by Luke Valen
Bryon continued down the dirt road, passing half-awake teenagers wrapped up in jackets and scarves making their slow approach to the hellhole they called high school. The ground was covered in white powder from the night before, and the air was sharp to the nostrils. White trees lined all sides of the mountain road. Bryon ran up to the first lively looking kid he could find.
“Hello, sir! How are you this morning?! I see you have a coffee from Forest Café there, can you tell my viewers a little about your experience there, in case they ever choose to visit?” Bryon put his phone’s camera in the poor soul’s zombielike face.
“Get that out of my face, dude.” The passerby shoved Bryon’s hand away.
“Okay, have a good one! See you in Home Ec!” Bryon yelled and turned back to his camera. “Well, I’ll be back on at lunch. You have a great day, all you beautiful people.” He signed off and made his way into the zoo-like hallway of animalistic teenagers, all gathered in their cliques outside of the main entrance.
—§—
The front of the school was newly shoveled by the early morning janitors. Abigail could tell as she made her way to class, tripping over the occasional kid with a roller backpack. The school bell echoed throughout the hallways and up the quiet streets as all the teens made their way into the classrooms.
Abigail and Cherry took their seats next to each other in History as they awaited the teacher to place the daily guide on the chalkboard.
“You look horrible, Abby,” Cherry said with a scandalous tone.
“Thanks?” Abigail said. She didn’t know if Cherry was joking or being serious.
“No really, what’s wrong?” Cherry was serious.
Abigail pulled out her notebook and pencil. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Cherry leaned in. “Oh la la—what were you up to?”
“Nothing like that. I went to Dean’s place,” Abigail said.
“What?!” Cherry jumped out of her seat.
“Cherry. Please take your seat,” the vest-wearing, mustache-wielding teacher commanded. “All right, class. Today we are looking at ancient Israel.”
“Awe!” the class collectively groaned.
“Abigail…” Cherry whispered as the teacher began his lesson, “what in the world were you doing with Dean last night? And I didn’t know he had a place—I assumed he lived on the streets.”
“Not quite. But it doesn’t matter—it was stupid.” Abigail wanted to end the conversation, she opened her notebook and pointedly began taking notes.
“You’re not getting out of this that easily. What did you two do?” Cherry pressed.
“Nothing. Seriously, we didn’t do anything. We talked and then I left and that was it.” Abigail tried not to look over at Cherry.
“LADIES!” the teacher interjected, stopping what he was writing on the board and turning to look directly at Abigail. “Do you have something that you would like to share with the rest of the class?”
“No, sir.” Abigail looked up and then to Cherry. They quickly responded simultaneously. With an eyebrow raise and stern look, he resumed his notes on the board.
“We are not done here, Abigail,” Cherry whispered as she leaned back into her chair.
The curly- and gray-haired teacher continued. “Israel has been a place of conflict for nearly its entire existence.” He wheeled out an outdated film projector as he spoke, plugging it in. “There has been war after war over the holy ground where the first and second temples were built. The place is said to have been where Jesus himself performed miracles.” He began flashing through images of the ancient city and artist renditions of what was once a beautiful and thriving world. Abigail watched and listened in hopes that she would find a clue as to what was happening in her own world. The other students couldn’t care less as they hid their phones under the tables, sending texts back and forth, while others stared off mindlessly into space.
“I know this is all just so interesting, but if you could please, class…” He pointed back to the board. “Now, there is a theory that the famed Ark of the Covenant is housed here in Israel.” He clicked over to an image.
Abigail nearly jumped out of her seat when she saw it. “What!”
“Abigail, can I help you with something?” He spoke in his monotonous voice.
“No, sir, just dropped my pencil,” she lied.
“Mmmhhhmm.” He clearly didn’t believe her for one second. “Other theologians and ancient archeologists believe the holy artifact to be hidden away somewhere in Egypt, Mount Nebo, Ethiopia, or even Southern Africa. This holy artifact, which has caused countless wars, as well as the holy ground it has touched, was the main plot for Steven Spielberg’s film Raiders of the Lost Ark.”
Even referencing Indiana Jones, he was losing the class. Way past their time.
Everyone…except for Abigail.
“The ark is said to contain the original stone slabs given to Moses by God, along with unimaginable powers. People who controlled the ark seemed to be virtually unstoppable during their times. Some believe those in possession of the ark were given control of God’s most powerful angels, thus defeating any and all known armies.” The teacher went on, bored of his own lecture, wishing he had a cell phone to hide under his desk too.
There it was again. Abigail caught the flashing images like the hawk catches the fleeting field mouse.
As he flipped from image to image, Abigail noticed the mark again. The same one that was on Dean was on the Ark of the Covenant. She hadn’t seen these images when she had done her search the other night.
“I’ve gotta go tell him,” she mumbled to herself.
“What?” Cherry whispered, leaning over.
“Nothing.” Abigail raised her hand. “Sir. Excuse me, may I please go to the restroom?”
“Is it an emergency?” he asked, clearly out of obligation.
“Yes, sir. Very much so an emergency.” This time she was not lying. It was just a different sort of emergency.
“Fine. Take your hall pass.” He didn’t care for more than a split second.
“Thank you.” Abigail stood up, not forgetting to grab her books, and ran out of the classroom. Making her way through the empty halls, all she could think was what everything meant. The other night, the drawings, the creature, the symbols, it was all so much coming at her all at once. Like a train of new information plowing full force straight for her life.
Turning the hallway corner to the front entrance, she plowed into a brick wall of a person. Her books went flying in every direction as she lost her footing and hit the ground. “I’m so sorry,” she said without looking up, the apology more of a natural response. She scrambled to pick up her books.
“Abigail, where are you off to?” a familiar deep voice asked.
Abigail looked up from the ground, her hand on the last book. A large white hand reached down, extending out of its blue pinstriped sleeve. “Are you okay?”
“Dad?” The confusion painted her face like a kid on Halloween. “What are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Oh yeah. I was just going to the bathroom.”
“You passed it, baby.” He pointed to the restroom sign about ten yards back.
She looked back to where her father was pointing and palmed her forehead as if she had really missed it. “Oh. Oops. I must have missed it. I really needed it.”
“I was actually coming to pull you out of class to see if you’d like to go to an early lunch with your old man.” He lifted her off the ground and stared deeply into her blue eyes with his.
“Really?” She smiled from ear to ear, pushing her hair behind her ear.
“Yeah, I thought it would be nice, just the two of us. I mean, they are probably teaching you something you already read about anyway, my smart little girl.”
“Yeah. Okay. Yeah, that sounds nice.” She smiled.
“Don’t you need the restroom, baby?” her father sa
id, reminding her of her lie.
“Oh yeah. Sorry. Be right back.”
She walked into the bathroom, unsure how she was going to let Dean know what she had just seen. Yet, at the same time, it seemed to matter a lot less. This was the first time that her father had seemed to show any interest in spending time with her. She stood there, staring at her own reflection in the mirror as if she had never seen that person before. The girl in the reflection with books clutched to her chest looked happy. Just standing there, staring right back.
“What are you doing?” she asked herself softly. “You just met the guy—you don’t owe him anything. Go have fun with your dad.” She took a deep breath and left the restroom.
Her father was still waiting in the hall, his eyes on his cell phone as he flipped through something on the screen.
“All right, Dad, I’m ready.” She came out smiling cheek to cheek in her jean jacket.
He motioned with one hand to the doorway. “Let’s go.”
The two left the school and made their way down to his silver Bentley parked right out front.
—§—
Their chariot of a car shone as it drove lonesomely down the dirt roads of their small town. Everybody knew who was in that car—the businessman himself. Mr. Li’Ved was adored by most of the townsfolk. He was known for making very generous contributions to all the schools and hospitals around town. A man who created jobs and helped support the lives of those in his community. As they drove and as cars passed, everyone would wave happily with great gratitude and respect. Mr. Li’Ved would smile and wave back to each and every one of them, as if he knew them personally.
As if they were actually important to him.
The tires bounced as they pulled into the muddy, potholed parking lot of the diner. Mr. Li’Ved opened his door and got out.
“Hey, Dad,” Abigail said.
He paused, not shutting the door.
Eyes forward and still strapped in, Abigail stared at the plowed snow at the edge of the parking lot.
“Yeah, baby, what is it?” he asked.
“Thank you.”
“For what, Abigail?” He leaned back in the car.
“For this. It really means a lot to me.” Her tone was soft.
“Oh, baby, of course. I know I don’t get to spend a lot of time with you and I’m sorry for that. But you know I love you. I just have a lot of people to take care of too. You know that right, baby?” he asked, eyebrows creased with sincerity.
“Yeah, I know,” she said, receding back into herself a bit.
“Come on, let’s go get us some of those pancakes you love!” He smiled brightly before shutting the door. Abigail stepped out of the car, with a smile just as big.
The diner was made of an old train engine still attached to a shipping container. Its red and yellow rusted paint shone dully in the sunlight. A locals’ favorite mom-and-pop shop. A neon sign that read “Hot Cakes All Day” buzzed in the small, round window. Surrounded by snow, it seemed the diner was the shining pinnacle of a snow mountain for all to admire. Mr. Li’Ved reached for the old brass handle.
Dingle-ling.
The diner door rang as the two entered.
A woman dressed in a white-and-pink, vertically striped dress looked up from behind the counter. “Hello, sit anywhere you’d like. I’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you, Marg,” Mr. Li’Ved said.
Elvis Presley played joyfully on the jukebox near the back of the diner. The smell of fresh pancakes wafted in the air. The duo made their way into one of the old-fashioned booths from the fifties, still just as comfortable as ever. Puffed-up red leather chairs with white stitching—couldn’t get more comfortable than that. Abigail sat across from her father, just staring, admiring him as if he were a new man—a new father—the one that she had always longed for.
“What? Is there something on my face?” he asked jokingly.
She let out a tiny giggle. “Ha ha, no. I’m just looking. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Abigail.”
Marg approached the table, menus in hand. She set them on the table and pulled out her notebook. “Well, aren’t you two just the cutest? What can I get y’all to drink?”
Her father answered for both of them. “I think we will start with two hot cocoas. That’s okay with you, right?”
“Hot cocoa is perfect,” Abigail said happily.
Marg smiled. “Two hot cocoas it is! You look good, Abigail. All grown up! How old are you now?”
Abigail smiled back. “Seventeen, ma’am. I’ll be eighteen in a little over a month.”
“You better watch out, Lucien. You are going to have a grown woman in your house. Soon she will be taking over.”
“We plan on it,” Mr. Li’Ved said, and Marg waved her pad and pen and rolled away on her ancient skates.
Abigail smiled even bigger still without taking her eyes off her father. He smiled back.
“So, baby, how is school going?” Mr. Li’Ved asked.
“Great. Finals are coming up soon, but I think I’m going to do really well. Especially in History and English,” she said with a giggle, as if she were amazed that he was actually interested in hearing how she was doing at school. This was quickly becoming one of the best days of her life.
“Good, baby. And any boys?” His voice was so nonchalant.
Abigail winced. “No, no boys.”
“Your cousin Beth told me she had seen you with a boy. Was she mistaken?” He began to butter his bread while staring at Abigail.
Abigail balled her fists under the table. “Oh, yeah, he is just my class partner for a project we are working on,” she said as if she had just remembered.
“I see. What is the project?”
“It’s on ancient Israel. We are doing a project on some of the old archeological mysteries,” she said, casually reading her menu. Smooth. She was becoming a good liar.
“That’s good, baby. Bring him by the house sometime. You know how I love the past—easier times. Maybe I can help you two out.”
Abigail fidgeted in her seat. “Oh no, Daddy, it’s okay. I think we got it.”
“Bring him by tonight, Abigail. I would like to meet this boy.” His tone had changed completely. He was now very stern and direct.
Abigail surrendered. “Yes, Daddy, of course.”
Marg rolled back over to their table, “Two hot cocoas for the two beautiful people,” she said as she placed them on the tabletop.
Abigail grabbed her mug, warming her hands. “Thank you, Marg.”
Marg nodded and rolled away down the narrow aisle to her only other table. Not many people were out eating in the middle of a workday.
“Hey, Daddy.”
Mr. Li’Ved looked up from his mug.
“When you said, ‘We plan on it’—on me taking over the family business—did you mean it?” Abigail asked.
“Yes, of course. That is why I have you studying all those books. When you turn eighteen, everything will change for us. You know this. We can finally be a family. We just have some business to handle first. Things are going to get very hard before they get better. That is why you must be prepared. Business is not easy.” Mr. Li’Ved took a sip of his cocoa. “Being on top never is.”
—§—
Forest Café was quickly becoming my go-to spot. The evening was nice as the sun began its descent.
Dingle-ling.
The bell rang as I entered the crowded café. Didn’t these people have anything else to do other than drink coffee all day? Today there was a different hipster guarding the register. Thank God, the other one wouldn’t have forgotten that I took his headset.
I sat with my headphones on, the ones I’d technically stolen, at a computer screen tapping away on the keyboard…Searching aimlessly, I had no idea what I was looking for. What had she searched to find the symbols like she said? Image after image, I grew more and more frustrated when nothing seemed to line up. Short tempered, I slammed my fists on the
desk, bouncing the keyboard and mouse into the air.
Everyone stopped and stared.
“What?!” I yelled.
Just as quickly as they looked, their eyes darted back to their screens.
“Hey there! You having some trouble finding what you’re looking for?” A voice came from behind me.
“I’m fine,” I responded, staring at my lost search screen.
“Doesn’t look like it. Here, let me help.” The voice grew a hand. It reached in, grabbing the mouse.
“I said I’m fine!” I turned to look at who the hand was attached to. Bryon. “What do you want?”
“Just want to help. You looked like you were having some trouble. So what is it you’re looking for?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” I said with a defeated energy.
“Come on, what is it?” Bryon persisted. “I’m really good with computers and finding stuff.”
I was reluctant to ask for help. “It’s nothing, really.”
“All right. Well, if you need help, I’ll be over there.” He pointed to his desk covered in chips, coffee, and wires. Does this guy even have a life?
Bryon began to walk back to his desk when I broke.
“All right,” I said.
“All right, what?”
He was such a pest.
“All right, could you help me?” I mumbled.
“Sure!” He jumped at the opportunity with a big smile plastered to his annoying mug. “What is it you’re looking for?”
“See this?” I pointed to the mark on my wrist.
“Youuu want to look up a birthmark?” he asked, as if it were a stupid idea.
“Never mind, man, it was a stupid idea.” I tried to shove him off and get back to the computer.
“No, no, it’s cool. Okay, let me see your arm.”
“For what?”
“Just give me your arm.” Bryon grabbed my arm and pulled out his phone.