Rise of the Whiteface Order

by M. A. Torres

  Kevin wiped the dirt off the air hockey table when Tara noticed someone new approaching their yard sale.

  “Kevin, Kevin, look! Its Old Em!”

  Kevin’s eyes widened. The old lady was indeed walking towards their house. She had on a thick, black, trench-coat which extended down to her ankles. Her coat’s collar was up and hugging the sides of her thin neck. She wore a dark beanie on her head, and her long, stringy, black hair fell loosely down both sides of her shoulders.

  “Tara, you stay away from her,” whispered Kevin.

  “Is she really a witch?” she whispered back.

  “Supposedly. People say she’s been in this town for centuries. Old people remember her when they were kids. They say she never dies. They say she stays alive by kidnapping and feasting on children.”

  Tara gasped.

  Kevin smiled. “I’m sure that’s just a story, but still—stay away from her.”

  Old Em reached their driveway and began eyeing their inventory as Ms. Martinez waved Mark goodbye. The old woman browsed through a box of old lamps, then turned her gaze on Kevin.

  Kevin made brief eye contact and turned away just as Old Em smiled.

  “Tara... Tara,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “Is Old Em still looking at me?”

  “Yes... wait. Not anymore. She’s waiting to speak with Mom.”

  Kevin turned slowly. Old Em had one of their old lamps cradled in her arm, waiting for their mom. Ms. Martinez was busy with a lady skimming through a pile of dresses. After speaking with the potential customer, she turned to Old Em. She smiled, and they conversed for a moment, then Ms. Martinez’s eyes widened. She looked at Kevin and waved him over.

  Oh no.

  Kevin ambled towards them.

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “Kevin, this is Em. I’m sure you’ve seen her, she lives in the corner house.”

  “Uh-huh,” Kevin nodded, his gaze focused on the floor, afraid to make eye contact with the old woman.

  “Hello, Kevin,” said Old Em. Her voice was pleasant and non-threatening.

  He forced himself to look. Her skin was wrinkled, weathered, and splotchy. She wore sunglasses, which was odd in the overcast sky.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “My, how you’ve grown. I used to watch you as a child, playing in your front yard. Seems like just a fortnight ago.”

  “Oh, heh,” chuckled Kevin.

  Ms. Martinez placed her arm around him. “Yes, they sure grow fast. Did you ever have any children, Em?”

  The old woman gave a somber smile. Her teeth were crooked and yellowing. “Never did. I used to look over many children long ago, but never ones of my own flesh and blood.”

  “Is that so? Were you a teacher?”

  “Not really... more like an orphanage director...”

  “So Kevin, Miss Em says that someone keeps stealing her Christmas figures off her yard. Have you noticed anyone suspicious hanging around the neighborhood?”

  Old Em looked at Kevin, her stare piercing through him, even behind her sunglasses.

  “Hmm, no, not really,” he said, feeling guilty as soon as the words left his mouth.

  “So that’s why I’m here... looking for some last-minute Christmas décor,” she said.

  “Oh, Em, I’m so sorry, I don’t have any Christmas décor for sale, but I see you found a lamp you like.”

  “Yes, this one here is a nice, vintage piece. I’ll take it.” She gave Ms. Martinez a wad of bills.

  “Thank you, Em.”

  “Well, it was a pleasure speaking with you all.”

  “Nice talking to you too, Em,” said Ms. Martinez just as another customer approached.

  Old Em turned to Kevin. “Kevin, if you happen to speak with the thief, tell him he messed with the wrong crone!”

  Crone?

  “Hm, yes Mam, I will. If I knew who it was.”

  Old Em shot him a wicked and knowing smile. Then, she turned and started back towards her house, humming a slow and eerie melody—one Kevin did not recognize. The tension in his body gradually gave way as she departed.

  Kevin and Tara stayed outside for the rest of the yard sale. Kevin helped greet customers and answer their questions. He also helped them carry their purchases to their vehicles. Tara ran around, playing and daydreaming as only a six-year-old could. By noon, most of their available inventory had been sold. Kevin’s father’s belongings were all gone. Kevin felt heartbroken, but he forced himself to take no further notice.

  If it were something important, he would have come for it.

  “I guess nobody wants old shoes,” observed Ms. Martinez.

  She took the remaining boxes of unsold items and walked them to the trash can. Kevin folded the display table and carried it to the garage.

  “Old Em didn’t seem so scary,” observed Tara.

  “Tara, people who kidnap kids are not mean or scary. How else are they going to get close to them? They pretend to be nice to get kids to like them, and then they take them.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Kevin, you found your bike?” Ms. Martinez asked as she entered the garage.

  “Oh, yeah, Mom! I forgot to tell you, my friend Zander found it by his house.”

  “By his house? Who had it?”

  “One of the Blood Ghouls.”

  Ms. Martinez scratched her head. “The Blood Ghouls? You mean the gang?”

  “Yes. Zander knows them. One of them had the bike, and Zander took it back.”

  Tara chuckled. “The Zander that eats like a pig?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow, I hope you said thanks.”

  “Of course I did, Mom.”

  Ms. Martinez smiled, then stepped into the house. Moments later, she returned, rolling a shiny, new mountain bike.

  “Wow, Mom!” hollered Kevin.

  “I was going wait ’til Christmas but decided I would do it today, knowing how much you need it. But now that you found your old one...”

  “Mom, this bike’s so cool!” Kevin rushed to inspect it. It was a quality mountain bike, with 24-inch wheels, 21-speed option, and linear-pull brakes. “Thanks so, so much!”

  “As promised, I got you the thickest chain with the biggest lock I could find.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Kevin gave her a tight embrace.

  They continued to organize their garage, working to make the most out of their newfound space. An hour later, Ms. Martinez sighed and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She glimpsed at her children with unease.

  “Guys, what would you think of me dating someone?”

  Kevin and Tara stared at her with uncertainty.

  “I’d be cool with it, Mom,” said Kevin. “Were you thinking of dating Mark?”

  Ms. Martinez smiled. “Well, maybe.”

  “Wait, you mean like girlfriend and boyfriend? With kissing and stuff?” inquired Tara.

  “No, baby. Just going out to watch a movie or have some dinner. Things like that.”

  Tara thought for a moment. “What if Dad sees you? He’ll get mad.”

  “Honey, Mom and Dad aren’t together anymore, I’ve told you.” She adjusted Tara’s hair. “Now, if you don’t like it, I won’t do it. It’s up to you.”

  Tara looked up and around in contemplation. “It’s okay. You can have a boyfriend, Mom.”

  Ms. Martinez smiled, and they embraced.

  “Just don’t be kissing in front of us...”

  KEVIN CRUISED HIS NEW bike northwest over the wet streets and through the falling snow. The seat felt soft and comfortable, and the handlebars were responsive and well angled. He lowered the gear to boost his power up hills and raised it over the flat terrain, something his old bike couldn’t do too well.

  Before long, he reached the roundabout at Wakefield Nursing Home. He dismounted by the front doors and walked his bike to the receptionist’s counter.

  “Hello, Ma’am. I’m here to see Mr. Taylor; he’s in room twe
nty-four.”

  The receptionist keyed on her computer then looked at Kevin with a downtrodden expression. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Taylor passed away a few days back.”

  “What?”

  The receptionist nodded, her eyebrows pressed together with pity. “We couldn’t find a next of kin. How did you know him?”

  Kevin sighed. “He was my friend’s grandpa.”

  Her face brightened. “Oh, your friend? Will he be coming here for his belongings? They were about to throw them out.”

  Kevin shook his head. “My friend passed away too.”

  “Oh, heavens! So sorry to hear that!”

  Kevin turned away with disappointment.

  “Would you like to go through his photo album?” asked the receptionist. “Maybe there’s a photo of your friend you might like to keep before they’re thrown away.”

  Kevin nodded.

  Minutes later, he was sitting in a conference room, sifting through a box of Mr. Taylor’s belongings. In it was a mix of vintage items—unique handcrafted objects only found in an era before mass production rendered everything common and disposable.

  He ran his fingers over an old silver-plated lighter, its edges round and smooth, and its trigger still sharp against his thumb. He inspected an ivory smoking pipe. It felt heavy and cold in his hand, and Kevin noticed the initials ‘M.T.’ engraved on the right side stem. He placed it down and then inspected a black hair-comb with a gold-plated eagle designed on its handle. The final items were a gold ring and a silver chain with Mr. Taylor’s name engraved on its tag.

  Kevin grasped the largest object in the container—the vintage photo album. It was heavy and thick. The spine cracked as he pulled open the hardcover to expose its contents. Loose photos dropped on the table. He gathered them into a neat stack and set them aside for later inspection, then skimmed through the album.

  The photographs were neatly placed within the panels and labeled with names and dates. Most were black and white, and depicted an era far before Kevin’s time—an era when the world was at war against itself and an era he’d only read about in his history class.

  Groups of young soldiers were portrayed in most of the square images, smiling for the camera amidst a background of destruction. Kevin read the labels eagerly, attempting to identify Jey’s Pops within them. He flipped to a page labeled France 1944, which showed the remains of a modest town, its bullet-hole-riddled facades barely erect, and dark smoke rising from points within the town landscape. Another showed a group of five soldiers, arm in arm and smiling, standing upon the remnants of a burnt Nazi flag. Kevin read the names—Pvt. Smith, Pvt. Hunter, Capt. Rodgers, and Pvt. Taylor. There he was, looking just like his grandson. His smile was just like Jey’s—handsome and confident. The uniqueness of his eyes was evident, even in their black and white depiction.

  He continued through the album when someone else caught his eye. On most every photo, Pops was next to an African American soldier named Pvt. Hunter. Pvt. Hunter seemed eerily familiar. Kevin flipped the pages with more haste, seeking a larger photo of the man.

  Finally, he found one near the end of the album. Mr. Taylor and Pvt. Hunter sat together eating lunch, looking up at the camera. The two were in full military gear, but their helmets were off. Kevin recognized Pvt. Hunter as Charlie—the ghost he had met at the abandoned clinic. He stared at the pictures carefully, trying to make sure he wasn’t wrong, but there was no denying Charlie’s face. The only disparity between the ghost and the man in the pictures was the presence of his front teeth, which were still present in the vintage photos.

  Kevin sat back and thought for a moment. Maybe Pops and Jey sent Charlie to assist him from beyond the grave. Maybe their meeting was just a coincidence. Either way, Charlie had helped him before, and he would look forward to perhaps seeing him again.

  He sifted through the remaining photos, when one photo caught his attention. It was labeled ‘My little Jey,’ and showed Mr. Taylor holding a young Jey. They both wore boxing gloves, and held their fists up to each other’s chin. They glared at each other with exaggerated expressions of anger and toughness. Kevin smiled and placed it in his pocket.

  He returned Pop’s items to the box when his phone buzzed.

  Matt 1:35 pm

  Guys, emergency meeting at my house! MAJOR news!

  Jake 1:36 pm

  What is it, Matt Bratt?

  Matt 1:36 pm

  Just get your butt down here!

  Me 1:37 pm

  What’s it about?

  MATT 1:37 PM

  Quentin Mallory, the guy at the mental hosp.

  Robbie 1:38 pm

  Oh, snap! Out with my dad.

  Tell me what happened after.

  Olivia 1:39 pm

  WOW. Can’t make it either, guys.

  Stepdad in a foul mood ☹ Update me

  after please☺

  Me 1:40 pm

  Be there in 20.

  Jake 1:40 pm

  OMW

  Matt 1:41 pm

  C u soon!

  Kevin thanked the receptionist and bid her goodbye. He mounted his bike and began pedaling towards Matthew’s house.

  Chapter Twenty:

  The Lost Ones

  “Quentin Mallory is Quentin Maelstrom!” announced Matthew to his dumbfounded friends.

  ‘What? How?’ They demanded.

  Matthew turned to Jenny, who was standing beside David by Matthew’s dresser.

  “He portaled through one of Maviel’s Mirrors while holding the other and ended up here for some reason. He was allied with Raven, but escaped when he became expendable.”

  “Man, I knew it!” exclaimed Jake.

  “Princess Hayla’s father...” mouthed Kevin. “Does he know what Raven wants?”

  “He said Raven raised a demon from Maviel’s tomb. Soon afterward, they began searching for a child.”

  Kevin’s eyes widened. “There it is again! The child...”

  “What child could they be referring to?” asked Jenny.

  “We have no clue. Jenny, you think I can speak with him?”

  She nodded. “Yes, he put me on his visitor list. All we have to do is go to the center and ask to meet with him.”

  “Can we go today?”

  Jenny looked at David.

  David nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take you. There’s more, though. I don’t know if you’ve seen the news lately...”

  Kevin and Jake exchanged a concerned look.

  “I was at my friend Kevin Berry’s party last night. Four masked persons crashed it, looking for him. One of them used magic—and grew roots from the earth. One wrapped around a guy named Eli and tossed him over a cliff. He was seriously hurt, but he survived. Another one sucked the life out of my friend Cory, leaving his corpse looking like an old mummy.”

  Kevin could not believe what he was hearing. “You said they were looking for your friend Kevin? What did they want with him?”

  “I don’t know. But apparently, he wasn’t the Kevin they were after.”

  They’re looking for me... Charlie told me they knew my name.

  “David... what did their masks look like?”

  “They were white. Black eyes—one angry, one with tears. One of them had a smiling mouth.”

  Beware of the zealots with the pale face.

  David cleared his throat. “Are you... the Kevin they’re looking for?” he asked.

  Kevin gave a soft nod. “I’m sure of it.”

  Jake stood. “We can take them on! Me with Tombstone, you with Flameclaw, and once Matthew gets Diamondpeak, we’ll be unbeatable!”

  “If I can get Diamondpeak...” said Matthew.

  Jake whacked him on the arm. “I’m not gonna tell you again, Matt Bratt! Stop being so negative!”

  “Ouch!” cried Matthew before returning the smack.

  David whacked Matthew on his other arm.

  “Hey!”

  “If the fate of this town depends on you and your ability to get that spear, yo
u’re gonna get that spear, or I’m gonna pound you!” threatened David.

  “Shut up! You’ll be the first one I use it on when I get it!”

  David smacked him again. “That’s what I wanted to hear, li’l bro! When you get it!”

  Jenny sighed. “Something could have happened to you, David! I told you not to go!”

  “Jenny... I’ve told you a million times, I have a sixth sense when it comes to danger! I’ll always be fine.”

  Jenny punched his arm. “Don’t say that!”

  “Ouch!” he massaged it. “Jenny, what’s gotten into you lately? You’ve been a basket case since the play!”

  “I can’t believe you, David! After what you witnessed yesterday, you’re still asking me why I’m worrying?”

  “Yes! I was there, not you!”

  “DAVID!” hollered Kevin. “ONE OF JENNY’S FRIENDS IS DOOMED!”

  Kevin’s outburst left everyone in stunned silence.

  “Wha... what do you mean?” asked David.

  “Under the high school stage, the night of the play! A ghost named Charlie appeared and warned us! He told Jenny that her friend was doomed!”

  “What? C’mon!” argued David.

  Jenny shook her head. “Seriously? After everything you’ve seen, you’re still going to question us?”

  Matthew threw a dirty sock at David’s face.

  “Okay, okay... The ghost didn’t say boyfriend, though, right?”

  Jenny rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “I don’t think prophecies are specific, David,” said Kevin. “The Lady in the Rocks told me one of my friends would die. The whole time I thought of Jake and Matthew, but in the end, it was Jey. I never thought it would be him! We had just met. I viewed him as a mentor, a guide, but he was my friend too, something lost to me at the time!”

  “Okay, I get it,” he said.