were acutely aware of what was going on around him, especially Mindy’s warm palm pressed against his stomach.

  When they reached Bandon, Albert didn’t drive to the beach like he’d intended. Instead, he stopped in front of his old high school, wondering how he’d managed to go there everyday for four years.

  Most of the lights were off, but a few classrooms were still lit up—teachers who had nothing better to do on a Friday night. One of them would be his old science teacher Mr. Adam’s. That guy had no life except for his experiments. Even thinking about the dead fetal pig he had to dissect his senior year made him smell formaldehyde.

  “What are we doing here?” Mindy asked.

  “This is my old school,” he said.

  “I hate this place.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “This is where I lost the state swim meet last year.”

  Albert moved off the bike and looked at her. “Retribution?”

  She took off her helmet and stared at the school. Her nose flared, marring her pretty face. “Hell, yes.”

  “Let’s go then. I know a way in.”

  She followed close behind him, holding his hand tightly. The tall trees surrounding the school kept them well hidden until they found the back entrance, one that was rarely used except by the janitor.

  Mindy looked around. “Won’t the door be locked?”

  “Yeah, but I know its weakness. Me and my friends used to sneak in here to use the pool.” He removed a pocketknife from within his pocket and jammed it into the keyhole. After a couple of turns and twists, the door popped open.

  “Lock’s broken. Even the janitor has to jockey it,” he said.

  “Won’t teachers hear us?”

  “Relax. The pool’s secluded. Of course if you start moaning too loudly, we might get caught.” He smacked her butt when she walked by him into the school.

  “That’s not what I’m here for, so don’t get any ideas,” she said over her shoulder.

  “We’ll see about that.” Albert moved in front of her. “This way.”

  He turned on his cell phone; a dim light spread before them.

  “We just have to cut through the cafeteria and down a hall. Then we’ll be at the locker rooms. Stay close,” he whispered.

  She stayed behind him, her hand touching his back. Albert couldn’t believe how well the night was going. Just like the first time he’d taken the concoction, he could do no wrong. And if the night continued to go his way, he was going to get lucky.

  “You sure know your way to the girl’s locker room,” she said after he flipped on a light.

  Their reflection appeared in a mirror opposite them. Mindy was right. His hair was darker. He smiled and stepped closer to her.

  “I learned a lot in this room,” he lied. Truth was he’d only been in here once before when he had to get towels for the boy’s locker room.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t think you’re going to teach me anything.”

  “Of course I am. Why else did you want to come here?” He was surprised by how he was talking to her. So confident and carefree. The more he spoke, the braver he became.

  “To do some damage. Retribution, remember, Gage?”

  That name. Gage. “Say my name again.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Gage.”

  He smiled. At first he wasn’t sure he liked the name he’d made up, but now he loved it, even more so than his middle name, the name everyone knew him by at school. Albert slipped his finger under the strap of her tank top. “How about we replace a bad memory with a good one?”

  “That’s what I want, too, but I don’t want that memory to involve bumping and grinding in a sweaty locker room, okay?” She turned away and headed toward the pool.

  Normally something like this wouldn’t have bothered him. Very little did. But for some reason, Albert suddenly hated her. He hated her strawberry-smelling hair, the sway of her hips, her white flesh.

  He took hold of her arm and spun her around. “We’re not finished.”

  She pushed him away. “Yes, we are. I’m getting out of here.”

  Albert grabbed Mindy again and this time he didn’t let go. She opened her mouth to scream, but he covered it with his hand. “Chill out! I just want to talk to you, not hurt you. What’s your problem?”

  The feel of her body struggling beneath his grip, excited him more than the sight of her flesh had earlier. He squeezed her to his chest and grinned when her back popped in several places. Her eyes bulged, but not with fear—with anger. Her knee came up hard, connecting with the one spot that would make him let go. He doubled over and fell to his knees.

  “You prick!” she yelled and kicked him in the stomach. She turned to walk away, but he reached out and grabbed her ankle hard. His unexpected move caught her off guard and she fell, smashing her head into the end of a wooden bench. Her neck snapped back, and the sound of bones cracking echoed in the tiled room. She remained still, face sideways on the floor.

  He caught his breath and sat up. “Mindy?”

  Nothing.

  He nudged her leg. “Get up. Quit kidding around.”

  Silence.

  Albert crawled to her and smoothed back her hair. Mindy’s blue eyes were open, like the still eyes of a china doll. “Mindy?”

  He touched his fingers to her clammy neck. When he couldn’t find a pulse, he stood and looked down at her dead body, thinking he should feel something: anger, pity, sadness, or even fear. But he felt no emotion. It was as if he were looking at nothing more than an abstract painting.

  He wouldn’t have hurt her, not really, but a girl who breaks into a swimming pool at night with a practical stranger has to be easy. Ask any guy. Would one kiss have hurt? Maybe if she hadn’t been such a prude, she wouldn’t have ended up dead on a dirty floor.

  Wiping his hands on his pants, Albert wondered what to do with the body. As far as he knew, no one had seen Mindy go with him. And he’d given her a fake name so if she had told her friends about him, the police would never connect him to this unfortunate accident.

  He decided to do nothing. Too much work. After stepping over the body, Albert shut off the lights and made his way to the darkness outside. Maybe he could still find something to do. It was still early after all.

  Chapter 3

  Claire wiped water droplets from the patrol car’s chrome bumper with a dry towel. “There you go, Smith. All done.”

  “Thanks, Claire. And keep the change,” he said, handing her a fifty dollar bill.

  She looked up, surprised. “Thanks!”

  Ever since her dad went away a few years ago, Brent Smith, the Captain of Bandon’s Police Department and her dad’s former friend, had kept tabs on her. She was glad someone had.

  Before Smith rolled up his window, he said, “Good luck in Portland. I know you’ll do well.”

  She waved goodbye. We’ll need all the luck we can get. If they rocked it in Por
tland, there was a good chance they’d sign a record deal. She turned to Kate. “So what does that put us at?”

  Kate rummaged through dollar bills in her threadbare wallet. “Um, eighty-nine dollars.”

  Steph tossed a wet rag to the pavement and sat down. Her pink drumsticks stuck out of the back of her belt like bunny ears. “So we only have a million more to go.”

  Her head slumped onto her knees, spilling straight, brown hair across her short legs.

  “Technically we only need maybe a thousand more, enough for gas and hotels, and hopefully food for three days, so quit being such a pessimist,” Kate told her while readjusting her red hair back into a ponytail.

  “Yeah, we got this. We’ve done it before, right?” Claire said, remembering the time they’d raised $800 to turn Steph’s garage into a decent studio. Before the remodel, the rundown garage had been a nightmare to practice in. It was as hot as the Mojave Desert and the walls were so thin neighbors were always yelling at them to shut-up.

  “Here comes another customer,” Kate said.

  Claire turned around just as an old, seventyish-looking car with a long front and back pulled into the school’s parking lot. When it stopped, she walked up to the dark tinted windows. Her tanned reflection and dark hair reflected back. She looked down at her shoes and waited for a second, wondering why the driver wasn’t rolling his window down or opening his door.

  Finally she rapped on the window. “Hello? You need a car wash? It’s ten dollars.”

  The window rolled down. Claire almost stumbled when she saw who was inside. Gary, the security guard from almost a week ago, was grinning or sneering, she couldn’t tell which.

  “Hello, Claire,” he said. The words barely slipped past his tangled mustache.

  For the first few days after running from Bodian, she was paranoid that Gary or the scientist would find her, but when nothing happened she’d almost forgotten the event altogether. But seeing Gary now, she remembered his threats and the strange conversation she’d overheard.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  He rubbed his palms over the steering wheel. “A lot, but you can start with washing my car, the hood first. I want it nice and wet.”

  Claire crossed her arms to her chest. “We’re closed. Done for the day. Sorry.”

  She turned to walk away.

  “Are these your friends, Claire?” he asked. “People you care about?”

  She kept walking.

  Kate hurried over to her.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, but smiled big to Gary. “We need every penny we can get.”

  “Not from this creep.”

  “When are we going on that date?” Gary called. “There’s a lot we got to say to each other.”

  Kate looked back at Claire. “Is he for real?”

  “Like I said, the guy’s a creep.”

  Kate straightened and stepped next to her. “Sorry, but she’s right. We’re done for the day, but you can get your car washed at the gas station just up the street.”

  Claire didn’t turn around. When she imagined him staring at her backside, she forced a shiver from erupting on her skin. She didn’t want him to know how he affected her. After a tense few seconds, the car finally drove away.

  “Was that a stalker fan?” Steph asked. She was still sitting down.

  “Something like that.” Claire tossed her wet rag toward a bucket of water ten feet away. She missed.

  “So when’s Logan coming?” Kate said. “I thought he was going to help.”

  Logan, Claire’s best friend, stood in as the band’s bass player whenever they needed someone. They’d needed him the last six months.

  “He is, but he had to pick his dad up from work,” Claire said.

  Steph stood up and slapped her wet rag back and forth on the ground, spraying water in every direction. “With the amount of people who work at Bodian, you’d think they’d have a bus going in and out of town.”

  “Isn’t that where Ethan’s dad works too?” Kate asked.

  Claire startled at the name. “Ethan Reynolds? What made you think of him?”

  “Check it out,” Kate said.

  From down the road, two familiar bullet bikes raced toward them.

  Kate smoothed her hair back and smacked her lips. “No fighting Claire, okay?”

  Corey Jenkins, who’d moved here their junior year in high school, and his best friend, Ethan Reynolds, pulled into the parking lot. Corey stopped his bike inches from hitting Kate, but Ethan hung back. That seemed to be his thing. And being their school’s valedictorian. Claire had always been envious of Ethan’s brain and laid back nature. That’s why she’d fallen hard for him a couple of years ago, but then Valerie had died and she’d had that whole incident with her father. Corey moving to town was just another blow. Ever since then, she and Ethan rarely spoke.

  “Hey, Kate,” Corey said. “You’re looking good in white.”

  Claire moved next to her protectively and asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Corey was the only boy she couldn’t stand in Bandon. Last year he and Kate had dated for almost eight months, but it ended badly when Kate caught him cheating with a sophomore. Even though Kate was the one who had broke it off, it was obvious she still liked him. Claire hoped after they graduated, they’d never have to see him again.

  Corey raked his fingers through his sandy, blond hair. “I hear you guys are raising money for your band. What’s the name again? Lame Addiction?”

  He laughed, and Kate joined in.

  Claire looked at her, appalled. “That’s not funny, Kate.”

  “It’s Grave Addiction,” Steph said. She continued to slap at the ground with the rag.

  Kate’s smile faded when she saw that Steph didn’t like Corey’s joke either. “What do you need, Corey?”

  “Our bikes washed.” His eyes stayed on Kate.

  “We don’t do bikes,” Claire said.

  Corey turned to her. “Why not? I hear you do everything else.”

  “You’re such a—”

  “Of course we’ll wash your bikes,” Kate interrupted, rolling her lucky guitar pick in and out of her fingers.

  “How much?” Ethan asked from behind Corey. He raised his sunglasses to his forehead, pushing back dark, shaggy hair.

  “Five dollars for both,” Kate said.

  “Ten,” Claire corrected.

  “Does the principal know you’re here?” Corey asked. “Last I heard you had to be an actual student to earn money on school property.”

  “Mrs. Summers said it was fine.”

  “Since when does it matter what a secretary says?”

  “Since when does it matter what you say?”

  Corey paused, then said over his shoulder, “Hey Ethan, weren’t you just saying you saw Claire’s mom on the street corner turning tricks last night?”

  Claire kicked the front of Corey’s bike as hard as she could, nearly knocking it and Corey to the ground. Both Corey and Ethan jumped from their bikes, Corey to lash back at Claire, and Ethan to stop him.

  Corey reached for Claire over Ethan’s shoulder.

  “Lay off, man,” Ethan was saying, trying to calm Corey down.

  “Let him go,” Claire said, adrenaline coursing through her blood. “I heard he hits like a girl!”

  Kate pulled her back. “Chill out, Claire!”

  By this time Steph was standing too.

  “Why don’t you get more towels?” Steph asked, nudging her in the opposite direction. “I didn’t bring enough.”

  “You want me to drive all the way home?” Claire asked, resenting the distraction. Her house was ten minutes away.

  “No. Just borrow some from the girl’s locker room. No one will know.”

  “Unless I tell,” Corey said. “Then you’ll have to donate all that money to the school or something.”

  “I guess we’ll owe you one,” Kate said, touching his arm.

  Claire picked up Steph’s wet towel
and tossed it at Kate.

  “I’ll be right back,” Claire said and stomped off. What was Kate’s problem? You’d think she would’ve learned by now.

  She threw open the front door of the school and kicked the nearest garbage can. Mrs. Summers stuck her head out the office door. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry,” Claire mumbled.

  “What do you need?”

  “I have to use the bathroom. And…” She went out on a limb. Mrs. Summers, the high school’s secretary, had never let her down before. “Can we borrow some towels from the girl’s locker room?”

  Mrs. Summers shrugged, making her shoulder-pads and red, curly hair bounce. “Help yourself. Just make sure you wash and return them this week. I think the swim team’s going to start summer practice soon.”

  “Thanks. We will.” Claire smiled and walked to the rear of the empty school. She took a left into the locker room, leaving the lights off as there was just enough light spilling in from the natatorium that she could see the towels sitting on a shelf nearby.

  She must not have been paying attention to where she was going because all of a sudden she tripped. She thrust her hands out to break her fall, but not before smacking her head against the tiled floor. Moaning from an instant headache, she rolled over and sat up to see what had tripped her. An odd figure lay several feet away. A blanket? No, too hard. Was that a hand?

  Claire tried to stand to turn the lights on, but her head spun. She sat back down on the floor. The natatorium’s faint light wasn’t enough to make out details, but something looked very wrong with the heap in front of her. And felt wrong, too.

  She moved closer, crawling on her hands and knees, while her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. She reached out and touched the hard form. Her fingers grazed what felt like skin, but it was cold, as cold as the tiled floor.

  She leaned forward, but still couldn’t tell what she was looking at. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and turned it on in the direction of the object. Only inches from her face, dull light illuminated the frozen, milky, white eyes of a girl, a dead girl.

  Claire screamed and scrambled backwards, dropping her phone with a clatter that shattered her nerves.