Connor (11 page)

The furniture was a matching white set, from the bed, the nightstand, to the dressers and even two little rocking chairs. The rocking chairs sat to the left of the closet holding porcelain dolls in each one. One doll had a crack along her face from her left eye to her lip. Holy creep factor, Batman!

Keeping my distance from the dolls, I bent down to look at a bookshelf far enough away from the chairs. The books were old but well kept. A cute closed wooden toy chest sat next to the bookshelf. I wasn't about to open it in case there were more dolls inside.

Behind me, the lamp on the nightstand started blinking uncontrollably, as if it were having a spasm. I pivoted to look at it but then felt eyes on the back of my head, I quickly turned back around, and there in the corner stood a life-size clown smiling back at me. I leaped up and ran out. Both a clown and porcelain dolls, that's just wrong.

In the hall, I passed another girl's room, I assumed, since the colors were yellow and white. What is with these color schemes? Females do like darker colors, you know; my favorite color is midnight blue, like the color of the classic Mustang.

I decided not to venture in, being that it is probably the exact replica of the pink room but instead headed to a door at the end of the hall. I turned the knob and pulled on it, but it would not open.

I kept at it until a cold chill ran down my spine. I stopped and turned around but saw nothing. I stood there a minute, waiting but brushed it off, telling myself it was my nerves. Get it together, Connor.

I decided to walk back down the hall, the way I came in, and go into what appeared to be the boy's room, since the colors were blue and red.

A Do Not Disturb sign hung from the door handle. Cute. I walked in to waste more time and see how they decorated this room. The walls covered with wallpaper were of different sports memorabilia. It seemed like a typical boy's room with trophies, sports equipment, and toy model airplanes hanging from the ceiling.

Wait a minute. I looked back at the trophies, checking the nameplates; they didn't have names on any of them.

I heard a scraping noise by the hallway, so I quickly turned around but, once again, saw nothing. Either I'm losing my mind or just paranoid. At least that's what I thought until I noticed the Do Not Disturb sign swinging back and forth from the doorknob.

Someone is in this house with us, worse yet, in this room with me now. I heard nothing nor did I see anyone, but I sensed it, and it was not a welcoming feeling.

I had my hands up, braced for anything that came at me. I slowly eased my way back across the room, my back close to the wall, inching toward the door, breath on hold. As soon as both feet touched the hallway, the door slammed shut behind me, and all the lights in the house died.

In total darkness, I jetted full speed in the hall and down the stairs, and then swung open the basement door, popping the hinges, the whole time sensing someone near me.

What were we thinking breaking into this house? We clearly did not think this through.

I pulled on the statue opening the door to the room. Tony was the first one out, with Byron a close second, both asking what gives.

Out of breath, I told them to wrap it up now, but they stood there looking bewildered.

“Now! We have company, and we are not welcomed.” I then pulled on the statue to shut the door, not waiting around. They quickly wrapped it up and hurried out as the door was closing in on them. They followed suit, running after me, no questions asked, the whole time still sensing something near me.

I ran to the woods nonstop, not caring who was behind me. My mind was reeling from all the possibilities of what could've happened to us tonight. Who was that, or what was that? Knowing something was there the whole time but not able to see it shook me from the inside out. It could have killed us, me, especially by myself. It was so angry.

I heard them calling my name, but I wanted to keep on going until I no longer felt this way. Someone grabbed hold of me, wrestling me to the ground, but I resisted making contact with someone, fighting to get him or her off me. I was in fight-or-flight mode and didn't even know or care who it was. I was just about up until someone else jumped on me, holding me down.

It was Byron and Tony sitting on top of me, shaking me out of it. They refused to get up until I promised to calm down. I told them they had three seconds to get off me or I would sneak into their rooms at night and stab them each while they slept. They did.

I got up, wiping the dirt off. We were deeper into the woods, opposite the direction of the park, but the moon gave us enough light to see. I no longer sensed anything unfamiliar near us, so I relaxed a bit but still very much cautious.

“Sorry, Connor, but you kept running in the wrong direction, and we thought you would never stop,” Tony said, bent over panting. “Dang, girl, you can run. What happened back there?”

I apologized to Byron for punching him, and he accepted, a little out of breath too. “It's okay, but I wanted to make sure the others were together before I caught you. Nice right hook. You're feisty for someone so little. Please do explain,” Byron said.

“There was someone, something in that house with us!” I all but yelled it, pointing in the direction of the house we could no longer see. I started pacing back and forth, taking deep breaths, shaking my head. I explained the rest of what happened, and they listened without any interruptions. “I kept having bad feelings about this, but I kept brushing it off, saying it was my paranoia. Wrong.”

“Wait, what, someone was in that house with us?” Willow said, looking around as if she felt someone now watching her.

“I no longer sense anyone near us, but that really doesn't mean anything, being I didn't sense it earlier tonight when we first broke in. None of us did,” I said.

“You did say that Ms. Ridgemont moved too fast for an old lady. She most likely has abilities too, may it be good or bad. Maybe it was her,” Tony said, reminding me.

“I vaguely remember you saying that, only the parts that reeked of possibilities,” Byron said. “Willow, you made a good point in the basement the other night about us all adopted around the same time. How rare is that? When you think about it, chances are they themselves have abilities too. It only makes logical sense to me that they would since they had to take care of us.”

“Yeah, he is right. Let's face it, we were so excited about finding something out, we never stopped to think what we could find,” Cheyenne said stressing the word “could”. “Maybe they are related to us or at least know our families.” “Well, if we are related to them, then they won't harm

us, right?” Willow asked, rubbing her arms.

“No, guys, listen. That in there,” I said, pointing again, “was not the women we met today. It was someone, something else. I don't know how I know, I just do. Who or whatever that was, was very angry.”

“I got a chance to look around when you were in the hidden room, and I think this house is a front for who knows what. I don't believe any kids live here. Plus, look, the woods practically surrounds this place. For what reason? The nearest neighbor is about a quarter of a mile away. Why, for seclusion's sake?” I went into detail about the inconsistencies I saw in the house, like old furniture, nameless trophies, well-kept books, and to think of it, the absurdly clean stove that looked like it was never used. There wasn't an ounce of child's clutter anywhere. I reminded Tony of the dust in the offices and told him there was a reason why it bothered me.

“None of this makes any sense really. Who could they be?” Willow said.

“No, this doesn't make sense, Willow, and that is why we are here to figure all this craziness out. We didn't plan this well, but we all saw an opportunity and took it,” Byron said, this time not so much consoling Willow but explaining the importance.

“Well, did you guys find anything important in the room?” I asked.

“We found our folders grouped together with others named Bynder, Tochia, Tanzia, Shak, Selene, and Khan. There was one on your friend's adopted brother, Vincent, attached to a folder that had a big X across the front. The name on the folder said Herina or Frina—not sure. Plus a lot of other names none of us heard of before, but who knows what we could have found if we had more time? Oh yeah, that same gibberish we saw in the basement,” Tony said.

“The thing that concerns me was the lack of consistency. There was paperwork with dates going back thousands of years ago, but the majority of the dates spanned every two hundred years or so from then to now, with few dates in between. How old is this place, and what happened during those lulls?” Byron asked.

“That gibberish in our folders ties us to this place and possibly those women you two met earlier. I believe this place is very old from the black-and-white photos I found in old-fashioned hatboxes, old paintings of people riding horse and buggies. Also, I found this book of disfigured people and distorted-looking animals with that same writing next to their pictures. We're connected to something deeper than we could ever have imagined. Now I wish we hadn't sat on this so long,” Cheyenne said.

“Why doesn't anyone come to us?” I asked. “What really pisses me off is we have to figure all of this out ourselves.” “I don't care anymore. Can we just go?” Willow asked. No one answered her, so she tried to ask again, but I cut her off. “I'm sorry, Willow, but no, absolutely not. We only know of one other, so I say we go pay him a visit. Let's track him down and see if that was him inside the house with us tonight. If not, then we force some answers

out of him to find out what he knows.

“Who's 'he,' that insane boy from your school who attacked you? No way. I would like to avoid him, thank you very much,” Willow said, looking between Byron and me. “I'm not feeling so well. I want to go home, Byron,” she said, pleading with him.

Byron said, “Any other night, yes, but not tonight. I say we see if he has some answers, or better yet, maybe he is able to control his abilities in a way where no one can see him unless he wants to.”

“I agree too, Willow. They have a point. We need to find this boy and make him talk,” Cheyenne said.

“Ditto, the only thing is we don't know where he lives,” Tony said. “Unless we make it two for two and break into the school to get it.”

“That won't be necessary, I have it. The other day in the principal's office, Scott, that is his name. I meant to tell you in the basement last night, but Vincent's folder caught me off guard. I saw him with Mr. Stuckey when Mrs. Potts, our office administrator, opened the door. His file was on her desk, but she is so dense, she forgot to take it to him when she got up to tell him why I was there, so I peeked in. His address is in here,” I motioned toward my head.

“As in one of the names on a folder we found last night. I say we don't go if we are all not in agreement, and I'm not. I'm not going,” Willow demanded. “We are talking mad. We don't know this boy. Who is to say he will be alone? I say we discuss this tomorrow, then decide what to do.”

“Why are you fighting this so hard? You're not the only one involved in this. Think about it, if no one knew about you, Byron, and I before, they do now. If they won't come to us, I say we seek them out. We have sat on this for too long. I want answers, Willow, even if you don't,” Cheyenne said, a little irritated with Willow.

“You will be safe with us, Willow, don't worry,” Byron said. “I'm hoping if we keep stirring up trouble, maybe they won't have any other choice and come to us.”

For the second time tonight, Willow didn't have a choice in the matter, especially since Byron drove her and he wanted in. I felt bad for her, but she needs to learn to face reality. Like I can talk, but at least my not facing reality is not holding me back from searching for more answers.

Since Scott lived closest to me, we drove the cars to my house and parked. On the way there, I called my parents to make sure they were not home but at the neighbor's party as planned. They go to this party every year, so I knew they would be gone all night. Tony and Cheyenne parked in front of my house, then we hopped into Byron's vehicle, and we all rode together to Scott's.

It was around nine on a Saturday night, so hopefully, he would be home; we doubted it, but we hoped. We were there in five minutes.

We parked down the block and crept into his yard. He lived on a corner with no side neighbor, so we could hop the fence without anyone calling the cops. Willow remained the lookout this time, which she preferred.

Cutting across the backyard, we stayed low and close to the house. The yard had a pool, lounge furniture, and the typical accessories like a grill, a table set, and decorations.

We peeked through each window downstairs, but his dad was the only one we saw in the living room. He had a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other and kept nodding off. I was betting he had a little too much to drink.

Cheyenne didn't see anyone else upstairs, but after what happened earlier, that didn't mean anything. The sliding door to the back was unlocked, and Tony wanted to check the house more thoroughly. I swear he had a death wish. I told him I had a better idea and to follow me. I waved them back to the fence so I could tell them my plan.

“I'm going to knock on the door to see if he is home. If he is, I will ask him to come out. I doubt he can resist another possible fight, and according to his file, he never passes one up. If he's not, then I will tell his dad I was supposed to meet him and ask if he knows where he is, okay?” I hopped the fence before they could object and ran to the front door.

I rang the bell, ignoring them calling out to me from the bushes. His dad answered the door, reeking of alcohol. I asked him if Scott was home, and as suspected, he was not. I asked if he knows where he is because I was supposed to meet up with him. He rambled on about not able to keep up with him and told me to try the old factory warehouses on the water and something about fighting. I said thank you and jogged off.

After giving me a scolding, Byron drove off under Tony's directions to the warehouses. “He's talking about the cage fights that go on there. I've heard of it but have never gone. It is supposed to be brutal. If he cage fights, Connor, then he took it easy on you.”

“Gee, thanks, Tony.” I held my own. When I was younger, I always got into trouble for beating up boys. Most little girls liked it when little boys wanted to kiss them; not me. Instead, I liked it when they kissed the dirt.

Pulling into the lot, I confirmed hearing fighting inside the warehouse. We parked under a broken post away from the other cars. We decided to infiltrate by invisibility since teens weren't allowed anyway.

Making our way to the building, we walked around until we found an opening and squeezed through a metal door that was left slightly open. There was barely any light inside, so Cheyenne led us through a maze of construction and debris. Finally making our way to the lights, we passed two guards and entered a huge room where the fighting took place.

A wave of must wafted over us, making me want to run in the opposite direction. Cheyenne, Willow, and I had to cover our noses at first. Tony and Byron hardly noticed. Typical.

It was jam-packed with adults yelling, shoving, and yes, even spitting at each other, rooting for either opponent fighting inside a barbed-wired cage in the middle of the room. There must have been about a hundred people in here tonight. Some poor person kept getting knocked down after struggling to get back up.

We managed to dodge waving arms and kicking legs while searching for Scott. I spotted him across the way and pointed him out to the others. That area must be where the contenders sit from the sweat, cuts, and bruises; some had already.

Scott sat there calmly, sweat dripping down his face, with a soaked shirt clinging to his back. He had a few cuts but not much else, unlike the others. Honestly, from his lack of expression, he didn't seem to have a care in the world. He could have easily been sitting in the park watching the birds fly by or watching paint dry.

Tony waved us over to a corner away from the crowd. “I don't think he was at the house tonight. From the looks of it, he's been here a while.”

“I agree. I doubt he'd have time to get from there to here and have already fought,” Byron said.

“Listen, remember when I said someone was following me? I didn't tell you everything. I approached the person one day, but he didn't say anything when I caught him. I asked him what he wanted, but he walked off, never answering me. It was he, Scott. I'm pretty sure he used to go to our school too, but I never knew what happened to him,” Cheyenne said.

“He was kicked out due to his odd behavior and constant fighting according to his folder, then transferred to our school,” I said.

We heard Scott's name announced by a man holding a microphone, so we made our way back to the commotion. The mention of his name made the crowd grow louder and become more hostile, if possible. Two guys were getting mobbed with bets; they could barely keep up.

Wanting to see him in action, we walked closer to the cage. If he was scared, he didn't show it. He walked in, standing still unlike his opponent, who kept hopping around, boxing and kicking the air.

The opponent was almost twice Scott's size, so I don't know how they matched the fighters. That and the fact he was a teen, even though he appeared older, and everyone else were adults. Then again, this is not legal fighting. Scott was maybe five ten with lean muscle, while this guy was at least six feet and stacked with muscles.

There was a referee in the middle, brave man, making them keep their distance until the bell rang. Once the referee stepped out the gate, it locked; a bell went off, commencing the fight. I didn't want to admit it, but something inside me secretly rooted for Scott. What's wrong with me?

They walked around and around the cage until the opponent went for Scott, and that's when things got ugly.

Scott dodged his advance and punched him right in the nose, causing blood to spew into the air and onto the floor. The man went down. Scott waited patiently off to the side as he recovered.

Scott's opponent got back up, shaking it off, danced around a bit, then swung at Scott, who grabbed his arm and punched him in the gut, causing the guy to crumble to his knees to catch his breath. Once again, Scott politely stood to the side while his opponent recovered. I don't think Scott broke a sweat yet.

The crowd was getting so insanely rowdy that the bouncers—I had not even noticed before now—were trying to contain them.

His opponent managed to get back up, holding on to the cage for support. This time Scott charged first, causing his opponent to backpedal, then the opponent charged, and Scott backpedaled. It went on like that for a while until Scott kicked his opponent in the face, knocking him cross-eyed. The guy hit the ground, and Scott was on top of him, pounding his face in until all you saw was blood.

The poor man didn't even stand a chance. I swore Scott was enjoying this way too much. A bell rang, and two referees came running in to pull Scott off the guy as he lay there limp. Both refs grabbed Scott and yanked him off the bloody guy, but not before Scott kicked his opponent in the face and spat on him.

The crowd was booing and cheering at the same time. It was a madhouse in here. Two more referees came in to carry the guy who was barely breathing out. His face was unrecognizable. Tony was right—he did go easy on me.

After the referees carried Scott's opponent completely out, they announced him the winner, but instead of him taking it all in, he immediately left the gate, collected his winnings, and headed toward the exit. We ran after him, but after fighting through the crowd, we lost him outside. He was nowhere we could see.

We decided to search for him by car in case he cut through a path somewhere by foot. While cutting across the lot, two black SUVs with tinted windows blocked us, driving around and around in a circle until we stopped moving. We huddled together.

The vehicles stopped, but only one driver, a male, got out. “You may reveal yourselves now,” and said each of our names. He was a tall muscular man with a bald head, not from old age, but done purposely. He looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place from where.

“Excuse me, my name is Shak, and I assure you that you will not be harmed unless absolutely necessary.” We did as ordered.

“Shak, as in one of the names on the folders, Shak. What do you want?” Tony asked.

“Better question, how could you see us? Who are you?” Cheyenne asked.

Ignoring both questions, Shak told us to get in either vehicle.

“No way, buddy, not on your life,” I said. “I'm not hopping into a car with a stranger.”

Tony grabbed my arm and said, “We know you. You're Ole Man Johnston, the caretaker at our school.” A chill ran down my spine. He was right. “But how, why? What is going on?”

When Tony stepped closer to Shak to reiterate, the second driver, another male, got out of the second vehicle, got off the phone, and said, “Get in, or we will forcibly put you in. I have no problem doing the latter of the two. Actually, I would prefer it.” He was a tall, muscular man who looked every bit intimidating as intimidating could get, and the scar on his left cheek didn't help.

The second driver walked over to Shak and I overheard him say Scott got away cutting through the woods on foot, so they will check out his usual spots. He then walked back over to the vehicle, appearing more pissed than before.

“I would do as he says. Please get in. That will be the last time I ask,” Shak said, smiling as he started to apply black gloves.

I don't remember him asking, but that is irrelevant right now; my safety is, and the fact that he was applying gloves was not a good sign.

The second man opened the back door to his SUV then proceeded to walk toward us. Not wanting to take on two men who obviously meant business, we obliged, and the second man stopped walking.

Somehow, I wound up in the vehicle of the scarier guy with Tony. I'm pretty sure it was Willow who shoved me out the way so she could ride with the nicer of the two mystery men. Probably to get me back for suggesting we follow Scott in the first place. Maybe Byron was right about them coming to us; at least I hope they were on our side, or we're screwed.

We rode in silence to the unknown. I figured asking our chauffeur, but that would be a most likely a waste of time.

I wasn't sure we were heading back toward my house until he turned down my block, but he stopped in front of my neighbor's house, Mrs. Nosy Palmer a.k.a. Secret Service, instead of mine. You have to be kidding me. This keeps getting better and better.

He got out, opening the back door for us. He nodded toward her house, “Walk to the back. I will be right behind you.” We got out, no questions asked. The other SUV was nowhere in sight. We walked to the back of the house with the scary man on our heels. Climbing the back stairs, Mrs. Palmer, or whoever she really is, opened the door for us. “Sorry about this, Connor, but we had no other choice. Down the stairs, the two of you.” Pointing to her basement door, she sounded like her typical irritating self.

I didn't appreciate the way they were treating us, but we wanted this right, well, answers? Half of me wanted to scream at her and resist, but the other half wanted the truth, so for now I behaved.

I hadn't been in her basement in years, and it looked much different from what I remembered. It was spacious, well lit, and spotless. Now it's decorated in vintage colors like red and white with an orange splash, with perfectly arranged furniture and a few pictures of fruit. Hello, seventies.

“The others will be here soon,” was all she said then locked us in.

We looked at one another for a second, like did that door just click. We turned running up the stairs, tripping over each other, trying to get to it first. I banged on it as Tony tried to open it. I started yelling for Mrs. Palmer to come open the door.

“Umm, Connor, I'm pretty sure she is not coming back since she locked us in here in the first place,” he said like it was my fault.

“Umm, you don't have to be so sarcastic, you know. It doesn't hurt to try.”

“Step back,” he ordered. I got out of the way as he went full ram into the door. It didn't even budge. He did it about five more times until he gave up, holding his shoulder, expressing a full array of colorful words.

“I thought they brought us here to give us answers. His name was Shak, as in one of the names on the folders grouped with ours.” He continued beating the door with his fist. “That's definitely not wood, more like reinforced titanium.”

“Okay, calm down. I don't know, Tony, they kind of didn't tell me that part of the plan. Yeah, I thought we were going to get answers too. She said the others should be here soon, so let's wait and see what happens.”

We said we would give it fifteen minutes. For now, we searched for something to break down the door, but we found nothing. There were only two couches, two chairs, and an empty bar, as in not even any bottles. The pictures were more like paintings, which meant no glass for weapons. Aggravated and disgusted, we sat on the steps trying to figure out what to do next.

“No, I hate to say it, but I never suspected her of anything except being nosy,” I said when Tony asked about suspecting Mrs. Palmer of anything.

“What about the so-called janitor, Ole Man Johnston. Who would have suspected him of anything with his fake limp? I would see him around my neighborhood, thinking he lived by me. Man, I'm pissed. For months we've been digging for answers, and there they were right in front us this whole time,” Tony said.

“Shh, I hear something.” Running back upstairs, I listened. There was a car pulling into the driveway and the garage door closing. I hope that it was the others. It had only been five minutes, but it felt more like hours.

I gave the play-by-play to Tony, who suggested we should run out as soon as the door opened. I agreed; this basement was getting a little too claustrophobic for me.