The Bloom Series Box Set: Bloom & Fade

by A. P. Kensey

  Colton made a strong point of not thinking about his father as much as possible—there were too many emotions that flooded his mind. Love mixed with hate; regret at the happy childhood he was denied; sadness and loneliness rolled into one. It was easier just to push it all far away where the confusing mass of feelings became fuzzy and blended into the background of everyday life.

  It was simple enough for him to blame his mother for abandoning the both of them, but as he grew older, he realized that as much, if not more, of the fault rested with his father—there was a lot he could have done to make their lives easier. Instead he chose alcohol and anger.

  To Colton, the gulf between them seemed impossible to bridge.

  An hour passed, then two. Half of the men in the holding cell were either asleep or passed out drunk. Colton shifted on his aching feet. He wanted to sit down but the floor was filthy and the benches were still full. Cigarette butts and clumps of wet paper were scattered everywhere, and discolored puddles of unidentified liquid pooled in several spots around the room.

  He never expected them to hold him such a long time. Reece had been the one to steal the CDs—Colton merely helped him get away from the police. He supposed the police officer he “fell” against in the alley could have upgraded Colton’s criminal charge to assault, in which case he was utterly doomed. Still, Reece could have been locked up for a year or more if he had been caught.

  As a first-time offender, Colton hoped the judge would go easy on him and give him a small amount of community service with no actual jail time. There was always the possibility that they would try to make an example of him to prevent other potential screw-ups from assaulting police officers.

  The rattle of keys and the sharp clicking of hard shoe soles in the hallway outside the holding cell grew louder as someone approached. All of the men in the room sat up eagerly and watched the door, hoping one of their friends or loved ones had come to pay their bail.

  The same officer Colton ran into in the alley looked at him through a small viewing window as he unlocked the door.

  “Great,” said Colton quietly.

  The officer stepped into the cell and pointed at Colton. “You,” he said. “Let’s go. Now.”

  The other men in the room grumbled and sank back into their seats. A few of them stared at Colton with malice as he walked past them and out into the hallway. He wondered if Reece had called his lawyer father and talked him into getting Colton released from the police station. In the morning he would have been processed and likely transferred to an actual jail, where he would spend the next few weeks waiting to go to trial for striking a peace officer.

  He didn’t know how much money it would have cost to avoid all of that unpleasantness, but he imagined it was a great deal more than Reece could afford on his own.

  After he was out of the room, the officer—whose name tag read “Sanders”—shoved Colton in the back, pushing him toward the end of the hall.

  “Spoiled little rich boys like you really get on my nerves,” he said, then shoved Colton again.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You ruin my day, then you’re out by midnight when you should be rotting in that cell.” He pushed him harder.

  Colton fought the urge to turn around and punch the cop in the face. He realized that was exactly what the man wanted: an excuse to keep him in the cell even longer.

  “And you must be someone extra special, because they don’t let anybody out if they hit a cop. Especially if that cop is me. I got pull around here, let me tell you.”

  Another shove.

  They reached the end of the hallway and Sanders knocked on the door. There was a loud buzz and an officer in the next room pulled open the door to let them through.

  They were in the main lobby of the building. An officer sat behind the counter reading a magazine and looked up over his glasses.

  Sanders pushed Colton toward the exit. “Next time you hit a cop,” he said, “you won’t even make it to the station.” He walked back into the hallway that led to the holding cell and slammed the door behind him.

  Colton looked at the officer sitting behind the counter, who dropped his eyes to his magazine and whistled softly to himself.

  The waiting area was empty. Colton looked outside through the large glass windows on the front of the building and out at the street beyond. The exterior of the police station was well-lit at night, but he still couldn’t see the person who supposedly paid his bail and got him out of the holding cell.

  The street outside the station was empty except for a few pedestrians hurrying along the sidewalk. The air was cold and Colton still wore the dirty jeans and t-shirt he had been wearing all day. He waited for a few moments with his arms crossed against the cold night air, thinking someone was going to appear and explain what was going on. He eventually gave up and started the long walk back to his apartment.

  Colton turned the corner at the end of the street and saw Reece ahead, leaning against the brick wall of a building with his hands in his pockets, staring across the street at a pair of scantily-clad women who were hanging out in front of an adult video store. He didn’t notice as Colton walked up next to him and slapped him on the back of the head.

  “Hey!” said Reece, pushing off the wall. He clenched his fists as if he were about to start throwing punches, then relaxed when he saw that it was Colton. “You scared me half to death.”

  “Making new friends?” said Colton, nodding at the women across the street. The women giggled and waved when Colton looked their way.

  “They wish,” said Reece. “But I should remember this spot for later.” He fell into step next to Colton when he started walking again. “So, how did it go?”

  Colton shrugged. “Just a bunch of waiting around, really.”

  Reece nodded. “Look, I need to say thank you before my ego takes over and won’t let me.”

  “You would have done the same for me if I was in your situation. I should say thank you as well for getting me out, even though it was your idiotic idea that landed me in jail in the first place.”

  “I got her phone number,” said Reece, smiling.

  “If you didn’t, they would be dragging me back to the police station right now for murdering my best friend.”

  “Aw, come on. It’s not that bad, right? You’re out, at least.”

  “Did you have to call your dad and ask for the money?”

  “Yeah, about that. It’s funny, but I actually didn’t have anything to do with your release.”

  Colton stopped. “What do you mean?”

  Reece walked a couple steps ahead, then stopped and turned back hesitantly. “I meant to tell you a couple weeks ago, but it just never came up.” He scratched the back of his neck and looked away. “My dad kind of cut me off. He’s not gonna send any more rent checks until I ‘get my act together’, or so he says, anyway.”

  “So who got me out of jail?” asked Colton.

  “That’s the funny part. After the cops hauled you away and I went back to the apartment to change so I could go ask the record store girl out on a date—her name’s Chloe and not Jenna, by the way—this guy knocked on the door right as I was about to leave. Real creepy dude. Tall with black hair and a grey suit. I thought he was from the funeral home and he was gonna tell me you died in jail or something.”

  “Reece…”

  “Right, sorry. So this guy hands me this briefcase and tells me that if I give it to this other guy at the District Attorney’s Office, they would let you out! I can’t believe it worked!”

  They started walking.

  “Who was the guy you gave the briefcase to?”

  “No idea. Never seen him before in my life. Looked very political, though,” said Reece.

  “So you dropped off the briefcase, then went and got Chloe’s phone number?”

  “Wellll…” said Reece.

  “You went to the record store first.”

  “I knew you would be okay, and look at you!” said R
eece. He slapped Colton on the shoulder. “Like nothing ever happened.”

  Colton shook his head and sighed. “So what’s the catch?”

  “Catch?”

  “This guy gave you a briefcase—probably full of money—and told you to use it to get me out of jail. So what’s the catch?”

  “That’s the best part of the whole thing! He didn’t want anything except to meet you after you were released.”

  Colton frowned. “What do you mean, ‘meet me’?”

  “Exactly what I said. He wants to talk to you, in person. He said I could go, too. I think he might have some sort of business offer for us. Great timing, right?” Reece turned left at the next street but Colton kept walking toward the apartment building. “It’s this way,” said Reece.

  “He wants to meet now?” said Colton.

  “That’s what he said. I had to agree before he handed over the briefcase.”

  Colton looked down the unfamiliar street.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” he said. “How does he even know who I am, or who you are?” Colton shook his head. “How did he know I was in jail in the first place?”

  Reece raised his eyebrows. “For a guy who just survived a few hours in the lion’s den with cutthroats and thieves, I would think you’d be a little less of a chicken.”

  “It doesn’t seem weird to you?” asked Colton.

  “It seems like this guy wants to talk to us, hopefully about how we can both make tons of money with minimal effort. Of course it doesn’t seem weird to me.” He pulled a wrinkled piece of paper out if his jeans pocket and squinted at a written address, then looked up at the street signs next to the road. “I was right. Not much farther,” he said, and started walking.

  Colton thought about it for a moment, then followed Reece down the dark street.

  “I’m not going to bail you out of trouble again,” said Colton. “That was a one-time thing.”

  Reece held up his hands. “Totally understandable. And again—thank you.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. Reece led them down quiet streets to a tall, unmarked building in University Heights. All of the windows were dark and the brick face was crumbling from age.

  “This is it,” said Reece.

  “He told you to come here?”

  “Yeah. Spooky, right?”

  They walked up the small set of stairs that led to the front door.

  “I feel like I’m about to have my organs harvested,” said Colton.

  “Look, if you want, you can just say ‘thank you’ and then we’ll leave. We owe the guy that much at least. But there’s still the matter of all that potential cash…”

  Colton sighed. “Let’s just get it over with.”

  “Atta boy,” said Reece with a grin. He pushed open the old, wooden door and walked inside.

  11

  Colton followed Reece into the old building. They stepped into a single large, dark room. The entire first floor of the building had been gutted except for a few structural pillars which propped up the ceiling. Debris from interior walls that had been torn down years ago was piled into small mounds throughout the room.

  A single, naked light bulb shined in the middle of the huge, cavernous space, hanging from a wire that ran up to the ceiling and over to an outlet on the wall. A man stood beneath the light, alone. He waited with his arms at his sides, feet planted on the ground in a wide stance. The man wore a long, dark coat over black clothes. His face was hidden by the shadows cast from the overhead light, but Colton could tell he was staring at them.

  “This guy really knows how to make an impression,” whispered Reece.

  “Is that him?” asked Colton.

  “Yeah. Come on.”

  They walked over to the edge of the light, their footsteps crunching on small chunks of debris and echoing loudly across the concrete floor. The man tilted up his head slightly and looked at them. His face was long and thin, with sunken cheek bones and deep-set eyes. His black, slicked-back hair glistened wetly in the light.

  Reece cleared his throat. “So, you already know me. This is Colton.”

  Colton took a step forward and looked into the shadow covering the man’s face. “Thank you for your help.”

  The man tilted his head down. “I am Alistair,” he said in a slight English accent. “You have a good friend here, to do such a thing without knowing who I am or what I really want.”

  Colton looked over at Reece. “If you say so.”

  Alistair squinted at him. “Perhaps you are wondering why it was done at all.”

  “It crossed my mind.”

  “I have been looking for you a long time, Colton Ross. You were not easy to find. But now…here you are.” He smiled to reveal a mouth full of perfectly white, straight teeth.

  “Right,” said Colton. “Look, I just came to say thank you, so thank you. Reece, let’s go.”

  They started to walk away.

  “Colton,” said Alistair.

  Colton turned just as Alistair threw a small, round object directly at his face. Colton ducked to the side and reached up his hand. It hit his palm with a loud SMACK. He turned it over—it was an apple.

  “What is that supposed to be?” asked Reece. “He wants you to have a snack?”

  Alistair smirked and walked toward them. “He knows what it means. Don’t you, Colton?”

  Colton stared at the red piece of fruit. He had always been so careful after buying the apples from the produce stand. He made sure that no one was watching before the fruit withered and died in his palm.

  “Like I said,” continued Alistair. “It took me a long time to find you. Searching for you in the world was like throwing a rock into a big pond to try and hit an invisible fish.” He frowned. “I threw many rocks. It took far too long, and for that I am truly sorry.”

  “Who are you?” asked Colton.

  “Me? I am just one small gear in a giant machine. But you are a big gear. Bigger than me, bigger than almost everyone I know. At least you will be, someday.” He laughed. “You are very important, Colton Ross.”

  “What is this psycho talking about?” asked Reece. “Can we please leave now?”

  He tried to pull Colton toward the front door, but Colton took a step closer to Alistair.

  “What are you?” he asked.

  Alistair smiled and wagged his index finger at him. “Now we are getting somewhere.” He walked back to the hanging light bulb and reached up to touch it. The light dimmed and Alistair’s skin seemed to glow ever so slightly in the darkness. He lowered his arm and light flooded back into the bulb.

  Alistair nodded toward the apple. Colton held it up and concentrated on its red skin. He watched the apple slowly wither and die in his palm, shrinking into nothing more than a blackened core. He felt the warmth grow between his shoulder blades and spread down to his hands.

  “Good,” said Alistair, laughing. “Good! You have discovered the first part. But do you know the second?”

  Colton dropped the shrunken apple and set his hand on Reece’s shoulder.

  “Colt, what are you—” said Reece, then stopped. “Hey, that’s really warm. How are you doing that?” He looked down at his shoulder in amazement.

  Alistair clapped his hands and smiled. “Excellent. Almost a year with no training and you can do all of that on your own. I am very pleased.”

  “What is it?” asked Colton. “The thing we do, I mean. What are we?”

  Alistair looked at him. “I was born in England,” he said, “but I am not English. You were born in America, but you are not American. We are something different. Something very special.”

  “Enough with the mystery, already!” said Reece. “My shoulder feels amazing, by the way.”

  Colton waited eagerly for an answer.

  “You need special teaching,” said Alistair. “This is a very powerful gift you have—one that has gone to waste until now. Someone must show you the true path. I will tell you everything, but not here. You must
come with me.”

  “I can’t leave. I have a job and an apartment…and a life,” said Colton.

  “Your job will be waiting for you when you get back, if you still want it. Your apartment, well…your friend here has no more money, so maybe it’s time to find something else, yes? And he can come along as well. I insist that he does, actually. As for your old life, I can assure you it won’t be missed.”

  “I’d listen to the guy, Colt. This could be really big.”

  Colton crossed his arms and kicked at a small piece of broken concrete on the floor. “Where do we have to go?” he asked.

  Alistair grinned and showed his perfect teeth. “Montana.”

  “Wait, what?” said Reece. “That might sound good to you, being from overseas or whatever, but Montana? I thought you were going to say Egypt or Switzerland or someplace fun and, you know, exotic.”

  “You don’t like Montana? I must admit, it wasn’t my first choice, either. But it grows on you after a time. We go where we’re needed, so to speak,” said Alistair. “And I am paying for everything.”

  “Oh,” said Reece. “In that case, where’s the plane?”

  Colton couldn’t force himself to completely let go of caution long enough to take the chance that the man was telling him the full truth.

  “Colton, listen,” said Alistair. “You have a wonderful gift, and you have the potential to help a lot of people. I know you’ve been doing it already, haven’t you? At the homeless shelter. Don’t be modest! Your instincts led you there because those people needed help. I can show you how to do so much more.”

  Colton stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged—the choice was made. “So, what’s in Montana?” he asked.

  Alistair smiled. “More people who are just like you.”

  12

  Two weeks after her house had burned down into nothing more than a pile of charred wood and debris, Haven went back to try and find anything that had survived the flames. It took her a few minutes to work up the courage to step over the blackened wooden plank that was the only remaining piece of what used to be the front door.