The Chronicler and Mr Smith

by Angie Martin

  My head spun with the new information, but her story fascinated me. “I have a lot of learning to do still. A lot of adjusting, too.”

  She waved her hand at me. “You’ll get it. Chroniclers learn faster than anyone else. Kinda comes with the job.”

  Warmth overflowed in my heart at the kindness shown to me by others in the complex. Tears surfaced in my eyes, but I swallowed them back. I had never been a crier, despite many readers crying over my books, yet emotion overwhelmed me. Everything that had been absent in my life was now in place. I missed my family – my heart ached at the thought of them and Liz and what they must be going through with my disappearance. But, the people at the complex who had been strangers just days before… they were my true family. And, there was no other place I wanted to be. Just as Keira had said would happen, I never wanted to leave.

  “I’ll look into that dream thing for you,” Jia said.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Oh, and just so you know,” she said, “my office is also the place for gossip. I always hear it first. Comes with the job. If you want to add the flair of drama to your life or if you learn something scandalous, you know where to find me.”

  I laughed and nodded. There always seemed to be that one person who knew the scoop on everything – and everybody. I thought of a thousand questions to ask her, but needed to get back to the library before Mr. Smith herded me into the gym for another body-breaking workout.

  We exchanged our goodbyes with another hug – maybe I was becoming a huggy person after all? – and I left her office, intending to return to the library until Mr. Smith dragged me out. But, when the elevator doors opened, Mr. Smith stood there, unmoving, waiting for me to join him.

  I shrugged, but didn’t enter the elevator, nor did he make a move to exit. My shoulders stiffened and back muscles tensed. Even though he had opened up to me about his brother and family, something about being near him roused the sarcastic beast inside of me. My instincts told me to always remain on defense around him. Throw more bricks at the wall between us. Seal them up tight with the strongest possible mortar. Don’t just push him away, but shove as hard as I could and run in the opposite direction.

  “Going up?” I asked, hoping he was heading downstairs and I could wait for a vacant elevator.

  “No,” he said, finally exiting the elevator. “Neither of us are.”

  I restrained a groan. “Is it already time for the gym?”

  “No, not now. Maybe later, after dinner.”

  After dinner? Earlier, he had said we would hit the gym before dinner. He didn’t strike me as a man who altered his plans on a whim. “What’s going on?”

  “The other team will be here in a few hours.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “The team doing recon on that blood seeker nest?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “We’ll have a long night planning, I’m sure. But, there’s something else.”

  The sudden softness of his voice caught my attention. His eyes held sadness… no, sympathy. My heart dropped into my stomach in anticipation of his next sentence.

  “They found your body.”

  And, just like that, with four words whispered through the air, I had died.

  Chapter Nineteen

  T here was something liberating about death. Morose, heartbreaking… moments filled with endless pits of melancholy, but liberating, nonetheless. I no longer feared my parents finding out that we would never reunite. They – and I – could start to heal.

  A short-lived sentiment.

  Standing in the computer room – Sandra and Jiong sitting behind their desks, Keira’s heavy arm around my shoulders, Mr. Smith blended somewhere into the background – I could only stare at the largest monitor. I couldn’t stop the New York City police lieutenant from speaking to the media, couldn’t quench the pain of my family standing to the side of the podium, couldn’t reach out to Liz, whom my mother leaned against, to let them know it was all a lie. I was alive. No need to worry. No need to cry.

  Waves of guilt crashed into me, threatening to buckle my knees as tears streamed down my dad’s face. Guilt for accepting my new role so easily, for thinking of those in the room with me – even Mr. Smith – as my destined family. For wanting to help others, to save them, from creatures like blood seekers and other nasty things I had yet to learn about. For not being more selfish by denying this life and returning to my blood, God-given family.

  But, with that guilt, came the knowledge that my death had freed me from the ties of the real world. I could embrace my duties as a chronicler and help save lives without the fear of my family or friends being in danger. One day, after my actual death, others would read my chronicles and hopefully learn from them, as I was learning now from the chroniclers before me. My life would offset the pain my family and friends suffered today, tomorrow, and in the future, and hopefully temper my guilt.

  “Her identity was partially confirmed through dental records,” the lieutenant said to the crowd. “Unfortunately, due to the accident, there were some teeth missing or chipped, so we could not obtain a one hundred percent match. We should have DNA confirmation in about a week, but despite this, we are confident the female body recovered is Madison Shaw.”

  “Does that mean her body isn’t being released to the family yet?” a male reporter asked from the front row of press.

  “Not until we have that definite DNA confirmation. The family has also requested an autopsy, although no foul play is suspected.”

  “When will there be a funeral?” the same reported asked.

  The lieutenant cleared his throat. “It may be a couple weeks before a memorial service is held, but that information will come later and directly from the family.”

  “What about the other body?” An unseen female reported shouted the question.

  “We do have the name of the Uber driver,” the lieutenant said, “and believe it to be him, but we are waiting on confirmation. He had no immediate family, so we’re searching for DNA and other records to assist with the identification. Who else?”

  I shifted away from Keira’s arm. “I think I’m gonna get back to the library.”

  Her scrunched-up, concerned expression elongated into a different apprehension, possibly mixed with a bit of shock. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I have a lot of research to catch up on and this…” I waved my hand toward the monitor. “It’s just not something I really want to hear.”

  “Okay,” Keira said as I walked away.

  I left the office, my steps quickening as I neared the elevator. I had to escape the suffocating air and focus on my work before guilt overwhelmed me. If I could concentrate everything on learning how to help others and perform in the manner expected, I would prove that leaving my family and friends was acceptable. Then, no one could blame me for my choices.

  A hand darted between the slight opening of the elevator doors just as they were about to close with me inside. My eyes closed, and I blew out my breath. I had wanted to be alone, not bombarded with questions or concern or companionship of any kind.

  Heavy footsteps forced my eyes open, and I scoffed at the sight of Mr. Smith entering the cab with me. He glanced at the unlit floor numbers, then back at me. “I thought you were going to the library.”

  “I… I am,” I said, jabbing my index finger into the fourth-floor button. The doors slid shut, encasing me in the tomb with him. “You aren’t watching the rest of the press conference?”

  “Sandra and Jiong will keep me posted if anything relevant comes up.”

  “Great.” Though his gaze burned through me, I kept mine solidly on the floor, my mind ticking off the ding of each floor.

  The elevator shuddered to a stop, and I stepped forward when the doors parted.

  “You can’t push down your grief,” Mr. Smith said from behind me.

  I turned around and eyed him. He needed to follow that advice and quit taking the loss of his brother out on me.

  “I know I’m not a good example
,” he said, “but you… I need your head here, with us.”

  Could he be any more of a jerk?

  “I’m not trying to be a jerk,” he said.

  Clearly, he could read minds, too. I imagined myself flipping him off, but he didn’t react. Maybe he couldn’t hear my thoughts after all.

  He reached in front of me, holding me back from exiting. His hand brushed against my abdomen, and I sucked in my breath with a sharp gasp, pulling my stomach back. Before I could say anything, he leaned over and opened a panel on the elevator wall, one I hadn’t noticed. I prided myself on my perceptiveness, but this… I had missed it. Curiosity shut down my arguments against Mr. Smith keeping me hostage in the elevator, as I watched him depress an unlabeled button inside the panel.

  “Just wait,” he said, with an attempt at a smile, another peculiar sight.

  The doors closed again, and weariness claimed my body. I leaned against the wall while I watched the numbers climb to five, six, and then they stopped flashing. I only knew of six floors, yet the elevator continued to climb.

  After several seconds of no dinging to announce a new floor, I asked, “Are we going to bust through the ceiling?”

  He laughed. “You’ll see.”

  I didn’t know what worried me more: the strange elevator not stopping, or Mr. Smith being in a decent mood. I shook my head, realizing I didn’t even know what the outside of the building looked like… I had never bothered to ask what city, or even what state we were in. Did people walking past the complex see that there were no windows for floors between the sixth one and wherever we were going? Then again, I had yet to see any windows at all in the complex.

  The thoughts disoriented my mind, and I leaned against the wall. I closed my brain for business; any other questions could potentially throw me into a drooling stupor.

  The cab jerked slightly, then stopped. The doors parted, leading us to… darkness? Where the hell were we? I could make out the walls of the blackened hallway, but visibility was limited to that and Mr. Smith’s outline.

  He took my arm and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Stay with me.”

  I pinched his T-shirt so I wouldn’t lose him, like a child holding onto her parent in a crowd. From the moment he had guided me out of my hotel room, I had placed more trust in the man than I had in anyone else in my life. Even more than my family. More than Liz. And, I would continue to follow his lead, wherever it took me. If only he knew that he had become my lifeline in my crazy new reality.

  “After you’ve been up here a few times,” he said, “you’ll get used to the dark.”

  “Maybe you should just call the electric company and pay the bill,” I said.

  A half-laugh, then, “There’s a reason it’s so dark.”

  We turned a corner to the left, and a sparkle of distant light caught my attention. A slight breeze down the hall brought with it the wondrous, fresh scent of the outdoors, something I hadn’t experienced in a few days, something I had missed without knowing it. Excitement at going outside tickled my gut, and my steps picked up speed until I let go of Mr. Smith’s shirt and moved in front of him. What would I see when we reached the end of the hall? Would I recognize the landscape? Or, would it be a strange new land?

  The light brightened the closer we got to it, and I made out the outline of a balcony and railing. My brow pinched when I noticed the floor of the balcony was not made of wood, stone, brick, or tile, but of compacted dirt. The walls on either side of us transitioned to rock and dirt, pushing my curiosity to the brink. The city sounds I expected to hear did not rise above the silence coming from beyond the balcony. I turned to Mr. Smith to inquire further, but the smile playing on his lips told me to wait for the surprise.

  Stepping onto the balcony, the sunset overcame me, stealing my breath and almost knocking me to the ground. It seeped through breaks in the mountain landscape, painting the brown land with deep oranges and yellows. Halfway to its nightly hideaway, the sun crested one of the high peaks, caressing it with warmth that seemed to disappear along the cool gusts of wind.

  I crossed my arms to ward off any oncoming shivers and moved to the edge of the railing. My head glided forward to see what laid below our feet. It only took a second to regret my curiosity. I grasped the iron in front of me and steadied my vertigo.

  Mr. Smith’s hand landed between my shoulder blades. “You okay?”

  I pulled the night air into my lungs and looked up. “Shouldn’t have done that,” I said, a stifled laugh accompanying my words. “How far up are we?”

  “About twelve thousand feet.”

  “Oh, just that high?” I glanced at him. “A little warning next time.”

  “Sorry, I forgot about your height thing.” He removed his touch from my back and palmed the railing. “I thought the view would take your mind off everything else.”

  I lifted my head and realigned my thoughts. “It sure is gorgeous. But, where are we? I mean, where is the complex? Is it…” Realization dawned on me. “Is it built into a mountain?”

  “Pretty ingenious if you ask me,” he said, grinning. He pointed above our heads, and I noticed the top of the ledge curved down. “This is such a small opening that no one can see this shelf from the road, which is why there are no lights in the hall. We’re completely hidden.”

  “Like a superhero cavern.”

  “It sure is.” He leaned over, his forearms resting on the rail. “Brent used to call it our Batcave, even as an adult.” His childlike excitement brought out another side of him, one that I liked much more than the gruff, always-tense man I’d come to know.

  But, the mention of his brother reminded me of his – and my – loss, stirring me back to reality. I needed something more than a gorgeous view to remind me of my calling and reinforce staying.

  “Tell me about someone you saved,” I said.

  He twisted his neck to look at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve read about people rescued from blood seekers back in, like, the fourteenth century. Tell me about someone you’ve saved since becoming a night stalker.”

  His eyes widened, and he shifted his gaze back to the landscape. “Oh, wow. There’s been a lot. Not that I’ve personally saved, but that the team I’ve been on has saved.” He squinted, and his mouth tweaked to the side as he thought. “I could tell you plenty of stories, but how about one of the more interesting missions I’ve been on?”

  I smiled at the thought of a hopeful tale to comfort me. “That’s perfect.”

  “There was this band back in the day. A garage band really, but they were pretty good. Probably had a great future ahead of them.”

  My expression dropped. “Don’t tell me someone died.”

  He whipped his head toward me. “No, nothing like that. The lead singer of this band found out his cousin was in pretty deep with a sandman.”

  “A what? Sand… a sandman?”

  “Nasty creature that feeds on the souls of children,” he said. “Pray you never have to run up against one of those. I was around ten at the time, old enough to go on a hunt, and that sandman made me want to quit the life.”

  “Did your mark come in that early?”

  “Nah, but I always knew I would be a night stalker. It’s in my blood to do so. We traveled out to where these guys lived and got to know the band pretty well during our trip. Well, I did, that is. They played my kind of music.”

  “What kind of music is that?”

  “Heavy metal. Betting you don’t like that, huh?”

  “Why? Because I’m write romance novels?” I laughed. “What, did you think I liked bubble gum pop or something?”

  “I guess I didn’t know what you would listen to.”

  “I just so happen like my music a bit on the heavy side.”

  “Oh, really? I have a pretty good collection of it, the older stuff, mostly. Anyway, this guy’s cousin was near death when we got to him. My dad and the others were determined to save him, but more than that, we had to stop the sandm
an before he got to any other kids.”

  I turned to face him, completely engrossed in the tale. “Did you save him?”

  “Of course, but that’s not the real story. The lead singer of this band was there for everything – the entire mission. We had a talk with him, as usual. You know, don’t tell anyone, keep it to yourself, etcetera. He didn’t.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He wrote a song about the experience.”

  My jaw dropped. “No, he didn’t.”

  “It’s so important that we keep these creatures under wraps. The world would go crazy if they even knew about blood seekers, let alone sandmen and the other monsters out there.”

  “What happened?”

  “We had to shut the band down. Had the drummer’s parents transferred with their job to another state, caused some chaos in the bassist’s life, and some other things to ensure they would never start the band up again. We destroyed every copy of the song. It really sucked, but what were we supposed to do? Even though the lead singer promised he wouldn’t release the song, it was only a matter of time. And, it was a great song. Would have been a hit for them.”

  “What was their name? Maybe I heard of them?”

  “Doubt it. It was a bit before your time. Band’s name was Metallica. Never forgot them. The song he wrote was called Enter Sandman. Pretty damn good.”

  “So, you heard the song? How did you manage that?”

  He flashed a secretive grin. “My dad only thought we destroyed every copy. I managed to steal one before it went into the incinerator. I am now the proud owner of the only copy of Enter Sandman in the world, and no one outside the complex, including the high council, can find out.”

  The needle on my respect meter quivered up a few notches for the man. Maybe, he was a normal human being after all. “Do you know what happened to the band?”

  “Yeah, I felt bad about breaking their band up, so I kept tabs on them over the years. The lead singer is an accountant in Oklahoma City. Wife, two kids, three dogs. Guitarist started a youth outreach program in Chicago. Changing lives through music, or something like that. Bassist plays in a Van Halen tribute band now out in Des Moines.”