Read Kali's Regress Page 22

  Chapter 12

  “Dude, are you okay? What in the world happened here last night?” Michael swiveled his neck back and forth, gazing around. Boards, sheets of plywood, splinters, insulation, and glass from the ceiling lay strewn across the floor and heaped with snow.

  “It's all over the news,” Michael began, his voice quick. “I tried to come over last night, but they closed the roads. Athens Eden hasn't seen this much snow in at least a hundred years. There's, like, sixteen inches. I came this morning as soon as I could.” Michael helped JT to his feet.

  “There was a man or something that crashed through the roof last night. I don't know what it was. He looked like the guy from court yesterday, but it couldn't have been.” JT's eyes were fogged, he still felt uneasy, and it was hard to get his balance.

  “You don't think it could have been Billy, do you?” Michael's voice was shaky. He might have realized that the monster he remembered as a child didn't hate him like he thought, but he still dreaded dealing with the Essence.

  “No. I really don't think it was Billy. This person, or thing, was different.” JT looked about the floor of the great room in Warhead Dale, then searched frantically. “Where's my cane?” JT asked quickly. “It was right here with me.”

  He pointed to the outline of his body in the snow with the faded outline of his cane beside it. It was gone.

  JT rushed over to the couch. The journal and all his other things were there and, except being a little wet, intact. The cane had vanished.

  He brushed the thick white cover of snow off the journal and opened it. A picture floated to the ground and he picked it up. It showed his grandfather next to the man with the dark complexion, both dressed in ceremonial garb. On the back, his grandfather had written, “Me and Jato, Purification ceremony, 1972.”

  JT brought the picture closer to his face and squinted. He thought, his brain working overtime. It couldn't be, he thought. The eyes—the eyes of the man with his grandfather looked familiar. He saw the face explode through the tornado of snow hours ago; he remembered the eyes as the man grabbed his wrist in the courtroom. JT sucked in a mountain of air. Could it really have been him? Was it the same person from the photo from his grandfather's journal? Most importantly, what did this man with the dark complexion want?

  Michael stared at JT. He wanted to say something, but could not muster the words. JT handed his friend the photo, his hand shaking as the smooth photographic paper slipped between his fingers.

  “It was him,” JT whispered, shuddering. Michael heard him, though his words trembled in the cold air. Michael's eyebrows shot up his forehead and his horned rimmed glasses slipped to the end of his nose.

  “'It couldn't have been,” Michael answered. “Jato Bindi has been dead for years. In fact, he died before your grandfather.”

  “I don't know, Michael. I just can't forget eyes like those. I swear it was him,” JT sighed. He wished he could remember his past. He took the picture from Michael and stared at it.

  Michael mumbled under his breath.

  “What?” JT asked quickly. “What was that you said?”

  Michael turned his head away from JT and looked at Ol' Captain Luke's faded portrait over the fireplace. “I said, let's just pray to God it wasn't Jato Bindi.”

  “Well, I need to find him. He has my cane.” JT was exhausted and frustrated.

  “Are you sure he has it?” Michael asked, his voice trembling in turn. “Maybe it was thrown around the room or something.” Michael began to search, kicking through the snow and lifting ceiling boards.

  “Maybe he went down to the basement,” JT thought out loud.

  Uneasy, Michael crossed his arms, but followed JT to the lower floor anyway.

  “I found a really cool room with a generator. Seems to work okay,” JT said as they discreetly made their way to the basement. He figured talking about something normal would calm them down.

  “That's not the half of it,” Michael mumbled.

  “What’d you say?” JT asked.

  “Oh, nothing—never mind.” Michael's voice fluttered; he felt too uneasy to say anything else.

  They checked the basement and returned rather quickly, convinced that whoever had blown through the ceiling had tried to enter the inner room, but with no success. JT guessed that the man—or thing—was irritated. They had found the bloody imprint of a very large fist in the wall.

  “Well, we do know one thing, Michael.” JT scraped his finger across the crimson streak.

  “What's that, JT?” Michael managed to sound calm that time, though his insides were on fire with fright.

  “Whoever was here last night is human.” JT rubbed his fingers together.

  They cautiously returned to the great room. JT crossed his arms and tried to think what to do next. He needed to get his cane back—

  Panic coursed through his body. He tensed and his airway constricted. The memory of lavender scent tickled his nose. “Kali.”

  “What?” Michael answered, then his eyes widened.

  “Kali—do you think he went after her? Does he know she's the steward of the key? Whoever it was wanted to get to the mahogany door. No doubt about it.”

  Adrenaline shot through JT; his hands shook. He paced back and forth. He could not let anything happen to Kali. If anything did, it would be his fault.

  “JT, calm down,” Michael ordered.

  Michael remembered the time at the Shorts' farm under the big old oak tree, when his wits were anything but about him. JT had watched him contemplate meeting his long lost friend again for the first time in nine years. This time, JT hovered on the edge of being witless and out of control.

  Michael placed his hands on JT's shoulders. JT felt a sense of comfort, but it turned to despair as Michael guided him to sit on the green couch. He dropped his head in his hands.

  “I'll call Kali to make sure she's okay. But first we need to get out of this house; it's freezing in here.”

  JT slid his hand across the couch and picked up his grandfather's journal.

  “Wild, isn't it?” Michael’s question ended in a small chuckle. He did not know how to express his concern.

  “What happened out there, Michael?” JT shook his head. He felt so tightly wound; he blinked his watery eyes hard. “Why did all of this have to happen to me?” He paused. “To him—to us?”

  Michael could hear the longing in JT's voice. He just wanted answers. He just wanted to know what it was like to remember what he should remember.

  Michael dusted snow off the couch and sat. “I don't know, JT. I really don't know why all of this happened. But we'll get through it. It's just one of those things where people find themselves in situations they could have never have fathomed before that, I guess.” Michael thought. “I mean, two years ago I couldn’t know I would be sitting here with you again, let alone that we’d go back into Bruinduer. So many things just happen. Whether it be to you or someone else. These things happen. Ol' Captain Luke knew that. He knew life was nothing but chance. He knew how to seize the moment when he had it, even if he didn't think he was worthy. Have you read that part yet?”

  “No. I've just gotten to the point where he found out that the messenger boy was the Munch's son.” JT could only think of Kali. He really wanted to know that whatever entered his life last night through Warhead Dale's ceiling would not be going after her.

  “There's a lot more in that journal. You'll learn a lot. We gotta get out of here.”

  JT and Michael gathered what JT brought with him and headed back to Linda's diner.

  As they stepped outside, they were dumbstruck—even though Michael had seen it once. The ground was a solid white blanket of snow, rippled where the wind had shaped it. The trees were heavy with the white stuff, their branches bending with the weight. Every few seconds a heap would slip off and crash to the ground.

  The bitter breeze cut through JT's inadequate clothes, erasing any lingering drowsiness. He breathed in the clean air, his nostrils wide.
>
  One step off of the top marble stair, JT's foot sank into the snow. The crystals melted and the cold water flowed into his shoes.

  “They said this has never happened here before,” Michael began. “Since they started keeping records, people have never seen snow this deep on the beach. Amazing, isn't it?”

  JT had no idea how to answer Michael. He had never seen snow this deep in his life. They made their way through the snow and out toward the tunnel of trees. JT, curious, spun around to check out the hole in the roof of Ol' Captain Luke's house from the outside.

  He remembered the ceiling splattering all around him, the noise and chaos as the figure crashed down on him. From the outside, the roof didn't look half as bad, but the opening looked odd.

  A large wooden pole poked out of the hole with a ragged, frayed cloth draped from the top, trying to fly in the strong, cold wind. JT thought he saw something like a wooden platform at the base of the pole. He thought he recognized it—but it couldn't have been that, could it?

  “Hurry up, JT. It's cold out here.”

  JT turned toward Michael, feeling a little perturbed. Michael was right about the bitter cold, though, the wind gnawed at his skin. Maybe he hadn’t seen what he believed he saw. The excitement and strange weather could have played tricks on him. He caught up with Michael and they locked the gate, climbed in the big blue car, and left Warhead Dale once again.

  The empty streets had only a few tire tracks etched in the snow. Not many people had found it necessary to leave their homes and venture out in the elements.

  Listening to the radio on the way to Linda's diner, they learned that many people were out of power since the area was not prepared to dealing with catastrophic snowfall.

  “Linda hasn't opened the diner,” Michael explained. “At least, not yet. I'm sure she will have coffee brewing and the whole town drinking it before too long.”

  JT clutched his grandfather's journal. His knee throbbed, hurting more than ever. Whether it was the air freezing his joints or the psychological effect of his missing cane, he did not know. He did know that he really wanted to make certain that Kali was okay. In this large world, he knew she was still out there. He only wished he knew what she was thinking—and if it was about him.

  Slowly the big blue car rumbled through the snow, then stopped at Linda's diner with a large bang. JT said not a word, but Michael knew that his friend was worrying about Kali.

  Michael asked JT to stay on one of the stools by the counter while he went into Linda's office. The diner was so quiet that the rumbling of the heat through the vents and the vibrations of a metal case full of pastries sounded loud.

  JT found the wait agonizing, though it could have only been a few moments. He could see Michael hold the phone to his ear. It was hard to make out, but he heard the mumbled cadence of Michael asking if Kali was available to come to the phone.

  Michael glanced up at JT, smiled, nodded, and gave him a thumbs up, as though the person on the other end was fetching Kali. At least JT knew that she was still alive.

  “What do you mean she won't come to the phone?” JT could hear Michael’s raised voice.

  JT felt a pit form in his stomach—and another one in his mind. It sounded like Kalie had had enough of them.

  “Oh. She really said that?” Michael spoke into the handset. Then he made obligatory grunts, as though trying to understand what was being said.

  “I apologize if I seemed rude. Will you please tell her that Michael called?”

  After another long pause, Michael's mood turned and he shook his head. “Thank you. Good-bye.” Michael put the handset in the cradle, slipped out of the office, and sat beside JT.

  JT clasped his hands, put his elbows on the counter, and rested his head on top of his knuckles.

  “She doesn't want to talk to us,” Michael said, his voice choked.

  “Well, let's go see her.” JT rose from the stool and walked toward the diner's door.

  Michael stayed put, watching JT cross to the entrance. He’d had a feeling JT might want to do this. “I just can't get up and go, JT. There are things to do here.”

  “Shut it, Michael,” JT answered. “You came to me on the farm and expected me to follow you into a freakin' war. You're going with me. You owe me, as far as I am concerned. She could be dead tomorrow.”

  Michael knew that. He also knew that his friend did not trust him completely. He had told JT that he wanted to help him uncover the mystery of his life. He thought for a moment. Just as he had changed JT's life forever when he found his friend hidden away on a farm, JT was about to change his life— and just when he thought it was turning back to normal. If only that were true.

  “Okay.” Michael scraped his keys up off the counter, rushed into the back, and grabbed two coats. He threw one to JT and put on the other. “I guess we’re off to Maryland.”

  The big blue car rumbled out of the frozen parking lot of Linda's diner and turned toward the highway. Not a word was said. They were going to Kali's. Michael had insisted on leaving Linda a short note with their intentions. They felt bad to leave her shorthanded, but they had faith that Linda would understand.

  As they left Athens Eden the snow seemed to melt away. The sixteen inches of snow had been a local anomaly. However it happened, it had brought the daily life of the town inhabitants to a halt.

  Once they reached cruising speed on the highway, Michael peered at JT every few moments or so. JT's mind wandered as he looked out at the passing countryside. Hs brain was a mess, full of random thoughts. He fought back his motion sickness, but the fume-filled interior made it difficult. He focused on his grandfather's journal in his hand, slipping out the picture of the old sailor and Jato Bindi.

  “How long to Kali’s?” JT hoped it would be a quick ride.

  “Probably seven hours or so,” Michael said over the growl of the car's motor. JT dropped his head, then cracked open his grandfather's journal.

  Motion sickness had always been a problem for JT. Ever since he could remember, whenever he rode in a car, the woozy feeling would creep up the back of his neck and work its way to his stomach, until he had to crack the window for fresh air to keep the sickness at bay.

  When he got older, he noticed that if he controlled the motion somehow, like actually driving the car, for example, he didn’t feel sick. Determined, he cracked the window beside him and stared at his grandfather's journal. He didn't know if he could chat with Michael for the entire time. He remembered the last time he had taken a long trip with Michael. There were always too many questions, too many things slamming around his mind to think about. At least with his grandfather's journal there would be answers.

  JT started reading again after his grandfather found out that the small messenger boy was the Munch's son.

  Dear Reader,

  I have no idea what day it is. The hours run together in a haze of trying to come up with a plan to catch this madman. We have at least discovered that the young boy who brought us the message earlier is the monster's son. I have to consider that I may need to do something drastic. It has been bothering me for the last few days that, if I had known that the young boy was the Munch's son, I might have taken him prisoner. Then I would have had leverage and bait to make the monster to come to me, instead of risking my mens’ lives tracking a lunatic.

  As the days get longer and my time grows shorter, I may be forced to consider kidnapping this thing's child and trying to lure him to me. I am not sure of the morality of the situation, but as we pass so many burned villages and witness so many mutilated bodies of young children and their parents, I think that morality may be on my side in the matter.

  I want you to know, however, my dear reader, that this decision will not be taken lightly. Though I have to believe that, if we seize the child, we may save many lives. I am sure they would think my morality just in the matter.

  JT placed his finger inside the journal to mark his place and glanced at Michael. He knew that Michael had read the jou
rnal. Did he start firing off questions at him, like had so many times before? Or should he just keep reading to find out for himself?

  He could see why Michael had thought that the Vryheid wanted to find out about free will. His grandfather would have to make definite choices soon and, obviously, they would rest on his own shoulders. No one was holding a weapon to his head; he would just have to make a moral choice, no matter the consequences.

  Michael sensed JT's eyes on him. “What?” Michael asked, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the big blue car's engine.

  “You’ve read this, right?” JT asked, rhetorically. But Michael had never mentioned the Munch before. Of course, the Munch had not been important before.

  “Yes, JT, I have read that journal inside and out. You have, too.”' Michael shook his head.

  “You know about the Munch?” Again, JT knew the answer, had to ask it.

  “Yes,” Michael said briefly. He gripped the steering wheel tightly.

  JT opened the journal to read, but he could not stop thinking. Either some events in the journal simply could not be understood or his friend was hiding information from him. What could happen if JT knew what Michael knew? Would the entire universe collapse? When JT thought of it, his universe almost had collapsed the last time he tried to find out about his past. With him, something like that was probably inevitable anyway

  JT cracked a rare smile. He liked the way it made him feel. If nothing else came of the mysterious man taking his cane, at least he knew he would see Kali. He smiled again.

  JT turned back to the journal. Though the leather-bound manuscript had sailed the seven seas, traveled through rough jungles and over the toughest terrain known, he treated it as delicately as an egg. The written pages held the answer to his life.

  As he read on, his grandfather writing seemed less clear in some respects. The blank margins turned into maps and rough sketches of insects, animals, and strange symbols. A drawing of a comet burning across a starlit sky covered almost half of a page where an entry suddenly ended. JT could tell that his grandfather was succumbing to his surroundings, almost becoming obsessed with capturing the elusive Munch.

  JT did not consider it complete obsession only because his grandfather remained a professional sailor and, most of all, a gentleman. Still, the dark, wearisome task of tracking a man he had never seen on behalf of an employer he had never met, would daunt any man. The old sailor also came face to face with ugly deaths regularly as he went from destroyed village to destroyed village. JT imagined that the sight of such devastation took its toll.

  The entries were full of adventure and heartache. JT’s grandfather kept getting close to catching the monster, but then, somehow, in the last moments—in some cases, minutes—the Munch would escape. On one daring caper, Ol' Captain Luke and his team made it to a village as it still burned. They were able to rescue most of the inhabitants, but the sailor was distraught when he wrote in his journal that night, he could still see “the most beautiful eyes of a child, lying so powerless in my helpless arms, shut with a thousand dreams behind them. I cannot help but to weep for her.”

  JT took a deep breath. He couldn't believe what humans were capable of doing to others. The free will argument began to hold water for him. He still couldn't believe that, if an all-powerful being like Billy in Bruinduer or a God in the outside world did exist, they let these awful killings happen. How could such a being let a delicate child die in such a brutal way? It confused him, but the thought of seeing Kali again eased his mind.

  JT tried to sleep a little. He did want to talk with Michael; he did not know what to say. The trip to Maryland passed in the odd silence of friends who, in some way, know what the other is thinking without saying a word. Occasionally, they mentioned signs or landmarks; they stopped to eat or relieve themselves, but, all in all, it was a silent, uneventful drive. JT did not pester Michael with questions and Michael did not push any answers on JT.

  JT thought about Mary Catherine. He could still see her body lying there, wasted by cancer. He had felt helpless and empty, the way his grandfather must have felt as he traveled from destroyed village to destroyed village.

  The thought entered his mind that his grandfather, though he felt helpless, would do something about the atrocities along that winding African river if given a chance, if he could catch the Munch.

  As JT pondered his grandfather’s situation, he realized he could do something for Mary Catherine. He may not have been able to cure her physically, but he could care for her just the same; he could love her.

  The land whizzed by as quickly as the time passed. JT tried to read the journal more, but his motion sickness would not let him. His eyes became heavy. The monotonous hum of the engine and the vibration of the seat relaxed him and he fell asleep.

  The dark he experienced in his mind split into light. He could feel branches and thick leaves slap his cheeks. His feet felt heavy; he lifted one, noticing the mud caked on his shoes.

  The light took on colors; the whiteness turned to green and brown. He heard the distinct chunking sound a machete makes as its blade sinks into brush, tearing and clearing it away. The air around him became thick, wet with heat. His skin felt moist as the sweat dripped from his pores. He felt a pinch on his arm and slapped it, crunching an insect under his hand, but not before it sank its teeth into him. His vision cleared. He was following a band of men in a column through a dense, green jungle. The smell of sweat, dirt, and thick leaves filled the air around him.

  The men in front yelled out orders that cascaded back to JT's position. The commands were foreign to him, but he obeyed instinctively. One incomprehensible command echoed and the entire group would halt. Another command blew through the jungle noises, "Side right!" They all faced right and then the caravan of men marched in that direction.

  The sounds of jungle life were obvious and exciting. Exotic birds squealed and monkeys howled, but the mission kept the men focused sharply on their task. An odd silence dressed JT from his head to his toe. Though he could feel the warm, soggy thickness of the air around him, he felt hollow, as though he were standing inside, on a Hollywood soundstage, acting in some sick movie.

  A command rang through the air, "Lastly down!" At least, that is what it sounded like to JT, but he could not be sure. Like dominoes falling, the men hit the ground. JT was confused. He felt frozen and still stood as the caravan of men plunged chest first to the damp jungle floor. Then the smell of packed mulch smacked his face and centipedes ran along the back of his ankles. A crack sounded in the distance, then a whooshing, scratching, clanging noise exploded.

  JT's heart raced, he could not understand what the sound was. He clenched his hands as his throat went dry. He looked from left to right quickly, not knowing where the sound was coming from. A very familiar laugh boomed through the tops of the trees.

  "My God, we will all die!" shouted a man, facedown in the dirt some distance in front of JT.

  Another cracking thunderous growl hammered the air; the trees swayed back and forth. The animal sounds vanished. Ka-Blam! The jungle in front of them exploded.

  An intense light flashed. JT could see the rippling wave of the explosion get closer and closer to him. A ball of fire mowed down the trees in front of him. The blast hit him, followed by unbearable heat. His eyes sprang open. He lifted his head, shaking with adrenaline.

  Someone on his left said, “We're here.”

  Michael jammed the gearshift into park and turned the key, shutting off the car's engine. The car stuttered, spit, rattled, and stopped with a bang.

  “You okay?” Michael’s simple question showed his concern.

  JT regained his bearings. The dream had been so real that he welcomed the cool air of Maryland to wipe awat the heat of the jungle. “Yeah, Michael.” JT paused. “I think I'm okay.”

  Michael got out of the car and JT followed.

  They had parked in front of a modest house in a modest neighborhood. The houses, showing a little age, nestled clo
sely together. Most of them looked the same; they were brick split-level homes with chimneys giving off ribbons of black smoke from the oil heat. The only variations were the color of the trim and the assortment of lawn ornaments, ranging from gnomes with pointed red hats to large deer figurines feeding on barren ground. The large trees in the neighborhood were large, revealing the age of the homes. Their deep roots had ripped cracks in the concrete sidewalk.

  The cold felt harsher than what JT was used to. Though Athens Eden had been cold lately, it remained protected from the jet stream. Here, JT felt his skin might freeze to his bones. No matter how many layers he might put on, he never thought he would get warm.

  JT and Michael walked up the drive of the house with green trim, climbed its cracking stoop, and rang the doorbell. A small black plaque, hung neatly over the tiny black mailbox to the right of the door, read “The Logans.”

  JT's heart pounded. He decided that only his nervous shaking added to his shivering from the cold kept him from becoming completely numb.

  They waited only a few moments, but, as usual, it felt much longer. The brass door handle turned and the solid black door jerked open a cracked.

  Standing in the door was Mrs. Gale Holland Logan, also known as Kali's mother.

  “Oh,” Gale explained. “It's you two. Well, she's not here.”

  A beautiful person in a past life, Gale Logan stood almost six feet. Kali was not quite as tall, but close. Kali’s mother wore a sagging t-shirt under a long blue silk robe that slipped off one shoulder; the sash had white fluff balls at the ends. Obviously, she did not care what anyone at the door thought of her appearance.

  She resembled Kali, but had not aged well. Above her leathery face, covered in fine wrinkles, dark roots carved a line down the middle of bleached blonde hair. Her eyes held the merest hint of her daughter’s sparkling blue.

  Uncomfortable, JT looked down, only to see red and black checkered pajama bottoms, worn white cotton bedroom slippers, and a glass of spirits in her hand. The ice clanked every time she gestured, finishing off the ensemble.

  “Hey, Mrs. Logan. You remember JT, right?” Michael's voice cracked and he bowed his head almost submissively.

  "Why yes, of course I remember young Master Davis—it's you that I want to forget. Please, don't call me Mrs. Logan. It's Gale." Gale sipped from her clattering glass. JT could smell the alcohol.

  “Sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Logan.” Michael tried again.

  “Don't call me that,” Kali's mom snapped.

  JT felt oddly embarrassed. He didn't know if he were embarrassed for himself or for Kali's mom, but the awkward feeling made him impatient. He really wanted to see Kali.

  "Did she happen to tell you where she might have gone?" JT spoke up. His voice started low, but ended in a small squeak.

  Kali's mom swirled her glass, clanking the ice as she smirked at JT. The strong smell from her breath made him almost cough.

  “She doesn't tell me much of anything anymore. But if you want any clues where she might be, you can search around her room as much as you'd like.” Kali's mom stepped aside and threw up her arm, motioning JT and Michael into the house. “I don't care too much, just try not to take anything. Her room is up the stairs there, third door on the left.”

  The scene felt surreal. Michael glanced at JT. JT raised his eyebrows and nodded to Michael to enter the house. Michael shrugged his shoulders and JT followed him.

  Kali's mom disappeared to their right down a small flight of stairs; they heard a TV in the background. The house could only be described as bland. The house held nothing of interest, no family photos or individual pictures. Generic landscapes hung on the walls, all very random and worse for wear. It almost reminded JT of the Triton hall and Charlie's paintings of his wars. The house even smelled dull and sterile. JT didn't know why, but it reminded him of a hospital.

  JT and Michael tiptoed through the house simply because they were nervous. JT's heart pounded in his chest, though he tried not to show it. The second floor had a silence that better suited a library; they stayed quiet, trying not to give Kali's mom any reason to come after them. The first meeting had been awkward enough; if she watched them search Kali’s the scene would surely be even more uncomfortable.

  When they opened the door to Kali's room, the unexpected decor startled them.

  Puzzled, JT and Michael stared.

  The room was painted pink. Stuffed animals, horses with bows in their hair, small fluffy dogs, bears, assorted characters that JT had never seen, possibly from TV shows, lay strewn about the floor. A thick fluffy blue comforter with a ruffled bottom had been piled up on the unmade bed. Posters of young, half dressed men with bulging muscles and chiseled chins littered the walls and young adult fantasy novels spilled out of her bookcase. Piles of dirty clothes grew in small mounds on the floor.

  All that looked normal for a young woman who moved back into her parents’ house, living in her girlhood room, kept the way she had left it years ago. Yet within the ruffled, pink childlike space were shadows of things that might be considered dark in some circles.

  The chiseled chin posters shared space with political posters with radical slogans. Philosophy books by authors with unpronounceable names had been crammed in between the children’s books. Dark symbols of heavy metal bands and the occult cluttered the shelves next to trolls with pointy hair. The mish-mashed room told the story of a young girl holding onto the dreams of childhood, who turned into a rebellious young woman trying to find her way in the world.

  “Kali doesn't have a sister, does she?” JT asked. “Maybe she shares the room with her?”

  “No,” Michael answered quietly. “She's an only child. This is her room, all right.”

  “Oh.” Without another word, JT walked over to her cluttered desk on the right.

  He could feel his nerves on fire as his heart raced again, his vision blurred, and he felt woozy. He did not know why, but he felt that way in places where Kali had been.

  JT put his hands in his pockets and did not touch anything. Papers cluttered the desk surrounded and covered by empty bubble gum wrappers. He could see a diary on the right corner and her computer’s screensaver showed a familiar castle with fireworks exploding over it and the phrase “Where dreams come true" scrolling across the bottom.

  Without thinking, JT reached for the diary. As he fumbled with the book, a picture fell out, one taken of him, Michael, and Kali when they were young.

  Behind him, Michael whispered urgently, “JT, what are you doing? Don't read that!”

  JT had no idea why he had reached for the diary. His mind wandered. Though he felt a little apprehension, something told him to open the diary to the last entry, written earlier that day. He crammed the photo back into the diary and, when he opened it to the last entry, he saw another picture, one of Kali and her father. She had her arms around his neck and they were smiling.

  I love my dad. I really do. It is hard to go to the hospital and see him. Today will be only the fourth or fifth time I've been there since he was committed. I doubt if we did the right thing. He didn't say much of anything the last time I was there. I wish I could remember when that was. I wonder if that has changed any since then. I guess I will find out. I still think about JT and—

  "You little worm!"

  JT could feel Kali’s anger from across the room and behind him. He slammed the diary back onto the table, the wind from the action blowing papers and gum wrappers to the floor.

  JT slowly turned around. Kali was there, her face swollen and red, her fists balled up at her sides. Breathing heavily, she glared at JT.

  Embarrassed and scared, JT turned bright red. He met Kali's bright green eyes. Even though the young woman was seething, they were still the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

  Her hair was different than last time he saw her. Now, instead of a chin length bob, she wore it longer, in a ponytail.

  “What are you two doing here?” Her question made it clear that sh
e had planned never to see Michael and JT ever again. In a loud, harsh, voice she declared, “I left that place behind me!”

  “Good to see you, Kali.”

  Kali stormed across the bedroom, shoved JT to the side, and clutched her diary. “So, did you read anything interesting in here?” She smacked JT across the arm with the diary. She swung hard, but pulled back at the last second, so it only stung.

  When JT didn’t answer, Kali put the diary on her desk and leaned over it.

  “No,” JT began. “I mean, yeah—I mean, I'm sorry. I was just trying to see where I could find you.” Now even JT's ears turned red.

  “Well, did you find anything?” Kali asked.

  “You went to go see your dad. Where is he? Why is he not here?” JT asked, trying to deflect Kali’s anger away from him.

  “Tell him, Michael,” Kali retorted.

  Michael felt like he was always explaining the results of his own actions to JT. He had been afraid to tell JT about Charlie, afraid of telling JT the truth. Now, after hiding the truth for so long, he knew better. Whatever had happened, had happened. He could do nothing about the past. Now, he felt embarrassed to tell JT, but not frightened. He felt calm.

  “Kali and her family left for a reason, JT, which I know you don't remember. It was because of all that stuff that happened with Charlie. Kali's dad represented me in court. He was a politician then, so the media and the town tried to tear him down. They couldn't understand how he could defend a murderer.” Michael bowed his head. During the trial and after, it had been hard for him to be called a killer.

  As he continued the story, his voice cracked and he could feel his eyes swell. “I don't know why people didn't believe us. I think it had to do with your grandfather. It's hard not to know the history of famous folk in Athens Eden and, since Ol' Captain Luke was the only famous person in town—well, you get what I'm saying. Plus, he was rich and all the so-called regular folk who didn't even know him, really didn't like him.”

  “Look!” Kali interrupted. “My dad's in a hospital, okay? My mom had him committed to a mental institution. The people in Athens Eden didn't leave him alone. They ran him out of town. They ran all of us out of town. God, I hate that place. He was the District Attorney. He was elected and when Michael got accused, he didn't prosecute. He resigned his position and became Michael's defense attorney.”

  “He was such a good man,” Michael said.

  “No!” Kali yelled. “He represented Michael because I asked him to.” Her nerves raised to a fever pitch, Kali stood tensed, ready for anything. “I knew Michael didn't have anything to do with Charlie's death. I knew that little weasel was up to no good.” Kali paused. “And my daddy believed me.” She sighed a tired sigh. “I wish he had never helped Michael. I know it might be bad to say, but my life wouldn’t have been messed up like this. My family would still be together.”

  Kali snatched up her diary, pushed JT and Michael out of her way, and stormed out of the room. She yelled her parting shot over her shoulder, “I still don't know why I went back to Bruinduer this last time with you. I'm just so stupid!”

  JT and Michael had no idea what to say. JT felt his heart sink. He wished he could remember the past. It would be so much easier to understand. He felt blame slip beneath his skin. Maybe if his mom hadn’t moved away from Athens Eden, if he hadn't lost his memory, or if he could remember exactly why he let Charlie talk them into taking him into Bruinduer them the first time… He thought, If I could only go back and altar one thing, I wouldn’t let Charlie go with us.

  “Man, Michael I just wish I could remember everything—I'm just sorry.”

  “JT, I'm the one that needs to be sorry.” Michael put his hand on JT's shoulder.

  They walked out of the room. JT heard Kali in another room, sobbing, and started toward her, but Michael grabbed his arm. “Just leave her alone, JT.”

  “I came all this way, Michael.” JT had nothing left. He wanted, needed to be with Kali. “I've got to go to her.” His voice was strong and loud.

  “JT.” Michael spoke in a low whisper, his lip quivering a little. “She doesn't want to be with you. She's safe here. Let her go.”

  JT could feel his eyes water. He wanted to be cool about it, but sometimes that didn’t cut it. Strong men show their feelings, right? He made it quick, but it was almost impossible for Michael to comprehend, 'No.'

  Michael squeezed JT's arm and nodded toward the stairs.

  After a few moments, JT nodded and they made their way to the front door.

  JT did not know why it slipped his mind—maybe because Michael had said she was safe—but he never warned Kali about the strange man in the purple suit. On the way out, he could only think of how much he wanted to be with her, and how he couldn't do that.

  JT tried to waste as much time as possible going to the front door. He gazed around the house as he meandered down the steps. As he reached for the door, he heard the sound of a recliner closing and the clink of ice in a glass.

  “You boys want to stay here tonight?”

  The night was creeping in and the wind began to blow outside, making the windows whistle.

  “They are calling for a hell of a storm tonight. It was all over the news today about that weird snow you guys had down in Athens Eden. God, I knew there was a reason I left that place.”

  Kali's mom poked her head out of the sunken living room, her robe still hanging from her shoulder and her hair unkempt.

  “Mrs. Logan—“ JT started.

  “Don't call me that,” she snapped. She turned and went back to the chair. “Go on if you want to, but you can still stay!”

  JT stopped. “What should we do, Michael?”

  After a little back and forth with looks and shrugs, JT replied, “It’s okay, Mrs. Lo—” He caught himself. “I mean, Gale. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  JT swung the door open and they walked out in to the cold Maryland air.

  “Suit yourself.” They heard Gale Logan sit in her chair and swirl her ice before he shut the door.

  JT felt oddly fine. His knee hurt, but, to his surprise, only a little. He peered at the beautiful orange and purple sunset and wondered what life was all about. Neither of them said anything as they walked to the big old blue car.

  Michael opened the driver's side door and, out of the corner of his eye, JT saw his grandfather's journal in the backseat. Acting on a strange impulse to grab it, he dragged open the back door.

  A shadow fell over the car. Heavy black clouds expanded over the beautiful sunset and grew over the treetops, creeping closer and closer and larger and larger. The wind blew ever harder and the temperature dropped quickly and night snuck in. The cold ripped through JT's clothes as the wind blew.

  Michael leapt from the car. The sky rumbled. JT put the journal back on the backseat and looked upward. Like bees swarming, white flakes of snow mixed with pebbles of sleet and hail swirled as it fell from the black clouds. The winter weather hit JT and Michael before they had any chance to react. They jumped into the car, their only shelter.

  The wind blew harder. They could see nothing but snow and wind, painting the car's glass white even as they tried gazing out. The hail pounded the steel car's body so loudly that they plugged their ears. The front and rear windshields, already cracked quickly developed a network of additional cracks.

  The big old blue car swayed back and forth as the snow and wind intensified. JT shut his eyes. Michael gripped the steering wheel, panting. Thick puffs of mist streamed from his mouth as the air in the car turn bitterly cold.

  At that moment, JT could control nothing. In fact, whatever the weather had in store for them might just control him. JT had experienced something like this event just two nights before, so he wondered what it might really be. A thought entered his brain. Could it be?

  JT gathered the courage to go outside and face whatever was happening to them. He pushed the car door open with all of his might and stood in the tempest. He planted his legs; pain shot
through his troubled knee until it felt like it would explode. The blowing ice and wind cut his skin, smacked him in the face, and forced him turn his head away from the storm. His hands went numb. With all his strength, he faced back toward the sky, ignoring the pellets of ice. A piercing red light sliced through the whiteness. A dark laugh echoed from above.

  “You cannot do anything about me!” the deep voice rumbled.

  In the blinding storm, JT couldn’t tell where anything was. He followed the red beam closely, then he heard the ceiling of Kali's house being ripped apart. Even over the howl of the tempest that engulfed him, Michael, and the big blue car, JT heard the cracking of boards.

  As quickly as the weather had surrounded them, the wind tightened and formed a tornado made of snow.

  The dark man from the court house, smiling that smile appeared in the swirling snow. Wearing a large, flowing purple robe, he floated effortlessly in the tornado, riding gracefully with the cyclone's sway, controlling its every move. He held JT’s cane in his left hand, the ruby eyes of the skull and crossbones burning red through black sky.

  The tornado rider dove into Kali's house through the opening he had made and, though JT did not hear her scream, he saw the man yank Kali from her house with his right hand. Kali struggled, her ponytail thrashing, her legs scrabbling for purchase. Her attempts to escape did not faze the angry, enthusiastic culprit. In fact, JT thought he enjoyed the fight. His grin spread from ear to ear and the echoing laughter was deep and reverberating.

  JT ran toward the tornado, reaching for Kali. The dark man looked at JT like a giant looking at an ant. With one wave of JT's own cane, the storm returned to envelop both JT and Michael, smothering them in snow and wind.

  The tornado disappeared into the distance, taking Kali with it. After a few moments, the storm ceased as well. Two feet of fresh snow blanketed the surrounding area, as far as JT and Michael could see. Snow draped the trees and ice encased their now bare branches. The white snow reflected the now bright moon and the dim stars, amplifying their luster, making the night brilliant. The street lights popped on and JT had to squint against the brightness.

  The front door to Kali's house burst open. Kali's mom stood in the doorway and slammed the liquid left in her glass down her throat. She snarled and stared at JT and Michael, then gawked at the shell of her house. She barked, “What the hell was that?”

  JT was speechless. A voice in the back of his mind told him to pick the journal back up. He reached for it.

  “Let's get in the car and go.” Michael's voice and body trembled. The freezing air would make anyone shiver, but JT concluded Michael's trembling was due more to him being scared.

  “Not sure, Michael.” JT had no idea how to explain what had happened, though he was probably right that his grandfather's journal would tell him more.

  “So what's in this journal, Michael?” JT asked. He thought back to their first adventure. As they rode from the farm to Athens Eden, Michael had said very clearly that he had no problem reading the journal. Then he recalled Kali mentioning that Michael had read what Ol' Captain Luke learned about the free will of the conjured inhabitants of Bruinduer.

  Michael knew when he had been called out. “A lot of stuff is in that journal, JT.” He collapsed into the driver's seat and placed his head in his hands. All of Michael's uncertainty returned with a vengeance. The confidence he had found as King of Godwin in Bruinduer vanished. His emotions went up and down, peaking and plunging. His thoughts stayed a jumbled mess.

  “What is all of this going on?” The slurred voice came from behind JT as he felt an arm pulling at his shoulders.

  JT wheeled around and Kali's mom, her drink still in one hand, stood there barefoot. She tried to pull her robe over her arms. Her legs were turning blue from the snow.

  “I don't know, Mrs. Logan,” JT replied. “You need to get into the house.”

  “I told you not to call me that.” Kali's mom swatted at JT with her free hand.

  Still carrying the journal, JT led the shrieking woman back up to the house. “Come on, Michael.” JT turned briefly, summoning his friend. “This is just getting started.”

  JT was frightened. Mrs. Logan was hysterical. There was another inexplicable storm and Kali was taken.

  In the house, Kali's mom, still oblivious to the cold, babbled incoherently while she grabbed the phone and dialed 911. JT wanted to be calm, but his brain could not form a rational idea. He turned to Michael.

  “Talk,” JT demanded, his voice just above a whisper. “Tell me what you know.”

  “The police will be here any minute.” Kali's mom plopped onto the couch in the living room, pulling the curtain back to watch for help to arrive. “you two will finally go to jail like you should have all those years ago.”

  Michael and JT sat at the kitchen table. JT tossed the journal on top, but the strap came loose and the free pages spread across the table.

  “Now you can talk,” JT insisted. “I finally realize that all this stuff—this stuff with my grandfather—goes a little deeper than you’ve said.”

  Michael put his elbows on the table and sank his head into his hands. “Yeah, JT. I never thought it would go this far.”

  To tell the truth, Michael had hoped that nothing would happen after they came back. He had planned to live in the Vryheid fantasy world forever, without JT or Kali knowing. He had been so miserable in his real life that he didn't care whose lives he destroyed to accomplish that.

  All of that changed when JT came to his rescue, not caring what he received in return. JT and Kali, fought beside him, risking their lives in a conflict he so stupidly started. What was that all for? In a human’s life, power lasts a miniscule fraction of a second in the time of the world—in the time of Billy—in the time of God.

  Michael regretted it. And he could see no point in keeping JT's grandfather's secrets now. His friend had desperate need and he would be there for him. “JT, I really wish you could remember all of this. It's hard to see you suffering because you don’t know what all of this is about anymore.

  “They told me that it would be better when I got older, but they were dead wrong.” JT slid his hand across the table to clutch the journal. For a second, they both held it, but then JT nervously let it go. Michael turned it around and opened the leather cover.

  He had no thoughts, only the dread of a young person who knows they have done wrong and must confess, then make amends.

  Michael had a lot of guilt when it came to JT. He had not seen his friend—well, before latest journey into Bruinduer—for nine long years. He had hidden what he knew from everyone, so he could use the power he discovered by reading JT's grandfather's diary.

  He did wonder why JT had never asked him before about what exactly he learned from the journal. All the same, Michael had a lot of information. He knew the past. He never wanted to forget his younger years. He obsessed about them as he grew older, when JT was gone, hidden away on the Shorts' farm. Michael wanted nothing more than to return to Bruinduer to take control of a life there.

  Now, with everything that had transpired since he brought JT back, he only wanted to forget the years gone and try desperately not to relive his own mistakes. It was ironic. JT wanted the memories that Michael only wished he could forget. JT had no idea how lucky he was.

  Kali had said it best, that time in front of the diner. She had told JT he was lucky to lose his memory. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

  Michael flipped through the pages of the journal as he thought. He did want to help JT. He stopped, opened the old book, and put his hands on the table beside it.

  “You ready for this?” Michael asked, his voice thick.

  JT was distracted by thoughts about Kali, where she had been taken, whether the police could make it through the snow, and how much he could tell the police before they stopped believing him. And who knew what neighbors saw what happened and what they told the police about.

  Now, he focused all of his attention on Mich
ael. JT felt sure Michael would read something outlandish that could only be understood by someone who knew Bruinduer and, since he forgotten it, he would need Michael to find Kali. And, as he had just realized, he loved Kalie.

  “Okay,” Michael began. “For the record, I warned you about all of this before I started.” Michael cleared his throat. “I'm sure you never made it this far in the journal or you would have mentioned it. It's interesting, you know. You are not supposed to read this thing from cover to cover. If you do, you only get confused. Sometimes it's better to start with the answer to the mystery rather than wait for it to be revealed.” After a deep breath, Michael read aloud.

  December 17

  I am at a loss for words, dear reader. What I thought would happen, did not. I thought the decision I had made would work, but it did not work. I am alone. I know now that human vanity and human greed have no boundaries. Most of the time, it is not worth the price you must pay to stay at a particular station. I know that now—after the fact.

  I followed Jato through the door. Why, I do not know. It was more curiosity than desire for treasure or adventure. What existed behind this very plain door? And the larger question, why did it exist in the first place? The lure of my curiosity peaked at one point and turned very quickly to what it was that I might be rewarded for my so-called sacrifice. Jato said that everything comes with a price in this land and, only now, following this quest, do I actually believe it.

  I was told that, behind the old brown door, I would find treasure and irresistible allure, but all I really found was pain.

  At first, it could be called paradise. The beautiful new land was breathtaking. One moment I was in a dark, small, dried out cave and the next, I walked into a thick wood that I did not know, with clean air and the perfect temperature. Through the tall brush were rich houses and tall towers with water as cool as ice and plenty of food. I had to believe it was Eden.

  I had not wanted to believe the stories, but now I stood in a world not bound by the laws of my birthplace. I wish the first question to cross my mind had been “What does govern a land separated from the rule of law I was used to?”

  Dear reader, my only question was “What can I take from this world to make my life better—or is my life better here?” What made the land dangerous to me was the freedom it provided. There was no rule that I could see and, if there was one, it was made by the one who possessed the key.

  JT sat as quietly as he could, listening intently, though he also waited for the police cars to pull up at any second.

  Michael helped himself to a glass of water, sat back down, and flipped through many pages.

  December 21 or whatever day it may be…

  I have learned how the Vryheid keep this land they call Bruinduer from collapsing as long as they do. No matter what shape it may be formed in, they use simple balance. It is quite simple, you see, and, now that I have seen this work firsthand—our creator knew exactly what he was doing.

  This land tends to work much like the natural world. It has many characteristics of nature. The magic, or possibly science, of the land puts an environment in place that works, but unfortunately humans, though just as much a part of nature as the rest, don't quite work the same.

  You see, an antelope and the cheetah that hunts it know exactly what to do. The antelope eats the grass, the cheetah eats the antelope, and the waste of the cheetah grows the grass and so forth. What amazes me is that humans don't quite know their role in life right awy. Are they good by nature or are they evil by nature? It’s impossible to tell, but this world requires balance. So the humans in the world must be as balanced as the antelope and cheetah; there must be evil and there must be good. Or better—we humans must have a role to play, whether we know what it is or not and whether the line that divides the two is grey or not.

  It has come to my attention today that I am the role of good. My counterpart, Jato, is without question, the evil of this world. I now know why he did what he did. I now know why he lured me to this place. I now know why I trekked across the desert after him when I grew mad at every destroyed village and charred body, every broken family and abandoned home. I know why he paid me anonymously. I was foolish—I fell prey to the Munch.

  JT hung his head. Though he wanted to be astonished at what he had heard, he wasn't. Why would he have expected any more? If he had only been able to remember the stories, remember the journal, he would have an idea of what was happening.

  He reached down and pinched his forearm. Then he slapped his face.

  Michael jumped.

  JT wanted to wake up. What had he missed? What had he let happen and had done nothing about it? The tornado was a powerful storm, but did he allow Kali to be taken to her death needlessly?

  JT felt like his grandfather must have when he was lured into Bruinduer to play some game. He recognized the feeling from the last time: helplessness. He only had the power to do one thing; he had to get to Kali.

  Red and blue lights licked the inside of the house, as the sky remained overcast and dark. The police were at the door.

  “That's them there, Officer!” Kali's mom squealed. She placed her glass down long enough to direct the officers to kitchen where JT and Michael were sitting. White snow dripped from the ripped ceiling, melting as it fell, then splattering on the floor. The moon's rays began to poke through the clouds reflecting on the snow, making the creeping night appear as though it were day.

  The officers calmly walked into the kitchen.

  JT and Michael looked at each other, their faces stoic. Michael’s calm hid a major case of nerves, but JT was indifferent. For some reason, jail did not feel like a bad option. He could spend the rest of his days behind bars where nothing could happen to him. He remembered Kali in the jail in Bruinduer—at least he had known she would be safe.

  The taller of the two officers placed his hands on his hips and tipped his eyes up to the missing roof.

  “They did this! They said they went out to their car, but, the next thing I knew, a tornado hit the house and my daughter went screaming out of the hole. The wind and whatever that thing was made a hole in my roof.” Kali's mom was frantic. “They did this before, you know. They killed this kid and no one ever found the body. These two never said anything and what they did say was nothing but lies. I don't know how they did it. They just did stuff in that house and my daughter and husband—I swear if I could have done anything I would have. My husband, he wanted to help, but no, he went all crazy. We had to leave that messed up place and come here and now he's in that hospital.” Exhausted, Kali's mom collapsed into one of the chairs at the table.

  Michael and JT waited; even JT felt nervous now. They could do nothing, besides, the officers probably didn't believe a word Kali's mom said, with the strong smell of alcohol on her breath. So, if they were going to jail, then they were going to jail.

  The shorter police officer looked at the hole, puzzled as well. “Damnedest thing that happened today. We had so many calls about this crazy weather. Seemed to come out of nowhere. Looked just like what happened down south a ways. You guys wouldn't be from down there, would you?”

  Before the officer finished, Kali's mom chimed in. “Yes—you see? They did the same thing down there. They are from there. They are evil, I tell you—evil.”

  “Hmmm.” The short officer pondered. “I guess I have to ask the question. You two boys don't appear like you ripped the roof off a house and made it snow, then sat in chairs not even out of breath, without a scratch on you, but I'll play.” The officer put his palms on the table. “Did you two have anything to do with this?”

  JT and Michael answered in unison, their voices forceful and clear, “No, sir.”

  “Do you boys know anybody who could possibly have done this?” the officer asked.

  JT thought about that one. Billy could have done this. JT stared at the journal on the table, then he noticed the corner of a photo protruding. He reached out to pick it up. His heart pounded as he lifted the pictu
re to his face.

  He remembered it from the farmhouse, when he first tried to read the journal. It depicted his grandfather and a dark man dressed in ceremonial garb and long feather headdresses; their faces were painted. As JT studied the picture more closely he peered at the eyes of the man his grandfather embraced with one arm. He had seen those eyes before.

  JT jerked.

  The eyes were looking back at him. JT did not know how or why, but he felt the piercing stare of his grandfather's companion. He turned the picture around and read the caption, “Me and Jato, purification ceremony, 1972.”

  “That's him, isn't it, Michael?” JT flipped the picture across the table in front of his friend.

  Michael held the picture and looked at the two men in the picture. He nodded. His eyes told JT that he knew exactly what JT saw.

  “Yes, JT, that's Jato Bindi.” He gently flipped the picture around, placed it in front of JT on the table, and pointed to the dark man standing beside his grandfather, grinning ear to ear. “Infamously known as the Munch.”

  “So are you going to take these heathen criminals to jail or what?” Kali's mom yelled desperately, obviously shaken by her daughter’s disappearance. “I want to know where my daughter is!” Her voice broke and tears ran down her face.

  The officers could not stop staring at the torn ceiling and talking about the snow. “Ma'am, we have never seen anything like this before. How do you expect us to do anything, even if we could, about this? We have rescued people all over the town. We’re just trying to make sense out of what all of this snow is about and how it even got here. We get a call, come out here, and this is what we see. How do we know it wasn't you that caused all of this?”

  Gail's jaw dropped. “Because I told you it was these two little—little monsters, that's why. Take them to jail, I tell you.” Kali's mom lunged at the officers.

  The officers did not retaliate, but simply held her arms so she could not strike. Tears flowed from her eyes.

  “You ruined my life!” Kali's mom shouted at JT and Michael. “You made him go crazy! You made him go crazy!” She couldn't control her feelings and began to wail. The officer quietly supported Kali's mom, until her legs gave out. Then the officer guided her back to her chair by the table. She buried her face into one of her palms. The tears washed down her cheeks and arms.

  “I just loved him so much. I loved him so much. She was such a good girl, too.” Kali's mom wiped her face and slowly regained her composure. “I just miss them. I miss them the way they were before they met those two.” Her voice was soft and her throat tightened.

  JT and Michael were silent. JT felt a lump building in the back of his throat. With so much more to his story, he feared the emotions he would feel if all his life's memories flooded back. He doubted he could handle the onslaught of visions and information stored in his psyche.

  “Are we arrested?” JT asked. He seemed to remember Gregory telling him a thing or two about when the police take you to jail, particularly if they had a legitimate reason to take you.

  The officer looked around the room, especially at the lack of ceiling. A call came over his radio, explaining that a group of kids were using the snow as an excuse to rob a strip mall up the road from Kali's house. He answered that call, then placed his hand on JT's shoulder.

  “Your lucky day, son.”

  He turned to Kali's mom. “There is no real evidence that this young man and his friend had anything to do with this.” The officer waved his arm around the room. “But if you’d like, my partner here will wait for you to get dressed so that you can go down to the station and place a report about your missing daughter. These two clearly do not have your daughter, so they are free to go.” The officer tipped his hat and walked toward the door.

  “Well, how do you explain what happened to my house? It had to be them.” Gail's begging became louder. She wanted JT and Michael in jail, no matter what she had to do. “They killed that boy so many years ago—talking all strange about magic lands and weird things. It only makes sense they had everything to do with this.”

  “Ma'am,” the officer paused. “I suggest you tell your insurance company it was an act of God—or in this case—” The policeman took a breath. He didn't want to say it, but it fit. “—the Devil.”

  The officer opened the door and stepped out in to the cold and snow. “My partner here will wait for you so you can go fill out that report at the station, okay? Your daughter is more important now, I hope.”

  “Of course,” Kali's mom answered with a huff. “Of course she is.”

  JT and Michael eyed the officer who stayed behind. He nodded, so they gathered the papers from the table, strapped the leather journal together and left, making as little noise as possible.

  The two walked outside, where the first police officer still stood looking at the house. As JT and Michael passed, he spoke. “I am not sure what happened here today,” the officer began. “Whatever it was, I am sure there was a reason for it. Even though Baltimore is a large town, I’ve heard stories about this family. And it’s interesting that you two just happened to be in the two places on the eastern seaboard that had freak snowstorms.”

  “Coincidence?” JT suggested. He didn't know why he spoke. He just did.

  “Good answer, I suppose,” the officer replied. “You know, like I said, there are stories around this town about the family here. Her dad went crazy right after they moved in. We got a lot of domestic disturbance calls in those early days. We drew straws to see who had to come out here and calm the mother down. It was all really sad.” The officer scratched his chin.

  “The story goes that the man just couldn't take it anymore. Somehow his reputation from a previous case followed him here to Maryland. I guess he couldn't get far enough away from his mistakes.”

  The officer looked JT and Michael over. His eyes told them that he knew more about the case and the two young men in front of him than he was saying. “He went to a crowded mall and pulled a gun out. He didn't shoot. He just stood there waiting for something. It was almost like he wanted the police to find a reason to kill him first. He was scared to pull the trigger on himself, I suppose. People ran at first, but then they went about their business, shopping and eating, almost like they could not have cared less. He just stood there. Soon enough the police walked right up to him, while he stood still as a statue, pointing his gun, and gritting his teeth. He had just shut down.

  “He's up at St Mark's Hospital from what I hear. It's a mental institution down off I-95, just south of town. You’ll see the signs when you get on the highway and you can't miss it. It’s not too far. That is, if you're interested.” The officer paused. “He hasn't talked since what happened at the mall, from what I hear. Just looks out the window. Nothing. Some say he got lost in his memories. They say he went to sleep from the world.”

  The officer gazed back at the house one last time, watching the white snow melt and drip from the rafters of the torn roof in the moonlight. He shook his head. “Shame really. It’s not a good sign when police know so much about a family. Like I said, there were a lot of calls when they moved here. Everyone knows about what happened at the mall. I guess, every once in a while, I wonder whatever happened to him—the father, you know?

  “Well, back to work. The guys back at the station are never going to believe this.” He walked to his car and left.

  JT pondered for a second. He wondered if Kali's dad suffered the same way he did. Maybe the pain of his life falling apart caused him to forget things, too. And maybe, just maybe, his brain worked the opposite way—maybe he couldn't forget what he had seen. Maybe Kali's dad, sitting and gazing out the hospital window, drowned in the memories he couldn't forget. In that case, Kali had been right. JT was lucky.

  “I don't know why, Michael, but I think we need to go see Kali's dad.”

  He couldn't decide whether he would just try anything to find any answer about what might be happening or if something—or someone—was telling him to g
o. It felt a lot like when Billy guided him through Charlie's pyramid palace in Bruinduer.

  “What about Kali?” Michael asked. He had known about Kali's dad and his problems; he didn’t think that Kali's catatonic father could help them with what lay before them. “I think you know where the Munch has taken Kali. I can guarantee he wants her so he can go back into Bruinduer.”

  “How do you know that, Michael?” JT wondered if it was true. For all he knew, the Munch wanted to bait JT, not go back into Bruinduer. What would going into Bruinduer accomplish?

  Michael answered JT as honestly as possible. “Hello, JT? Nothing would stop me from going back into Bruinduer—you must remember that. This is the Munch, the guy who tricked your grandfather into entering Bruinduer so he could have control, just like Charlie tricked us. It's obvious to me what he wants. I mean, I wanted what Bruinduer could give me—anything. It can give you anything. And that made Charlie go nuts with power. Imagine Bruinduer in the hands of a real madman.”

  It’s possible, JT thought. “I still want to go see Kali's dad. You owe me that much. I just have a feeling—I don't know—that we need to go see him first.”

  For a second, Michael wondered when JT would forgive him for wanting him dead in Bruinduer. But Michael knew he could never repay JT what he owed him. “Of course, JT. Whatever you need.”

  “Good,” JT answered as they climbed into the big old blue car and headed toward I-95. “You can also tell me what I don’t know about the Munch.”'

  The drive out of the neighborhood and through town was an adventure in itself. The car’s old, bald tires slid across the snow-covered asphalt, the long trunk swaying with each skid. JT braced his legs with his feet firmly on the floor in case the car skidded off the road. He thought less about the Munch and more about surviving the trip to the hospital.

  Thanks to the weird weather, the police were out in force, but they did not pay too much attention to JT and Michael. They made it to St. Mark's Hospital with no problems except controlling the skidding car, which might have been a snake, given the way it slithered down the road.

  JT had no idea why folks always stared at him. Maybe it was his limp, maybe he looked weird to people, or maybe his face told a story that people read and recognized. Right now, pain was clearly written in JT's face, along with a blank stare of despair. He did not want to suffer; he wanted to be happy. Right now, JT’s problem was that he had no idea what joy felt like. That was one of many mysteries he needed to solve. All the questions rattling in his thoughts made him seem lost; his expression begged someone, anyone, to help him find out who he really was.

  “You boys look like you're lost.” The woman's kind voice danced across the reception table. “I hope you are not here because of the snow. I know it is odd, but it really happened. You are not seeing things.”

  The young lady stood up and looked at them closely. Short and a tad plump, she had a healthy glow to her face from the cold air that rushed through the automatic door nearby. “You all don’t look like you’re worried about that. My name is Maria and Lord knows we've had a number of people believing they've gone crazy seeing snow come down that fast and just stop.” She paused for a second or two. “And isn't it strange that it only snowed in this town and nowhere else?”

  “Yeah, that is strange,” JT agreed.

  “Thank you, Maria,” Michael jumped in. “Can you tell us what room Arthur Logan is in, please?”

  Maria glanced back at JT and Michael. She read JT's face and, as usual, knew there was a story behind his eyes. She shuffled a few papers and became quiet, her smile and kindness turned to nervousness.

  “Why, yes.” She cleared her throat. “Arthur is on the fourth floor—but only his wife and daughter are on his visitor list. Why is it you want to see Arthur?” Maria fidgeted, looking quickly back and forth between JT and Michael.

  “Well—“ Michael started, but JT cut in.

  “His daughter,” said JT. “We came to tell him about his daughter.”

  “Oh,” Maria said. “She was just here this afternoon. Is something wrong?”

  “She was—“ JT started, then it was Michael’s turn to interrupt.

  “What JT meant to say was that we came to tell Arthur that Kal—his daughter forgot to say she'd be back next week.”

  “Why? He knows she comes back every week.” Maria stacked papers nervously.

  “Right. Well…” Michael paused.

  “Let's just go see him.” JT grabbed Michael and walked toward the elevators.

  “You can't just go—“ This time Maria was interrupted by three people approaching the desk and asking her if they were going crazy or if it really snowed like that.

  JT and Michael walked quickly down the hall and into the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor. They figured they had five or ten minutes to see Arthur Logan before someone caught them. Hopefully more people would come in and distract authorities.

  JT and Michael rode silently to Arthur's floor. JT's heart pounded and his hands trembled. Michael fidgeted, counting the number of floors in his mind, looking at the elevator buttons as each one lit for the floor they passed.

  The ride, less than minute, felt like two days. The silver doors slid open and they rushed out, walking briskly. They got out of breath winding around the halls and rooms, reading the names on each door. JT almost forgot the throbbing in his knee.

  The rooms were not stereotypical hospital rooms, white and sterile with the smell of strong cleaning solution. These rooms looked more like college dormitory rooms. Each room had a bookcase made of glass and wood, built into the wall outside each patient's door. The shelves held pictures and knickknacks from the patient's past.

  JT glanced into the first room and saw a woman older than he, but not terribly old, lying in her bed with the TV on. She gave no outward sign of emotion despite the flickering images on her wall.

  If JT had stayed longer, he might have identified with the emptiness of her face and anguished droop of her eyes, like all she wanted to do was cry, but her vacant body would not let her.

  JT glanced at the shelf outside her door. A little plaque said, “Lillian Talon’s Lifeshelf.” JT got a glimpse of a picture of the woman, much younger, smiling, full of spirit and life, surrounded by what looked to be family. In his haste, the only other object he noticed was an old medal with the inscription “Los Angeles, 1984.”

  The doors and life shelves flew by as they continued, passing pictures and ceramic dolls, records, flags, footballs, an infinite assortment of objects defining who these patients once were. JT kept thinking that the people here suffered from mental illnesses and might never be the same again.

  One life shelf caught JT's interest. It held nothing but a diploma.

  JT instantly thought of the Shorts' farm. His bedroom walls were empty, too, except for the diploma he earned for being homeschooled by Gregory and Louise. He immediately felt a connection with the person occupying the room. He knew it didn't matter what type of life that patient led, his education, and his sense of accomplishment when he held the crisp piece of paper in his hand, could never be taken away.

  JT stared at the piece of paper through the glass. He saw his reflection staring back at him. He read the name. In black, bold calligraphy, it said, “Arthur Paul Logan.”

  “Michael,”' JT called to his friend. “He's here.”

  As they stood before the door, JT felt the same emotion as when he stood in front of the mahogany door in Warhead Dale. If he pushed the door open, what would he find?

  JT knocked ever so softly. He heard a faint voice, the same voice he heard in his dreams, the voice he heard in the basement of his grandfather's chalet. “Do it.”

  JT turned the metal knob and the lock clicked. The door swung open without a sound. Unlike the other rooms on the floor, this one did remind JT of a sterile hospital room. The walls were bare and white, the bed neatly made with blue sheets and blankets. The cold white ceramic floor smelled like Clorox; JT's
nostrils flared.

  Alone, sitting in a glider, staring out a window into the blue sky, was Arthur Paul Logan. His empty eyes did not stray from their point of focus. His brown hair was unkempt and he held his robe tight with his hands in his pockets, and his feet were covered only with blue socks with white foot grips on the bottom. He appeared old, his skin wrinkled and dried from the hospital soap.

  JT looked upon the man with pity. He did not know why, but he felt a kinship with the man. Though he would probably never know, he bet he could guess what might be lurking in his thoughts. He had been alone on the farm, empty and wondering.

  JT's voice caught, but he got the words out. “Mr. Logan.”

  The man did not reply.

  “It's me—JT Davis.”

  Nothing.

  “Me and Michael Peterson here,” Michael waved his hand at Arthur, who did not react. “We came to see you. I don't know if you remember all that happened back then.” JT figured that was a stupid statement. If Arthur didn't remember what had happened in the past, why would he be there? Kali's mom specifically stated Kali's dad was in the ward because of the incident. “But something has happened and, whether you understand or not, I think you deserve to know.”

  Arthur kept staring.

  “Your daughter Kali…”

  Nothing. The chair glided back and forth.

  “Your daughter Kali was taken by a monster known as the Munch. If you remember the story we must have told you so long ago about my grandfather, ol' Captain Luke, and his house and the time you defended Michael here for Charlie's death—well, if you didn't have enough proof then, let me tell you that all of the stories about Bruinduer are true.”

  JT thought hard, his brain working overtime. He kept speaking, whether what he said was correct or in order or not. He did not care. “I lost my memory back then, so I don't remember any of it. I don't remember the stories about the old house and, when Michael came to me at first, I didn't even believe it, but I went there. I went to Bruinduer. I saw Charlie. He was alive. I talked to Billy and Michael changed the world. We went to war—it was a horrifying experience, but amazing at the same time.

  “I met Kali again, too. You would be proud of her. She was so strong back in Bruinduer. She helped us fight and defeat Charlie. I'm sure you wanted to see Charlie, but he died in Bruinduer. Then I started reading my grandfather's journal about the Munch, how he was a monster, and what he did to villages and people in Africa as my grandfather hunted him down. I recently learned that he tricked my grandfather into going to Bruinduer to help him get as much power as possible.

  “It's true and, what's worse, I got Kali in trouble, because he's back. I don't know how he's back, but the Munch is back. He came and took Kali because I made her steward of the key. The only way you can get back to Bruinduer is if you have the key and Kali is the steward. He took her so he can go back into Bruinduer.

  “I know why he wants to get back into Bruinduer. He can have anything he wants. Bruinduer can give you what you want.” JT took a breath.

  Michael stood silently. He felt guilty as well. If he had never gone back to Bruinduer, none of this would have happened.

  “We've got to go stop him from going back to Bruinduer. We need to get to Kali before that happens. I know you probably can't hear a thing I've said, but, for some reason, I thought you should know.” JT placed his hand on Arthur Logan's shoulder. Arthur's stare remained blank.

  JT hoped that, after hearing the plight of his daughter, the man would snap out of his trance. But suddenly he knew exactly how Arthur felt. It didn't matter what anyone told JT, either. He wouldn't remember it. He sighed. He and Michael started to walk out of the room.

  Over the sounds of the metal door handle, JT heard it. “Wait.”

  Faint but very clear, the raspy whisper cut through the air.

  JT and Michael froze. He didn't know if someone else was in the room or if his mind was tricking him into hearing the word he wanted to hear. Michael gazed at JT and JT back at Michael. Their raised eyebrows questioned their sanity and hearing.

  JT turned back. Arthur Logan moved for the first time since they had entered. His body turned toward JT and Michael and he cocked his head, his face glum. “Take me with you.”

  JT did not hesitate. “Yes, sir.” Adrenaline shot through his veins.

  “JT how can we…?” Michael asked, but JT moved quickly.

  “No time for thinking, Michael. Let's get out of here.” JT moved to Arthur's dresser.

  Arthur pointed and JT got out clothes. A smile washed over the limping man's face.

  Though leaving the hospital could turn out terribly, JT got an instant rush from the action. He picked up a duffel bag and shoved in Arthur's belongings. He threw clothes, socks, and shoes to Arthur, who dressed himself. It seemed that Kali's dad had awoken from a deep slumber. He did not move fast, but he persevered until he had on his clothes.

  Michael peered outside the door. Security would be upon them any minute. The thought of going to jail for kidnapping crossed his mind. Then, JT and Arthur locked arms. They moved as a unit. JT's bum knee hindered him, but he and Arthur supported each other.

  “JT!” Michael whispered urgently. “How are we going to get out of here?”

  Just as Michael asked the question, they heard a large number of footsteps on the floor, around the corner. Walkie-talkies blared through the corridors.

  “Move!” JT ordered.

  Arthur didn’t have much stamina. JT flung the man's arm around his shoulders and tossed the duffel bag to Michael.

  After one quick look down the hall to the right, they took off to the left as fast as they could. It was exhilarating. JT had to catch his breath as he dragged Arthur down the corridor. Michael checked behind them every few feet as they struggled and limped through the hall.

  Oddly, the nurses watched them pass and did nothing to stop their progress. The nurses either didn't know what to think of the escaping trio or couldn't believe that they were actually attempting the get away.

  As Arthur, Michael, and JT rounded the last corner to the elevator, they heard the door of Arthur's room slam open. A man yelled, “Lock it down! Lock it down! Lock the hospital down now!”

  A few seconds later, an alarm went off. Red lights flashed in the halls of the asylum. Bells and sirens screeched. Doors slammed and locked around the three people now trying to escape. Some patients began to scream.

  JT faced forward, focused on dragging Arthur along. He did not know why, but Arthur seem to gain strength. Before he knew it, Arthur was helping JT move along as well, guiding him out of the hospital. Arthur might have spent some time noting ways to escape if it came down to it.

  JT and Michael started toward the elevators, but Arthur pulled them toward the stairs. The hospital shut off power to the elevators during a lockdown.

  The alarms continued blaring.

  Arthur calmly guided them past the first stairwell and led them to another stairwell in the back of the hospital. JT figured the doors to the stairs would automatically lock, but then he realized that would turn the hospital into a death trap in case of a fire. Apparently, the safety protocol was the same for both events at the hospital. The doors stayed unlocked.

  When the alarm had sounded, patients scattered into the hall and common rooms. Staff ran about trying to guess who was escaping. Chaos ensued.

  Meanwhile, Arthur, JT, and Michael slipped out a very innocent looking door labeled “Stairs” and flew down the four flights. JT felt like they tore down the steps in seconds. When they reached the bottom, Michael flung open the door. Standing in front of them was a very familiar, plump woman.

  Maria crossed her arms. Behind her waited an unassuming fire exit tucked in the back corner of the ground floor of the hospital. The handle was rigged to set off an alarm when opened, but with the hospital alarms screaming, it would have made no difference. The door led to a bank of trees and would have been the perfect cover for anyone who wanted to disappear.


  “Going somewhere, Arthur?” Maria's voice was kind, but her sense of urgency was palpable.

  JT had no idea what to do. Michael stood silently. Now time stood still. They each listened to their own loud, heavy breathing as both sides thought about what to do next and who would flinch.

  JT knew the three men could overcome Maria, but, on moral grounds, they would not. The silence felt thick.

  Arthur caught his breath and raised his head, his eyes soft. “Please.” It was not loud, but loud enough to reach Maria's ears. Her eyes shot wide open.

  “What?” Maria asked.

  “I need to be with my daughter.” Arthur reached out and placed his free hand on Maria's shoulder. His touch resonated with the woman. She looked into Arthur's eyes and felt his sincerity. She smiled and stepped to the side.

  “Thank you,” JT mouthed as he walked past her.

  Arthur slid his hand from the woman's shoulder. Michael smiled, his face pink from all the exercise. The three of them walked out of the hospital free.