I didn’t know what to say, so I pulled both my parents into another hug and held them for a while. My mom kissed the top of my head just like my dad had done and whispered for me to go inside. Walking slowly away, I tried to wrap my head around what I had just found out. Maybe there would be more answers waiting for me in my room.
I made it to my bedroom before I felt the first tears of the day streaming down my face. Running to the bathroom, I turned on the shower to muffle the sounds of my sobs. I couldn’t quite grip what was going on. They obviously loved me, but they weren’t my parents. Why couldn’t I remember anyone else having been in my life? Whatever happened to my birthparents must have happened when I was very young. Who was this man claiming to be my dad? What right did he have to try and insert himself into my life? I knew who my father was; he was downstairs, making breakfast.
My dad taught me how to ride my first bike; he was the one who laughed when I crashed that bike into a tree. He was the one who got me right back onto the seat for another ride, this time telling me where the brakes were. That was my dad, not some man from a letter that I had never met. Feeling a little bit better, like I finally had some control over what was happening, I got out of the shower and put on some fresh clothes.
That’s when I noticed the chest on my bed. It was an old wooden chest; it looked a bit like an army ammunitions box. It was about four feet long, a foot high, and a foot wide. It had old iron hinges, and the main latch had a keyhole in the center. The key was resting on top of the box covered in dust, like it hadn’t seen the light of day in twenty years. I could have sworn the box wasn’t on my bed when I came upstairs, but I couldn’t be sure. Obviously it had been placed here for me to open it.
Taking a deep breath, I reached for the key. When I picked the key up, I felt a slight tingle in my fingers. It spread up my arm, and then the sensation went away. I put the key into the lock and turned it. I wasn’t sure what I expected to happen, but the key turned in the lock effortlessly. I removed the key and opened the lid to the box.
The top of the box was lined with pictures of a man and a woman I had never seen before. There was also a necklace hanging from a bent nail in the lid. It immediately caught my eye because of the gentle sway of movement created by opening the box. I slid it off the nail to examine the necklace closer. It was a simple leather cord with what looked to have a silver mounting holding a triangle-shaped piece of bone. The bone could be seen from all four sides, and it was a perfect triangle. Each side of the triangle was carved with a single etching of an open eye. Under the eye on the flat bottom, it said, “Novus Ordo Seclorum.” I couldn’t help but feel that my father had left this for me to wear. I slid the necklace over my head and tucked it inside my shirt. The necklace rested against the uncovered skin of my chest, and I could feel a small amount of heat coming from it.
I looked back at the pictures lining the top of the chest. They had to be pictures of my parents. The young couple looked happy and in love. In one of the pictures, they were both wearing what looked like loose-fitting fighting tunics. Each tunic had some kind of crest on it. I wasn’t sure what the crests meant. I had never seen anything like them before.
The left half of the chest looked like it had a package wrapped in leather or some kind of waterproofed cloth. I pulled it out and opened it up. Inside was a tunic and pants. It looked exactly like the ones my parents were wearing in the pictures. The only thing missing was the crest on the tunic; the one I had pulled from the box was blank. The material was like nothing I had felt before, lightweight and soft but strong and thick. It was an interesting texture, and I just couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was made of. It was slightly coarse like denim but also soft and flexible like cotton.
Underneath the tunic was a second smaller bundle. This package included gloves and socks of the same material. The gloves were slightly different than a normal pair. When I slid the gloves on, I noticed they extended further up my wrist, about three inches longer than a normal pair. The gloves were also unique in the fact they had been cut so your fingers were exposed.
Further inside the box was a pair of boots. The boots were made of light, flexible leather and looked well broken in. The smaller compartment on the right contained a couple of books and a mixture of odds and ends that must have been important to the owner. One of the books was tied together with a small leather strap. It reminded me of a journal I used to write in. I left the gloves and the necklace on and headed downstairs. The thought of food motivated me to leave the room, as much as I wanted to sit on my bed and read that journal until I finished it. I was looking forward to getting some answers.
Walking down the stairs, I paused for a second. Something was off. It tickled at the edge of my senses, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. I felt a surge of adrenaline, and my hands grew sweaty. The reaction was so out of place that I stopped and started to take stock of my surroundings. I didn’t hear the noises you would normally hear while someone was making breakfast. In our house, there would be some kind of morning chatter or the TV would be on. I’m sure they had plenty to talk about, so I found it odd that there was no conversation coming from the kitchen. I couldn’t hear the slightest movement coming from the kitchen. No plates shuffling, no crackle of bacon from the pan, not a single thing. It wasn’t normal for the kitchen to be so silent. I loved that we had loud breakfasts; it was part of what made it more than a place where we lived. It made our house a home.
The sound of food cooking and my parents getting ready for work always filled me with a sense of belonging. Now the pure absence of any sound was what was really disturbing me. It was like being trapped in a bubble. I could hear my breathing and my heart beating, but nothing else. I decided it was because I was so nervous. My parents or the people I thought were my parents must be feeling the same way. That had to be why the TV was off and they weren’t talking. They had probably had time to talk last night while I was out and were just waiting for me to come into the kitchen. I could feel my heartbeat speed up and my face growing warm. Swallowing my fear, I headed into the kitchen.
As I crossed the door to the kitchen, the bubble of silence lifted and I could easily hear again. I couldn’t believe what was happening. How could I have not heard what was going on in here? My father was sitting in a chair, his face was bloody and starting to swell. My mother was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. I couldn’t tell if she was still alive, but she wasn’t moving. My first instinct was to run in and check if she was ok. I caught my father’s eye, and he shook his head. I could tell that he wanted me to make a run for it. It didn’t matter what he wanted, I had to get them out of here.
I rushed into the room, hoping to tackle the man holding the gun. I was grabbed from behind by two sets of hands on my shoulders and forced down onto my knees. My father looked up at me again, and when our eyes met, he mouthed the words, “I love you.” Then I watched as the man standing in front of him pulled the trigger and ended his life. This time the sound of the gunshot was deafening. My ears rang, and the sound of the shot echoed through my head. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. I struggled to get off my knees and lunge at his killer. I was held mercilessly in place by the iron grips on my shoulders.
I felt something slam into the back of my head, and before I passed out, all I focused on was the face of the man who killed my family. I would never forget that face for as long as I lived. He was thin, almost to the point of starvation. His chin stuck out at just the right angle to make him look proud and arrogant. What stood out the most to me were his eyes, his black, soulless eyes. They actually seemed to sparkle with a hint of amusement at what he had done. As if he had just watched something funny happen or that he enjoyed what he had done. He turned his head, and I noticed a small scar on his right cheek. I knew that if I somehow managed to live through this, I would see this man pay for what he had done. I would hunt him down and make sure he suffered the same way my family had. The rage was building inside of me, waiting
for the opportunity to be released. It started to bubble over as I was hit on the back of the head again. His face burned into my memory, and I slipped into oblivion.
5
Jackson
When I came to, I almost couldn’t believe it. I really thought the last moments of my life were going to be spent in that kitchen. At least if I died with my parents, I wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of not being able to save them. There was no reason for the men who murdered my family to want me alive. I was just a kid; what could they possibly want from me?
My arms and legs were stiff. My wrist and ankles hurt like they had been bound tightly, but they were free of restraints now. I couldn’t see, but when I reached up to rub my eyes, I found a cloth covering them. When I removed the cloth hood, I couldn’t see too much better than before. It appeared I was in some kind of cell. There was a faint glow from a candle. From the feeble light in the room, I could see four walls and a door. I spent a few extra seconds to examine the door. There was no knob, and it was set flush into the wall. There was no way out that I could see.
I sat up slowly and started to work my fingers in and out, making a fist and then rotating it in a slow circle. I had to try and get the blood flowing back into my limbs. I started to wiggle my toes, and slowly started to roll my ankles around. Finally satisfied that when I stood up I wouldn’t fall flat on my face, I decided to give it a go. With more effort than I thought it would take, I rolled over onto my hands and knees. Once I was stable there, I used the wall to slowly lift myself up onto my feet. When I could successfully stand without holding the wall, I continued stretching.
I started working all of my muscles like I was getting ready for a run. No sense in not being prepared if there was a chance I could get out of here. I might only get one chance to make a run for it. If the door opened, I had to be ready. Seeing as how I had been tied up all day, it was a good bet they wouldn’t be expecting me to be limber enough to run. I was pretty sure that, unless they came in with multiple people and a gun, leaving me untied was going to be a pretty big mistake.
During the last couple of months, when I felt like I couldn’t burn off enough energy, I had been working my body into exhaustion every night, only to wake up the next day with even more energy. This constant running and working out had left me in really great shape. I was sure that even with no training, I could take two or three guys my size without a problem. I could already feel the energy flowing into my body. It was loosening my muscles and easing the exhaustion that I felt. I kept at it, stretching and working my muscles, until they started to feel normal again.
As I sat in the pure silence of my cell, I started to listen, hoping to hear something. Maybe there was more than one cell, more than one prisoner. I strained my ears for what felt like hours but could have just as easily been only a few minutes. Just when I was about to stop listening, I thought I heard something. It could have been anything. I was trying so hard to hear something that I wasn’t even sure if it was real. I was about to dismiss it as nothing but then I really did hear something. It had to be people talking. The sound of their voices was muffled, but I could tell that there was more than one person coming. I could now hear their voices slightly echoing, and it was followed by the sound of footsteps getting louder.
I was sure of it now. I wasn’t imagining it. There were at least two people walking toward my cell, holding a conversation. I could almost make out the words now. I moved closer to the door, hoping it would help me hear them. There was definitely a man. He sounded older. His speech seemed hurried, like he was nervous about something. The person or people he was with never responded. I had to believe that he was with someone; it was too scary to think of him walking the hallways of this place talking to himself. Just when I thought I could make out the words clearly, the talking stopped.
I heard what sounded like hurried whispers. Then the man I heard earlier, at least, I think it was him, clearly said, “Are you sure this is the one?”
More whispers. I prepared myself to attack. I stood against the wall to one side so they would have to move into the room to see me. This way I might have a slight edge, might even be able to take one of them out before the others knew what was happening.
I heard the man speak again. “If you’re ready, let’s get this over with.”
As soon as he stopped speaking, the door flew open. Two people entered at the same time. I launched myself from the wall and was about to strike when I saw the swirl of her long blonde hair. My fist was about to make contact when her face came clearly into view. It was a beautiful younger woman. Time seemed to slow as I took in her expression of shock and the beauty of her features. I barely pulled the punch back in time. I stumbled past her and was thrown violently into the wall by her partner.
When I rebounded off the wall and landed on the ground, I was tossed against the back wall of my cell. I hadn’t expected one of my attackers to be a woman. I should have been ready to do whatever it took to get out of here. Chivalry died when my parents were killed.
Now I found myself being held against the wall about a foot off the ground, and no one was even touching me. It had to be a trick of some kind. As I hung against the wall, suspended in the air by some force I couldn’t see, the older man stepped into the room.
“That’s enough, Steven! We came here to save him, not to squish him into little bits.”
Without a word from anyone in the room, the pressure around me lessened and I dropped to the ground. Taking a breath and looking up for the first time at my three visitors, I only had one question on my mind. “What in the hell is going on?”
The older gentlemen looked at me with a little bit of concern creasing his mouth and eyes. “There will be time for that later. First we need to get you out of here and somewhere safe. Steven, Vanessa, take the lead. I’ll bring up the rear with our new friend.”
We exited my cell and headed to the right. The hallway we were in looked just like my cell, only much, much longer. It was surprisingly well lit. Bulbs hung from the ceiling roughly every ten feet. There were doors lining both sides of the hallway, all of them unopened. We started to jog, and I got the feeling we didn’t have an unlimited amount of time before someone noticed our escape. Hopefully we could make it out of here before someone tried to stop us from leaving. We started to pick up the pace, our jogging slowly turning into a flat out run. My ankles groaned in protest, but I started to feel better about making myself stretch while I had been waiting for my chance to escape.
When we reached the end of the hallway, we entered a large square room. Video monitors completely lined one of the walls. Desks were placed against the opposite wall, giving whoever sat at them visibility of both the doors and the video feed. This was clearly a guard room of some kind, but there were no guards. As we headed through the room to the open door on the opposite side, I noticed a foot sticking out from behind one of the desks. I started to point, but then I noticed the rest of the body. It had been ripped in half by God knew what, and someone had tried to hide as much of it as possible by shoving it under the desk. I didn’t ask any of the questions that were tumbling through my mind; I just followed Steven and Vanessa through the door and kept running.
We made our way through several more guard rooms, all of them empty except for what was hiding in the corners or under the desks. It was weird to be running through empty room after empty room. The only thing left in these rooms was pure destruction and death. I could only imagine that my new traveling companions were the ones responsible. Why hide the bodies, though? We hadn’t encountered another living soul since we left my cell.
We finally made it to a closed door. Steven hit the door at a full run, with Vanessa right behind him. I caught the door as it started to close, and all I heard was a hurried, “Go up.” Then the real fun started. We were running up endless flights of stairs. I could tell it was taking its toll on the man running next to me. His breath was getting ragged. Every now and then it would be accentuated by a gasp fo
r air, and he was starting to slow down. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to be able to make it, we burst through one last door into the glaring sunlight. I had to stop running, the glare of the bright sunlight momentarily blinding me.
After my time in the dark cell and being unconscious, my eyes just couldn’t adjust fast enough to the light. I felt an arm on my shoulder guiding me forward. We reached a dark SUV of some kind, and as soon as the door closed behind me, we were moving again. We were going fast, like the devil was nipping at our heels fast. My mind was reeling with the thoughts and emotions of the day. Not too long ago, I was just a normal kid going to school and coming home at night to my family. Now that I knew that I was adopted, my adoptive parents had been murdered. I had been kidnapped and imprisoned. All of that had happened in the last day, as far as I could tell. My sense of time was a little muddied from being unconscious. Now I found myself on the run with people I didn’t know. Not to mention that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that I could trust any of them. I did feel like I knew a few things, though. These people saved my life by getting me out of that hole, they were killers, and at least one of them had some kind of superpower. Crazy as all of that was, I had a feeling it was just the beginning of things to come.
I woke up, jumping violently out of my seat with the memories of my parents’ deaths still haunting my thoughts. Bumping my head on the roof of the car brought me back to reality rather quickly. I had forgotten where I was, and ended up paying for it by adding another bump to my head. We had to have been driving for hours, at least I thought so. When we left the prison, it had been bright and sunny, but now it was dark without a trace of the sun in the sky. I felt something bump against my shoulder and almost banged my head on the roof again.
The Arena Page 6