Max Baker: Guardian of the Ninth Sector (8 page)

Max and Noah knew it would be unwise to head straight home from school at that hour of the day.  They decided to kill time by going back to the theater and watching the scary, gruesome alien movie again.  After the movie was over, and it was an acceptable time to be seen outside of school, they headed home.

Max had decided to sleep over at Noah’s house that night.  Partially so the two could recap the events of the day, but also because he needed a break from his mother.  After the day that he had, he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing his mother obliterated on the recliner. 

It was eight o’clock when Max snuck through the window of his bedroom. He had left the latch unlocked for years in case he needed to avoid his mother.  Evelyn’s car had been parked in the driveway, so he didn’t risk coming in through the front and dealing with her drama.  Max quickly packed his backpack with clothes for the next day, gathered up some toiletries and snuck out of the window again to avoid her.

Max was cautious as he walked down the vacant roads of Forest Valley toward his friend’s house.  Noah had offered to come with him, but Max had declined, stating that he needed to be alone to recover from the events of the day.  He nervously checked his surroundings, suspecting that at any moment the stranger from the other night would pop out of the bushes and chase after him again.  The last thing that Max needed was another pursuit through the woods.

The night air was much cooler than it had been the past few nights. Max pulled his hood up onto his head.  The eerie feeling from the other night had returned and was growing stronger the closer he got to Noah’s house.  He paused for a moment and stood in the middle of the street; the pale moon hung high above, lighting the blacktop.  Max did a 360 looking for the sedan through the shadows, but he was unable to see anything.  The horizon was still.  It was quiet.  He was alone.  He walked a block further until he reached Noah’s.

* * *

Max sat at the head of the large dining room table next to Noah.  Mrs. Allman sat at the opposite end of the table, sipping on a glass of red wine.  They were joined by Noah’s five older sisters: Amy, Beth, Rebecca, Emily and Norah.

Amy was the oldest of the siblings at 25, and Norah, a year older than Noah and Max, was the youngest.  Beth, Rebecca and Emily fell somewhere in between, but Max could never remember the order, or exactly how much older they were.  All of them still lived at home. Amy, Beth and Rebecca had full-time jobs to help their mother make ends meet.  Emily went to Forest Valley Community College and worked a part-time job on the weekends.  Norah and Noah were allowed to go to high school without any pressure to join the workforce; however, they both knew that if they wanted anything outside of food and clothes, they would have to earn it.

Jacob Allman, Noah’s father, had passed away shortly after Noah was born.  It had been the result of some freak accident at the factory where he worked.  Noah had told Max the story once when they were in elementary school, but he hadn’t spoken of it since.  Max never pushed him to open up about the subject, but he found some sort of solace in the fact that Noah could relate to the same feelings of loss.

Mary, Noah’s mother, was the strongest woman Max had ever met.  She worked a full-time job and ran a house full of six children without any help.  He looked up to her for this.  Mary had been put in a very similar situation that Evelyn had been, and she never tried to escape from it.  She had hunkered down and fought through the hard times.  She had delivered her family from what could have easily been the same disaster that Max had dealt with his entire life.  Max had always wanted to be part of their family more than he did his own.  Sitting here at the dinner table, he felt like he was home. 

“Max punched Corey Peterson at school today,” Norah blurted out during the middle of dinner.  Max immediately felt his cheeks turning red, and he slouched down in his chair.  Norah, just like her brother, had a very big mouth.

Mary looked at Max with a scowl. “Max did what?”

“Tell her, Max,” Norah said, her eyes wide.  Max had developed a crush on her a long time ago, but it had been short lived one.  It had ended when Noah threatened to stop being Max’s friend if he ever dated Norah, or any Allman sister for that matter.  Ever since that day, Max had looked at the girls as family and nothing more.  He often wondered if the same threat would work with Noah when he babbled on about his mother.

“Yes, please do tell me, Max,” Mary said firmly. 

Just as Max felt like one of the family, he knew that Mary thought of him as one of her children.  He knew that she had no reservations about lecturing Max, or threatening him with some form of discipline.  The first spanking Max had ever received was at the hands of Mary Allman.  He remembered that he was six or seven years old and acting like a brat at the county fair.  He remembered Mrs. Allman giving him a couple of warnings to behave. When he refused, she whacked him firmly across the hind end.  He never acted like a brat around her again.

“Nothing happened,” Noah interjected.

“I saw it happen,” Norah said.

“What are you 12?” Noah asked her.

“Out with it, Max,” Amy spoke up as she got up from the table.  “You know Mom isn’t going to let it die until you tell her.”  She took her plate and exited into the kitchen.

“She’s right,” Mary said. “So please inform me why my sweet Maximus has turned into Mike Tyson?”

Max turned to Noah for support, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Thanks,” Max said to him.

“What do you want me to do, slugger?” Noah asked, also getting to his feet.  “You’re the one going around punching people.”  Noah grabbed his plate as the rest of the Allman sisters followed suit, walking into the kitchen.

“Traitors!” Max called after them.

Mary stared at Max from the end of the table.  She looked disappointed in him.  Max shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Spill it,” she said.

Max told her the whole story about Kennedy and Mr. Shook, and then about Corey in the cafeteria.  He left out the part where they skipped the rest of school.

“You know that Gandhi was able to free India from England without any sort of violence,” Mary said to him after he finished his story.  “He used pacifism as a means for peace and freedom.”

“You know Gandhi was shot to death,” Max retorted slyly.  The corner of his mouth curled up into a faint smile.

“Max,” Mary said softly, “I’m not your mother.  I’ve never pretended to be her, but I do look at you as one of my children.  I love you very much, and I only want the best of you in this world.”  Her voice cracked, and Max saw tears welling up in her eyes.  “I know that you feel like you were dealt a crappy hand.”

“I don’t feel that,” Max interrupted.  “I know it.  It’s a fact.  But it’s nothing that I can change.”

Mary paused for a moment.  She got up from her seat and moved to the one that Noah had been sitting in.  She covered Max’s hand with her own.  She was still wearing her wedding ring.

“I know that sometimes this life can seem unfair.  I know that not having a father in your life is hard for you.  It has been extremely hard for Noah, and I can see it in his eyes every day.”  She squeezed Max’s hand tighter. 

“I do know that Evelyn tries really hard to provide for you, and I know that she hasn’t always given you what you needed.  And I know losing Kennedy was really tough for both of you.  But all of these things that have happened to you have happened...as in past tense.  And hopefully they have made you a stronger person.  Hopefully, they allow you to appreciate the things that you do have, and the people who do love you and care about you.” 

Tears were streaming down her face now, and Max could feel himself getting choked up.  He wasn’t sure where all of this was coming from.  He had never seen her like this before.  He immediately felt guilty for letting her down.  He just wanted to hug her and make her stop crying.

“You are a very special boy, Max Baker,” she continued. “One day you are going to see that too.”  She rose from the table and wrapped her arms around Max’s neck.  He could feel the warm wet tears on her cheeks being pressed into his shaggy hair.  He returned the sentiment and wrapped his arms around her.

It was a hug that he had never experienced before.  It was the kind of embrace that only a mother and a son could share.  In that moment, he felt loved.  He felt safe and secure.  He felt that no matter what happened, everything would be okay.

“But you’re never going to know how special you can be if you go around punching people,” she said, pulling away from him.  “You’re better than that.  Much, much better.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I only hit him in the shoulder,” Max said.

“It really doesn’t,” she said with a laugh.

* * *

Later that night, Max climbed into the top bunk in Noah’s room.  The bunk bed had once belonged to Emily and Norah, but Noah had taken it when the two girls had pitched a fit about being too old for it.  The blue and red sheets almost made up for the pink frame supporting them.

“Did Mom give you a hard time?” Noah asked from the bunk below.

“A little,” Max said.

“Sorry.  She just worries about you.”
“I know,” Max sighed.  He stared at the ceiling above him.

There was a long moment of silence.

“I think she loves me,” Max said, finally breaking the quiet.

“Of course she loves you,” Noah said.  “You’re family.”

“No,” Max said, trying not to laugh.  “I think she
loves
me.  I think she’s looking for the warm embrace of a strapping young man.”

Max felt Noah’s padded fist rise through the mattress and then busted out in laughter.

“That’s not funny, bro,” Noah said.

Max and Noah talked long into the night.  He finally told Noah about the stranger and the ensuing chase.  He told him about Gorthon and his dream.  Then they talked about Kennedy for a long time after that.  Sometime in the early hours of the morning, they both drifted off to sleep.

Max awoke at the edge of the dark city.  Ahead of him, through the pitch black nothingness, he could see the single light shining from the castle.  He was standing in the same spot where he had battled Gorthon.  Nervously, he searched the horizon around him, but saw and heard nothing.

This journey was starting off better than the last, largely in part because he was now wearing shoes.  He began to trek toward the castle at a quicker pace than the last time.  He carefully and quietly moved along the remote trail, trying not to draw any attention to himself.  The last thing he wanted was to see that monster again, or something even worse.

The two red moons hung low in the night sky ahead of him.  They lit the pathway in a soft crimson hue and managed to turn what would have been a normally creepy scene into something out of a horror movie.  Despite the knot in Max’s stomach, he pressed on and drew nearer to the castle.

Max moved down the winding path until it led him to a stone wall that surrounded the castle.  It was massive, standing at least 15 feet tall and too high for Max to try to scale.  He scanned the tree line around the wall, but the trees were all pushed far back and would be no use to him.  The pathway split in both directions and he turned to his right.  He followed the wall, examining it as he went, trying to find a set of stones that would provide a good handhold or foothold for him to climb. 

He walked a few hundred yards before arriving at a large wrought iron gate secured by two stone pillars on either side.  The wrought ironwork was extremely elaborate, and Max pictured some poor blacksmith forging it for hours on end.  The iron bars twisted around each other and formed giant spears at the top, at least eight feet in the air.  The gate opened in the middle, but thick chains had been bound around a few of the bars and prevented it from opening.  They were secured with a medieval padlock that looked even more elaborate than the ironwork.  Max pulled on the rusty lock, but it didn’t budge.

Staring up at the jagged spears above him Max thought,
Of course the only way in is over…why wouldn’t it be?

He clumsily shimmied his way up the cold iron, being especially careful when lifting himself over the pointy tops – trying with all his might not to impale himself in an unforgivable way.  Once both of his feet were over, he hesitated for a beat before dropping eight feet down onto the frozen tundra below.  He initially landed on his feet, but gravity prevented him from staying upright. He crumpled under his own weight.

The pain that he felt made him realize that if this was just a dream it was way too lucid for his comfort.  If it wasn’t a dream…then he had much bigger problems than Corey Peterson.  He wondered if he were to die in this dream, if he would also die in real life.  It wasn’t a comforting thought as he took a step closer to the dark castle ahead of him.

The stone steps that led up to the castle door were slick, as if a thin layer of ice had built upon them. He paid careful attention to his footing as he climbed up the 12 steps to the top.  The closer he got to the castle doors, the more the temperature seemed to plummet.  By the time Max reached the last step, he could see his breath hanging in the cold air.

At the top of the stone steps was a giant archway that held in its frame a large wooden door.  It stood 10 feet tall, and a large iron knocker hung on the center of the door.  As Max approached it, he could see the metal ring was held in the mouth of a creature that he had never seen before.  It resembled a dragon’s head, but the snout was gnarled, and the eyes were much wider and spaced farther apart.   

Max lifted the heavy knocker hanging from the creature’s mouth, but before he could swing it toward the door, it jerked itself out of his hand.  The door slowly creaked open, presenting a large, poorly illuminated foyer behind it.

“Great…” Max said aloud.

Standing in the open doorway, looking into a room full of darkness and mystery, Max took a deep breath.  He had never experienced a fear like this one.  It ran up and down his spine and made his legs feel as if they had been filled with jelly.   

He had a strong urge to run away, followed by an idea to pinch himself as hard as he could until he awoke on the top bunk in Noah’s room.  Running away meant a chance of dealing with Gorthon, and the thought of facing the gigantic creature again frightened him.  The thought of pinching himself and not waking up scared him even more.  Max took another deep breath and entered into the room.

The heavy wooden door shut behind him, and Max stood there frozen in the darkness.  He opened his eyes wider in a attempt to make them adjust to the poorly lit room, but he had little luck.  He stood there for a long time before he could see anything.

In the corner of the room, a candle seemed to float midair. The flame danced wildly against the wall behind it; however, it was not bright enough for Max to see anything other than the outlines of his surroundings. He tiptoed across the room to the candle, feeling as if each new step would be his last.  He had an overwhelming feeling that somewhere in the shadows, someone or something was watching him.

As he reached the candle, he discovered that it sat atop one arm in the center of a bronzed candelabrum.  The design of the candelabrum was as elaborate as the iron gate and dragon head had been.  It sat alone on a tall wooden entry table.  He picked up the heavy candle holder and moved the light carefully around him in an attempt to gain his bearings.

The foyer was enormous, and he was unable to see the entrance way; it was beyond his newfound bubble of light.  To his right, he could see a large staircase leading into the darkness.  To his left, a corridor led into…more darkness. 

This just keeps getting better and better, he thought to himself and turned toward the corridor.  He did not want to brave navigating up the stairs while holding on to the heavy bronze candelabrum.  If he was going to face off with some giant monster, he would rather do so without the possibility of tumbling down a stone staircase to his death.

With his free hand, he clumsily felt his way down the dark hallway as he struggled to lift the light out ahead of himself.  The stone floor beneath him was dusty, as if no one had ventured this way in quite some time.  As he waved the light around the narrowing passageway, he could see cobwebs that had collected, covering the ceiling and walls.

In the distance, Max heard a noise that made him jump.  It had been quiet since he had awoken on the pathway outside.  Now standing alone in the creepy corridor, the only thing Max could hear was his heart beating in his chest, but there was something else ahead of him.  Through the dark hallway, Max thought he could hear a woman crying.  It was faint, but it sounded as if it were coming from straight ahead of him.  Max extended his fancy torch out as far as he could, but his visibility remained limited.  He took a deep breath and then put his fears aside. Through the pitch-black of the castle’s insides, Max pressed on.

He was focusing so intently on the woman crying that when she screamed, it caused the small hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms to stand at attention.  His body jerked, and he dropped the candelabrum to the ground.  It banged loudly against the stone floor, and the candle’s wick was extinguished almost immediately.  Max stood there, his heart beating fast.  Ahead of him, he could see a faint light coming from a doorway at the end of the hall, but that wasn’t what was causing his vision to improve.  Max’s hands had started to radiate with the bright blue light.  They were glowing so brightly that he could see the entire length of the hallway.  Without any more hesitation, Max hurried to the end of the hall. 

Using his hands as torches, he moved more confidently down the length of the hall.  As he grew closer to the door, he could see that the stone walls of the corridor were mostly barren, but a few paintings were hung sporadically.  They were all covered in cobwebs and dust, and he could not make out what any of them were.  As he reached the door, one of the last paintings caused him to double take as he passed by it.  He could have sworn that the painting was a portrait…of himself.  He returned to the painting, and as he inched closer to it, trying to examine it more closely, the woman on the other side of the door screamed again.  Max rushed to the door at the end of the hallway and pushed it open.

Light flooded into the hallway, and Max had to shield his eyes so they could once again adjust.  However, when they finally did acclimate to the new level of light, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

In the center of the large room was a hospital bed, his mother Evelyn lying in it.  She was pregnant and in the midst of childbirth, her swollen ankles and feet propped up into stirrups.  A tall man in green scrubs knelt down in front of her, and a stout woman was standing beside him.  The stout woman was wearing gloves that were covered in blood.

“One more time,” the tall man instructed her.  “Push.”

His mother screamed again.

Max’s view was obstructed slightly by the stout woman, but he was able to see the tall man lift a small child away from Evelyn.  It let out a piercing cry, and Max felt his blood go cold.  The tall man handed the baby to the stout woman, who then took it to a stainless steel table next to the bed.  She began to clean it off, removing the blood from the infant’s grayish pink skin.

“It’s another boy, Evelyn,” the tall man said.  “It’s over, you did it.”

Evelyn looked exhausted. Her damp hair pressed was against her forehead.  Sweat and tears had rolled down her cheeks, but Max noted that even in this state she looked much healthier than she did now. 

Max looked around the rest of the room. In the opposite corner, he saw a man looking on.  The man was dressed from head to foot in black garb, and from this distance Max thought it looked like the man from the picture he had seen during his last dream.  He wore a black fedora low on his brow, but his face was ugly and scarred.  He looked much younger than the man Max had seen in the picture, but there was no mistaking the resemblance.

The stout woman placed the newborn in one of the two medical bassinets that were near Evelyn.  Max could see movement from both of the bassinets, and he knew he was looking at Aiden and himself.  He took a couple of steps further into the room to get a better view.  The tall man moved from one infant to the other, shining a small flashlight in their eyes and then taking his medical reflex hammer and quickly running it up the arches of each of their feet.  He picked up a metal clipboard from the foot of Evelyn’s bed and scribbled notes on it.

The stout woman was busy tending to Evelyn, drying her forehead off and giving her ice chips from a foam cup beside the bed.  She adjusted Evelyn’s I.V. and fussed with her pillows, all the while keeping her eyes on the old man in the corner of the room.  After a few moments, the old man nodded toward her and then exited the room.  The stout woman whispered something into the tall man’s ear, and Max could see a worried expression mask the man's face.

“Mrs. Baker,” the stout woman said, “I need to run a couple of tests on Aiden.  It looks as if he might have a touch of jaundice.”

“Nothing to worry about though, Mrs. Baker,” the tall man in scrubs chirped.  “Have you heard from your husband?”

She nodded and then asked the tall man for Max.

Seeing himself be picked up and handed to his mother was strange.  Seeing Evelyn smiling down at him, holding him so tightly, was even stranger.  Max felt weird inside.  Watching Evelyn treat him this way made him feel…guilty.

The stout woman and tall man rolled the occupied bassinet through the doorway.  Max followed behind them.

As he walked through the doorway, he saw the bassinet sitting alone in the center of the room.  Max looked around, but didn’t see anyone.  Max had never seen his brother before and grew nervous as he looked down inside of the bed.  Inside, a small baby boy squirmed quietly, wrapped tightly in a hospital blanket.  He looked just like Max had in all of his baby pictures.

The stout woman and the tall man entered into the room from the door on the opposite side from him. They were followed closely by the man in black.  Max was fairly certain they couldn’t see him and held his ground at the foot of the bassinet.

“You’re sure this is the one?” the tall man asked the man in black.

“Insolent fool!” the man in black hissed.  “Do you really think that I would have traveled all of this way if I wasn’t sure?”

“I am sorry my Lord,” the tall man said, looking nervously toward the floor.