Exodus

by R. J. Wolf

  The white blaze burned like the sun. It covered the stone floor, rolling across the ground like lava. The intense haze swept over the guards instantly vaporizing them without leaving a trace. In a flash they were gone as if they were never even there.

  Devin straightened up and then grinned. His eyes slowly dimmed until the white’s vanished and a pair of hazel balls took their place. His wings retracted into his back and his skin lightened, revealing a deep bronze complexion.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and it flickered. His hands slowly shrinking in size as the flame red strands burned to a dark black.

  He brought his hand up to his face and examined it. The long talons were now replaced by normal fingernails. Looking down the hallway, he stared at the twinkling blue light. The aqua beams came to life, dancing through the air like a ballet.

  Devin held his hand out and the blue light streaked across the hall like a boomerang. It smashed into his palm and slowly soaked into his skin. He rolled his fingers into a fist, the light moving down his arm making it glow like a lamp.

  With a deep breath, the light dimmed and was completely absorbed. Devin grinned and then looked down the hall one last time. Clenching his jaw, he crouched low to the ground and vanished.

  ********************************************

  Mikey tumbled into the front door, a heap of soaking wet clothes and knotted hair. He dropped to his knees and hid his face in his hands. Mr. Clark followed behind him, mumbling curse words under his breath.

  The door flew open in the wind and slammed against the wall. The pounding rain sounded like a stampede on the wooden deck. A bolt of lightning flashed and Mr. Clark jumped.

  “Mikey!” Steve pleaded as he drudged through the front door carrying the computer. “Mikey we didn’t have a choice.”

  Mikey looked up with tears in his eyes. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath.

  “He was our friend Steve, our best friend. You didn’t even try. You could’ve done something!”

  Steve dropped the computer and knelt beside him. Mikey pulled away, but Steve grabbed his arm.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mikey I was scared. I didn’t know what to do.” Steve pleaded, his eyes burning with tears.

  Mikey stared back at him. A mixture of hatred and pity brewed on his face. He wanted to punch him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was the first time he’d ever seen real fear in Steve’s eyes.

  Mikey startled and jumped to his feet as a loud bang echoed from downstairs. Steve heard it as well and was already headed towards the wooden door that led into the basement. Mr. Clark followed close behind him, the squish of his wet shoes sloshing across the floor.

  Steve reached for the handle when suddenly the door burst open. He staggered backwards and tripped over Mr. Clark’s shoe.

  Mr. Clark gasped and Mikey screamed. Steve looked up from the ground in confusion. He rubbed his eyes unable to believe what he was seeing as Mit stepped into the hallway with a half grin on his face.

  XIII

  The chilling ring of the bell echoed down the hallway. It was quickly consumed with the sounds of hundreds of kids pouring out of the doors. Summer had finally come and with it a sense of carefree invincibility.

  Mit smiled, stretching his arms to the sky as he soaked in the warm rays of the sun. He looked up, watching a group of freshmen point and giggle at the cheerleading team. It seemed like ages ago when he’d be huddled around his friends doing the same.

  Times were different now. Behind his leafy green eyes was a sort of calm reserve and wisdom, normally attained after living more than half a century. It was like he’d learned there was no Santa Claus. He’d seen the undeniable truth of the world and there was no going back to the way things were.

  Since his ride through some sort of cross-plane portal, Mit was a new man. He’d told everyone what’d he seen and they were overwhelmed with a sense of excited terror. The knowledge that there were more like Anthony, that there was an entire hidden world out there was daunting.

  With Nickie’s help they were able to break into the stolen computer. After fumbling around in the dark, they finally found something meaningful. In two weeks there was a plan to move a number of priority patients to their main medical facility somewhere in Wyoming. Mr. Clark was convinced this had to be Anthony. The only thing they were missing was the actual location.

  Nickie had been rummaging through everything her stepfather owned desperately searching for something, but it was Mikey that finally pieced it all together. Carol Belanovak turned out to be the key to it all.

  Mit turned to his left as Mikey and Steve joined him on the North Shore lawn. Things were still a little tense between the three of them, but Mit had convinced Mikey that he would’ve done the same if he had been left.

  “Everything looks so different now, huh?” Steve said, scanning the ground, his calm stare shielding the rage that boiled beneath.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna miss this place.” Mikey sighed.

  “Well I’m not.” Nickie chimed in. “So is this really happening?” She walked over and sat on the bench next to Steve.

  “Seems that way. Mikey is getting the last piece of the puzzle tonight.” Steve patted him on the back.

  Mit giggled. “Guess we’re saving the world huh?”

  “I normally have that on my calendar.” Mikey grinned at him.

  “You know I can do it. You don’t have to go back in there.” Steve looked at Mikey.

  “Yeah I know, but I know what I’m looking for. You don’t.”

  “Boys, boys.” Nickie giggled. “You can both go. Although I won’t be that sad if Steve doesn’t make it back.

  Steve smirked and shot her a look. Mit stood up and yawned.

  “Well let’s get this show underway. Did you grab everything on that list Steve?”

  “Yep, it’s all in the trunk. Guns, dynamite, and god knows what else. I think the old man went a bit overboard.”

  “You got everything on his list! I thought he was joking, how on Earth did you do that?” Nickie asked in shock.

  “My parents are super rich. I can get anything I want.” Steve smiled.

  “Yeah, you’ve always fit the spoiled rich kid stereotype so well.” Mikey rolled his eyes.

  “Well I’m trying. Or do you want a repeat of last time we tried to break in somewhere.” Steve glared at him.

  When Mikey didn’t respond he stood up and started walking to his car.

  “Mit let’s go. Good luck tonight Mikey. Nickie can give you a ride.”

  Mit shrugged his shoulders and quickly followed after Steve. Nickie turned to Mikey and sighed.

  “What’s his problem?”

  “What isn’t?” Mikey stammered then stood up.

  *********************************************

  “Michael, it’s been too long,” a cold voice called from behind him.

  Mikey dropped the small shoe box as an icy chill ran through his body. Reluctantly, he slid his head from under the bed. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned and looked towards the door. Mr. Dimair was standing in the doorway, his hand propped up against the frame.

  Mikey quickly tried to gather himself. “Oh! Hey Mr. Dimair, I didn’t think anyone was home.”

  Mr. Dimair smiled, but there was something very sinister in his look. He took a step forward, but paused as if he could feel Mikey’s increasing heartbeat.

  “Well, you know me. I get wrapped up in the TV and I don’t hear a thing. Whatcha doing under the bed?”

  “Um, I thought my old cell phone might be under here. I lent it to Anthony way back.”

  Mr. Dimair took another step and then knelt next to Mikey. He smiled and then bent down and peaked under the bed.

  “Well, let me help you. Anthony was always so messy.”

  Mikey smiled back and quickly shoved his hand behind his back stuffing the newspaper into his pants. He slid over making room for Anthony’s father as his face disappeared under the b
ed.

  “It sure is messy under here.” He mumbled.

  Sighing, Mr. Dimair slowly sat back up. He put his hands on his hips and turned so he was kneeling face to face with Mikey. Mikey stumbled backwards and Mr. Dimair caught his arm. His grip was firm, tightening around Mikey’s arm like a vice.

  Mikey made to stand up, but Mr. Dimair yanked him back down and pulled him close. He was still smiling, but his eyes were dark and evil.

  “What are you really looking for Michael?” He said, just as calmly as if asking about the weather.

  “Mr. Dimair, that hurts.” Mikey groaned.

  “What are you doing in here?” Mr. Dimair went on.

  He squeezed tighter on Mikey’s arm and narrowed his eyes. His smile had evaporated and now his jaw was tight, his teeth clenched.

  “Do you think I have time for your games boy?” Mr. Dimair spat the words in such an unfamiliar voice that Mikey looked around the room expecting to see someone else there.

  Mr. Dimair turned to grab Mikey with his other hand, but Mikey fell back against the bed. His wrist slipped from Mr. Dimair’s grip and his head cracked into the side of the footboard.

  He closed his eyes and rolled over reeling in pain. Grimacing he grabbed the back of his head. The warm trickle of blood wet his hand and stuck to his hair.

  Mr. Dimair let out an ominous chuckle. There was a harshness in his tone, an unfamiliarity that Mikey had never heard before. He stepped over him, sneering as blood streamed from his head. Mikey opened his eyes and Mr. Dimair delivered a hammering kick to his side that sent him sliding into the wall.

  Mikey screamed in pain. He coughed and a spray of blood peppered the carpet. Then he was off his feet again being thrown into another wall. He collided with the desk before falling to the ground where a letter opener speared into his thigh.

  “Oh my god!” Mikey yelled, staring down at the metal stake embedded in his leg.

  “Honey is everything okay up there?” Mrs. Dimair called from downstairs.

  “Everything’s fine, I dropped something.” He yelled back.

  Mikey tried to stand, but before he could gather himself Mr. Dimair crossed the room and grabbed him by the throat, pinning him against the wall. He’d moved so fast it took Mikey a minute to realize that it was actually Mr. Dimair that had grabbed him

  “You know, I don’t understand the youth these days.” Mr. Dimair said casually, tightening his grasp on Mikey’s neck. “Or for that matter, your entire detestable species. You’re an odious horde of leeches, a parasite that has been suffered long enough.”

  Mikey gagged and Mr. Dimair laughed. He squeezed harder, turning his head to the side like he was mildly entertained.

  “Does this hurt you boy? Or do you think yourself better than me? Ah yes, you think you know us. You think that elderly fool has answers. That old man knows nothing and shortly after I crush the life from you I shall claim his as well. You think your little incursion went unnoticed?”

  Mr. Dimair heckled him, smiling while squeezing his windpipe, cutting off air. Mikey tried to stay focused, slowly moving his hand towards his thigh and gripping the letter opener. He desperately pulled, but the blood made his hands slip.

  “Your kind has always been so vain. Convinced of your superiority in this world, certain of your hierarchy and understanding of all things.” Mr. Dimair continued. “Oh the decades I’ve suffered listening to your kind gloat. Peddling the works of others as your own, the discoveries of children as your species greatest accomplishments.”

  Mikey gurgled, barely able to draw breath. With his last bit of strength, he frantically gripped the letter opener tightly. He clenched his teeth and tugged with all his might. In a rush of blistering pain it finally tore free. Mikey spun it around in his hand, the sharp tip gleaming under the faint moonlight.

  “Who are you?” Mikey gagged. “What the hell do you want?”

  Mr. Dimair made to answer him and Mikey raised his hand high and drove the letter opener towards his face. It plunged into his eye with so much force that he felt it snap as it collided with bone.

  Mr. Dimair staggered backwards, releasing his grip on Mikey. He grabbed at his eye but didn’t make as much as a sound.

  Mikey collapsed to the ground with a thud and immediately jumped to his feet. Without looking back, he tore off towards the balcony and burst through the double doors. Mr. Dimair crashed into the dresser behind him, as he staggered around blindly, mumbling under his breath.

  Still moving at full speed, Mikey dove over the banister and plummeted into the bushes below. Tearing through the leafy hedges he hit the ground hard. A scalding pain shot up his leg and he let out a high pitched moan.

  Rolling over, he stammered to his feet and hobbled off into the night. Mr. Dimair stared down from the balcony, his hand covering his eye, his other hand gripping the bloody letter opener.

  “You run Michael. You run and tell them all we’re coming!”

  XIV

  Darkness swept over the town, the sky a blanket of ominous black clouds. Wind whistled down the alleys, howling like the cries of a lone wolf.

  Mikey collapsed against the side of a house and looked back. No one was behind him, only shadows and the dark of night. He tried to catch his breath using the wall to take the weight off of his injured leg.

  His house was right around the corner, but he knew he needed to get to the Clark’s house. With a deep breath, he pushed himself off of the wall and continued down the street. With each step his thigh pulsed like a hot iron was being driven into it. Mikey grimaced in pain, but didn’t slow down.

  The streets were empty which was unusual for a Saturday night. Even the porch lights had been turned off. The overhead street lamps flickered and abruptly dimmed. The wind picked up in gusts, bending the palm trees in half.

  Mikey ducked down a narrow street and stopped behind a trash bin. He leaned against it as a bolt of lightning flashed and thunder shook the air. In the distance Mikey could see a blur of people, more like shadows that seemed to be coming towards him. He scampered back to his feet and started running. His leg burned, but he ran at full speed ignoring the pain.

  Sweat poured down Mikey’s face, blood oozing from his leg. Another crack of lightning lit up the night sky and pellets of rain started to fall.

  Exhausted and wet, Mikey finally made it to the Clark’s house and doubled over onto the porch. He crawled the last few feet and rang the buzzer. A bewildered Mr. Clark opened the door followed by Mit and Steve.

  “Mikey! Boys help me get him inside.”

  Mit quickly grabbed his arms and with Steve’s help dragged him to his feet.

  “They’re coming!” Mikey was barely able to whisper.

  “What? Don’t speak just rest.” Mr. Clark patted him on the back.

  Mikey slung himself free of Mit and Steve’s grip and managed to stand. “They’re coming. They’re coming now!” He yelled.

  Understanding dawned across Mr. Clarks face. He knew sooner or later this would happen.

  “Steve, get the bags, quickly. Take them downstairs we’ll be down with Mikey shortly. Mit, stay with me.”

  Soaking wet, they clamored into the house and laid Mikey down on the carpet. Steve ran off into the back as Mr. Clark pressed his hand against the whole in Mikey’s leg.

  “Mit, grab me the medical pack in the kitchen and some towels.”

  Mit stormed off in a panic. Mr. Clark followed him with his eyes for a moment and then turned back to Mikey and surveyed his injuries.

  His leg was still pumping blood onto the carpet and he winced with every breath he took. Mr. Clark lifted his shirt to expose the discolored and bruised skin around his torso.

  “What happened?” Mr. Clark asked sympathetically.

  “It was Anthony’s dad. He’s…he can’t be human. He said they were coming, coming for all of us.” Mikey grimaced and then reached into his back pocket. “I did get this though.”

  Mikey pulled out a crinkled up piece of paper and
handed it to Mr. Clark. He unraveled it and grinned as he read the newspaper article.

  “Carol Belanovak’s body recovered,” it read at the top. He scanned the article intently and then focused in on the picture. It was a news reporter standing at the site where they found the young girl’s remains. In the background, barely visible was a white sign with red lettering that read “LSK.” Beyond that was a small, white building next to a water tower with the town’s name written across it. “Amstere, Wyoming.”

  “You did good Mikey, you did good.” Mr. Clark patted his arm.

  Mit stumbled back to the living room and dropped a red bag and a pile of hand towels. Mr. Clark stashed the newspaper into his pocket and immediately started working on Mikey.

  He tore his jeans exposing the hole in his leg that was already showing signs of infection.

  “I’m sorry Mikey, but this is going to hurt.”

  Mikey gritted his teeth and shook his head. Mr. Clark grabbed a clear bottle from the bag and tipped it over his leg. Alcohol splashed over his wound as Mr. Clark dabbed at it with a cloth. Next, he took a white bottle from the bag and squeezed a brownish liquid all over it.

  “Everything’s ready to go Mr. Clark.” Nickie’s voice echoed from the door near the stairs.

  “Okay we are on the way down.” Mr. Clark responded as he wrapped gauze tightly around Mikey’s leg.

  Nickie turned to head back into the basement, but Mr. Clark stopped her.

  “Nickie can you come here for a second. Mit help him to his feet.”

  Nickie looked puzzled, but headed into the living room. As she approached, Mr. Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out the newspaper article. He unrolled it and handed it to her.

  “Do you recognize anything from that picture? Look carefully.”

  Nickie stared at the paper for a moment. She scanned the article back and forth. Biting her lip, she furrowed her brow in confusion and rubbed her chin.

  “Well, that water tower, it’s down the street from my granddad’s ranch. But…but there’s no LSK building there.”