Last Light Falling (6 page)

“That’s only a mile away,” I say.

“Yeah, and it’s just two blocks from the school. You can barely make it out, but it looks like an abandoned gas station with an attached garage,” Gabe says. “We can do this, you know—after school.”

“I’m not going to be a lab rat in a baited building. What if some sick, twisted pervert sent out these random envelopes with the same letter and key, and he is there just waiting for the first person to show up so he can torture or rape them? I’m not going anywhere near there until I have thoroughly staked out the place,” I say.

“Well, then I’ll go alone,” says Gabe.

“Fine, don’t come calling me when you wake up with a rag in your mouth and find your testicles hooked up to a car battery.”

“Look, I don’t need your help, and I don’t need you to baby me every step I take,” Gabe says, his voice now elevated.

“Baby you! Seriously, that’s what you think? I’m here to protect you,” I shout back.

“Protect me from what … curiosity?” he says.

“It’s curiosity that will get you into trouble if you’re careless,” I retort.

“You can’t stop me,” he says defiantly.

I want to desperately throw this key out the window and never have any mention of this letter again. The thought of burning it occurred to me, but in the heat of the moment, I throw the key on the floor out of frustration. I toss the half-folded letter at Gabe’s head, but it misses and slowly floats down to the side of his fish tank. All I can do is
stand there in silence, mesmerized by the fish, until I notice a purplish glow emitting from the back of the letter.

I slowly walk over to the tank to take a closer look at the letter and observe a startling discovery. There is writing on the letter, glowing from the black light on Gabe’s fish tank. As if this was the discovery of the year, Gabe swiftly removes the black light from the tank and brings it closer to the letter. As I unfold the paper, we expose a hidden message.

Gabe reads the message aloud, “I need your help. Use the key to unlock the basement. Father Joseph will guide you both for further instructions. Love you both … Finnegan.”

The anxiety I’ve just recently developed is assisting my stomach in depositing my dinner. Before I lose my meal, I sit and calm myself, swallowing every few seconds to keep the food down. Gabe is rendered speechless, and we both just sit in silence for a few moments. We haven’t spoken to or heard from Finnegan since he was last deployed six years ago. I just assumed he was dead when we were living with our Aunt Angela, because he never once wrote to her, yet the government never gave us any indication that he was dead either. It all seemed too strange at the time, but the death of my parents overcame any delusions I had of his whereabouts.

This changes everything now. Whatever I considered doing with that key earlier has been completely withdrawn. I slowly pick it up off the floor and feel a sense of hope. I’m suddenly embarrassed that I ridiculed Gabe’s ambitious effort to find the coordinates of the place. But he’s right, and I know now what we must do.

We spend the next hour devising a plan on how we are going to get to the abandoned building without anyone knowing. We both agree that skipping class on the first day is not an option, so we are forced to persuade Myra and Daniel that we will be coming home late because of an after-school program that Gabe and I are interested in. To keep them less suspicious, we will wait until the end of the week to let them know. I’ve never had to lie to Myra and Daniel, nor have I ever wanted to deceive them, but this is something I know they wouldn’t understand.

Because the country has been on high alert recently, there will be an unusual amount of federal officers surrounding the school. Less than two weeks ago, a few anti-government groups formed a small militia and tried to take out a federal facility near the Capitol. The revolt failed miserably and all were shot to death except the leader, who was brutally beaten and sentenced to a public hanging that was nationally televised. We’ll have to have a very keen eye if we are to sneak into the building. Trespassing is punishable by jail time. It’s ridiculous what our country has turned into, and since there is no longer state government or state
rights, the federal government’s regulations have depleted our basic freedoms and ideals.

Not only does the government regulate the amount of fuel we consume, but they also influence our eating habits by rewarding credit points to those who purchase food from federally aided food companies.

Because of the arrogance of our leaders, oil supplies from other nations have been completely shut off, the United Nations has been abandoned, and Israel is no longer our ally. Israel, the one nation that our country could not afford to lose its support, is now independently struggling with war against the Muslim nations.

Since the fall of the Dome on the Rock, the surrounding regions have stopped waging war against Israel out of Holy terror. Four years ago, two misguided missiles fired from border adversaries, slamming into the Dome on the Rock, and leaving it in complete ruins, as along with the peace keeping between the Jews and Muslims. Many felt that God was punishing them for all the small wars that were waged.

Before the destruction of the Dome, many religious groups during the faith movement almost came to an agreement to relocate the Dome to Mecca, but such actions would inevitably lead to violence, and the Israelis were too ambivalent about the Movement. Since then, no one has seen the site of the destruction, but there have been rumors that a new structure was being built, yet no one has seen it.

Because our government has turned its back on Israel, it has in essence turned its back against God. Unfortunately, the people seem to accept the nation’s social philosophies regardless of its lack of moral principles. The leader of our nation is still voted into office by the people, which may be the only democracy left in this country. Although I believe political influence and federal manipulation of votes is spreading like cancer, I will still try to reserve judgment.

I’m so anxious to understand what all this means that I just can’t sleep. All I can do is impatiently wait, knowing that one key could possibly shed some light on my future. I just lie in my bed and gaze at the ceiling, trying to remember what it was like before our parents died. I can almost feel my mom’s hand stroke my hair. I close my eyes and place my hand on my cheek as I try to summon one of the many memories of my mom wrapping her arms around me.

I continue to embrace the reminiscences as long as I can until my heart becomes numb. I turn over and grab an old family photo from my bedside and stare deep into the memories it holds. I squeeze my pillow
tight until my knuckles turn white, and it’s all I can do to keep from crying, but it’s no use. My heart still aches, and because I can hear Gabe through the thin walls crying just the same, I surrender to my pain. I turn my head over so the pillow can soak up any tears that trail down my cheek as I fall asleep.

The first day of school is perpetually the same, with the exception of this year. My first high school experience is about to begin, and I’m too nauseous to think about it. The consensus in this country is that high school is just another unsuccessful experiment that fails to prepare young people for the adult world. Do I really want to subject myself to this for four years?

When our mom educated us at a young age, we were way ahead of the curve when we started school, but Gabe shouldn’t even be here at all. With his intellect, he already surpassed college-level education at the age of eleven, but because of his fear of being separated from me, he continues to pretend otherwise. It makes me somewhat sad that he’s wasting his potential, but I’m glad he’s around. I’ve always felt like we were meant to stick together.

The first day is always tough—new faces, new teachers, and a new school. The only thing worse is having new enemies. I just remember what awaits me in those bleak halls—the three half-wits in the library who were ostensibly taking advantage of my brother’s kindness and the callous rejections I received. “Lord, give me strength and wisdom,” I say to myself before I go downstairs to eat breakfast.

It’s hard to wait when patience is your enemy; the clock seems to tick slower than normal, and I feel like my body is aging while I sit.

“Okay, you guys ready?” says Myra.

Gabe nudges my elbow and gives me an almost half-stern look. “No matter what people may say, can you please promise me you will at least try to guard your heart and ignore their remarks?” I’m apprehensive at first, but I eventually nod in agreement.

When we arrive at school, I’m in awe at how many students are walking around the school grounds. The school may not be big, but it dwarfs the small middle school we were attending. As we walk to the entrance, I can already feel the eyes glued to me. What’s attracting all the stares? Is my skirt tucked into my underwear? I gradually slide my hand toward the back of my skirt just to make sure. Maybe it’s because
we are new faces to most of these people—either that, or a bird just crapped in my hair.

I just look forward and try to avoid any eye contact, when out of the corner of my eye, I see her—the leader of the half-wits. I really need to come up with a better pet name. From a slight distance away, someone cheerfully and annoyingly shouts, “McKenzie!” As the leader turns and responds, I now no longer need a pet name. McKenzie: friend or foe, hopefully neither.

I grab onto Gabe and hurry up the steps before McKenzie notices us. I swing open the door as hard as I can, but it hits something on the other side with a deep thud. “Holy crap, are you okay?” I say with deep concern. I just knocked out an innocent boy standing behind the door.

“I think so,” he says.

“I’m so sorry. Do you want me to get the nurse?” I ask.

“I’ll be fine,” he says while holding his head. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to introduce myself on the first day of school, but I try to make the best of the unfortunate greeting nonetheless. I gingerly grab his hand in an attempt to forgive my clumsy introduction.

“By the way, I’m Arena,” I say as I help him to his feet, “and this is my brother, Gabe.”

“My name is Jacob,” he shyly says. He has shaggy brown hair, glassy blue eyes, and walks timidly with his head down, as if he is avoiding someone.

“Would you mind showing us where the administrative office is so we can pick up our class schedule?” I ask, smiling.

“You sure you want me to show you?” he says with a confused look on his face.

“Uh, sure, why not? We’re new to this school,” I say.

“It’s just that most people around here don’t normally acknowledge me. My peculiarity isn’t exactly inviting,” Jacob says.

“You seem perfectly normal to me, and even if you weren’t, I would still ask for your assistance,” I say.

He just smiles and keeps his head down as we walk. I can tell he doesn’t have much by the clothes on his back. He probably hasn’t eaten a decent meal in a long while either, judging by his malnourished frame. Behind the dirty clothes and shaggy hair is an innocent, young man who desires not to be invisible. Oddly enough, I’m smitten by his presence for reasons I can’t explain. Maybe it’s his honesty that’s genuinely cloaked behind his …
peculiarity,
as he says.

The halls are colorful and covered with an assortment of flyers, streamers, and signup sheets. When we come to the administrative
office, I thank Jacob for walking us, and despite the awkwardness, I ask him if he wants to sit with us during lunch.

“Sure, maybe, I’ll look out for you both,” he says, unsure of himself. I can tell he probably doesn’t frequent the lunchroom much, most likely because of the crowd of people there. He seems like the kind of person who prefers being alone.

We walk into the office to pick up our class schedule when we promptly notice we are in the same classes together. Gabe sighs in relief. While we walk down the wide, blanched halls, I hear an obnoxious chanting coming from the south wing. Out of sheer curiosity, I ask Gabe to come with me to check it out.

The noise grows louder as we make our way around the corner. To no avail, it’s just a bunch of dumb jocks encouraging one another to leap from what appears to be a ten-foot metal ladder into a baby pool filled with water balloons. There is writing in black marker on the balloons: Squash the Beavers. Wow, really? They couldn’t come up with anything wittier like Damn the Beavers, or how about a classic Freudian innuendo: Trim the Beavers, since we are, after all, home of the mighty Scissortails. What makes a Scissortail mighty anyway?