Thunderland (46 page)

Incredible. But what was most amazing of all was that they were alive.

She checked her watch. It read 9:14, but the second hand was not frozen; it swept around the dial at regular speed.

Giggling like a kid, Thomas switched on the radio. Luther Vandross sang “The Power of Love.”

Both of them looked at each other. They laughed.

“How?” she said. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m guessing that Jason had something to do with it.”

“You think he’s okay?”

“Let’s go see.” He drove the Buick into the garage. As he shut off the car, the door that connected the garage to the backyard opened. Looking weary, yet triumphant, Jason walked through the doorway.

Brains awoke in his bedroom.

Slowly he sat up in bed. The family photo album lay beside him, closed. He stared at it as he might have stared at an ancient artifact. He wondered who had placed it there, and why.

When he picked up the album and opened it, his memory of everything that had happened returned. He remembered shooting at Mr. Magic in the house and escaping by climbing through a window. Running for miles. Fighting Mr. Magic on the bridge. Mr. Magic hurling him over the railing. Falling, falling, falling ... and imagining himself surviving the impact.

Imagining himself surviving the impact.

Excited, he leaped to his feet. He read his watch.

The digits had switched to 9:15.

He dashed out of the bedroom and ran outside.

Across town, colorful fireworks exploded in the clear night sky.

Giddy laughter overcame him. He sat on the veranda bench, rocked with giggles. He probably sounded like someone who had lost his mind, but he didn’t care. He had been saved. By a miracle. Even if he laughed until tomorrow morning, that wouldn’t express his sudden, profound happiness to be alive.

Sore and weary to the marrow, Jason shuffled toward his dad’s car. Mom and Dad, looking nearly as exhausted as he was, got out of the Buick.

Jason stopped.

Pressed close together, Mom and Dad stopped, too.

Jason looked at them. They looked back at him.

Silence hung between them.

Dad said, “We made it, thanks to you, son. You saved all of us. How in God’s name did you do it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason said. “It’s over. I don’t want to dwell on the past. I want to let it go.”

“Do you mean it?” Mom said. “Do you really want to release the past?”

He knew what she meant. Did he want to release the bitterness he held toward her and Dad? Did he want to grow beyond the painful memories? Did he want to take a chance and work toward building a better future with his family?

Mom and Dad watched him, their faces unsure.

But after the past several days, after a ghost from the past named Mr. Magic had torn down his old world of self-limiting beliefs and forced him to build a new world based on a fresh awareness of the limitless possibilities life offered—if only he dared to imagine them—Jason was certain of his answer.

“Yes, Mom, I do want to release the past,” he said, and felt that, by saying those words, he had taken the first step toward a new, brighter future. “I really do.”

He rushed into their arms and hugged them. They held one other for a long time.

In the hours after they escaped Thunderland, Jason discovered who had survived ... and who had died.

Brains had lived. He related to Jason an incredible account of his battle with Mr. Magic, and his miraculous survival. Jason was simply relieved that his friend was still with him.

Michelle, Jason’s girlfriend, was unharmed. She was visiting relatives in Atlanta and had no knowledge of what had happened, and once Jason confirmed that she was okay, he didn’t tell her any details. Perhaps Mr. Magic had spared her because she was away.

Granddad was dead. They found his body on the patio of his house, slumped in a chair, a warm Heineken and a bag of peanuts sitting on the nearby table.

The paramedics stated that Granddad had likely died of a heart attack. Jason and his parents understood the true cause of Granddad’s death. The incidents of that night would haunt them forever.

Granddad. Dead.
When Mom found out, shock literally knocked her off her feet; Dad caught her and held her in his arms. Jason walked around numbly, feeling as though a vital organ had been ripped out of him. Oddly, he did not cry, though he expected that he should; he wondered if there was something wrong with him because he did not weep. Later, when Mom held him close and assured him that everyone grieved in his own way, and that he should allow himself to react in whatever fashion felt natural, the wisdom of her words settled over him. He found himself thinking of all the joyous times he had spent with Granddad, and he thought, over and over, of Granddad’s words that had come to him earlier, as if in a dream:

Jason. I want you to know that I’m proud of you. Remember that forever
...

Had Granddad sent him a final encouraging message before he left this world? Jason chose to believe that he had, and it warmed his heart.

He was going to miss Granddad so much. He would miss Shorty, too. He regretted that Blake and his friends had died. All of those people had touched his life, for better or worse. Although he partly wanted to blame himself for everything that had happened, to shoulder such a responsibility would prevent him from ever having any peace.

He would be wise to release the guilt and move on.

Two years later, Linda gave birth to a child. Another boy.

They named him Nathan. He was a healthy, beautiful baby. Although Linda’s latest novel hit the bestseller lists and launched her career into the stratosphere, she was happy to take a break from her work and rediscover the joys of motherhood.

Much to his father’s chagrin, Thomas sold The House of Soul for a substantial sum and pursued his dream to become an architect. A couple of years into his college studies, an internship led to a lucrative job offer from a leading firm. His talent, though not tapped until he was nearly forty, was remarkable. He accepted thejob and began to attend classes at night, but spending time with his family remained his first priority.

At seventeen, Jason graduated from Spring Harbor High School near the top of his class. Scholarship offers from prestigious universities flooded his mailbox. He decided to attend Morehouse College in Atlanta. He was far away from home, but he could have felt his family’s love from an infinite distance.

In
his senior year at Morehouse, Jason returned home for Christmas break. Although he loved living on his own in a new city, he always enjoyed coming back to Spring Harbor. It was great to see his parents and Brains (who insisted on being called by his actual name, Darren), and he especially enjoyed hanging out with his little brother, Nathan. Nathan had recently turned five, and he was a lively, smart kid with endless energy.

On Christmas Eve, Jason and Nathan were in Nathan’s room playing a video game at which Nathan was somehow managing to destroy Jason. Jason did not understand how Nathan always beat him. Kids these days seemed to be born with a special gene that gave them prowess in all things electronic.

“You’re sorry, Jay,” Nathan said to him. “I always beat you. I always beat my friend, too. He’s old like you.”

“I guess I’m an old man,” Jason said. ‘Who’s your friend? My chances of beating him are probably better than my chances of beating you. “

“I can’t tell you his name,” Nathan said. He grew unusually calm. “It’s a secret.”

 “Come on, you can tell me. I’m your big brother. You can tell me anything, Nate.”

Nathan shook his head. “Nope.”

“Fine, keep it to yourself.” Jason waved his hand dismissively. He was sure Nate was only making up stories. Kids his age would say anything to get a reaction from an older person.

“Oops, be right back,” Nathan said. “I got to pee-pee.” He jumped to his feet and scrambled toward the door. Jason playfully swatted him on his shoulder. Nathan made a face at him, and then he darted out of the room.

Jason smiled. He loved that kid. He reminded him so much of himself, but he had his own unique personality, too. He picked up the joystick. He selected the option to begin a new game.

The screen turned black.

He frowned. He checked the placement of the disc in the game console. It fit snugly.

He looked at the TV, planning to check the connection. Something had appeared on the dark screen. Several words printed in red, in large block letters:

I LOVE PLAYING WITH YOUR BROTHER, BUT I MISS YOU.
WANT TO PLAY AGAIN, JASON?

Readers of Brandon Massey now can sign up for his free email newsletter by visiting his web site at www.brandonmassey.com. Members receive a free short story, a monthly issue, opportunities to win prizes in exclusive contests, and advance information about forthcoming books. Go online today to www.brandonmassey.com and sign up. Membership is free!

Brandon Massey was born June 9, 1973 and grew up in Zion, Illinois. He currently lives with his family in Atlanta, Georgia, where he is at work on his next thriller. Visit his web site at www.brandonmassey.com for the latest news on his upcoming books.