FOUND: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (5 page)

“Keep up you two! I don't want to lose either of you,” He called leading the way. “I tell you there's nothing inside. Come and see.”

That's why we were all going. Anita, the scared girl she always was, spent the whole afternoon telling us how horrible the place was and tried scaring a couple of other kids half to death. She said even her older brother wouldn't dream of stepping foot inside because of the headless ghost with an axe who would get him. Yet Boyd sat unimpressed throughout it all. He said he couldn't believe those stories, and would show us how wrong they were by taking us to the house. '
You don't know about nothing until you actually see it
,' he told us.

Continuing up the path we came to a cast iron gate surrounded by huge and overgrown bushes on all sides that didn't look like they had been touched in centuries. With a huge kick Boyd had the rusty metal door open and led us forwards.

I shivered when the huge house came into view. “Creepy!”

And it was. It looked like something out of a horror movie with its crumbling walls, boarded up windows and pointed roof that reached to the sky. It's the kind of site where you would expect hillbilly cannibals to live and hunt. The house was ripe for bulldozing. It might have been a hot afternoon, but it was enough to send a chill down your spine.

“Yeah. Dad said the family that lived here last moved out ten or so years back, but it looks like it's been empty forever...”

And it did. The place was out and away from the other homes in town. Out here it seemed completely cut off from the world and alone. One forgotten house lost by the world in our small town.

“...I reckon we can get in through the front. No one would bother with locks when it's in a mess like that.”

We walked across the overgrown grass littered with discarded bricks, tires and planks of wood on our way towards the front door. Dangling next to it was a
Home Sweet Home
sign dangling completely rusted. Held on only by a string it added a sinister touch that was too much for Anita.

“We've had our fun guys... Isn't it about time we went home?” She pleaded while tugging at my dress. “You're not
really
going inside are you?”

“Yeah! We're going in! How can we stop now?” I replied while pulling my dress back from her. “I wanna see it.”

“Come on... The door looks shut. Let's go.”

“No,” Boyd replied. “Look.”

The door was hanging ajar like he said it would be. Only hung by one broken nail and hinge.

“Hello?” Boyd stepped forward and yelled into the house. “Anyone home?”

Half-holding back, I peered in too. My eyes were met with a long hallway of broken floorboards and dust. Its darkness stretched on and on and, for a split second, my heart began beating out of my chest. I expected something to jump out at any moment. I think Boyd sensed it because he tapped my shoulder to get my attention.

“See? Nothing here but an old house.” The second his reassuring eyes hit mine all that fear left me.

“How do you know?” Anita asked while looking over our shoulders and holding back three feet behind us. “We're just looking at the hallway. What if there's a basement?
Oh god
! What if there's a basement, you two? There might be monsters down there!”

“How about I ask? Would that make you feel better?” He smiled and prepared himself to yell. “Hey house - my friend wants to know - are there any monsters in here?”

Anita yelped from behind us. “Don't say that word! My sister told me that if you say Boogeyman three times he'll appear. What if it's the same with monster?”

Boyd's eyes focused in on mine and his eyebrow arched up playfully. I didn't need to be a psychic to know we were thinking exactly the same thing.

“Boogeyman!” He whispered, now grinning at Anita.

I shouted back to her as loud as my lungs could, “Boogeyman!”

“Boogeyman, Boogeyman, Boogeyman!” He roared out jumping up and down.

She nearly jumped out of her skin screaming each time we spoke the word before suddenly becoming angry. She hissed at us, “I'm telling on you! I hate you! I hate you both! Go and die for all I care!”

We laughed in fits of hysterics while watching her little legs under the green skirt she wore run across the yard and all the way back to the road. I'd never seen her move so quick, though I did feel slightly bad about frightening her.

“You coming in?” Boyd asked after we recovered.

I stood up straight, trying to make myself look tall. “Yeah. I'm no scardey-cat.”

He stepped towards me and put out his arm. “I know, but you can hold my hand... If you want?”

For the first time in my life I felt butterflies in the bottom of my stomach when I reached down to take his. His palm was much rougher than mine, but I didn't mind. Right then, I guess I didn't know what it meant. Though, looking back now it's obvious what those first flutters were.

“What's the matter?” He asked, sensing something was different.

“I feel funny. You know, like I'm hungry maybe.”

He led me towards the door. “Don't be crazy. We ate like an hour ago. It'll be nothing.”

The door opened with a phenomenal creak open and my nervous heart began thumping again. The small amount of light that crept in through the boarded windows revealed dirt and cobwebs coating every surface. Everything stank of damp and weeds grew here and there through cracks in the walls. If Boyd's dad was right, it was mystifying to think an actual family once lived here and the house went to ruin so quick. Though a baseball and glove that lay discarded towards the kitchen remained as a faint memory of the previous owners.

“See? I told you there was nothing here. Just stories. All those older kids are liars who get a kick from scaring you and me. There are no real monsters in the world.”

To be honest, while I wanted to believe him, something in the pit of my stomach made me nervous. We might have been only a few minutes away from the streets I knew so well, but this place made me feel unnaturally isolated. I craved to be far from there and wanted to be back at home in town. Hoping to rush him out I told him, “I guess we can go now we've been inside. Our show's about to start anyway...”

He chuckled, “No way. We're exploring. I want to see everything and need to get something to prove we've been here.”

Still holding my hand he led me through the house like it was own. Boyd's pace across those creaking floorboards was entirely without fear. We walked past the ripped up couch in the living room, we carefully stepped over the circle of broken beer bottles littering the kitchen and we arrived at an open door. It led directly down into the basement. Its darkness frightened the hell out of me.

“Seen enough now Boyd? Maybe we should go back. It's too dark to go down there.”

Before I spoke I could tell he wouldn't budge. It was the beer bottles in the kitchen that did it. I saw the look of disappointment on his face when he saw them. He didn't like finding evidence that others had explored this house before.

“You're not scared too, are you?” He asked with a grin.

“Oh---
No way!
How about that baseball? You can tell everyone it's the monster owned it.”

He wasn't budging. I knew he wouldn't.

“I can't. We came here. I want something proper. Something'll be down there.””

“...But we can't go down into a basement when there are no lights.”

He chuckled. “Didn't you know I can do magic?”

I jumped, nearly out of my skin. Suddenly the wooden stairs leading down lit up. Though quickly I realized what he did. I'd been too shaky to notice the switch next to me that he flipped.

“That's not magic, Boyd!” I said his name in that long drawn out way I used whenever he was being silly. “You're a kidder, you.”

“You don't have to get angry...”

“I'm not!” But I was. He spooked me and I felt stupid for being spooked.

“C'mon Cassie. Hey, maybe I'll show you some real magic one day. I don't just show it to anyone.”

He gripped firmer and led me down. In the presence of his assurance all worry about possible danger left me. Each step down the small steps underneath us creaked with our weights. We might have been kids at the time, though even we had to turn sideways to get down the narrow width of the stairs.

Finally we reached the bottom and hit a stone floor surrounded by walls made of stained bricks. If the way down was claustrophobic the bottom was even worse. Unlike any basement I had seen before there were no windows. A dangling bulb above us on exposed wiring lit the cellar, which was surrounded by pipes running everywhere. Around us the only objects filling the space were an endless amount of shoe boxes that surrounded one giant wooden crate. It might sound innocent, yet down there it seemed bizarre. Though, more than anything, it was the smell I remember the most. The damp stench that covered me like a mask and clouded everything.

Curiouser than any pair of cats, we began searching by kicking stacks of boxes and picking the odd one up. Of course, I made sure to let him lead the way.

“Damn,” Boyd said with a scratch of his head after a while. “I thought they'd be something cool here. This is all junk! What use are empty boxes?”

“You expected buried treasure?”

“Maybe. I don't know. I thought there would be something. Anything...”

I could sense his disappointment and pictured exactly what he was thinking. It took a lot of courage for us to enter this house when kids much older ran scared of it. Without coming away with something no one would believe that we had the nerve to step inside.

“I'm checking the crate. The top's on and there's got to be something in that big thing. Why else would it be here?”

He released my hand and left me standing by the staircase. With a flick of his wrist he pulled his pocket knife out and stepped forward. Boyd called the knife
Lucky
. Although I hated the thing, it seemed such a violent thing to own, but he insisted, even at that young age, on carrying it. He told me it was for protection. Looking back, it made sense. It was barely a year later when Anita's brother gave him a beating that left him black and blue...

With a sharp stab he pushed the edge under the top of the wooden crate before smacking a palm hard down onto its wooden butt. Dust exploded from the container and filled our lungs.

“Anything inside?” I asked.

“No. It's---”

Then we froze. The two of us jumped about three foot back.

A sound from the container – a deep scratching sound – instantly vibrated up and stopped us dead in our tracks. It sounded like something was clawing at the wood and desperate to get out. Terrifying horrors filled my mind's eye. Violence, death,
even the Boogeyman –
it was all there and threatening to get us both.

“Boyd... Boyd, I'm scared!” My voice cracked alarmed. I pressed myself close to him, pulling at his t-shirt for comfort. My little heart drummed half out of my throat.

“
Shh!
Wait... Listen.”

Then it got worse. The noise grew and it filled the basement around us completely. Tearing sounds, what seemed like big claws ripping at wood, echoed around us. Scratching bounced off the concrete walls and besieged us from every angle. The noise came from all around.

“W-we need to go,” I stuttered and pulled at him while my legs begged to get out of there.

But he didn't move. His feet were fixed on the stone like two big oak trees.

“Please...”

“
Stop
!” He ordered for quiet. “It ain't a monster! There are no monsters.”

“But...”

“I'll show you!”

“Don't! Don't!
Don't!
” I wailed scared to death.

Boyd dashed forward, his feet lashing out and kicking the box over and over and over. I had no idea what he was doing, hysterical as I was. I was on edge and shaking.

“See? See?” He called back to me. A grin now on his lips.

But I didn't see. I was afraid. My hands were covering my face trying to block out the world.I only dared to peek out when he grabbed both my shoulders.

“Look Cassie, Look! Don't be scared. It's your imagination. There are no monsters.” He pointed across the basement. “It's a rat. It's just a rat!”

Exhaling in and out on the verge of a panic attack, I wrapped my arms around him tightly and peered at the gray rodent scuttling across the floor in confused circles looking for somewhere new to hide. The rat was tiny and couldn't have been more than a baby. It was about the size of my index finger. The poor creature was more scared than me. It raced to the back of the basement before eventually running into one of the small shoe boxes.

“It's alright Cassie. It's nothing.” His hand ran through my long hair tenderly. “Don't worry... I'm here... Don't worry...”

I closed my eyes and let myself be swallowed up in his touch. That was the closest I had ever been to a boy, or Boyd for that matter.

Still holding the knife, he took hold of my face. “OK? Are you OK?”

I nodded. My arms were still bunching up around him.

Our eyes fixed together yet neither of us said anything. The pause felt endless, but it must have been seconds. We were the kind of kids who talked nonstop and this awkward silence were a first for us. Nevertheless I remember clear as day how the moment broke. Boyd's eyes fell to my lips and those butterflies exploded inside my stomach once again. As an adult you understand what that feeling means. When you're a kid you have no idea.

“Are you feeling sick?” He asked protectively.

“Yeah... Kinda.”

Then his manner changed. In a second he became his playful self once again. “Then you better wait until we're out to vomit. I can't help it if everyone finds out a rat made you spew up all over the place.”

I punched his shoulder, laughing along with him. “Don't you dare!”

“OK, OK... I promise. Let me grab that rat and we can head back. I'm keeping it as a pet.”

He carefully collected the box under his arm and we left the old house. It didn't seem as creepy on the way out.

When we arrived back to our street Anita and a bunch of kids rushed up to us in amazement of us getting as far as the front door. She told everyone how we insisted on going to the horror house and would very likely never be returning.