by KD Knight
I pulled another box off the shelf. It was the file of a boy named Hasani Boothe. "Hey Boothe, I found something you might want to see."
"Give me a minute, I think I found something myself." He was in another aisle.
I looked down at my friend’s file and admired the picture of a young Boothe. Under his photo it read:
Hasani Boothe, age seven, adopted by maternal grandparents Henry and Claudia Boothe. Biological mother deceased, father unknown. Boy displays behaviour uncharacteristic of an Eshkar. Invitation was extended to the family to have the boy put under one-week behavioural testing, psychological evaluation, and talent/gift assessments to confirm our suspicions. Adopted father and E.I. Council Chairman, Henry Boothe, denied permission.
The file then jumps forward to two months before I arrived in Jamaica.
Mr. Boothe is a known associate of Nephilim offender Marcus. He was detained for questioning with respect to the disappearance of Tanya Coy and the attempted kidnapping of Jane Miller.
My heart instantly dropped.
After extensive questioning…
"I found him! I found Marcus's file!" Boothe charged towards me.
"What's wrong?" He touched my shoulder with concern.
I pulled back instinctively.
He gave me a confused glare. He moved to step forward again but paused as Lisa and Mark approached.
"What does Marcus's file say?" Lisa asked Boothe.
Boothe handed the folder to me.
I took a deep breath and opened Marcus's file. There was a picture of a much younger Marcus pinned to the inside cover. He had the same burnt orange freckles and curly brown hair he had now. But his eyes were tender, almost warm. Under his photo, in block letters it read: Marcus, son of Nephilim clan leader, Aramos. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION.
His file read like a police record for one of those repeat offenders I saw on America’s Most Wanted. He was arrested by the E.I.s on numerous charges, ranging from suspicion of murder to coercing an Eshkar official. He was detained and prosecuted five times over the last six years. He is currently wanted in connection with the bus accident and my attempted kidnapping. Despite his numerous periods of detainment and charges, he has never been convicted.
Mark's mouth hung open. "Marcus is Aramos's son? I should have taken him out when I had the chance." He closed his eyes. "I can see it now. I'd be known as the Eshkar who took out Aramos's own son. I'd be greeted by cheering crowds. I'd get medals and free food."
I flipped through the pages. That’s all there was! I expected more. Where did he come from? Where is he now? This file was no help.
"Has anyone found any information about Aramos or the Ancients?" I handed the file back to Boothe.
They all shook their heads.
"But I did find Dr. Coy's file," Mark said, twisting the manila folder around in his hand.
"Put that back!" I demanded. I thought back to the Dr. Coy I saw in the cafeteria. How broken he looked. "His daughter is missing. Privacy is the least we could give him."
A loud bang rang out in the distance. I looked down at my watch. Our time was up.
Boothe watched my movements attentively.
"What?" I asked roughly.
"You tell me," He answered softly.
You're a liar. I feel like an idiot for ever trusting you.
The banging became louder and more aggressive.
"Jane, tell me what's wrong," Boothe insisted as he moved in close.
The words were stuck in the back of my throat. The longer I stared at him the more the words felt like they were choking me.
Lisa sorted through the files that we had read and returned them to their boxes. "Millicent sounds impatient," She said as she slipped the box onto the shelf. "I think we should hurry."
Then there came a loud, deep voice from the other side of the door.
"This is the Council Guard. We know you are in there. Surrender yourselves!"
~Boothe~
Chapter Seventeen: Narrow Escape
Mark found the only exit in the building, a staircase leading up to the second floor. When we reached the base of the steps, I realized that the Council Guard, the-kill-first-ask-questions-later faction of the Eshkar armed forces, had breached the upper level and were making their way down the stairs. I quickly pulled Jane and the others under the staircase into a small hollow between the descending steps and the floor. Jane's arm slipped away. I reached out and grabbed her tightly. Heavy feet were coming down the stairs fast. Thankfully, the wide set concrete stairs blocked us, giving us a few extra moments unnoticed.
"Oh, we are dead," Mark said frantically. "Maybe not all of us; I think I've got a good chance at getting away."
"Quiet." I needed a second of silence to think.
"I would love some Jerk Chicken right now," Mark whispered mournfully.
"Shut it." Lisa hit Mark in the arm.
"Face it. There's no way out," Mark grumbled. "If I ask them nicely maybe they'll give me one last meal."
I ran my palm across the cement wall. "Yes there is." The weak spot.
I started in on the cement wall with a few precise blows. I timed each blow to coincide with the flow of the hard footsteps above. It was working. The concrete crumbled revealing the wired interior frame. A few more punches and a small whole was made, allowing a gust of salty air to flow in. I grit my teeth and continued to punch as blood from my knuckles stained the cement rubble. All of us pulled frantically at the remaining weakened frame until the hole was big enough for a body to pass through.
"Ladies first," I said, reaching for Jane.
"Lisa first." Jane turned and helped Lisa through the hole.
Jane followed her, then Mark and finally me. When I made it through, I realized that we had escaped the fire only to be trapped by water. We had our backs pressed against the side of the building that sat on the bank of a cliff overlooking a rough tide. There were only a few inches between our feet and the sharp, jagged rocks below.
Time was against us. In a few moments, they'd realize that weren’t in the warehouse. They'll do a sweep, see the hole under the steps and come for us. We'd be trapped and easily picked off.
"I'm open to suggestions," I said to the group. "Anyone?"
"I think I've got one, but it's tricky," Jane offered.
A sharp wind came off the ocean, biting me as it passed.
"Anything is better than standing here." Mark tucked his hands under his armpits for warmth.
"The embankment," she said, pointing to her left.
"You mean that sliver of dirt sticking out of the side of the cliff?" Mark clarified.
"I think we can make it there. From there we can hike down to the shore," Jane continued.
With no one putting forward any other ideas, we slowly head down the cliff. One missed step and it would be over. No one could survive the fall from that height. If they miraculously survived the fall, the rough tide beating against the shore would crush them.
We made it to the embankment. Thankfully, the lip of the cliff concealed us from anyone who would be standing above. We were there for a few seconds when we heard the voices and footsteps of the Council Guard.
"They could have fallen over the cliff?" One officer asked another.
"No one could survive that fall and I don't see any bodies," another said. "They must have slipped past us."
"If we lose them Glenroy will kill us. He made it very clear that he needs both of them alive."
"I say we leave. Tell Glenroy that they fell off the cliff. I'm tired of doing his dirty work and getting nothing out of it."
"We get to keep our lives," the first officer said angrily. "Stay focused. We need the Miller girl and Boothe alive. The other two, shoot on sight."
The sudden echo of radio static filled the air. The speaker announced that there was suspicious movement at the entrance to Fort Charles. We listened as the heavy footsteps of the Council Guard disappeared.
I knew they wanted Jane. That's been
clear from the beginning, but what would they want with me?
"Shoot on sight," Marked mumbled angrily. "I should have followed my mind and stayed at home. In fact, all of you should have followed my mind. But now thanks to Jane's fight with The General, I am going to die."
Jane held Lisa's hand in hers. The colour had drained from Lisa's face. "I am so sorry I got you two into this mess."
"As long as I am alive, I won't let anyone take any of you,” I promised.
Jane grunted and rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't trust any of their lives to you."
"What does that mean?" I could feel my jaws clenching tightly.
"Well, at best, you're a liar. At worst, you’re a kidnapper, maybe a murderer even…"
"Kidnap and murder?" I huffed. "Jane, what are you talking about?"
"So it’s liar then." She gritted her teeth and paused for a moment, her chest heaving. She looked cold and withdrawn. Something had changed. She had changed.
"We should try to head back up." She said finally.
"Boothe, you go up first. If you still have your limbs, I'll go up next," Mark said.
Just as Mark finished his sentence, the footsteps returned and stopped directly over our head.
Then it happened. A hand reached down and grabbed Jane by the arm.
No. No. NO! This couldn't be happening. I grabbed at her legs, but I was too late. She vanished over the lip of the cliff. Lisa screamed Jane's name as Mark mumbled a prayer. All I could hear was the blood pumping through my ears. Blood filled my arms, shoulders, and chest, tripling their size.
I punched two holes in the cliff and climbed the cliff like a ladder. I was halfway up the cliff when a long rope dropped past me. Then Jane's face appeared.
"We've got help," she said.
Millicent appeared by her side. "You have to hurry. I sent the Guard to the other side of the Fort. You need to get out of here before they realize I've sent them on a wild chase."
We reached the surface and made it to the car with no sign of the Council Guard. Just then, Vice emerged from the office and ran towards the car.
"Hurry, Boothe get us out of here!" Mark yelled.
I turned the ignition and the car sputtered, but did not start.
"Agh!" Mark yelled as Vice grew close.
After a few more tries, the engine finally turned over. In the distance, the Council Guard emerged from the back of the Fort.
I pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
~Jane~
Chapter Eighteen: Alone
Saturday morning was busy as usual for Aunt Dar, or at least she acted like it was. She was up by 5:30 a.m. cleaning, and left to do her shopping by 9:00 a.m. I told her very little about our trip. This was intentional, so that if the Council Guard came after her, she could honestly say she knew nothing.
By the afternoon, the group had gathered again. Lisa was in my living room, meticulously making notes on yesterday's journey. Mark was in the kitchen looking through the cupboards for banana chips. And Boothe was sitting by the window, clenching and unclenching his fists.
I said very little to Boothe during our drive from Port Royal and I avoided his phone calls all night. By midnight, he seemed to have taken the hint that I wasn't interested in talking to him. But then he showed up at my house today with Lisa and Mark, so maybe he didn't get it.
From across the room, I stared at Boothe hard. He held my stare, unrepentant.
"I regret dragging you and Mark to Port Royal," I said, turning to Lisa. "You could’ve been killed."
"If it wasn't for Millicent, we would have," Lisa replied.
When the Council Guard showed up at the archive doors, I thought for sure that it was Millicent's doing. I was surprised and frightened when she pulled me up from the side of the cliff. I envisioned her handing Boothe and me over to the Council Guard, and Lisa and Mark over to their deaths. She did the exact opposite. She snuck us past the Council Guards and off Council property to where Boothe's car was waiting. We owed her our lives.
"I still can't believe that Marcus is Aramos's son. That was a shocker," Lisa said.
"Yeah." I fingered my gran's necklace. "That wasn't the only surprise." I mumbled to myself.
"You've been acting funny since yesterday," Lisa whispered.
I swallowed deeply. "I haven't been acting…"
"Yes, you have." Boothe said from behind me. "You called me a liar, a kidnapper, and a murderer."
Lisa's jaw dropped as her eyes danced between Boothe and me.
I looked over my shoulder to Boothe. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Whatever you found in my file must have been really bad." He stepped closer.
How did he know? He must have seen the file in my hand when he approached me with Marcus's file.
"You should let this go." I turned to face him. "Trust me, I'm doing you a favour."
He stepped even closer. "Don't do me any favours. I want you to say what's on your mind. You're brave enough to take on The General, but you can't talk to me?" His piercing grey eyes narrowed to a squint.
"The difference is that I have never been misled by the Aramos. I know exactly what he's capable of and to what lengths he's willing to go to get it. You on the other hand, I let you in. I cared about you. I trusted you. Only to find out that you are not worth trusting."
I wanted so badly to put on a hard front. But I couldn't stop my eyes from misting over.
"Jane, what are you talking about?" he pinched his dark brows together.
"Do you want me to tell them exactly what your file said?"
He balled his fists and shoved them into his pockets. "I had nothing to do with the accident. I told you that."
"But what you left out is that you were under investigation for it. And you never mentioned anything about Dr. Coy's daughter. I told you how upset Dr. Coy was about his daughter. You acted like it was new news." I swallowed against the lump that rose in my throat. "What else have you been lying about?"
"Nothing!" He reached out to grab me and I pulled away.
"I feel like an idiot for trusting you."
"I have stood by you day and night." He spoke through clenched teeth. "Been there whenever and wherever you needed me. This is the reward?"
His shirt tightened against his swollen arms and chest as he spoke. Soon every sculpted muscle was imprinted in the cotton. He gave me a long, hard look, then backed away and headed for the door.
"What's going on?" Mark enquired as he emerged from the kitchen with his food discovery.
"Boothe's leaving," I answered.
"You're right about that!" Boothe shot back.
I walked over to the front door and held it open. His eyes had fully transformed. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the tendons on his neck stood firm.
"I have gone out of my way to help you, but from now on you're on your own."
He stepped outside onto the empty veranda. I lingered by the door for a moment, so did he. When he stepped out into the sunlight, I closed the door behind him. I remained by the door clutching my gran's necklace and listening to the grumble of his engine.
In my mother's voice, my mind did the I-told-you-so speech. You should have never trusted him. The only one you can trust is yourself. All these people around you will do nothing but hurt you. Leave them and come back home to me.
"I think you guys should go home," I said, turning to Mark and Lisa. "I don't think I'll be good company right now."
Lisa looked past me to the door. "I've known Boothe for years and have never seen him care about anyone as much as he cares for you." My eyes met hers. "Yes, he should have told you about being investigated. But you must know that he would never hurt you."
"He lied. I can't trust anything that comes out of his mouth."
"Fine. Trust his actions. His father forbade him from ever speaking to you, but he stayed with you. He protected you."
I dropped the pendant, walked over to the dining room table, and pulled out a chair. "Can we talk about so
mething else?"
"Oh! Oh!" Mark raised his hand like an eager student. "I've got something we can talk about. I stole some papers from the archives." He unfurled a stack of paper from his back pocket. "How's this for a new topic?"
"How did you get this out of the building?” Lisa shifted the papers with the tip of her pen.
Mark raised his brow and gave a sly smile as he pointed downwards. Lisa looked like she would throw up.
“I saw the file just as the Council Guard started banging on the door. I had to get this out of the building and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to put it.”
“That’s disgusting, Mark.” Using the tip of her pen, she pushed the papers back towards Mark.
“You’ll sing a different tune very soon,” Mark cleared his throat and held the papers high. “Will and Testament. One property residing in Spanish Town, consisting of two acres. One open lot consisting of four acres in Vere, Clarendon. Six registered Ancients: Quaco, Miles, Damien…”
Lisa ripped the sheet away from Mark and quickly skimmed to the bottom of the page “Menna, Peacota, and Crecha,” she read slowly. Then suddenly, her eyes became sullen and she dropped the paper into her lap.
“Lisa, what is it?” I took the paper from her. On the last line of the page it read, “This is the registered property of William S. Coy, and have been transferred to his son Christopher M. Coy upon his death.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. It’s like you guys said, back in the day Eshkar and Nephilim owned Ancients.”
“Jane, Dr. Coy owned the Ancient that attacked you.” She slid a picture across the table. “His name is Crecha.”
Instantly my heart began to thunder. The jaundice toned eyes, wirey limbs and wild hair. It was him. "So, what does this mean?"
"The good news is that he doesn't own Crecha anymore. It's against Council Code," Mark added. "The not so good news is that Coy's a liar and can't be trusted. You described the attack in the market to Coy and the E.I. agents. There's no way that Coy didn't recognize the description of his own Ancient."
"There must be a reasonable explanation," Lisa said finally. "He must have been protecting us in some way."