by N. A. Cash
Her warm smile accompanied moist eyes. She reached up with a napkin and dabbed at her tears. “I wish for the same thing but you have some business to take care of.”
I took her hand in mine. “We’re going to keep in touch, right?” I asked hopefully.
“Of course, my child. You’ll probably see me sooner than you can imagine.”
I pondered these words, not daring to ask what she meant, because I didn’t want to start her crying again. We sat in silence and ate the delicious meal before us.
When done, I rose to take our plates to the kitchen area but she stopped me. “No, no child. That’ll get taken care of.”
She got up, walked over to the refrigerator, and pulled out two bottles. One bottle contained what I recognized as the root-beer flavored liquid that she gave me the first night. The contents of the other bottle, I didn’t recognize. She put them both in a plastic bag and handed them to me. I pointed to the other bottle. “What’s this one?” I asked.
“Let’s just say, you’ll figure it out when it’s time.”
I raised an eyebrow.
She burst out laughing. “Okay, I won’t be cryptic. It’s a healing serum I developed. It took a while and a few—well, more than a few tries—to perfect it, but it will pretty much cure whatever you need it to at that time. It’ll come in handy. I promise.”
I was so filled with gratitude to her at the moment. I put everything down and pulled her into a long embrace. Warm tears stream down my face. “I’ll miss you so much,” I whispered.
She alternated between patting and rubbing my back as she squeezed me back. “I’ll miss you too my dear.”
We ended our embrace, and she held my hand as we walked out the front door into the slowly blossoming dawn. The sky broke in a beautiful array of pinks, oranges, and purples. It was going to be a beautiful day. We had agreed that she’d take me to the airport so that I could catch a plane back to New Orleans. The car had been placed into an auto mechanic shop, although the damages were extensive that it was almost a write off, but they said it could still be fixed. We loaded the suitcase into her baby pink vintage1978 International Scout Hagerty SUV, tricked out with modern accents like leather seats—hot pink, of course—and a booming stereo system with a subwoofer that would make any rapper proud.
During the drive to Fayetteville Regional Airport, we chatted about everything that I had learned about myself during the week. I demonstrated manipulating fire and water, using a lighter and a bottle of drinking water. I also tried whipping up a gust of wind; it proved so strong it almost ran us off the road. The SUV was sturdy enough to stay on the road, though. After Aunt Shugs righted us on the asphalt again, we laughed nervously and heartily until tears flowed down our cheeks.
Just as we were wiping tears of joy from our faces, though, she pulled into an empty space in the front of the departure gate. Joy quickly turned somber as we sat and watched passengers hastily get out of cars to embark upon their journeys. Slowly, I opened the door; Aunt Shugs did the same. She walked around to the passenger back seat, opened the door, and pulled my suitcase out. I reached took it from her and put it on the pavement. We then embraced again without saying a word. After the longest minute, we let go. I noticed Aunt Shugs’ eyes were once again moist. “Be careful, love,” she said.
“I will.”
“And if you need anything, anything, call me. I’ll be there right away.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We hugged briefly one more time. I picked up my suitcase and quickly walked through sliding glass doors, only stopping to look back once they closed behind me. Aunt Shugs sat behind the wheel of the car, flashed a huge smile, and then drove off.
The sudden loneliness that hit me almost caused me to crumble. I paused to catch my breath and then walked up to the ticketing counter to embark on my journey back home.
I slept during the entire flight, waking up only when the wheels of the plane touched down. It took a moment to reorient myself when I stepped off the plane. It felt like I had been away for a lifetime. I joined the rush from the plane, picked up my suitcase from the baggage claim, and renting a car. I ended up choosing a large black Chevy SUV, fully loaded with many amenities like XM radio, heated seats, built in GPS, and even Wi-Fi. I figured I would choose an updated car to try out a new look to fit my new sense of self-confidence. As I settled in the comfortable leather seat and pulled out into traffic, I tuned the radio to a news station so I could catch up on what was happening in the city. I then plugged in the temporary cell phone that I had bought from a kiosk in the airport. I used the car’s hands-free dialing feature to call Cicely. I figured that she would be very happy to hear that I was back in town. After one ring, I heard, “Hello, you’ve reached the voice mail of Cicely. Please leave a brief message, unless you have something really important to say, then you could speak longer.” pause “Oh! And leave your name and number so I can call you back!”
I smiled at Cicely’s rapid tone and realized how much I missed her. I waited for the beep, and then spoke. “Hey, Cicely. I’m back in town! You doing anything tonight? I thought we could visit that cool Thai restaurant again. I have so much to tell you! Call me back okay?”
I pressed the End Call button, conveniently situated on the steering wheel. Since it was midday, I figured that Dr. Dune would be available, so I called the school to see if I could speak with him. After being transferred three times, I heard the voice of a female pick up. “Hello, may I speak with Dr. Dune if he’s available?” I asked.
“Umm…he’s not here.” The fine female voice on the other end of the line sounded unsure.
“Okay, can you tell me when he will be back?”
“Umm…” pause “…I’m sorry, who’s calling?”
“This is Miss Patel. I’m a professor there.”
“Oh.” pause “Well, Miss Patel, I guess since you’re a professor, I guess I can tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“We’re all so confused about this.” Her voice was now a whisper. I had to turn up the volume on the call to hear her properly. “Dr. Dune hasn’t shown up for work all last week. We haven’t heard anything from him either. It’s so odd. He never does this.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. I pulled over to the side of the road so that I could focus and control my nerves. “Pardon? What do you mean he hasn’t shown up for work?”
She spoke again, her tone furtive. “Well, he just hasn’t shown up. We do know that he worked last week Sunday and Monday, because he signed in, you know. One of the security officers reported that he worked late on Monday, because his car was still there until late.” She paused for effect. “But then, the officer noticed around midnight that his car had never left. So, he went to check to see if he was still in the lab, because Dr. Dune can do that sometimes. Strangest thing though, the lab was empty. So, he called around to the other security officers, and no one said they saw him.” pause “To make things even weirder, one of them said that they may have caught a glimpse of him in a black pickup leaving campus but he wasn’t sure.”
At this, I felt my heart skip a beat. A black pickup? Oh no.
When I composed myself and was sure that I could speak steadily, I asked, “That’s all they said? A black pickup? No one else in the car?”
“Oh, yes, the security guard said he remembered a thin guy driving fast…well, faster than is allowed on the campus grounds, at least. That’s why he can’t say for sure that it really was Dr. Dune, because the guy was driving so fast.”
I thanked her, hung up that call, and immediately dialed the school’s number. When the receptionist answered, I identified myself as a professor there and asked to speak to Dr. Brown. I noticed that she sounded older than Miss Grant when she said that Dr. Brown had taken a vacation day and wouldn’t return until tomorrow. I asked about the whereabouts of Miss Grant, making up some excuse that she may have left some information for me that I was trying to locate, and the receptionist stated that she was
still on sick leave. I wanted to ask further questions but realized that I couldn’t do so without arousing suspicion. I hung up, running the events over in my mind all the way home.
As soon as I turned into the driveway, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I parked in my regular spot and sat in the car, surveying the area to see if anything looked out of place. Everything seemed okay, but something still felt wrong. Slowly, I got out of the car and carefully surveyed my surroundings. I didn’t feel scared, just mild anxiety and a nagging suspicion that things weren’t how they should be. I chalked it up to paranoia, especially after everything that had happened.
Suitcase in hand, I approached the front door. As I put my key in the lock, the keychain slipped out of my hand. My reflexes kicked in, and I caught the keys in midair. Vibrations from the door sent my senses buzzing. Something was definitely wrong. Someone had been here. This was confirmed when I turned the knob and the door opened. I stepped inside, and was instantly hit with a strong, musky smell that was foreign to me.
The inside of the house looked like the aftermath of a raucous frat party. Objects had been thrown over, tables pushed out of place. My couch was in tatters, and all of my books were torn up. All of the paintings had been ripped from the walls, and all of Aunt Vern’s wooden figurines looked like someone had taken a dull saw and hacked off their heads.
In disbelief, I walked from room to room and saw the same result. My room was an unholy mess, as well as Aunt Vern’s and Mam’s. Even the kitchen and pantry hadn’t been spared. In the pantry, I found the secret entrance that led to the basement from the pantry and pushed it. Mercifully, it looked to be the only thing left untouched. I flew down the steps to the basement and saw that the other door with the special lock was intact. I pressed my thumb and peeked inside, just to be sure. All of the books were undisturbed, and the room looked and felt like it had been when I left it. I walked back upstairs and stood in the kitchen and surveyed the damage. Who would do this?
Even though I asked myself this question, I already had a pretty good idea who the culprit was.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Cicely’s number again and got the same perky voice message. I decided to call her home. I hadn’t used the number since she gave it to me. I wasn’t excited about another possible encounter with her mother but I decided that this was important enough to risk it. After two rings and a click, a soft, feminine voice answered. I immediately recognized it—Cicely’s mother. I sighed and spoke. “Mrs. Grove? Hi. It’s Karma. Can you tell me where Cicely is? It’s an emergency, and I really need to speak to her.”
There was a short pause…then all hell broke loose. “It’s all your fault!” Mrs. Grove screamed over the phone. “You’re the reason she’s gone! You should have stayed away from her!”
As I recoiled, I suddenly heard the phone receiver drop on her end, followed by loud, wrenching sobs. I tried to process what she had just said. Then I heard the heavy thump of footsteps, and someone snatch up the receiver. “Hello? Is this Karma?”
I recognized the gruff voice; it was Cicely’s father on the line. “Yes, Mr. Grove,” I said. “What on earth is going on?”
Mr. Grove paused ominously, then sighed. “She’s gone, Karma,” he explained, a cry in his voice. “Someone took Cicely.”
I felt all of my breath leave my body. I leaned heavily on the counter in my wrecked kitchen and bent my head to keep from passing out. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grove. What do you mean ‘someone took her’?”
“She disappeared on Monday evening. We expected her to be home at about nine, after a meeting with her forensics teacher, Dr. Dune.”
“Dr. Dune?” I asked. “Why would she be meeting Dr. Dune?”
“She said that he called her about something he had for you…that you told him to contact her. So, when he called, she left to meet with him that night. Afterwards, she called to let me know she was on her way home. She’d actually pulled up and parked in our driveway. I know, because I heard her car. Then, I heard another car speed up. I looked through the windows and saw a dark-colored truck pull behind her. A huge guy jumped out, grabbed her, and put something over her mouth and nose.” His voice quavered. “She could only get out a tiny scream before she collapsed. The guy dragged her into the truck and drove off.”
I stood stunned, unable to say anything.
“I was so shocked…I couldn’t move. I just let it happen” Mr. Grove cried. “I just let him take her!”
I could hear Mrs. Grove wailing in the background.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Grove,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m going to do all that I can to get her back though, I promise.”
He grunted, and then the line went dead. I hung up the phone, slowly organizing my thoughts. It had to be Owen and his friends who took her, but where? A week had almost passed. Anger that started as a discomfort in my chest quickly blossomed. I felt it rise in my throat and spread through my limbs.
How dare they? First, my family missing, then the threatening phone call, then drugging and kidnapping me, then destroying my house and taking away my friends? How dare they?!
Under my feet, the house shook from its very foundation. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t control the virulent anger that spread so quickly through me. I raised a hand and watched the couch lift. With a flick of a wrist, I watched it slam against the opposite wall and fold, the wood splintering into a million pieces. I focused intently on the knife block on the table, watching as each knife slipped out of its nestled slot and fly across the room, digging, one by one, into the door. A pipe burst underneath the kitchen sink. Water shot out of the pipe like pressurized spray from a fire hose. Somewhere in subconscious, I knew that further destroying my house wasn’t the answer. I needed to release this anger on those who deserved it. I was going get answers. Today.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I ran out the house and jumped into the SUV. I remembered the address of Owen’s house and focused my mind on it. I backed out the driveway and drove like a mad woman towards Owen’s house. I sped, not caring about being pulled over. I was ready for whoever dared to stop me. I had had enough. Enough of the cryptic messages. Enough of being afraid. Enough!
While I drove, I mentally rehearsed everything I learned from Aunt Shugs. I practiced the deep-breathing techniques that she taught me to control my anger.
Remember, Karma, your emotions could be an asset or a liability. They serve a purpose, to let you know when something’s wrong. Use them, control them. Don’t let them control you.
I played her calming advice over and over in my head until I felt steadier and more peaceful. I slowed down a bit.
I still felt the anger bubbling beneath the surface when neared the house. I parked on the opposite side of the road, not bothering to hide the car. I watched the residence for about five minutes. The car that had been in the driveway no longer was there. There was no movement. The house looked empty.
I left the SUV and approached the house, not pausing until arriving at the front door. The aged wooden door with a gold round handle and a master lock was firm when I touched it. When I felt ready, I lifted my hand and flicked my wrist. The door creaked and groaned, and then it was sucked into the house, landing with a loud crash against a back wall.
I stepped through the opening where the door used to be and looked around. Despite the dimmed afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, inside the house was dark. I saw a light switch on the wall at my right; I flicked it on. The house was in a similar as mine—like a fraternity had thrown a wild party there. Here, though, no furniture had been destroyed. Trash lay everywhere. I waded through beer cans and bottles, discarded cups, and crumpled wrappers in the open living room.
After seeing no one in the living room, I walked into what appeared to be the kitchen. This, too, was littered with trash. A putrid smell of decay came from the sink. I walked over to it; the sink was filled to the brim with a dark-brown sludge. It smelled like somet
hing died there. A small bubble rose to the surface and burst. I almost gagged.
I paused to glance around and then returned to the living room. The state of disrepair gave the impression that no one had occupied the house in a long while. This was confusing; it had been less than a month ago when I saw Owen walk out of the house on the night that I followed him.
I took a slow walk through the other rooms and saw similar states of disarray and mounds of trash. The half bathroom on the lower level of the house had the same nasty brown liquid in the sink. It was only when I braved going upstairs did I see something of interest. I took the steps slowly, the confusion and anger roiling inside me causing me to warp the wooden staircase railing wherever I touched it. A long, dark hallway strewn with trash greeted me. I saw another light switch and flicked it on.
The upstairs area was worse, filth smearing the off-white walls, an array of papers, cans, and moldy food scattered on the floor, and rodents scampering to hide from the bright light from the incandescent bulb. I noticed four doors, two on each side of the hallway. I thought that this could be an ambush, but I figured that if anyone was home, they may have made themselves known by now. As a reminder of what I was capable of, I pulled a small lighter out of my pocket that Aunt Shugs had given me to calm me and squeezed it.
I explored the first room on my left. I felt lucky that the light switch was close enough to the door so that I wouldn’t have to enter the room. That room definitely smelled like death and decomposition. Discarded dirty clothing, rotten food, and other garbage littered the floor and the bed. Nothing here…