Amber Eyes (31 page)

Nobody’s gonna find your body, Alexandra.

I retched again. An endless retch that arched my body forward and made me feel like I was choking. I put my hands on my knees, praying I’d actually puke. However, instead of puking, another bolt of pain ran up my body as soon as my broken leg touched the floor. I collapsed, but Yago grabbed my arm, preventing my fall. It felt like Big Foot was reducing my arm to crumbs.

“You’re not gonna play the, I’ve-just-fainted trick, girl.”

I gulped. “You… you’re not gonna kill me.” My teeth clattered. I was scared to death. “Are you?”

He pulled out his gun and caressed my cheek with it, glaring at me. The gun felt hot, and it smelled like something burnt—the strong and unpleasant stench of gunpowder. Without a word, he released me. I leaned on the banister, holding to it with both hands as hard as I could, again only on one foot. I felt I couldn’t breathe and needed more air. The house was shrinking on me. Every second it felt smaller and smaller until it would crush me within its walls. I looked up and around me, feeling the ceiling and the walls closing on me like somebody pushed them from behind. Soon, I’d have to duck. I wanted to get outside, not to run away from Yago, but because I needed more air and more space. I had to get out of this shrinking mad house.

Yago backed off until he stood a foot away from the large, beautiful window, not broken but intact. It glistered under the main-hall, gigantic chandelier’s light. He raised his gun, closed an eye, extended his arm and aimed the gun at me. I cringed.

I was so afraid, I almost wetted myself. I actually wanted to do it, but I didn’t. I held it. If he was gonna kill me, I’d die with dignity. I was a Zimmerman despite anything else, and this was my house. Nevertheless, I was terrified. My heart beat so fast I almost chocked—I felt the beating in my throat. I started to see tiny dark spots and sudden flashes of light, like someone was taking pictures behind me, but I didn’t collapse or cringe. I stood glaring at him. I stared right into his eyes and hated him so much he should be afraid of me.

Yago’s face turned ashen watching whichever movie, fireworks, stars, or universe my hate projected. I concentrated on how much I loathed him and on how much Laura and he had hurt me. I thought of all the pain I’d endured for so many years feeling inferior. I released all my feelings of not fitting in and hiding behind dark sunglasses denying myself. He pulled the gun down and licked his lips, breathing hard and not daring to break our eye contact. His nostrils flared and several thick sweat drops trickled down his forehead.

Then I saw Aaron Zimmerman and Laura behind him. He slapped her and she cried, “You, bastard!”

Something told me I had one single chance—it was now or never. A burst of adrenaline invaded me. It didn’t matter if my leg was broken or whether I was physically unable to succeed. The unbearable pain or the terror I was experiencing, didn’t matter. An adrenaline-fuelled turbo engine jettisoned me toward Yago while I held both arms extended in front of me.

Overtaken by terror, Yago opened his eyes wide and shook his head in denial. For one second, he stood rigid, breathing even faster, then something like a shockwave hit him before I even touched him. It shoved him backwards until he hit the window. Trapped against it, Yago’s eyes popped out of their sockets and he raised his arms protectively to his face. A primal scream escaped his lips, “No!”

Yago and Aaron were occupying the same space, Aaron’s transparent figure superimposed on Yago’s solid body. Laura shoved me aside and I fell to the floor, but I got up fast on all fours and raised my head.

Laura fixed her glassy amber eyes on me. “One killer in the family is more than enough, Alexandra.”

She rammed both of them. Yago and Aaron broke the window at the same time, falling in unison. They smashed it with the sound of an explosion and disappeared in the night, swallowed by the darkness. Shards rained on me—I lowered my head and closed my eyes, folding my two arms over my head to protect it. A cry filled the air and then a loud thud one story below.

Then nothing. Nothing but a continuous buzzing in my ears.

July 5, 00:23 pm

I screamed, and so did Laura. She’d just saved my life, but I couldn’t understand why. I only hoped Yago hadn’t been killed like Aaron Zimmerman had. Maybe, he deserved a broken leg or something of the sort, but not death. His twins needed their father.

My leg’s killing pain returned like a bad memory. I bit my lip, then I broke into sobs as the incidental sting turned into a continuous flow of ache.

Meanwhile, the buzzing in my ears grew louder and louder until I realized it came from outside the house. I raised my head. It was the hum of dozens of voices generated by a mob outside the mansion.

It was then when the banging started. Hordes of people were pounding at the doors, demanding to be allowed inside to meet the managing director. After two or three minutes, one of the towering doors collapsed and a mad, disorderly crowd flooded the house. Many people, dozens, hundreds. Men and women out of control. They fell upon the house like a swarm of mad bees falling on a thief stealing their honey. In an instant, they smashed the beautiful mirrors and beat the fine furniture with baseball bats. They ransacked the place. Some men were even urinating on the carpets, laughing like crazy. One had a gun he fired into the air several times. I wanted to shut my eyes, but I didn’t. I had to check what those bastards were doing to my place.

A huge blonde guy resembling Yago, but much younger, pointed at the stairway and cried, “He’s upstairs!” A group stampeded after him.

Another shot was fired into the air. There was a snapping sound like the cable of an elevator breaking in a horror movie. Everybody in the hall looked up and screamed. The chandelier fell in a straight line down from the ceiling, while its electric cable tossed sparks in every direction.

The mob climbing upstairs froze and contemplated the chandelier with terrified eyes and mouths wide open. The main hall had been so packed that the people simply couldn’t move from under it. It crashed on them and onto the floor with the sound of all the glassware in the world breaking at once. Screams and shrieks filled the air. The small crowd upstairs, now stampeded downstairs.

The lights went off and silence followed.

# # #

In utter darkness, my shaky fingers kept hitting the wrong icon every time I touched Edward’s cell phone screen.

“Please, God, please,” I prayed as I sobbed. “Lemme dial.”

I was finally able to open the address book and hit Edward Torrent’s name. A matter-of-fact voice answered, “Torrent.”

“Sir? Sheriff?” I could barely talk. I doubted he could hear me.

“Edward?” the sheriff asked. In the background, I could hear music. “Talk louder, I can’t hear you.”

“I’m… not Edward,” I said. “I’m… Justin, the new kid,” I paused. “I’m camping… with Edward and the guys…”

“I know who you are. Are you okay, son? Is Edward with you?”

For some moments, I couldn’t speak. The pain in my leg was killing me. “Edward’s with me.”

My trembling voice must have told the sheriff something was wrong because, very slowly, he said, “I would like to speak to Edward then.” His next line was a command. “Hand him the cell phone.”

I sobbed loudly, fearing Edward could well be dead.

“I can’t hear you, kid. Speak louder. What did you say?”

I tried to shout, but I could only whisper. “Edward’s injured. He can’t answer the phone.”

“Listen to me very carefully, kid.” The sheriff’s tone was even and flat as if nothing had happened, but I heard him gulping. “I need you to answer some simple questions. Can you answer some questions?”

I tried to control my sobs. “Yes. I can.”

“First, where are you guys?”

I blurted faster than I’d expected. “In Magnolia Hall.”

“At the camp?”

I was breathing hard and should have sounded to the sheriff like one of those pervs who harass people on the phone. “No, not at the camp.”

“Where in the estate are you then?”

I coughed. “In the mansion.”

“In the mansion?” The sheriff seemed surprised.

“Yes.”

“And you said Edward’s injured?”

“Yes… he is.”

“How severe?”

I couldn’t understand what he wanted to know, or didn’t want to understand it. I almost yelled, “What do you mean?”

The answer came in the same matter-of-fact tone. “I mean, son, how bad is Edward injured? Is he losing blood, is he unconscious?”

I broke into sobs again, loud and uncontrollable ones. “Really bad… Freakin’ bad! He might be dead.”

# # #

I crawled downstairs for what seemed ages to me until I reached Edward’s body. It didn’t matter if there was nothing I could do for him. I
had
to be with him. I owed him. He’d tried to save me and forgot about his own safety. He simply did it. So, I couldn’t leave him alone despite my own injuries. I had to be by his side comforting him as much as possible until help came.

Even if he was dead—
God forbid!
—I had to stay by his body, watching him. We had become Boy Scout buddies. A Scout is loyal, friendly, brave, and a dozen more things. I had to be all that at once now that he needed me so much.

When I finally reached the foot of the stairway, I knelt beside him in the dark. The air smelled strange—a blend of dust, blood, and sweat. Yes, the house’s dust flooded my nostrils, even though the most powerful odors were Edward’s blood and my sweat. He was covered in blood and I was damp with sweat, so much that the Lycra shirt stuck to my body like a second skin. What was completely out of place was the lavender aroma hanging in the air.

When Edward had stumbled down the stairway, he’d fallen face down. Now, he laid face up, half resting on the first steps, gasping. Not heavily, but he gasped anyway. There was a large, dark spot on his trousers. Yago had shot his thigh and it was bleeding profusely. The rest of his Boy Scout uniform was half stained with blood, and his face and arms were bruised. When I caressed his cheek with the back of my fingers, he opened his eyes and stared at me.

“Call my old man.” I’d barely heard him, he couldn’t talk.

“I’ve already did. He’s on his way.”

“I’m not gonna make it, Justin,” he paused and gasped for some air.

I didn’t want to look, but I force myself to. It was only a wounded leg. It’d have been worse had he been shot in the chest. “You’ll make it, Edward. It’s not that bad.”

“Where’s the guy?”

“Dead, maybe. He fell out of the window.”

“How come?”

“I pushed him.” Well, not exactly, but if I told him a ghost had, he’d thought I’d gone nuts.

Edward coughed, opening his eyes wide. “You… what?”

“I pushed him.”

Edward grimaced and pressed his leg with a hand. This feeling of being pathetically useless seized me. I needed to do something to help him, but I was clueless. I caressed his hair and he closed his eyes.

“Your old man’s on his way,” I said. “Bear with me a li’l bit more.” I patted his cheeks. “Open your eyes, Edward.”

He did and I sighed in relief. “There are ghosts here, Edward. Did you know? Jorge was right. I’ve just seen a bunch of them”.

He’d think I’d gone crazy, but I didn’t mind. I needed to keep him awake and the ghosts were the only thing I could think of. Edward frowned. He was looking at me, but also over my shoulder. “Ghosts? Like her?” He raised his arm a bit and pointed at something behind me.

Laura, my mother, stood in the nightgown she wore the night she pushed Aaron through the window. Now I knew where the lavender fragrance came from. Her gaze seemed lost, focusing on nothing and somehow wandering from Edward to me, to the empty house around us, to the void.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Her ghostly form flickered. “I’m so sorry. You were almost killed and it would have been my fault.”

Was Mom actually there? Had she come all the way from Florida? It should be a shock for her to be back in the place where everything happened, but I was thrilled she’d finally come for me. “Mom!”

“Don’t call me… Never mind. I’m glad you’re okay.” We both extended our hands but I couldn’t touch her. Mine went through hers like she was a hologram… or a ghost.

“Oh.” I sighed in disappointment. For one second, I’d thought she’d changed.

“I’m really sorry, Alexandra. I did everything wrong and you didn’t deserve it. My bad. If I only could do anything for you…”

“You can come and pick me up.” Talking to her ghost felt odd. I wasn’t sure if it make any sense, but there were so many things I wanted to tell her. I felt so very angry because she dumped me, but at the same time, I fell glad she was here, even if it was not exactly her.

“I can’t,” she said. “Not anymore. Hope you can ever forgive me.”

Or course I could. I had thought I hated her, but I couldn’t. She was my mom. Who could hate their own mom?

“Mom…” I begged. She crumbled into a fine, golden dust, like Tinkerbell’s fairy dust. “Mom, I love you!”

A shockwave of lavender fragrance hit us like a strong gust of wind. In that moment, Edward fainted.

July 5, 1:03 am

Edward’s dad didn’t arrive alone but brought a small crowd with him: about 10 cops in three cars howling their sirens, an ambulance with three paramedics, and another ambulance that arrived later after they realized two of us were injured. Also, a group of firefighters in one of their engines, dunno exactly why—maybe they thought there might be people trapped inside the mansion. The firefighters brought with them two portable flood lights that cast their blinding beams on the mansion’s front so it actually looked like the movie scene of a disaster.

In round figures, it was about 25 people. The first ambulance didn’t lose any time. They took Edward to the nearest hospital, immediately. I heard the paramedics telling sheriff Torrent that he had lost a lot of blood and that he was in a critical condition.

I fainted or fell asleep after they took Edward away. First, I was lying at the foot of the stairway holding Edward’s hand. I closed my eyes for a second when the paramedics put him on a stretcher. Next, when I opened my eyes, I was on a gurney inside an ambulance parked on the tall grass in front of the mansion. A paramedic had put a splint on my leg and was injecting something in my calf.