Exodus (15 page)

Hanson grinned as he scanned the kitchen.  His dark brown eyes set deep back into his head swept from side to side.  He grinded his yellowing teeth and took a step forward coming into full view.

Steve jumped to his feet at the sight of Hanson.  An anger welled inside of him, blocking out any sense of pain.  Reaching into his pocket, he took out his keys and threw them at Mit, then charged Hanson in a full sprint.

Hanson was still gazing around the kitchen, his mind taking a moment to compute what was going on.  Before he had a chance to react, Steve was on him.  He flung himself on Hanson wrapping his arms around his massive waist.  The sheer force knocked them both out of the kitchen and they toppled into the backyard in a tangled heap.

Steve landed on top of Hanson and began to rain down blows.  Hanson was still bewildered, but his natural instinct to harm others kicked in and he grabbed Steve’s arm and tossed him like a gnat.  Steve landed on his feet and slid to a stop.  He turned and looked up at Mit who was staring at him from the hole in the kitchen.

“Get to the car!”  Steve yelled as he charged back at Hanson like a crazed lion.

With the help of Nickie, Mit grabbed Mikey then snagged the duffle bag with his other hand.  Stumbling, he rushed out of the demolished kitchen and tore down the side of the house.

Without looking back, they ran around to the alleyway where Steve’s red Camaro sat.  Mikey collapsed onto the hood of the car as Mit tossed the bag into the back.  Nickie stood near the front of the car mumbling to herself, trying to regain her composure.

“We can’t…we can’t just leave them.” Mikey huffed, wincing in pain.

“I’m not.  I’m going back.”  Mit sighed then turned to Nickie.  “Nickie.  Nickie!  Help Mikey in the car and keep it running.”

Nickie nodded her head and grabbed Mikey by the arm.  Mit turned and took off towards the house.  As he rounded the corner into the backyard, he stopped short staring wide eyed at the tangled mess of limbs.

Steve and Hanson were rolling over one another locked in a deadly battle.  Just as Hanson started to squeeze the life out of Steve, he slipped from his grasp and jumped to his feet.

While Hanson was obviously the stronger of the two, Steve was fast and lean.  He moved around Hanson like an annoying fly, kicking and punching him, just barely avoiding his trunk like arms as they swung in his direction.

“Get Mr. Clark!”  Steve yelled as he delivered a soccer kick to Hanson’s face which seemed to do little more than annoy him.  Hanson grunted angrily as he swiped at Steve, but found only air.

  Mit zigzagged around them and dove into the kitchen.  The floor was littered with toppled over appliances and chunks of plaster that had fallen from the wall.  Mit rolled across the floor and hopped to his feet.  He sprinted around the corner and slid into the living room.

Mr. Clark was standing in front of the door.  He held several bottles of a shiny red liquid in his hand and was shouting out random insults as he threw them onto the porch.

“I don’t think you fools will find me an easy prey.”  He yelled and chucked another bottle onto the deck.  It exploded into a thick gas, almost totally obscuring the entire porch.

Mit skidded to a stop just shy of the front door and froze.  His mouth hung open, his hands clenched tight.  His eyes were locked on the porch and the familiar images outside that had given him nightmares since he first saw them.

Instead of men, what Mit saw could only described as creatures.  More than ten of them scurried across the porch trying to avoid the acidic smoke.  Their faces were elongated like a dog, but with cat like features.  Their mouths filled with rows of teeth that looked like thin metal spikes.  Their eyes were set high and back on their heads and instead of pupils there were empty holes.  A long elegant neck like an Egyptian cat connected to broad muscled shoulders that revealed a very fine fur like what one would find on a new born child.

As the thick fumes swept over them, they staggered backwards and fell to the ground.  The skin on their face started to melt off, but was quickly replaced like a shedding lizard.  Whatever the gas was made of, it wasn’t enough to kill them, but enough to keep them away for short periods.

“Mit!  Mit get out of here!”  Mr. Clark yelled as he turned and glanced over his shoulder.

His voice seemed to bring Mit back to reality.  He blinked as his eyes focused on Mr. Clark.  He grabbed his arm and pulled him.

“Come on, we can make it.  We have the car outside.”

Mr. Clark ripped his hands away and tossed another bottle onto the porch.

“This is the only thing keeping them away.  Just get to the car and follow that map.  I’ll meet you guys.  Now go!”

Mr. Clark shoved him towards the kitchen, turning his back to the door.  One of the spectrals seized the opportunity and lunged inside, sliding across the floor to the stair case.

“Damn it.”  Mr. Clark stammered as he threw another bottle and ran after Mit.

Together they stumbled through the hole in the wall and rolled into the backyard.  Steve was still fighting off Hanson the best he could, but it was obvious he was losing.  His face was swollen and a fresh stream of blood poured from a nasty gash across his cheek.

Mr. Clark pulled Mit to his feet and then lobbed a bottle at Hanson.  It broke on his head and he immediately fell to the ground screaming.

“You two get to the car now!”  Mr. Clark shouted.

“Come with us.”  Steve yelled back as he hobbled towards them.

“I will…I will.  That’s not gonna keep that big feller down long.  I’ll distract him and meet you guys around the front.  Now go!”  Mr. Clark shoved them as he ran back towards the kitchen.

“Hey you overgrown ape.  Over here.”  Mr. Clark yelled and threw another bottle.

Hanson groaned and then charged after him.  Mr. Clark dove back into kitchen and disappeared.

Mit and Steve looked back and then took off around the corner.  They ran along the side of the house and into the alley where Nickie sat nervously in the front seat of the red Camaro.

“Slide over Sutherland.  Sweetness doesn’t like when I share her.”  Steve grinned as he dove into the front seat.

“What took you guys so long and where is Mr. Clark.”  Mikey asked.

“We’re picking him up.”  Mit shouted as he crammed into the car.

Steve revved the engine and slung the car into gear.  With tires screeching, they swung onto the main street and pulled around to the front of the house.  He stopped the car and stared out of the window.

On the front porch several men were gathered around.  They had the door as well as the windows of the house surrounded.  A light mist drifted into the yard, but there was no sign of Mr. Clark.

“How on Earth is Mr. Clark gonna get out of there?”  Mit asked skeptically.

Inside Mr. Clark was doing his best to fight off the horde Marcus had brought with him.  He was down to his last three vials of Zaspar and was hesitant to use them.

“What do you want Marcus?  Why now?”  Mr. Clark asked as he backed up against the door to the basement.

“Quiet your quivering fool.  Give us the map and we’ll let the children live.”  Marcus retorted.

“Except the half -breed, he’s mine.”  Hanson spat.

Marcus turned and swatted Hanson across the face knocking him to the floor.

“You should learn to keep your trap shut.  You’re not much higher on the totem pole.”

“Steven, Steven is part spectral.”  Mr. Clark whispered to himself.

Using one hand he hugged the last bottles of Zaspar to his chest and turned the knob to the basement door with the other.

“Burn in hell Marcus!”  He shouted and threw the bottles onto the ground as he dove down the basement steps.  The door slammed behind him and rolled onto the basement floor and slid.  He quickly jumped to his feet and ran to the wall where a red panel box sat open.

Outside, Steve and the others looked on in fear, praying that Mr. Clark would come running out.  Nickie nervously tapped on the dashboard and sighed heavily.

“Steve, it shouldn’t take him this long.”

“I know.”  Steve said grimly.

“We’ve gotta go back.  We can’t leave him.”  Mit demanded.

“We barely made it out of there Mit.  If we go back now its suicide.”

“But its Mr. Clark…we can’t leave him.”

“Mit’s right.  I’ll go myself.”  Mikey griped as he started to wiggle out of the backseat.

“Oh god!  Calm down.  Fine I’ll go, but Mit you’re coming too.”

Steve swung the door open and stepped out of the car.  He started to move the seat forward for Mit when an explosion cracked the air and he was blown across the street.  He landed on his side in the road and slid into the curb.

His arm burned and the warm trickle of blood wet his tongue.  Moaning, Steve rolled over and squinted.  The glare from the fire made his eyes water and he could feel the blazing heat against his face.

Shielding his eyes with his arm, Steve staggered to his feet and looked back across the street.  Before his vision fully adjusted and he could see what was going on, he heard Nickie’s screams buzzing across the wind.

“No!  Oh my god no!”  She yelled at the top of her lungs.

Steve stared back across the street.  The bright flicker of flames raged into the air like a dragon’s tongue licking the wind.  A thick, black smoke billowed into the air and floated across the lawn.

Steve jumped as secondary explosions went off and chunks of the house he’d just left were blown into the air.  He fell to his knees unable to move as fire ravaged the two-story and everything in it.

Mikey slowly stepped from the car with wide eyes.  His mouth hung open, tears streamed down his cheeks.  He looked on praying Mr. Clark would emerge from the house, but he knew no one in there had survived.

Suddenly, someone brushed past him and knocked him off balance.  As he spun around he saw Mit sprinting towards the house.  He was halfway to the front porch by the time Steve tackled him and they both fell to the ground.

“What the hell are you thinking?”

“Get off me Steve.  Get off me now!  He could still be alive in there.”

Mit had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when a loud snap vibrated the air.  They both turned simultaneously as the roof collapsed and the house imploded on itself.

Mit collapsed like a folding chair, no longer fighting against Steve.  His eyes rained tears down his cheeks and he rolled into a ball.

“Mit…Mit we’ve gotta go.”  Steve nudged him gently.

“Steve!  Steve look!”  Mikey screamed form the car.

Steve looked at Mikey then followed his hand back towards the house.  There was something moving near the burning ruins, something alive.  Steve squinted and leaned closer. 

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the flames.  It slowly came to a stand and turned to face them.

Mit lifted his head and stared in confusion.  “Mr. Clark.”  He stuttered.

The figure began to walk towards them at a quickened pace.  It was a man’s body covered in flames, but seemed unaffected by them.  The fire rolled over his face and across his back melting his skin into gooey puddles.

At first his steps were staggered as he struggled to find his footing.  But with each step he seemed stronger.  He walked faster and faster and then broke into a run.

“It’s Mr. Dimair!”  Steve screamed.  “Mit get up!  Get up now!”  He dragged Mit to his feet and took off towards the car.

“Run!  Run children run.”  Mr. Dimair called after them.  “I will catch you.”

Diving into the car Steve slammed the door.  Mikey closed the other door and they sped off into the night.

XV

“You sure this is the right place?”  Mikey asked skeptically.

Mit didn’t answer, but swung the door open and stepped inside of the wooden cabin.  It was a little bigger than a two bedroom apartment, tucked away in the middle of the Utah woods.  Five miles away from any main road, if you didn’t know it was there, you weren’t going to find it.

Steve flipped the light switch on the wall and dropped his bags.  A warm glow emanated around the cabin.  There was a furry brown rug in the center of the living room surrounded by green vinyl covered sofas.  An empty fireplace was cut out in the far wall and to the right was a tiny kitchen.

Unlike most cabins, instead of animal heads the walls were covered in photos.  Photos of Mr. Clark and his father, Mr. Clark and his mother and in the center there was large picture that looked newer than all the rest.

Mit noticed the picture first.  His feet moved mindlessly across the room until he was standing in front of it.  He stretched out his hand and touched the wooden frame, staring into the photo.

It was a cool, sunny day and they were all standing around a picnic table.  Mr. Clark was pointing at something, his other hand on Mit’s shoulder.  Steve and Mikey were laughing as they wrestled over a Frisbee.  Mit remembered it like it was yesterday, he could feel the wind brushing against his cheeks, smell the taste of spring in the air.

The picture was nearly two years old.  It had been taken a few days after they’d told Mr. Clark the truth about Anthony.  He never judged them, never doubted them once.  He looked Mit in the eye and vowed to help them find him.

Mit had felt so happy that day.  It was the first time he’d smiled in a long time, like he was finally emerging from a dark tunnel.  Mr. Clark had brought them back together, gave them a purpose after they’d lost everything.

Mit felt a sudden sense of gratitude well up in him as he choked back tears.  Mr. Clark had given so much, he had been the only one who could look through the fray and see them.  He deserved better, he deserved more than fiery funeral set amongst his enemies.

Mit gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.  Lifting his hand he wiped his face and let out a deep breath.  He felt a firm grip on his shoulder and he turned to find Mikey standing next to him.  He looked up and locked eyes with him.  Mikey’s deep blue pupils were sad and heavy, every trace of adolescence gone.  Like the playful youth of yesterday had been brushed away in one stroke.

Suddenly, the room started to spin and Mit couldn’t find his breath.  He closed his eyes trying to steady himself and collapsed to the floor.  Tears streamed from his face and he no longer had the power to hold them back.

An overwhelming sense of emptiness washed over him.  His eyes stung with the hopeless feeling that nothing would ever be right again.  Mikey knelt next to him as Steve walked over and crouched beside them.  Nickie stood at the door unsure of what to do, like she was intruding on something very personal.

Mit cried hysterically.  He tried to speak, but only guttural sounds could be made out between his sobs.  He clenched his fists and beat his hands against the wooden floor.

Steve stared at him with pain in his face.  Mit had always been so pragmatic about everything, always so even tempered.  Watching him completely give in to his emotions was disturbing.

“Who’s…who’s gonna tell Mrs. Clark?”  Mit stuttered in between his jagged breaths.

“Don’t worry about that now.”  Steve whispered.

Biting his lip, he fought back tears as he stood up.  Blinking he turned around and faced the door.  Nickie was still standing there, hopeless depression drawn all over her face.  Her eyes watered, but she looked up at Steve and forced a smile.

Sighing, Steve smiled back then walked off and started scanning the rest of the cabin.  Everything was neat and put away, just like Mr. Clark had kept his house.

It was obvious that this had been his plan all along.  Somehow he knew they’d end up here and he’d prepared them for it.

In the corner of the room there was a table with a map laid out across it.  An area of the map was circled in red with the words “you are here” written in bold.  There was a line from that circle to another spot on the map that had Anthony’s name written next to it.

Beside the table were five black utility bags spread out on the floor.  Steve knelt down and grabbed one.  He unzipped it and looked inside.  It was stuffed with random camping gear and tactical equipment.  Ropes, radios, knives and even a black handgun were stuffed inside.

Zipping the bag, Steve stood back up and turned back to Mit and Mikey.  “We’ve gotta make sure this place is safe.”

He walked off and started checking the windows and the doors.  Nickie joined him as she turned around and twisted the deadbolt.

“Come on, you just need to rest.”  Mikey said as he helped Mit to his feet.

Holding his arm, he walked Mit into the bedroom and helped him onto the bed.  Mit grinned and then laid his head back.  Exhausted and emotionally drained, he fell into a deep sleep before his head hit the pillow.

The room was modest.  Two wooden twin beds sat back against the wall adorned with thick blue blankets.  A fuzzy, green rug was spread across the wooden floor and aside from a painting of the sun set the rest of the room was bare.

Mikey rubbed his face and sighed.  It was times like these when he wondered if any of this was worth it.  For all they knew Anthony could be dead, no one was really sure.  And just how many lives was his worth?

He stared at Mit for a moment and then turned out the light.  As Mikey walked out, he heard muffled voices coming from the living room.  Rounding the corner, he saw the faint glow of a television flickering near the wall.

“Where’d you find that thing?”

“Never mind that.  Look what’s on.”  Steve pointed at the screen.

Mikey stepped closer to the TV and sat down on the couch next to Nickie.  The local news was playing and her eyes were glued to the screen.

A red banner scrolled across the bottom of the television.  An older gentleman holding a microphone was standing in front of a pile of smoldering wood that Mikey immediately recognized as Mr. Clark’s house.

“A gas leak has led to a massive explosion in the small town of North Shore.  This freak accident has claimed the life of the home owner, Fullerton Clark.  No other injuries have been reported at this time.”  The man spoke loudly over the sound of sirens and horns.

“There were at least ten people in that house when it went down.”  Steve said as he headed into the kitchen.

“Spectrals.”  Mikey mumbled.

“We should probably move the car around back.”  Steve responded as he grabbed the keys and walked outside.

“He’s not taking this too well.”  Nickie said as soon as he was out of earshot.

“Who, Steve?  He’s fine.”

“I don’t think he is, you might want to keep an eye on him.”

“Thanks for the tip Nickie, but I think I know my friends a little better than you do.”  Mikey stood up and headed towards the room.  “I’m going to bed.”

Nickie rolled her eyes and cut the television off.  She lay back on the couch and sat in silence staring at the ceiling.  As she relaxed into itchy cushions, the sounds of the forest played clearly in her ears.  Owls, crickets and other night creatures seemed to spring to life.

Nickie wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying in the dark when she heard Steve come through the front door.  He seemed to tip toe into the kitchen and slide the keys onto the counter.

He carefully sat the black duffle bag that held the guns and dynamite into the corner and sighed in relief.

“Anybody up?”  Steve whispered.

Nickie wasn’t sure why, but she closed her eyes and didn’t answer him.  She could hear him tinkering around in the dark.  His footsteps moved from the kitchen into the living room and back.  She could feel him walk past her and then head into the room.  A few minutes later the door closed and she opened her eyes.

A sense of bone rattling fear crept through Nickie’s body.  It was like the reality of everything had come crashing down on her all at once, a cascade of emotions that she couldn’t control.

With a deep sigh, she covered her face and began to cry into her hands.  It was all so unfair.  What happened to Anthony, what happened to Mr. Clark and now they were held up in some tiny cabin in the woods.  She’d never suspected her summer could go this wrong.

Nickie felt alone and scared.  She never thought anything would go this far.  Somehow she found herself trapped in the middle of it all.

Mr. Clark had at least brought a sense of organization, like maybe he knew what he was doing.  Now it was the blind leading the blind.  What was worse is that she knew she couldn’t go home.  They had all talked about it.  Once they left it wouldn’t be safe for anyone to return until they rescued Anthony.  For good or bad, the only way left to go was forward.

Nickie shut her eyes, giving in to her fatigue.  Slowly, the blanket of darkness crept across the cabin.  With a deep breath, Nickie sunk into the sofa and fell asleep.

“Wake up!  Wake up!”  Mit screamed at the top of his lungs.

Nickie opened her eyes to find him hovering inches above her face.  She jumped back and rolled off of the couch.  The bright glare of the sun screamed through the windows casting an orange glow over the hardwood.

“What, what is it!”  Nickie said, frantically clamoring to her feet.

“Breakfast is ready.”  Mit grinned.

Nickie shoved him in the face and disappeared into the bathroom.  Steve smiled from the kitchen as he cracked another egg and dropped it in the pan.

“Told you she’d be mad.”

“Whatever, she’ll get over it.”  Mit shot back.

“Get over what?”  Mikey asked as he stumbled out of the bedroom.

“Nevermind.”  Steve said.

Mit grinned and sat down at the table.  “Chef Steve is making us breakfast.”

“You seem better.”  Mikey rubbed his chin, noticing Mit’s upbeat attitude.

“He’s got a renewed purpose.”  Steve explained.

“Yeah.  I can’t just sit around here and do nothing.  Mr. Clark died so that we could get Anthony.  That’s what we’re gonna do.”

Steve sat a plate in front of Mit and ruffled his red hair.  “I like your spunk leprechaun.”

“So what’s first?”  Nickie asked as she made her way towards the table.

“Well, Mikey did you ever get the article?”

“Oh!  I’ve got that right here.”  Nickie reached into her pocket and withdrew the crumpled piece of paper.