Читать книгу The Legend Unleashed - L.S. Strange - Страница 5

Chapter 1

Michael Smithfield watched as the second hand on the clock slowly made its way around the face. It moved agonizingly slow, tick…tick…tick, with each second seeming like an eternity. Just two minutes until it was three o’clock, and he would be released from the bondage of school for an entire summer. Anxiously he watched the clock with the anticipation that could only be experienced by a child. All he could do was concentrate on this keeper of the time. His fingers nervously traced the edges of his notebook, and his breathing quickened. He was so hyped up that his right leg was pounding up and down tapping the bottom of the desk.

Michael was as tense as a wound spring, just waiting for release. He licked his lips and never removed his eyes from that generic classroom clock. Michael was not usually a clock-watcher, typically being the last one to leave class collecting his things only after the bell had rung. Today was different. An adventure was waiting for him, and the clock was binding him here. He had been watching the clock since 2:30 p.m., trying with all his might to will it to move faster, but it just plugged along. The silence of the classroom was almost deafening to Michael as he positioned himself in his seat ready to bolt at the sound of the bell; his freedom ring.

The classroom remained quiet as the attention of all the students was riveted on the clock. The teacher, Ron Kingston, was sitting at his desk, scrolling through Facebook on his tablet. He was a young man on his first teaching assignment. Being incredibly handsome, he was the subject of many daydreams of the young female student body. Ron’s jet-black curly hair made any style we wore look gorgeous. An olive complexion enhanced his chiseled features with deep brown eyes that mesmerized. A body that was sheer sculpted muscle, not one loose or saggy spot on it. Not many of his college buddies, with their beer bellies already blocking their feet, could boast that.

As the time drew near, Mr. Kingston felt a twinge in his heart. He had to let these kids go for the summer. This was a difficult matter since he had become close to this class and looked at all of these students as though they were his own children. Ron had to stop thinking like this for the sake of depressing himself.

He managed to push this from his mind knowing he would spend the first part of the summer with one of his students, Michael. Ron had known Michael’s family most of his life and had become very close to them. He had no family of his own, and Michael’s family sort of adopted him. Over the next two weeks, they would be toughing it out in the wilderness on a camping trip in the Colorado Rocky Mountains.

The shill ring of the school bell interrupted Ron’s thoughts. A loud cheer burst from the students as they fled the classroom, papers flying.

Michael was the first one out of the door. He left the classroom, which was on the second floor of the school, and made a beeline for the stairs. He placed his butt on the banister and sailed down to the first floor. As he approached the bottom, he jumped off and made a perfect landing. Michael was a good-looking kid and very popular among his thirteen-year-old female classmates. His sandy blond hair had a slight waive to it. Styled in a popular cut, it hung down his forehead but did not cover his sparkling blue eyes. He was the tallest boy in class, which made him appear older than his actual years.

Being so excited about the camping trip, he wanted to get home to pack as soon as possible. Every year, he and his father went camping, and it was a wonderful time, one he looked forward to with great expectation. Michael was not going to waste one second of it. He wanted to be totally prepared so they could leave on time first thing in the morning.

* * * * *

The schoolyard was quickly vacated and became uncommonly quiet. The only movement was warm gentle breeze that caused papers, dropped by the fleeing students, to dance lively up and down moving gracefully on the air currents. The warm afternoon sun gave a feeling of lazy nostalgia of days long ago. Teachers sluggishly went back into the building to finish off their paperwork before leaving for the summer.

Ron felt very strange as he walked down the eerily quiet hallways back to his classroom. The halls that were busting with life and the giggles of children stood bare. It just didn’t feel right to have these halls silent, and it made him feel as though he were walking down the dank cold halls of a tomb. Ron physically shrugged trying to shake off this feeling. As he ascended the steps, each of his footfalls echoed loudly. He turned right at the top of the stairs, headed to his classroom, and took a deep breath before opening the door. As he entered, he looked around. All the life that usually filled this space was absent leaving an unmercifully quiet void.

“This is what parents must feel when their children leave home,” Ron said thinking aloud. “Actually, I’m beginning to feel like I’m in church!” He chuckled to himself as he hurriedly shoved his paperwork into his briefcase, made sure everything was turned off, and headed for the door. This kind of thing gave him the creeps, and he couldn’t be away from it soon enough.

At the doorway, he looked back once more to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and closed the door.

Ron was suddenly transformed, feeling the same elation as the kids. He was free for two and a half months until he had to return to prepare for the following school year. This was a fantastic job!

What other job would let him have fun with kids, goof off, plus have ten weeks paid vacation?

A grin slowly appeared at the corners of his mouth and kept going until it spread across his face. Ron took in a deep breath and, feeling like a boy again himself, ran down the hall. As he approached the stairs, an uneasy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach, so he slowed his pace. The closer he came to the top of the landing, the stronger the feeling became, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. The feeling escalated and overtook him. Ron was blinking frantically to clear his blurred vision. The hallway was in a wild spin, and dizziness invaded his mind making it impossible to think. Ron’s hands were clammy, and his chest heaved as he gulped down air to try to stop his uncontrollable urge to vomit. He was now soaked in sweat; his arms and legs felt limp as noodles and out of control. The briefcase fell from his grip and tumbled down the stairs. In a futile attempt to steady himself, he reached out to grasp the handrail, but his hand slipped off. This action set his already unstable body off balance, and his legs collapsed. Ron’s chest crashed against the solid wall with a sickening thud from the full force of his weight. In a slinky-like motion, his neck rippled and snapped his head downward. His chin squarely connected with the skid guard on the edge of the top step allowing its rigid runners to gouge into his flesh. The sharp pain pierced the fog in his brain and brought him back to reality. Ron lay there for a moment, stunned. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth down onto the next step as he placed his palms on the top one and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He put his fingers to his chin to sooth the pain and investigate the injury. As he pulled his hand back, he fully expected to see blood, but surprisingly, it came away clean. Placing his left hand against the wall to steady himself, he slowly stood up.

Recently Ron had been having horrible dreams of falling from a great height down into a bottomless dark void. The dreams started about one month ago and increased in strength as time went by. He had never been afraid of heights before, and there was a haunting familiarity about these nocturnal visions. As he brushed himself off, Ron realized that the vertigo had traveled from his subconscious mind to his conscious mind tormenting his waking hours.

He took a deep breath, sighed, and looked around for his briefcase. Ron was sure that the files it contained had been scattered in all directions. To his surprise, Ron spied his briefcase intact at the bottom of the landing. He also saw John standing there. Even though they were the same age, John’s nerdy appearance made him seem years younger. He had a severe sinus problem and usually had a sinus sprayer shoved up his nose. This condition often caused him to breathe through his mouth adding to his dorky persona although his other features were rather common. John’s dark hair was short to prevent daily grooming attention, and his face was clean shaven, never a hint of a five o’clock shadow—but not for the lack of wanting one. His nose was small, barely able to sustain the weight of the thick glasses that sheltered his murky hazel eyes. A slight stature made him appear small and helpless, never giving a hint of the powerful mind it housed. He gave a quick jerky wave and smiled up at Ron.

“Hey, buddy!” Ron greeted him.

He continued to grin as Ron descended the stairs slowly and carefully. At the bottom, he reached down and picked up his briefcase, then he looked back at John.

“What are you doing here?” He knew why John was here and couldn’t resist the temptation of teasing him.

“You know, you’re supposed to take me to get the camping stuff.” John pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then fiddled with the pens that protruded from his breast shirt pocket.

“Was that tonight?” Ron could no longer hold back and chuckled. “Kidding!” John needed someone to pick on him in a good way for a change.

“Unless time altered the universe, yes, it’s tonight.”

Ron did an exaggerated wave of his hand as he bowed and said, “Then let’s go!”

They walked out of the east door of the school. As soon as they were outside, the warm spring breeze caressed their faces and rustled their hair as the afternoon sun smiled on them. Ron put his arm around John’s neck in a wrestling hold. “Aha! I’ve got you now!”

John laughed but made no effort to free himself. Ron knew he had to tease John in this male Neanderthal fashion; it made him feel like he belonged, like he fit in. As Ron was about to tease his victim further, the words died on his lips, and his grip loosened.

“R–o–n!”

He thought he heard someone call his name in a whisper of a voice, barely audible as if spoken from far away. Ron straightened up and looked out over the field, past the schoolyard that ran parallel to the building.

“It’s a good thing you let go, or I was going to have to deck you!” John taunted. He was now free from Ron’s grasp and looked over at him as he continued to laugh. Ron was barley hearing him, straining to hear the voice again. The haunting whisper. He squinted to block out the afternoon sun while scanning the area.

“What?” Ron asked slowly, never turning his attention away from the direction of the field.

“Are you okay?”

Ron gradually walked to the parking lot with his attention never wavering from the field as he took step after step backward. John kept walking too, facing Ron and hunting his expression for an answer. As they approached the entrance to the lot, a large tree shaded the sun, and Ron was able to see clearly to the horizon. For an instant, he thought he saw someone wave to him. The image was gone in a flash. In that quick glimpse, Ron was unable to tell who or what exactly he saw. As he tried to fathom it out, John stood there studying him.

John heard a loud crack of wood. A large limb from the tree whooshed down and squarely connected with his head. The violent impact sent John’s glasses flying, and the harsh bark ripped across his brow scrapping his skin. A monstrous force from the vicious blow threw him to the ground. Flailing his arms wildly, John opened his mouth to yell, but the supple leaves were unyielding as they forced their way into his mouth and down his throat. The pressure from the mighty limb anchored him to the earth. John’s lungs ached as he tried to breath. His eyes bulged and watered. The panic set in. Suddenly, the branch let go and jerked back. The leaves were gone, and he gulped down air. He looked up and saw the branch gracefully resume its position in the dense foliage of the majestic tree.

Ron’s attention was still on the field and that voice. He turned and saw John on the ground. He reached down and put his hand under John’s arm to help him up. Ron cried, “What the hell happened?”

John stood up and spit out the few remaining bits of leaves in his mouth. His disheveled appearance matched the beseeching look on his face. Ron smoothed John’s hair and straightened his shirt.

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

Ron stared at him waiting for an answer.

John knew Ron wouldn’t believe him, so he lied. “I ran into the tree as I was turning around.”

“Damn klutz!”

John, in an attempt to ignore the unsettling incident, asked, “Are we going to Bass Pro Shop?”

“Um, yeah. They’re only the largest sporting goods store in the world. Of course, we’re going there! I think that rap on the head dislodged your brain.” Ron smiled, and John nodded his head as he grinned.

“Race you to the Jeep!” Ron took off like a rocket. John hesitated a moment and raced after him. Even though his physique was lacking, he was extremely agile and caught up with Ron in no time. Ron looked back over his shoulder to see how much of an advantage he still had. At times like this, he had the tough choice of acting on the spirit of a boy or the wisdom of a man. Today, the spirit of the boy won, and Ron continued running in the parking lot. He hopped onto the front seat of the “top-off” Jeep and threw his briefcase into the back. After starting the engine, he cranked up the stereo and let out a joyous cheer as John climbed in. As they headed away from the school, John looked in the side mirror back at the schoolyard, and it seemed as if the tree wasn’t getting smaller.

* * * * *

Michael bounded up the front porch steps to his home two at a time. He lived in Aurora, a small suburb of Denver. The neighborhood was very quiet, and everyone knew each other. His home was a middle-class two-story house. A brick façade gave a homey and warm appearance. The lawn was lush like a cool expensive carpet between your toes. His mother, Laura, labored tirelessly to maintain its manicured look. She lined the front path with wildflowers on both sides; the soft aroma drifted into open windows, providing a wonderfully fragrant air in the home. The house had been freshly painted, and his mother was going to put on the finishing touches while he and his father were away camping. Michael threw open the front door and ran inside.

“Hi, Mom!” His enthusiasm was escalating as he flew up the stairs to begin packing for the trip.

“Michael, don’t run in the house!” Laura hollered back.

He sped down the hall slipping on the runner carpet. He quickly regained his footing and took the last two steps into his room.

His mother peeked her head in the door a short while later. Laura was a stunningly beautiful woman. Thick wavy auburn hair gently flowed over her shoulders. She wore it loosely, and it caressed the curves of her heart-shaped face. Her crystal-green eyes had a fire ever burning behind them leaving you wondering what she was up to as they sparkled.

“Excited, are you?”

Rolling his eyes was Michael’s nonverbal response.

“Go have a snack, and I’ll pack for you.”

“Sweet!” Michael took off in search of food.

Laura packed the necessities and slapped her hands together. “Mission accomplished.” She headed downstairs to share a snack with her son while waiting for her husband, Scott, to come home and bellowed as she descended the stairs. “Save some for me!”