Last Light Falling (5 page)

I’ve heard stories of farm laborers being deprived of food and water and even submitted to public beatings. Of course, government officials deny any abuse and explain that those who are punished are hardened criminals. Contrary to public opinions of our patriotic protection, I’ve seen with my own eyes a man being pounded unmercifully by clubs in a restaurant alley for taking food from the dumpster. Beaten unrelentingly for simply surviving is repulsive and absolutely unwarranted.

I know I was taught to reserve judgment, but to witness this act of cruelty is unjust. Our government uses these types of tactics to intimidate and nothing else. To extract its own people in order to advance the nation’s image is an abomination that I will not conform to. I have no respect for our new government’s direction, nor do I put any faith into the people they chose to perpetuate it.

The anxiety of revealing the location of these coordinates is stirring in my stomach even more. As we pull up to the library, Gabe cautiously
places his hand on mine and squeezes with mild force. “I feel something unnerving,” Gabe says with a look of concern on his face.

“Like what?” I say.

“I don’t really know, I … I can’t see it, but feel as if someone—”

“Someone is following us,” I quickly finish his thought.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I’ve had that same feeling ever since we left the house.” I feel uneasy. The imaginary priest that Gabe didn’t see behind the tree has been gnawing at me.

As we get out of the car, Daniel’s phone rings. He seems a bit upset and is pacing back and forth. When he hangs up the phone, he turns to us, a look of disgust written on his face. “I’ve been called in to work,” he gruffs. “There has been some kind of emergency, and apparently I’m needed. I’m truly sorry, guys; I hope you can forgive me.”

I chime in with confidence, as if I have a brilliant solution to the quandary, “Gabe and I can take the bus back home when we are done. It’s no problem, we’ve done this before. We know our way around this place. It’s not like we’re kids anymore.” Gabe nods in agreement, and Daniel hesitates for a moment, looking at the few federal officers to our right.

“Okay, you promise me you will be back before curfew? I’ll let Myra know just in case of an emergency,” Daniel says.

When Daniel drives away, I smile and suddenly realize how much he respects and trusts us. With what happened to Grace, I imagine how hard it would be to allow us to be on our own. This is truly the first step we’ve taken to prove our responsibility to our overly protective but caring foster parents. I quickly turn to Gabe with my brow furrowed, “Don’t screw this up.”

The town’s library is vast and ornately decorated. It dwarfs other buildings next to it and makes the dilapidated courthouse even less appealing. The detailed granite fixtures that protrude from the upper ledge of the library tell a story of the ancient Greek culture. Every recessed panel of stone is engraved with a depiction of a Greek god. As fascinating as it is on the outside, it’s additionally grand on the inside, where the stately halls are extensive and the ceiling towers over you majestically. Portraits of kings line the hallways, and almost every floor tile is hand painted with images representing the ages of humanity and the wars that forever changed them.

Gabe and I quietly walk up to the second floor where the computers are located. I secretly hand the letter to Gabe so he can look up the GPS coordinates that hopefully will answer some questions.

I’m so nervous; I get out of my chair and pace the aisle of books. I weave my way down the religion aisle and press my head against the shelf until I see a book that catches my eye—
The Book of Solomon.
I take it off the shelf, but before I can open it, I gasp. The same priest, who was standing outside our house, is pacing back and forth across the aisle.

I quickly retreat behind the other books. Just so I know I’m not imaging this, I creep my head up to take a second look. I can see him from the side, placing a book back on the shelf, and it just hit me like a ton of bricks. I remember this man from before—I saw him years ago at the Foster Care Center.

I remember him talking to one of the administrators with an elevated voice. He seemed very concerned about something, and I remember the director of the Care Center coming over to calm him down. I don’t remember anything after that, but I know this is the same man. I gather my thoughts and walk quickly over to where Gabe is looking up the coordinates.

“Did you find anything?” I say, panting.

“Yes … what’s wrong with you? You look like just saw a ghost.”

“It’s nothing, I’ll tell you later. Did you get any information?” I ask again.

Gabe looks at me with concern. “Yes, it’s printing right now, but—”

“No buts. Let’s go right now, come on.”

I shove the letter in my pocket, grab Gabe by the arm, and snatch the printed directions from the printer. We carefully scurry downstairs without anyone noticing we are in a hurry. We reach the basement floor, where all the periodicals are kept, making sure to look behind us every so often to ensure that no one is following us.

“Okay, what’s going on? Tell me now,” says Gabe intrusively.

“I saw that priest upstairs, the same one I told you about in the car on the way over here,” I say, flustered.

“Okay, okay, I believe you, but what makes you think he is following …” Gabe pauses and remembers what he said earlier, before we got out of the car.

“Exactly. You knew this. It’s what you were feeling,” I concur.

“Look, let’s just stay down here for a little while and figure out this map before we make too much out of this,” Gabe calmly says.

We sit down at one of the unoccupied tables to decipher the coordinates. It’s so drab and dark down here, we have to turn on one of the table lamps. As we look at the directions, we notice that these coordinates are less than fifteen miles from here. The aerial view reveals an
old, white building covered by trees. A gravel road connects the building to a small county road where it’s fenced off. It’s hard to tell from the picture, but it appears that most of the road has been covered up.

“So what’s the plan?” asks Gabe.

“I think we need to lay low for a little while. I don’t want Myra or Daniel getting suspicious, especially with the trust we’ve finally established with them. I need a while to think about this. We have no way of getting there except on foot, and I’m not about to walk fifteen miles there and back, risking getting caught past curfew,” I say.

We stay in the basement a little while longer until I feel it’s safe for us to go back upstairs. I’m still a little suspicious of the priest who I think is following us, and I won’t hesitate to do whatever is necessary to protect my brother. Maybe he is or maybe he isn’t following us, but it just seems too much of a coincidence that the same priest who was at the Care Center arguing with our foster coordinator was near our house and now at the library. Servant to deity or not, I feel a responsibility to defend my family against all walks of life. If there was anything I was taught of value from Finnegan, it was to have an innate awareness of deceptions. Evil prowls on the tempted, and what may seem impossible most certainly can be.

With no signs of the priest wandering around the aisles, we spend most of our time in the library reading. I could spend my whole life in here and never become bored. There are so many things I want to learn about, so I just dive into the first book off the shelf that interests me. I’m reading Paleo-Hebrew inscriptions from Jonathan Bell’s
The Ancient Hebrew Culture,
while Gabe loses himself in a Dan Bricklin technology book.

While I’m reading, I glimpse over and notice three girls coming toward us. Two of them recognize Gabe and snicker back and forth to each other. They are dressed in what one could only call trendy to the point of begging for attention. Anything else would fetch the fashion police or may otherwise tarnish their prestige. I think I may vomit now.

The leader of the group appears more confident, distinguishing herself from the other two girls, flaunting her double-slutting attire, a term I picked up from Niki. Apparently, it means to expose two sexy areas, like your chest and legs at the same time. “Dear God, kill me now,” I say under my breath.

My first impression is that they have never seen a library before, much less a book, and stopped here only to get directions to the nearest mall. As judgmental as that sounds, I quickly try to erase any negative impression I had and offer a friendly gesture of hospitality.

“Hi, I’m Arena, and this is my brother, Gabe,” I say in a friendly manner. I spoke for Gabe’s sake, because I know he’s shy around girls, especially attractive ones. Before I’m able to welcome them to join us, I get a crooked snarl from the leader followed by eye rolls from her entourage. I take it my generosity has gone unnoticed.

They walk past me as if I don’t exist, and stand next to Gabe by the computer consoles. “Hi, sweetie, you mind if we just slip by here and use this computer?” the leader seductively says to Gabe. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gabe’s jawbone retract that far. His catatonic state is almost unbecoming, as his eyes are strenuously transfixed on her ridiculously exposed cleavage.

I do believe if this girl wasn’t such an attention-seeking slut, any other girl would have slapped Gabe’s eyes from his sockets already. “Sure,” Gabe spits out.

“He’s cute in a nerdy kind of way,” one of the girls says, as the other girl shares her sentiment with an agreeable nod. Gabe may have the attributes of a geek, but he’s still an attractive-looking guy, even if he is my brother. It’s only fitting for these half-witted snobs to use the library for social networking instead of its original intention.

“Come on, Gabe, it’s getting late, we better go,” I say, trying to avoid eye contact with the girls.

“Now, I don’t think that’s your decision. Gabe can think for himself,” chimes in the leader firmly.

Okay, now I’m just pissed. I have the ability to crack this bitch’s neck in half if I truly wanted to, but I’m really working hard at turning the other cheek like Gabe has taught me.

I turn to Gabe and speak in Russian. He knows I’m mad if I’m speaking in another language, and Russian isn’t exactly a dialectal tongue I use to express kind words with. “If you don’t get up now and leave with me, I’m going to put my foot up that girl’s ass and use it for a slipper,” I coarsely say.

Gabe immediately gets up from the chair, nearly falling over, and apologizes to the girls. “I’m sorry; you’ll have to forgive us. It’s been a long day, and we really have to get back home.”

The leader smiles at Gabe and turns to me with a scowled brow, giving me a half-cocked smile of disapproval. Oh, how I want to slap those waxed brows off her face. I pick up my book and walk over to Gabe, but I just can’t help myself as I lean closer and hover over the computer screen. “Aw, interesting,” I say with a surprised look on my face.

“What?” the girls say with revulsion.

“Gabe, they do have opposable thumbs, I was beginning to wonder,” I say, trying hard not to crack a smile. I gesture with my head to Gabe that it’s time to leave.

As we walk downstairs to the lobby, I suddenly realize that we will be going to the same high school as these presumptuous imbeciles. What have I just done?

“Well, I hope you’re happy now, because you get to endure the discomfort of those girls at school all year. I think you really gave them a great first impression,” Gabe says sarcastically.

“Yeah, well you didn’t seem to make it any easier with your gawking. Oh, and by the way, girls don’t really appreciate you staring at their breasts while they’re talking to you, well … most girls.”

I don’t know how guys are, but girls can be downright mean and hold grudges for life. The ability to shrewdly manipulate your peers into giving you a higher ranking in the pecking order is hazardous. When girls master this, all is lost in our schools, and the social hierarchies these girls have pervasively developed will be convincing. I check out my book,
Ancient Hebrew Cultures,
and we wait outside for the bus to arrive.

When we get home, all I can think about is food. The smell of roast and potatoes coming from the kitchen is like an aromatic punch in the face. Saliva is literally dripping from my mouth. Myra is an exceptional cook, and tonight is no exception, because this is our birthday meal. Gabe and I both have the same favorite dish, and we almost always ask for this dish on our birthday. But when we walk into the kitchen to get a better view of what our stomachs are about to receive, we see a spread of food on the table fit for a royal feast—you would think we were having company over tonight.

There’s a moist and tender roast smothered in gravy, surrounded by roasted red potatoes and carrots accompanied with slices of caramelized onions, steamed asparagus drizzled with a butter sauce and lemon curry zest, freshly baked garlic bread, poached pears with silky smooth chocolate mousse inside, and homemade apple pie with whipped cream.

Daniel comes in the door, and I ready myself for this royal feast. I patiently wait for Niki, Myra, Daniel, and even Gabe to get their plates before I devour my first helping. Three plates later, and my appetite has surrendered. I almost feel guilty for eating so much food. I excuse myself from the table and slowly ascend upstairs to what feels like my
deathbed. I haven’t eaten like that in years. If I was carb rationing, I failed miserably.

I lie on the bed relaxing for a while, reading my new library book when Gabe walks in. “Have you given much thought about the key and the coordinates?” asks Gabe.

“I don’t really feel like thinking about it right now.”

“Maybe I can change that,” says Gabe confidently. “Come to my room. I need to show you something.”

I’m reaping my gluttonous indulgence for good food while I lie on the bed unwilling to move, but I somehow manage to rouse myself from my overstuffed stupor. I curiously walk to Gabe’s room to see what he’s up to.

“I mistakenly put in the longitude coordinates. This is where the coordinates are supposed to show,” Gabe says, pointing to the laptop screen.