by Donna Cain
Copyright © 2013 Donna M Cain
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 0989012603
ISBN 13: 9780989012607
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9890126-1-4
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013903556
Chiot Press, Crestwood, KY
CONTENTS
Prologue
Claymont Jackson
Eli & Hunter
Mr. Just
Bug
Shasta
Clara
Darren
Heather
Eli & Hunter
Hunter, Eli & Bug
Sheriff Buchanon
Sheriff Buchanon
Eli & Hunter
Darren & Shasta
Heather
Clara & Hansen
Peaceful Hearts
Clara
Shasta & Bug
Bug & Shasta
Professor Preston Monroe
The Rock of Varuupi
Eli & Hunter
Shasta & Darren
Bug
Hunter & Eli
Sheriff Buchanon
Eli, Hunter & Mr. Just
Darren
Bug & Mr. Hamilton
Friends & Neighbors
A Plan is Born
Darren & Shasta
Sheriff Buchanon
Down The Gravel Path
The Burial
Meadowview Acres
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
DEDICATION
For Chase, Eliot and my Du, for constant
fun, love and happiness...
PROLOGUE
He smelled the smoke before he saw it. There it was, coming from the science lab windows. The plumes were thick and white. Completely forgetting to call 911, Darren sprinted to the closest doors. Yanking them open, he was engulfed in smoke. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. There was a chemical smell to the smoke that burned his nostrils. Darren took off his tee shirt and wrapped it around his nose and mouth.
He dropped to his hands and knees to try to get under the thickest plumes. The smoke was thinner down there; he could see a few feet ahead.
Darren knew the science lab was the third classroom on the right. If he crawled along the wall, he could count the doorways and know where he was. He started forward as quickly as possible, not knowing how long Hunter and Eli had already been inside.
His right hand came upon the first door quickly. Passing it, he tried to keep his eyes closed and feel his way. They were already tearing from the smoke and he would need as much sight as possible when he made it to the lab.
The second door was not much farther. He passed it and went quickly on. The hard floor was tough on his knees, but the smoke was worse. Even with the cotton shirt filtering the worst of it, Darren was already finding it hard to breathe.
Finally, his hand felt the entry to the third classroom. For a second, he questioned himself. Was he sure the lab was the third classroom, or was it the fourth one down? He was beginning to get a little lightheaded when he heard a voice from inside the room.
“Eli! Wake up!” It was Hunter. The voice was overcome by a series of coughs.
“Hunter!” Darren tried to shout through the entry. “It’s Darren! Can you hear me?” He broke off then as his throat constricted causing him to cough roughly.
Darren listened through the sounds of wood and paper crackling in the fire. There were loud pops now and then as something combustible in the lab exploded.
Then Hunter’s voice came out of the smoke, “Darren? Yeah! I hear you,” followed by more coughing spasms. Hunter sounded weak.
Darren shouted, “Can you crawl toward my voice?” It was hard to communicate over the sounds of the fire. His throat felt raw.
“Yeah, I mean, no! I can’t. Eli’s passed out! I can’t drag him! Get help!” He broke off coughing again.
“There’s no time!” Darren responded, feeling desperate now. “Guide me to you!”
Darren started crawling once again as he recalled the layout of the room. The school desks were in the front of the room. Behind those, in the middle of the room was Mr. Just’s main lab table with the rest of the lab tables in the back of the room. His hand touched the first desk. He tried to open his eyes, but the smoke in there was worse. It was so dense Darren couldn’t make out shapes or light anywhere.
He heard Hunter’s voice coming from the smoke. “Here, this way!” The voice broke off in a series of coughs. “We’re beside Mr. Just’s lab table!”
Darren counted the desks as he progressed towards Hunter’s voice. Two, three, four… He prayed they could find their way out of the room.
“This way,” Hunter yelled again and by the sound of his voice, Darren could tell he was very close.
“I’m close, almost there! Hold out your arm!” Darren coughed, still counting the desks as he passed. Seven, eight, there! Hunter’s hand hit him in the head.
“I’m here, Hunter.” He reached out and found Hunter’s arm. Grabbing it, he yelled, “Where’s Eli?”
More coughing, then, “I’m holding on to him. I think Mr. Just is here, but I haven’t found him.”
Darren wasted no time. “Pull Eli over to me; give me his hand.” His breath was coming harder now. He reached into the emptiness of the smoke and felt nothing. After a moment, he felt Hunter’s arm again. Hunter passed him a hand; this one was cold and dry. Grabbing it, Darren turned himself around and yelled to Hunter, “Follow me! Keep track of the desks! We’ll pass eight of them!” He broke off coughing and felt a tightening in his chest. He took a quick moment to recover then yelled back to Hunter, “Eight desks then the doorway! Stay to the left, three doorways down! Let’s go!”
Pulling Eli’s limp body behind, Darren started to crawl.
BOOK ONE
CHAPTER 1
Claymont Jackson
Claymont Jackson climbed into the cab of his Caterpillar bulldozer. He had a lot on his mind. He had three acres left to clear before phase one of the new development could begin. As usual, his boss, Tony Clark, had started Claymont’s day off with a threat. If he didn’t clear the last three acres by today, his bonus was in jeopardy. Claymont couldn’t blame Clark much, though. He knew Tony was hearing it from his boss, Gary Sam. And Mr. Sam was surely hearing it from the developer, Oakwood Homes. It was the trickle-down effect. Claymont was just the last one down the totem pole.
Oakwood Homes was responsible for the subdivision of around two-hundred fifty new houses. One thing Claymont knew from his years in construction was that time was money, and time was always short. Delays for weather or permits were always to be expected, and this job was no different. As of today they were only about a month behind schedule – mostly because of the cold snap about a month ago that brought a lot of rain. Today, Claymont was sure he could get them back on track. It was a beautiful day, and he was feeling good. He thought he could help Mr. Clark and Mr. Sam feel a little better, too. Claymont had plans for that bonus.
He stowed away his lunch box and his jacket, started the Cat and tuned into the Power Hits station. His son, Darren, had gotten him hooked on the music. He liked the upbeat tempos. The music seemed to give him more energy as he worked. He even found himself singing along sometimes.
Claymont never minded a deadline; it made him focus. Otherwise, he could be out all day mowing down trees and scooping up brush and sod. Claymont loved his work. It had a calming effect on him. Not that he was a boisterous man in the first place, but being inside his cab with some tunes playing ma
de life nice. Scoop up that tree, level that mound – it was simple, mindless. Except today, of course; he had a lot on his mind.
The deadline was one thing, but the big thing was Darren. His son was starting in a playoff football game that night. A couple of scouts from the local colleges were coming to watch. If Darren had a good night on the field, his future could be set. Wouldn’t that be somethin’? My son a college athlete. Yessir, tonight’s a big night! Claymont started his work as a popular dance beat hit the airwaves.
Three hours later, he reached over and turned off the engine of the Cat. His back was aching, and his stomach was growling. What really made him stop, though, was his bladder. He was still holding his morning coffee, and he needed to pee.
He climbed from the cab and relieved himself by the big, back track of the Cat. “Good start,” he said looking out at his progress. The morning work had gone smoothly. He decided to have an early lunch and retrieved his lunchbox from the cab. Unwrapping his sandwich, he noticed it contained pimento cheese again. He loved his wife Agnes dearly, but he didn’t love her pimento cheese.
Agnes was his angel. They had met when he was on the cleaning crew of the Community College over in Shale. Agnes was finishing up her degree in business and would stay late at the library most nights. They first had exchanged pleasantries, then one conversation had led to another and before either of them knew it, they had been dating for a while. They married two years later, and their first baby came the Spring after that.
They built their dream home in Meadowview Acres eleven years ago. They were happy – still in love after all these years. Agnes had worked her way up to management at Shale Global Insurance, and he had moved into the construction business. He had worked construction for almost twenty years now and had been with Gary Sam Construction for the last twelve. They had a nice comfortable life, and Claymont counted his blessings every day.
One thing he didn’t bless, however, was Agnes’ pimento cheese. At least she had put three oatmeal cookies in his lunch, too. Claymont was nothing if not a huge, walking sweet tooth. He was halfway into his sandwich when he realized he was sweating. Not a little moist or damp – really dripping. When did it get so hot? Warm days were not uncommon in Hallston in late October, but it was not even noon yet. He finished his lunch and slugged back his bottle of water. His shirt was wet with sweat, so he stripped down to his undershirt. That was wet, too, but he would use the air in the Cat to cool off.
Starting his climb into the cab, Claymont slipped on the first step and sprawled onto the ground below. “Damn!” He spat. “What the hell’s wrong with me?” He shook his head to clear it and saw bright-blue flashes in front of his eyes. His head was swimming, and he was sweating like crazy. He felt like his cookies were about to make a reappearance, too. He put his head in his hands, closed his eyes, and willed the episode to pass. He didn’t have a heart problem that he knew about; no history of stroke in his family. He wondered if there was a virus going around. Claymont took some deep breaths and thought of Darren, his big strong boy.
Darren had worked hard in middle school to get noticed by the high school coaches and it had worked. His freshman year, he had caught a break when the fullback, who was a junior, unexpectedly injured his ACL. Darren walked right into the poor guy’s spot and owned it for the last four years. Claymont was so proud. The boy worked hard on his grades, too. He was a good boy to his mother and polite to everyone. So proud. Claymont knew tonight was really going to be special.
Claymont opened his eyes and felt better. Thinking about Darren had calmed his nerves, and his stomach had settled. “Might be able to keep those cookies, after all,” he said to the ground. He took it easy standing up and felt fine, so he started up into the cab again. “Maybe Agnes is trying to poison me with that pimento cheese,” he chuckled as he started the Cat’s engine. He positioned the air vents, so the coolness would hit his face then started back to the stand of small maple trees he had been clearing before lunch.
He felt okay, but he was still sweating hard. Little beads worked their way to the tip of his nose before falling into his lap, and his hands were slippery on the wheel. He felt like his movements were slow and strange.
He had just taken down a good sized maple when he saw something glitter on the ground in front of him. Usually, up that high, you couldn’t see something small like a bottle cap or even a necklace. To make that glare it had to be something substantial. He backed up the bulldozer to see if he could get a better look at that angle and immediately felt hotness inside his chest. Sweat was dripping down Claymont’s whole body, and he started to get a little panicky. He cranked the air in the cab and took some deep breaths. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the shimmer from the thing under the maple trees.
By the time the blue flashes started in front of his eyes again, Claymont knew he was in trouble. He quickly turned off the engine and fished his cell out of the pocket of his jeans. He tried to flip it open, but his fingers didn’t seem to be working. He had to try three times when finally the phone slid open. Flashing lights were disrupting his vision, but his thoughts were clear. Darren – Agnes–Pain. Where had the pain come from? His head was on fire inside.
He tried to push the buttons on the phone but couldn’t see anything except blue flashes. “Darren. Agnes. Darren – big night. Agnes,” he groaned. He had three numbers punched in when the flashes became one steady blue light.
There were two and a third acres left to clear when pain exploded inside Claymont Darren Jackson’s skull. His body slumped down in the seat of the cab as a trickle of blood ran from his left nostril.
CHAPTER 2
Eli & Hunter
Eli and Hunter were cutting up in class as usual. Mr. Just had handed out the quiz on the Periodic Table not twenty minutes before, and they had finished in record time. Now they were bored and had to hang out for another forty minutes. To pass the time, they had resorted to flicking paper footballs through goals made with their fingers.
The two had been inseparable since Eli was born three and a half weeks after Hunter. That was sixteen years ago. Living next door to each other, it was only natural that they would become friends. The only thing that set them apart was their looks. Elivan was tall and lean with straight blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Hunter was broad and muscular – his wavy brown hair almost hiding his olive green eyes. Their play-dates started on the floor with stacking cups, followed by crawling races, hide and seek and superhero fights in the back yard. As the years went by, they found cardboard boxes and lawn chairs could make awesome robots that reconfigured into tanks. Their focus changed, however, when a fourth grade field trip took them to the Science Center in Glovercroft. Their eyes filled with wonder as they went from exhibit to exhibit, each one seeming more impossible than the first. From then on, every birthday and Christmas was greeted with a new chemistry set, erector set or magic kit. They were hooked. They decided their professional name would be Shazaam Brothers and referred to themselves as such while performing more and more experiments and magic shows in the neighborhood.
Now they were bored. Twenty-seven more minutes until the bell rang and school would be out for the day.
Eli saw Mr. Just scan the room. A few more students were finishing up the quiz. “Come on, people,” Mr. Just said. “This is not a hard quiz. Finish up.” Eli couldn’t understand how the kids could be so challenged. It’s memorization, not massive equation solving. Most of you are just lazy or idiots, like Hansen.
They were still at the back of the room flicking paper footballs at each other when Eli’s went high and hit Hunter in the forehead. The mishap prompted them both to sputter out quiet laughter.
The bell finally rang, and school was out for the day. Hunter and Eli navigated the halls of Hallston High School as routinely as usual, first stopping at their lockers and then winding their way through the other students in the hallways toward the student parking lot. Passing Ms. Leezil’s room, they heard the familiar voice of Hansen R
eynolds.
Hansen was a typical high school jock. Part bully, part lady’s man, the only thing he didn’t have was intelligence. Hansen saw them coming and yelled, “Hey, Girls! Driving home together again, Fairies? You two ever spend any time apart?”
“No,” Joe Eastman, one of Hansen’s friends responded. “They haven’t had their special alone time yet!”
The rest of the group broke up into giggles and went back to the stimulating conversation that had been interrupted. Hunter caught the eye of Hansen’s girlfriend, Clara, and looked quickly away. Why she would ever want a guy like that was beyond him. Clara was always so nice, ever since grade school. Now she was just a side-kick to a jerk. Man, girls make no sense.
Finally, they made it out the door to the parking lot. They had both passed their driver’s license tests, but only Eli had wheels – another guilt gift from his departing father – a nice 2010 Ford Fusion. It was bright red and Hunter had named it The Flaming Tomato. Eli loved the car, though he would never admit it to his dad. It had all the bells and whistles even that new hands-free system that played songs from an iPod.
Inside the Tomato, they discussed inventive ways to dispose of Hansen Reynolds and came up with a few really nice ideas. The day was warm but not hot, so they kept the sunroof open. The drive home was fast since their neighborhood of Meadowview Acres was only five miles from the school. As they pulled up to the house, Eli could tell that Heather was already home because the front door was open.
“Want to hang out later?” Hunter asked.
“Not today. Mom’s gonna be late, so I have some stuff to do. We still going to the game?” Eli replied.
“Sure, I wanna see Hansen get pummeled by one of Glovercroft’s linemen!” Hunter said with a nasty smirk.
“Alright then. See ya later”
“Yeah, I’ll see ya.”
As Hunter walked the short distance to his house, Eli got his backpack out of the back seat and locked the Fusion. He noticed the security gate in the front yard was open and cussed Heather. He ran inside, and, sure enough, the door to her room was shut and music was blaring.