Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  I stared around the grounds, as if seeing them in a new light. Moss swayed from the trees, casting shadows that seemed darker than usual. The sunlight was a hazy yellow as it lit patches of grass and the rows of slave quarters that stretched away from the home. Below us, I saw hints of the river.

  “Do you think they keep the records in the guest house?” I asked.

  Memphis nodded, though he didn’t move.

  “You okay?” I asked

  “Yes,” he answered too quickly. “I’m fine.”

  “If you want to talk—”

  “No,” he cut me off. “Let’s go.”

  I followed him down the trail that led to the river and guest house. We passed rows of slave quarters that looked like little more than barns. What was Memphis thinking? I knew he must be upset that he was possibly related to the previous owners, but surely he knew that he wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t anything like them. But how could I tell him that? Only a month ago he’d been illegally capturing teenage girls for money. But he’d changed since then. I wondered if he realized it.

  Up ahead, a blocky stone building came into view. The stones, though weathered, looked the rusted red color of blood. The house didn’t match the other buildings. The structure looked ancient, like it had been carved out of the swamp. Moss hung from the sloping thatched roof. Vines grew up the walls, a shock of green against the red. The wooden door looked worn, though the brass knob and lock looked recently installed.

  Memphis grabbed the door knob. It didn’t turn.

  “Georgia Ann said they kept it locked,” I said.

  “Yeah, I remember. Good thing I pay attention.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You stole them?”

  “No. I borrowed them. She won’t know that they’re missing.”

  “Fine, but you know I’m not fond of this breaking the law thing.”

  “Since when was borrowing considered breaking the law?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He stuck the key in the lock. It twisted with a click. Memphis glanced around the property. I did the same, but as far as I could tell, no one bothered to come back here. He opened the door.

  I followed Memphis inside. The stagnant smell of mold came from the thick wooden beams supporting the ceiling and walls. Memphis had to duck as we made our way through the room.

  Dust particles drifted through the air, lighted by the stray sunbeams that came through slats in the wall. My stomach twisted with unease the deeper we went. My mind conjured images of skeletons and bloated corpses. In truth, the room was filled with rows of rusted farming equipment and broken furniture.

  We stopped when we reached the center of the room. A wooden square panel lay flat on the dirt-packed floor. Memphis kicked it aside, revealing a hole the size of a drainage grate. A rusted ladder led from the top of the hole to the bottom, though in the dim light, I couldn’t make out the hole’s bottom.

  We both stood over the opening without moving.

  What if James Lavalle was down there waiting for us? I wasn’t sure I could confront him again. I clenched my fists. Fear-laden adrenaline surged into my blood.

  “Memphis,” I said. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes. We have to find those records.”

  “But what if they aren’t down there?”

  “We won’t know until we look.”

  He spoke with an easy tone, yet still he didn’t move, as if he, like me, was working up the courage to take the first step. Before we went inside, I needed to know what Memphis knew about his father. Any information, no matter how insignificant, could help us defeat James Lavalle.

  “The record book in the house,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “The title page was written by your father over a hundred years ago. How is that possible?”

  He glanced up at me, his face pale in the weak light, reminding me of the way his father’s face had looked that night in the Shine compound. “I know what you’re thinking, June. He’s not a ghost.”

  “I didn’t say that. But how do you explain that he has no heartbeat? How is it possible that he was alive more than a century ago?”

  He squared his shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t understand any of it. But if we want answers, we can’t stay here. Down there,” he said, “is where we’ll find our answers.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Memphis and I stood over the dark hole, feeling a chill as it crept out and wrapped its invisible tendrils around us. I crossed my arms as goose bumps prickled my skin. Memphis clicked the light on his wrist watch and illuminated the ladder in a soft blue glow.

  “I’ll go first,” he said. He stepped to the top rung and descended the ladder, keeping the light pointed above him. I followed him down. The metal felt colder than I expected. The smell of rust and dirt filled the air the deeper I descended. I heard Memphis’s feet hit the bottom floor.

  “You’re almost there,” he said below me.

  I climbed down two more rungs when my feet connected with a hard-packed dirt floor. Turning, I took in my surroundings, my heart a loud thud in my ears.

  We stood in a tunnel. Manacles lined the walls in an orderly fashion. They weren’t rusted as I expected, but bright silver under the bluish light. On closer inspection, I noticed that they were bolted to rusted supports, as if they had been recently replaced.

  “Didn’t Georgia Ann say that they kept slaves down here? How is it that these manacles look new?” I asked.

  Memphis shook his head. “And why would anyone need to replace them?”

  Sounds of dripping water came from up ahead. “Let’s keep going,” he said. We passed rows of manacles until we reached a rusted door. Memphis grabbed the handle. It pushed open on un-oiled hinges, the sound echoing through the air.

  We entered a small room filled with surgical tables, saw blades, glass test tubes, and rows of cabinets. The smell stopped me from entering. The scent of rust I’d detected earlier I now recognized for what it really was. Not rust, but blood.

  On the table tops I saw the stains. Dark spots had formed on the floor. I followed Memphis inside, the smell increasing with each step we took.

  “What is this place?” I whispered.

  “A lab of some sort,” he answered.

  My stomach sickened. “Lavalle’s lab?”

  He nodded. Questions spiraled through my head. “Did Lavalle keep Shines down here?”

  Memphis opened a cabinet. “I’m not sure. This place looks centuries old—much older than when the first Shines were discovered.” He leafed through some papers. “We need to find out who he was experimenting on. We need to know why. We have to find Lavalle’s journals. Our answers will be in there.”

  I stepped to a cabinet and pulled out a stack of yellowed papers. They were hand-written. I recognized Lavalle’s script—the same style that was written in the other records. I scanned through each paper. Most talked about plants and their scientific properties. It seemed as if he’d dissected every plant known to humans.

  I moved to another cabinet and found another stack. These papers were typed. I scanned through them. The subject matter seemed to be scientific philosophy. I pushed them aside. “These don’t look like journals.”

  “Keep looking. They’ve got to be down here.”

  I moved to the next cabinet and opened the doors. A small skull sat on the shelf. It could have been a child’s skull. I couldn’t be sure. A cold chill crept down my spine as I pushed the skull aside and reached for the next stack of papers.

  “Found something,” Memphis said behind me. I turned. He held a small metal box. I stood beside him as he brushed dust from the surface. Etched letters became visible beneath the layers of dust. It read: December 14.

  Memphis opened the box to reveal a small stack of photos. Most were random photos of the plantation. The last was a picture of a newborn baby wrapped in a white blanket and wearing a hospital bracelet. Memphis held the photo, looking at it with wide
ned eyes.

  “I think that’s me,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, the date on the box is my birthday. And look at the bracelet. It says December fourteenth.”

  “Your birthday.”

  I studied the picture. A thud came from the tunnel leading outside. He dropped the photos as we focused on the door.

  “Someone’s here,” Memphis whispered. He had his knife out before I saw him move. He stood and motioned for me to get under one of the tables. I crawled under, hidden on three sides by a metal casing. Memphis crawled beside me. I scooted back, but we barely fit.

  The faint scent of his aftershave made my stomach twist in knots. His shoulder was pressed against my chest, so close that I felt the warmth from his body. His muscles were taut and hard. His nearness quickened my heartbeats.

  He glanced at me sideways. My chest rose and fell with my quickened breaths. He shifted position. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though I wasn’t sure why he said it.

  I clenched my hands, my palms sweaty. I’d lost my knife in Arizona. I regretted not replacing it.

  The door squeaked open. The sound of heavy booted footsteps echoed through the room. Blood whirring through my ears, I heard the footsteps draw closer.

  Memphis’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his knife. I wondered what good a blade would do against our intruder. The last guy we’d met carried a rifle.

  I prayed this one didn’t.

  The person paced around the desk. As soon as the combat boots came into view, Memphis lunged. He sprang so fast his body became a blur. I heard scuffling, and then a very familiar voice let out a curse.

  I crept from the table to see Naomi, her eyes wide, on the other end of Memphis’s knife.

  She slapped the knife away. It thudded to the floor.

  “Are you daft?” she spat. “Were you planning on warning me before you killed me? Or were you going to murder me first and then ask questions?”

  “We thought you were someone else,” he mumbled as he grabbed up his knife.

  “Yeah? Like bloody who? The groundskeeper?”

  “Like a Revenant,” I spoke up. “No offense, but what are you doing down here?”

  “One could ask the same thing of you.”

  “We’re looking for those journals,” Memphis said. “So far, we’ve found nothing.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

  She pursed her lips, and then a small smile crept around the corners of her mouth. “Lucky for you, I’ve come just in time.” She walked to the back wall and opened a cabinet marked number 45. “I had a chat with the gardener. Seems he’s rather fond of dark-skinned women with foreign accents. I used it to my advantage.” She winked.

  The cabinet door popped open. Inside sat a safe with a combination lock. “They’re in here. Find out how to open it, and you’ll find your journals.”

  “Are you serious?” Memphis asked.

  “Of course I’m serious. Why else would I be down in this creepy place?” She glanced at the surgical tables and saw blades.

  Memphis stood at file 45. The combination lock clicked as he spun it. “Any idea what the combination is?” he asked.

  “No clue,” she answered. “Not even the gardener could tell me that one.”

  He shook his head. “We may be here awhile.” The lock click-click-clicked as he turned it.

  “Try eighteen-twenty seven,” I suggested.

  He spun the lock, lined up the numbers, and tried the handle. “That’s not it.”

  “Forty five,” Naomi suggested.

  He tried the combination. “No.”

  “I guess we could try blowing it up, right?”

  Naomi eyed me. “Did you bring explosives?”

  I studied the lock, wishing I could come up with some way to open it.

  We had so many questions that needed answering. I suspected our answers lay inside that safe. But how did we get inside?

  I rested against a table when my foot scraped something on the floor. I looked down to find the photo box. Picking up the pictures, I stared at the photo of the baby. The birth date on the baby’s bracelet. The birth date.

  “Your birth date.” I stumbled to the lock with the photo in hand. “December fourteenth. That’s got to be it.” I turned the dial to one.

  “What’s she going on about?” Naomi asked.

  Back to two…

  “Of course,” Memphis said. He stood behind me. “June, you’re a genius.”

  Back to one. Then to four. I heard a click and then tried the handle. It opened without a hitch, but as soon as the door swung back, a loud rushing sound came from what I had assumed were vents above us. I’d assumed wrong.

  Water gushed inside as if a dam had broken.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Water thundered into the room. I feared it would fill before we could make it out.

  Memphis grabbed the stack of books out of the open safe. We raced to the door as the water rose to our ankles. I’d almost drowned once before. I refused to let it happen again.

  By the time we reached the hallway, the water rose to our knees. I had no idea water could fill a room so fast.

  “Grab my hand,” Memphis yelled. “We have to stay together.” I fumbled until I found his hand. Naomi found my other hand. We stayed like that until I heard another loud rushing sound. Water poured from gaps in the wall.

  The room filled so quickly that I felt the swirling current pull at my waist. I made my way forward with Memphis as my anchor. The water rose to my neck.

  Naomi gasped behind me. Her hand slipped from mine.

  “Naomi,” I called over the thundering rush.

  “Behind you, love.” Her voice echoed. “Keep moving.”

  Memphis pulled me forward, holding my hand in a tight clasp. His grasp remained firm as he dragged me forward. A shaft of light came from overhead. The water rose to my chin as we found the ladder. I grabbed a rung and followed Memphis up.

  As soon as we climbed out, we collapsed onto the guest house’s hard packed floor. Water churned below us, brown and frothing, like the muddy brown color of the Mississippi. I stared into the opening, trying to breathe.

  “Where’s Naomi?” I asked.

  He stood beside me, his chest rising and falling as he stared into the hole.

  “She was right behind me. Where is she?”

  I waited, staring into the water’s depths, praying she appeared soon. “I’m going back for her.” I stepped to the opening when Memphis grabbed my arm.

  “No.” His words sounded calm, but I saw the panic in his eyes. “Water like that will kill you faster than you can blink.”

  The panic formed a hard knot in my stomach. “I can’t. I won’t leave until we’ve found her.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  My stomach sickened. I wasn’t underwater, but I couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I go back for her? She was down there. She needed me.

  I tried to listen to her heartbeats. If she was down there, wouldn’t I hear her heartbeats?

  “We have to go,” Memphis whispered in my ear. I pushed him back.

  “No.” I stepped toward the opening, listening, straining to hear anything but the rush of water.

  “June—”

  “Leave me alone! I don’t leave without her. Got it?”

  “June.” He took my hand. He stood so close that the sound of his heartbeat overcame the gushing water. “June,” he said, quieter. “We have to stay safe. We have to go. She’ll find a way out.”

  I looked up at him. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because she must’ve found another way out. It’s the only explanation. She’ll be okay.”

  I blinked, feeling the world spin around me. Outside, I heard a pair of security guards walking toward the guest house. Memphis focused on them with darkened eyes. He pulled me away from the opening.

  Each step I took felt like Naomi’s death sentence. I couldn’t walk away from her. She was my best frie
nd, my only friend who really knew me, who knew my quirks and still put up with me.

  Tears threatened to break free. A hard knot formed in my throat. She couldn’t die. I knew she’d find a way to live. I knew Naomi. She wouldn’t give up without a fight.

  Yet as we made our way outside and toward the truck, she never emerged. I expected her to run up behind me and surprise me with some witty remark. But she never came.

  I climbed inside the truck, my eyes still focused on the house. I wouldn’t let her go. She would come back. It was the only answer I could accept.

  Memphis slammed his door closed and we drove back to his apartment. He didn’t talk. I didn’t know what to say.

  The afternoon sun filled the truck’s cab, though as it streamed over my arms and legs, it did nothing to thaw the chill I felt inside. I hugged my arms tight around my chest.

  Memphis stopped the truck under the carport.

  I stumbled out and found my way inside the house. Numbness replaced my sadness. I collapsed onto the couch.

  Nothing made sense anymore.

  Memphis carefully arranged a soggy heap of journals on the coffee table. He brought out a small heater and focused it on the wet pages.

  Would it do any good? I doubted it. Whatever information was in those documents was lost. Naomi had given her life for nothing.

  Naomi.

  It hurt to think about her. I shut my eyes, listening to the gentle hum of the heater as it dried the pages. Memphis’s voice came from somewhere. I thought he asked if I wanted anything to eat, but I couldn’t be sure.

  The image of the water-filled cellar wouldn’t leave my mind. I imagined Naomi beneath the water. I imagined what she’d gone through, the panic as the water filled her lungs, the terror of knowing that she would die soon.

  I felt something cold in my hands and finally opened my eyes. The ice clinked as I held it up to inspect it closer. I held a glass of lemonade. Little beads of water formed outside the glass. I stared at Memphis as he sat beside me.