Rise of the Whiteface Order

by M. A. Torres

  There was a sudden rustling from the dark corner behind them. The noise startled both of the boys, and they spun, but Zander dropped his flashlight. It hit the ground and broke open, sending the battery rolling away towards the dark corner from where the noise originated.

  “Who’s there?” Zander called—a hint of fear present in his voice.

  There was no response, but the boys could see faint movement in the dark. Kevin adjusted his glasses and narrowed his eyes, but couldn’t make out any details.

  The battery ended its roll at the foot of a presence in the corner. They saw a faint, tall figure within the darkness—the form then seemed to crouch towards the battery.

  “That’s my battery! You better hand it over or I’m going to give you a beat-down you won’t forget!” Zander sounded tough and confident, the hint of fear gone from his voice. Perhaps that’s what he’d meant when he advised Kevin to act and sound tough. His sudden aggression had carried over to Kevin and settled some of his uneasiness. The adrenaline coursed in his veins, and he felt prepared to help Zander fight this fight, if need be.

  “Take it.” The figure in the dark tossed the battery back at them.

  Zander caught it and quickly inserted it into his flashlight. He flicked it on and aimed it at the figure. There stood a thin, African-American man with leathery skin and a light mustache. He wore a thick, oversized hooded jacket, and over it, a black plastic rain poncho.

  “What are kids like you doing in a place like this?” he asked. “You’re gonna get eaten alive by the folks who dwell in this place.”

  “It’s none of your business what we’re doing here... we’ll be fine,” answered Zander.

  The homeless man shook his head with displeasure. Then he reached behind his back and ambled towards them. “That’s not very nice, kid. That’s no way to speak to an adult stranger.”

  Kevin stepped back, but Zander stood his ground, shining the light on the man’s face.

  “Don’t come any closer, I’m warning you!” Zander told him.

  The man didn’t listen and pressed forward, his hand behind his back, as though retrieving something from his pocket. Zander’s hands curled up into fists, ready to strike. Then, Kevin noticed the homeless man holding a shiny object behind his back.

  “Zander... wait!” he yelled.

  The man brought his hand forward, and it held nothing but a shiny, silver lighter. He raised it to the cigarette that was now between his lips and gave it a few puffs. Zander’s fists unclenched, then opened.

  “You’re a frightened boy... Zander,” said the man, a mocking smile upon his lips. “You try to hide your fear beneath a suit of bravado, but experience has taught me that those who wear that skin are the feeblest of beings.”

  He gave his cigarette a few puffs and tapped the ashes with a flick of his fingers.

  “Why don’t you try and find out how feeble I am? I’ll shove that cigarette down your throat!”

  The man’s grin widened, then he gazed at Kevin. Kevin glanced away as soon as their eyes met, trying his best not to compound the situation. The man’s smile faded. He glared at Zander with fury in his eyes.

  “This place is doomed! This town is doomed! You two are doomed! You’re nothing but a couple of minnows swimming in a tank of sharks!” The man’s tone was loud and angry. “I will tolerate no one disrespecting my home! Yes, this place is my home!” He placed his lighter in his back pocket, and a fist returned in its place.

  Kevin stepped forward. “Sir, I apologize for my friend! And I apologize for our trespass. Something horrible happened here yesterday evening, so we came here to investigate. With your permission, we’d like to look around some more.”

  The man’s smile returned, and his fist softened. He waved a finger at Kevin. “You see, huh, you see! Now, this kid has manners. It’d be wise you teach your pal some manners too!” he chuckled.

  Zander opened his mouth, about to speak, but Kevin interrupted. “I will teach him manners, sir!”

  Kevin slapped Zander’s head. “You idiot! How many times have I told you not to mouth off! Now mind your manners!”

  Zander was bout to speak again but Kevin continued.

  “Now, sir, I’m sorry ’bout all this. So what do you say? Can we look around some more?”

  The man’s smile widened, exposing his missing front teeth. “Sure...you asked me respectfully.”

  Kevin sighed, and he and Zander exchanged a glance.

  “So, can you tell us anything about what happened last evening?” asked Kevin.

  “Kid, something horrible happens here every evening! But those kids yesterday... those kids yesterday are nothing but death.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The man pointed his trembling hand at the mirror remains. “That mirror... it showed the devil.”

  Kevin and Zander frowned with worry. They returned to the mirror shards. Kevin knelt and grasped a bundle of reflective residue and placed it on the palm of his hand.

  “Zander, shine the light on these again.”

  Kevin inspected each of the reflective flakes. A larger flake caught his attention—it resembled a crystalline leaf, with its clear veins coursing through it and glittering in the soft light.

  “This is a piece of a crystalline leaf from Derathiel,” he said.

  “I knew it! How do you think he got it?”

  Kevin remained silent. The only other person he knew of with a crystalline plant was Olivia—and he had given it to her. Somehow, he knew she had nothing to do with it, but he would have to ask anyway.

  “I have no clue how they got it. You said they were wearing scrubs, right?”

  “Is that what you call medical clothes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, yes, then. They were wearing scrubs.”

  Kevin turned back to the homeless man. “Sir, can you tell me more about last evening?”

  There was no answer. Zander shone the light to the far end corner, but there was no one there. They exchanged a puzzled glance and walked to that side of the room, but the man could not be found. What remained was his wrinkled, black poncho, and nothing more.

  “Did you see him leave?” asked Zander.

  “No, did you?”

  “No.”

  Zander shined the light towards the doorway. Standing before them were two intimidating men in biker clothing, blocking the exit path. The boys stepped back.

  The man on the right wore a leather jacket, black torn-up jeans, and a red bandana. He had a fat red nose and scarred skin, the remnants of a previous case of acne which he tried to conceal behind a scruffy brown beard.

  The man on the left was taller and more threatening. He, too, wore a leather jacket and black jeans, and his skin was also scarred, but not by a previous bout of acne, but by two long streaks. Each scar ran from the top of each ear down to the corners of his mouth.

  The two men entered the room and looked around suspiciously, before fixating their angry stare onto the boys.

  “What are you two doing in here?” asked the one with the red bandana.

  Kevin and Zander looked at each other.

  “Be cool,” muttered Kevin under his breath.

  Zander cleared his throat. “Nothing, sir. I bought a box of smokes from the Blood Ghouls yesterday, but I forgot them here. We came to see if someone had found them.”

  “Well, I’ll be darned!” said the red bandana man sarcastically. “Why don’t we check our lost and found?”

  “You’re a fool if you think you’ll find your box of smokes,” answered the one on the left—the one with the blade scars down his cheeks. He stepped closer, looking bigger and meaner. “Now I’m going to ask you two one more time... WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” he pulled out a knife and pointed it towards them.

  Zander stepped forward. “I just want to know who those kids were. The ones in this room yesterday... You’re with the Blood Ghouls, right? I know Eli, and he knows me.”

  The man lowered his knife. “You
know Eli, huh?”

  “Yes, I do! He’s a buddy of mine. I’m one of his best customers,” answered Zander.

  “You are, huh? Well, he’s not here... word has it he will be, soon. Come with us.”

  The two men turned and walked out of the room. Zander and Kevin followed, peering into the adjacent rooms as they passed them.

  “Sir...” said Kevin.

  “Call me Harold,” said the one with the long scars.

  “Harold, we were just talking to a man back there. Did you see him walk out of the room?”

  The two men paused and turned.

  “A man?” asked Harold.

  “Yes, he was thin, dark-skinned, no teeth...”

  Harold and the red bandana exchanged a glance. Then they resumed their walk.

  “I see you guys met Charlie.”

  “Charlie? Was that his name?”

  “Yes,” answered the man with the red bandana. “Charlie’s been here longer than all of us. This is his place.”

  They entered the large room at the opposite end of the clinic; the one that held the market the day before.

  “Well, where did he go? Can we speak with him some more?” asked Kevin.

  The red bandana man turned. “Sure—if you can find him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is that... he’s dead.” The red bandana man held out his hand. “I’m Walder, by the way.”

  Kevin shook his hand, a look of bewilderment on his face. “Pardon me, did you just say he’s dead?”

  “I sure did! Charlie died years back, in this very clinic. He began appearing after those crazy kids started with their shenanigans in the back. He’s never spoken with me, but other Blood Ghouls have seen him.”

  “Yes, consider yourself ghosted!” added Harold. “Charlie appears when you least expect it. He made Gilbert, one of our toughest guys, pee in his pants. Gilbert has not set foot in this building since. Word has it Gilbert was rude to him, and ol’ Charlie put a really bad scare onto him. Word has it.”

  Harold opened the back door to reveal a shrink-wrapped pallet of boxes. He grabbed a handful of wrap and tore it down, revealing the contents within. The pallet was stacked with boxes of computer tablets. Harold smiled, his blade scars going from diagonal to vertical on his face. He winked at Walder.

  “So, you said you wanted to know who those kids were yesterday, huh?” asked Walder as he grabbed some boxes off the pallet.

  “Yes, please,” said Kevin.

  “They’re high school kids... from Wakefield and Rocky Valley. They call themselves the White Face Mafia. They need a place to practice their stupid witchery, so we rent them the back room twice a month.”

  “You two gonna help?” said Harold in a tone akin to an order, not a question. The boys felt obligated and began to help.

  Am I a mobster now? Kevin thought to himself as he carried his first case of stolen tablets into the room.

  More Blood Ghouls showed up. They comprised older teens and men in their early twenties, of various ethnicities. Short, tall, thin, and heavy young men entered the room and got to work on a variety of tasks. Many eyed the boys suspiciously and others with confusion. They brought tables into the room while others carried unopened boxes of miscellaneous items. Eli was amongst them, hauling boxes of unopened car speakers. He was too busy to notice the boys. Before long, the room was a full-fledged and bustling black market.

  Suddenly, Kevin’s phone vibrated inside his pocket. He ignored it and continued to assist, trying to maintain the delicate rapport he had built with Walder and Harold.

  Moments later, the last box of tablets had been stacked beside the back table. Walder looked at the setup in the room and smiled. “Good job, fellas!”

  Kevin dusted his hands on his pants. “Walder, do you know when those high school kids will be back?”

  “No idea. They call me at random times, and usually last minute. Last month they were here twice, this month it’s been three times. Could be on weekdays or weekends. Very random, they are.”

  Suddenly, Eli rushed into the room, desperation on his face. “THE COPS ARE HERE, EVERYBODY! COPS ARE HERE!”

  The room exploded into a frenzied chaos. The Blood Ghouls grabbed what merchandise they could and started out the back door.

  “Grab something, boys! Into the back of the van!” commanded Harold.

  Kevin and Zander took what boxes they could and rushed them out the back door. As they did, they crashed into Robbie and Matthew. Kevin fell back, dropping his box onto the floor.

  “Kevin, the police are here!” shouted Matthew.

  “What are you dweebs doing here?” shouted Zander.

  Kevin stood, then rushed his box into the back of a beat-up white van backed by the rear door. Harold and Walder were heading back inside when Eli stopped them at the doorway.

  “They’re in the clinic! Get outta here!”

  Walder turned to Kevin and Zander. “Get in the van, boys!”

  Robbie and Matthew looked back and saw even more police cars approaching.

  “GET IN!” screamed Harold.

  Kevin, Zander, Matthew, and Robbie all climbed into the van, just as it sped off. Outside, a few of the cops turned on their flashers and had begun to arrest the few Blood Ghouls who had parked their motorcycles by the entrance.

  “Where’s Jake?” asked Kevin.

  Robbie looked around. “Oh, shoot. Matthew, we outran Jake.”

  Matthew sat silently, shaking his head.

  “I told you guys not to come!” scolded Kevin.

  “You got out-voted, Kevin. Three to one!” said Robbie. “Besides, Jake is the one who first noticed the police. We didn’t want you to get caught in there...” he lowered his voice... “with those people.”

  Harold was at the wheel of the van, speeding through the winding back roads of south Wakefield Falls. “SOMEONE TIPPED THEM OFF! WALDER, WE HAVE A RAT IN OUR CREW!”

  Walder was riding shotgun. He shook his head. “No, Harold! Those cop cars drove up without their flashers. They didn’t know anyone was there!”

  “Then how do you explain what happened?”

  “I don’t know, Harold! But I know our crew! There are no rats in our crew!”

  Walder glanced at Robbie and Matthew. Then he nudged Harold with his elbow. “Drive to the outskirts.”

  Sometime later, Harold pulled the van over by a deserted, forested road. He and Walder turned to the boys. “You two punks! Who are you?”

  “Uh, we’re Kevin’s friends,” said Matthew.

  “Yes, they’re with us,” said Kevin.

  “I don’t care who you’re with, what were you doing there?” demanded Walder, his voice louder and more threatening. He pulled out his knife. “Did you little punks call the police?”

  “No! We promise!” said Matthew.

  Walder stood off his seat and made his way into the back of the van. He grabbed Matthew by his shirt and placed the knife-point on his cheek.

  “Did you call the police on us, you little weasel?”

  “No! I swear!”

  Zander shook his head. “Walder, it wasn’t them! No one called the police, but I know why they were there.”

  The gangster released Matthew with a shove. “Oh, you do? Why were they there?”

  “To investigate the two guys who went missing yesterday. I was there when it happened... when they disappeared.”

  Walder eyed him with confusion. “Who went missing?”

  “Two guys from the White Face Mafia.”

  “Really? I heard nothing about it, did you, Harold?”

  Harold shrugged. “No. I don’t speak to those creeps; I just collect their money, word has it.”

  Walder narrowed his eyes. “So tell me, how did the guys go missing? What happened to them?”

  Five seconds later, the boys were lying on the street, kicked out of the Blood Ghoul’s van. They watched it drive off into the distance, leaving them in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by th
e dense forest. It was obvious they hadn’t bought a word of Zander’s story.

  “Yeah, real smart, Zander! Why couldn’t you tell them something believable!” argued Matthew.

  “Shut up, dweeb, I told them what actually happened! Besides, we’re out here because of you and your red-headed girlfriend!” he glanced at Robbie. “If you two morons had stayed away, they wouldn’t have gotten all suspicious!”

  “Call us names one more time!” Robbie said, holding a long, thick stick over his shoulder, prepared to strike.

  Zander chuckled. “You wouldn’t dare!” Then, he turned around and walked away. “Dumb dweeb.”

  Matthew beat Robbie to the punch. He rushed Zander and shoved him from behind. Zander stumbled forward, placing his hands on the ground to prevent from falling. He regained his balance and spun, his face red with rage. He rushed towards Matthew and Robbie, who were side by side, ready to fight. Zander’s closed in, fists firm and shaking with anger. He raised his right, about to strike, when Kevin jumped between them.

  “MOVE!” screamed Zander, but Kevin stood his ground. “You’re going to have to go through me if you’re going to

  fight my friends!”

  “GET OUT OF THE WAY, KEVIN!”

  “NO!” Kevin shoved Zander back.

  Zander bit his bottom lip. He rushed forward again, trying to dance around him, but Kevin kept impeding his path. Frustrated, he grabbed Kevin by the shirt collar and raised a fist to strike.

  Kevin did not flinch.

  “Go ahead. Hit me. But I will get back up, and you’re gonna have to hit me again, and again, and again—until I’m dead or until you leave my friends alone.”

  Zander glared with rage, his right fist raised to strike and his left clutching Kevin’s collar. His glanced at Robbie, then at Matthew, before releasing Kevin with a small shove.

  Kevin adjusted his shirt, and exchanged a glance with Robbie.

  Zander sighed and looked up at the sky. The clouds glowed a deep purple, and a light snowfall had just begun. The road ran north as far as the eye could see, disappearing between the towering pines of the forest ahead. “I need to get home,” he said to no one in particular. He started up the road. Slowly he raised his speed until he was in a full sprint.