The Guardian of Threshold (3 page)

“Are you okay?” he asked when he saw me being carried inside the hospital.

“I’m fine, Dad. I guess they need to check me out just in case,” I said to calm him down.

By the time I arrived in the hospital, the paramedics had already started an IV and some medicines. Even though I felt fairly fine, they told me not to move around much. It wasn’t long before a doctor came in to examine me. He introduced himself as Dr. Raymond. I tried to explain that I was fine, but it was useless. He ordered blood work, MRIs, and x-rays.

After a couple hours of waiting around, I saw Dr. Raymond again. He walked in, chart in hand, sporting a bright smile.

“I got good news and bad news,” he said. “Which one do you want first?”

“I’ll take the good news.”

“Well, you’re fine, and you can go home as soon as we finish processing your discharge papers.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“Bad news is that there’s an army of reporters waiting outside to hear from you. They aren’t sure if you’re a hero or a villain.”

“Do I have to talk to them?”

“You don’t have to. Besides, I wouldn’t worry too much about what they think. Anyone who can land an airplane on the interstate is a hero in my book. Best of luck to you.”

After a painful injection in my butt and a couple signatures, the doctor discharged me. Apparently, the injection was for pain. I was just thankful the cut on my forehead didn’t require any stitches.

We managed to escape most of the reporters by leaving through a staff door. Unfortunately, we left the hospital just in time for the rush hour. Traffic was the worst I’d ever seen, and it was entirely my fault. It was the first time I’d gotten stuck in traffic that I was the cause of.

My dad turned on the radio. I was glad at least it filled the void and awkwardness in the air.

“Your afternoon commute is bound to be a mess. Heavy traffic remains on both lanes of I-95 around the Burlington Mall exit because of an unusual crash. An airplane had to perform an emergency landing right on the interstate. It’s still unclear how long the cleanup will take,” said the traffic report.

“That’s what I call an attention-getter.”

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t reply.

As we passed the scene of the crash, the airplane was still in the exact same spot, surrounded by a bunch of guys wearing black jackets, backpacks, and baseball caps. They were examining every inch of it and jotting down notes.

“They must be from the FAA,” my dad said as we drove slowly by.

I turned my face the other way and pretended not to pay any attention. I didn’t feel like talking about it. Not to mention that I was afraid the FAA guys would want to talk to me. I still hoped for a peaceful end to an otherwise hectic and emotionally charged day.

We ordered pizza on the way. We were both exhausted, and honestly, neither one of us was what anyone would call a great cook.

I headed upstairs and hopped in the shower. I had every reason to be happy, but I wasn’t. On the contrary, I felt even more depressed. It’s true that I was alive and well, but my mother wasn’t. She died all those years ago, and it was my fault. It wasn’t her time. Unable to hold all the emotions in any longer, I just stood under the water and cried. The water was so hot it burned my skin, but the physical pain eased my emotional pain, so I didn’t bother to turn it off. When I couldn’t take anymore, I shut the water off just in time to hear the pizza guy ring the doorbell.

I rushed downstairs and grabbed a couple slices of the extra cheese pizza and went back up to my room to watch some TV while I ate.

I had almost forgotten about the events of the day when the ten o’clock news started.

“Breaking news: an amazing emergency landing was performed by the sixteen-year-old Mark Anthony Ryser after he ran out of fuel.”

The news anchor then proceeded to show footage from the helicopter.

I watched myself stumble out the airplane and glance around, looking dazed and confused. My forehead was bleeding worse than I remembered. I gazed in awe as I almost fell but barely caught myself. I saw the Burlington police officer park her patrol car as she rushed over to help me. She sat me on the grass, and in no time at all, she had assessed the situation and opened her first aid kit while checking my limbs and head. She flashed a flashlight in my eyes, which I didn’t remember. Come to think of it, she did a lot of things that I didn’t remember. I guess I was truly in shock.

The news cut to someone reporting live from the scene of the accident.

“Good evening. For many of us, this was a day to remember during this holiday shopping season. After all, it’s not every day we see an airplane land on the interstate. Luckily, no one was seriously hurt.”

“Is it true that he was just a kid?” the news anchor asked. “Here at the station, we heard that he’s just sixteen.”

“That’s right, Phillip. Sixteen-year-old Mark was performing his first solo flight when the weather suddenly took a turn for the worse. After several failed attempts to land at Hanscom field, the young pilot ran out of fuel and had to land on the interstate.”

“Wow, this is just amazing. This kid is a hero.”

“Well, that’s debatable. He could’ve hit the Burlington Mall. One little miscalculation on his part and hundreds could’ve been hurt,” said the reporter in the field.

I really didn’t like that guy. I wondered what he would have said if he knew I hadn’t done any calculations at all; there weren’t any to do.

“I personally think he’s a hero. I can’t imagine being sixteen and having to perform an emergency landing on the busiest New England interstate,” the news anchor said in my defense. I was so tired that I couldn’t even appreciate the fact that he was trying to help me, so I changed the channel to Comedy Central to see if I could relax a bit and hopefully fall asleep.

Maybe I should skip school tomorrow
, I thought.
I’m sure all anybody will want to talk about is my emergency landing. I will probably have to explain it a million times to Jonas, my best friend, but at least him I can stand
.

I ended up spending most of my Friday sitting in front of the computer playing video games in my pajamas; I couldn’t bear the thought of going to school.

It was almost four o’clock when the doorbell rang. I was so distracted that I failed to realize Jonas would definitely be stopping by after school, and I was sure Carla—his twin sister—would be with him. I couldn’t afford to let her see me in my pajamas so I got dressed as quick as I could while my father kept yelling at me to answer the door.

“Hey,” I said, almost out of breath.

“Are you okay?” Carla asked. “We heard what happened.”

“I’m fine.”

“How did it happen?” asked Carla, looking concerned.

“Well, the storm got me by surprise, it came out of nowhere, and I couldn’t see the runway.”

“Oh my god, that’s insane,” said Carla, looking at my forehead.

“You could have been killed,” said Jonas. “Were you scared?”

“Yes, very scared. I thought that was it.”

“The school was filled with insane stories about your emergency landing,” Jonas said.

“What do you mean?”

“Some people said you were so high you couldn’t find the runway, while others think you’re a legend for being able to land like that,” said Carla. “You know how people exaggerate.”

“One thing is for sure,” said Jonas, “you’re sort of a celebrity. Are you going out to dinner with us tonight?”

“No, thanks, not tonight. I think I’ll just veg out and play video games or something.”

“I’ll be online later if you want to play,” said Jonas.

After I gave them countless assurances that I was all right and explained the whole ordeal in great detail, they finally seemed satisfied.

***

On Monday, I was late for the school bus as usual, but at least I didn’t have to bang on the doors for Gus to open them. I guess he felt bad for me. As soon as I stepped inside the bus, silence ensued. I took the first free seat I could find, and the bus was about to start moving when we heard a loud bang on the door. I was pleasantly surprised to see Carla with her beautiful brunette hair and innocent face entering the bus. Behind her was Jonas with his round face and somewhat large and clumsy body climbing the stairs.

I moved aside, hoping Carla would sit next to me, but she chose the seat right behind me instead. Jonas threw his backpack on the empty seat next to Carla and made himself comfortable by my side.

“Good morning,” Carla said, smiling.

“Hey, nice to see you guys.”

“We figured you might need some company just in case anyone wants to be funny or mess with you,” said Jonas, looking tired. He wasn’t used to being up this early because his mother drove him and Carla to school every morning on the way to work. They had insisted several times that I ride to school with them, but I chose not to… just seeing their mother made me miss mine even more.

In school, everyone seemed to be staring at me, but few dared to ask for details. My teachers were especially nice during the beginning of the week, but that quickly faded, and before I knew it everything was back to normal.

***

Friday, 18th of December

It happened again last night: it was the same nightmare I’d been having night after night after my mother died, but since last week’s accident, they had become stronger and more frequent, haunting me constantly.

The nightmares usually featured the same diabolical figure, but last night it was different. This time, it talked to me while it chased me around that damp cave.

The figure taunted me. I think it wanted me to face it. I was afraid the nightmares were here to stay. I could still see that ungodly place whenever I blinked, down to even the smallest, gory detail. I could still smell the fetid and infested air of that cave. And although I couldn’t see them, I was certain putrid corpses lay hidden under the thick cover of darkness.

How long would I be haunted by these nightmares? I couldn’t seem to stop them. Each night, the nightmares got worse. After a while, I even started to dream about the disturbing figure staring at me from the foot of the bed as I slept, studying me. As the nights passed, the figure became clearer and even more menacing. Lately, I could sense it near me even when I was awake. For Christ’s sake, I could feel it standing next to me in the bathroom, on the bus, in school, and even in the airplane before I had my emergency landing. As if it was waiting for the first opportunity to get me. But when I looked around, there was nothing. Nothing except a sense of dread that evaded any logic and yet seemed to consume any shred of hope.

I thought I was doing a pretty good job at controlling my anger, but lately I’d been… more direct and much less patient with everything and everyone than usual.

I just wished I could get a normal night’s sleep like everyone else.

The worst part was that I was clueless why this was happening. Was I losing it? Maybe I’d already lost it and just didn’t know.

There was something strange in the figure’s voice—maybe if I weren’t so scared, I would’ve investigated it further.

Although my heart pounded, I glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning. The room was still covered in darkness, so for the rest of the night I just laid there in the dark. Too scared to scream, too terrified to even move. My only protection was the thin cotton sheet covering my body. I didn’t dare to close my eyes except for blinking, and even that I tried to avoid.

I remained frozen in place while the clock crawled toward six o’clock. In a futile effort to distract myself, I counted the remaining minutes and even the seconds. I hoped it would stop me from thinking about the horrific scenes that I’d dreamt.

I was forced to make peace with the fact that I wasn’t as brave as I would like to be, I wasn’t as grown-up as I thought I was, and I was definitely not as strong as I led the whole world to believe.

I finally fell asleep, only to be awakened a few minutes later by the defiant alarm clock.

Groggy and still shaken, I waited to hear the usual sounds that signaled that my dad was up and about before I dared to leave the safety of my bed.

I changed out of my pajamas, then I carefully folded and set them aside to wear one more night. I’ve always hated to do the laundry, so I tried to use my clothes as much as I could before they had to be washed.

While I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and washing my face, I heard my dad’s heavy footsteps getting closer to my door.

He knocked with a disturbingly soft knock that seemed like it couldn’t possibly have come from his giant hands.

“Are you up already?” he asked while walking in right as I flushed the toilet.

“Morning, Dad,” I said, probably sounding crankier than usual and definitely more tired than I intended. Not getting the right amount of sleep all week had taken its toll.

I could see the concern on his face, but he didn’t bother questioning me. Knowing him, he probably assumed I was on drugs or something. I didn’t mind… after all, we weren’t exactly best friends anyway. After my mother’s death, a steel wall had been erected between us. Her passing had changed us both and not for the best.

“Make sure you’re not late,” he said after closing the door. As usual, I didn’t care to reply. I was too busy gathering my stuff for yet another excruciating day of high school.

I ran downstairs, skipping every two steps to save time. When I arrived, I found my dad standing in the living room fiddling with the TV remote with one hand while holding his morning coffee with the other.

“Later, Dad,” I said as I sped past him on my way to catch the disturbingly yellow bus.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said to put his mind at ease. “I gotta run. I don’t want to be late.”

CHAPTER THREE

HIGH SCHOOL

I
almost missed the bus. I arrived at the bus stop just as Gus was closing the door. For some unknown reason, he insisted on being early. I missed the bus more times than I could count.

If I hadn’t banged on the doors hard enough, I don’t think he would’ve reopened them. Thankfully, he did. I couldn’t take another day of riding my bike to school and freezing to death. Although I had my driver’s license, I lacked a car. If you asked me, I’d say that sixteen is too old to ride the bus or be driven to school. I tried to persuade my dad to loan me his car, but after last week’s accident I’d be lucky if he let me ride my bike. I couldn’t wait until I got my own car. For some strange reason, I had to wait until my seventeen birthday. I could fly an airplane, but I wasn’t allowed to drive a car.