Chapter Two
Morning came with a knock on the kitchen door and voices down stairs. Lachy sat up, taking a glance at his alarm clock, and gulped, it was 7:45 am and that meant trouble, he was late. He pounced to his feet, and hurried around his room, getting ready. He quickly finished putting his homework in his school bag, taking a final look, wondering if he’d forgotten anything. He hadn’t given much thought to the dream he had because he awoke against his pillow to the familiar surroundings of his room, and the last thing he remembered from last evening, was falling on the grass in the backyard. There was only one logical explanation, his nightmare lasted longer than usual, and that’s all it was. A dream.
He ran down stairs and nearly tumbled down the last three steps, when he saw his father sitting, with a cold, grim expression at the dinning room table. He’d only seen that look on his dad’s face a few times, and it usually ended with Lachy being grounded. He walked slowly and yet casually, testing out his father’s mood, before he said anything. He tried to think of anything he’d done that would land him in trouble, and nothing much came to mind. He had been basically on good behaviour, he wouldn’t do anything to mess up the basket ball finals, he even had done extra chores this week, to make sure his dad would be in a good mood come game time.
His dad’s hands folded neatly before him, his eyes narrowed on Lachy as he entered the kitchen. “How are you this morning?”
Lachy shrugged as he grabbed an apple off the counter and took a bite. His dad was watching his every move, and Lachy tried not to think about it. He busied himself with his backpack, and slipped his feet into his shoes.
“Anything you want to tell me?” His dad questioned him, his judging eyes levelled on Lachy’s face. His dad’s voice was sharp and harsh, as if he was angry about something. As if he was baiting Lachy for a confession to something he’d done wrong.
For a moment, Lachy hesitated. He thought of the bright red eyes that glowed from behind his treehouse, and the voice that warned him, he was coming. He swallowed his piece of apple and forced a grin. “Nope,” he said. He wasn’t exactly lying to his father, he was just lost for words. What was he going to say, a large dark shadow who called himself a long remarkable name, spoke inside his head? His dad would never believe him. He wasn’t sure, if he believed it himself, and he kept quiet about it, as it was probably a dream, anyway.
His dad’s deep emerald eyes regarded him, the tension in the room was arresting, as if he could read Lachy’s thoughts. His father locked his eyes on him while Lachy tried to avoid eye contact, and he stuffed his lunch bag into a pocket of his school backpack. When he looked at his dad again, his father was relaxed back in his chair, and with one smooth movement he waved a hand toward the window. “Jake’s waiting outside,” he said, then the lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth softened. “Have a good day, son.”
Lachy nodded with a grin as he glanced out the window. He gave his dad a quick wave, trying to seem unruffled, as he stepped through the door, heading toward his bike. “Hay Jake, two more sleeps, and school is out for the summer.”
“That’s so awesome, I can’t believe you got struck by lightening.” Jake said, glancing at the ash outline on the grass. “Your dad told me what happened.”
“Yeah, it was coming at my dad. For some weird reason, it turned around and hit me.”
“If that was me, I’d be screaming.”
“I was screaming.” Lachy replied with a shaky voice. His arm twitched again, he looked down and noticed the mark was glowing. Quickly he pulled down his sleeve, with a quick flick of his eye to see if Jake noticed.
“What’s going on with your scar?” Jake asked, leaning over for a peek.
There wasn’t much that Jake’s sharp eyes missed. “It’s been doing that since I got hit with that thunderbolt.” Lachy replied with a shrug, and saw no reason why he shouldn’t tell Jake what had been nagging at him since he woke up. He’d simply burst if he didn’t get it off his chest, and soon. He hesitated before he spoke, tyring to find a way to make it sound, the way he felt. “I think I made it do it. I think I stopped it from hitting my dad.”
“That’s impossible! What are you talking about?” Jake said, chuckling. Jake was about four inches taller than Lachy, and a month older. He had intelligent eyes, straight brown hair, and normally Lachy could tell him anything. Lachy tried not to seem disappointed that Jake wasn’t quite grasping how serious Lachy was taking the news. Maybe he didn’t explain it well enough. Maybe it was best to keep it to himself, at least for now.
Lachy shook his head in agreement, but deep down in his gut, he had a disturbing feeling that he couldn’t shake. He really was starting to think that it was true, he couldn’t explain how, but he felt like he made the thunderbolt move. For the rest of the ride, Lachy was quiet, he had that same sensation as he did coming home from basketball. That he was being followed. Every once in a while he heard the rustling of leaves, and the odd branch crack, coming from the thick of trees in the forest. He didn’t see much point in bringing it up to Jake, as Jake was the type who didn’t hold much in, if he had the same vibe, he would have said so, by now.
They had a long ride to make it past Lancaster County’s Amish Farms and as they rode Lachy took note that the storm windows on the other Amish farms were bolted shut. Lachy’s insides crumpled, there was something about the way they shut out the outside world, even in their own community, that was disturbing to see. Just like Mulish Schmidt’s place, they had a blood red star painted inside a circle on the highest shuttered window. Lachy knew they were looking his way, and he didn’t want to seem alarmed, or do anything that would insult them. He liked the Amish boys and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their friendship. The boys weren’t allowed to make friends outside the gate, and Lachy was one of the few, if the only one at all, who was allowed to make small talk. So he tipped his baseball cap to Mulish Schmidt, who was plowing the field with his sons.
“Good day Horace’s Lachy.” One of the boys called out with a hand raised high.
“Good day, Mulish’s Lomey’s Jakob.” Lachy replied.
“Fine weather it is Horace’s Lachy.” The other boy said, matching his brother’s pose.
“It sure is, Mulish’s Lomey’s Jerry.” Lachy said smiling. The Amish boys returned the wave with a friendly smile, but Mulish Schmidt’s eyes beaded from under his wide brimmed sunhat, and his head turned as Lachy passed them by.
“Is that really their names?” Jake whispered, he was smiling, with curious eyes, as he politely waved to them, too.
“When their dad isn’t with them, I call them Jakob and Jerry,” Lachy replied, with a half grin.
After a good ten minutes ride on the bikes, Lachy was feeling more relaxed, as he listened to Jake chatter on about the upcoming game, and without warning Lachy’s limbs become rigid. Jake seemed to have the same hunch, as when Lachy turned to look at him, Jakes face had gone pale. There was the sound of crumbling gravel from right behind them and Lachy didn’t have to look to know who it was, as he and Jake exchanged a glum expression. All at once, they were cut off by bulky kids, on bikes.
“What do you want now?” Lachy asked, trying to mask his shaky voice. He and Jake had stopped the bikes, but kept their hands in place on the handlebars, each ready to take off.
“What we always want, your lunch money.” Chris Daniels smirked as he took a step, and blocked the front wheel of Lachy’s bike. He reached out, leaning over, with his stringing hair sticking in his eyes, and lounged at Lachy’s chest, trying to knock him off his bike.
“Well you can’t have it. My dad made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” Lachy replied, pulling out of Chris’ reach, and he glanced over at Jake, who was in the same predicament with Chris’ accomplice, Kyle.
“I’ll take that.” Chris said as he came along the side of Lachy’s bike. He smelled of body odor, and looked as though he hadn’t brushed his hair or his teeth for a week. He was fast. He reached around Lachy’s back and
pulled him backward by the straps on his backpack, as he snatched his lunch bag out of the back pocket. Lachy straightened himself up, still holding the bike upright, and tried to snatch his lunch back, but it didn’t work. Chris was bigger than him, he had more weight behind him, and all Lachy could manage to do was get his fingertips on the edge of his lunch bag, right before Chris yanked it out of his reach. Chris looked down at Lachy with a sour face, and whipped the sandwich on the ground, and squished it with his shoe, as his brother Kyle pulled Lachy’s bag off his back and tipped out his books.
“Stop it! Stop it Chris. I am so sick you..”
“What did you say to me, Wulf?”
“I said.. I’m sick of you and your brother pushing us around.” Lachy said, and he pushed the bike back a step, and closed his eyes as Chris balled up his fist.
“Ouch.” Chris cried out, along with a few cuss words, that Lachy assumed he picked up from his older brother who was in high school, Lachy heard that he was a bully, too.
Lachy looked down at the spot on his forearm where Chris had hit, and he was absolutely fascinated, the spot was a smooth silver-blue color, it looked like lizard scales. He didn’t feel pain, but he did feel something, it was strange like a low voltage simmering in the middle of the spot. Before Lachy had time to register what was going on around him, Chris swung at Lachy again. Lachy blinked, but he didn’t feel anymore than a tap against his cheek. He squinted his eyes open enough to peek, and was confused when he saw Chris shaking his fist in the air, stomping his feet, with tears in his eyes. “It’s a trick! You mangy Wulf, you tricked me!”
Lachy reached up and gasped, his cheek felt like a hard armadillo. He turned his head away from the others, with a fear spiking through him and peeked at his cheek in the tiny mirror of the bike. Lachy gasped in shock. He couldn’t believe what he saw. There were imprints of knuckles that looked like snake skin along the side of his face.
Jake let out a loud bark of a laugh. He had his hands planted on his waist, watching Chris kissing his knuckles and bouncing up and down. From the corner of his mouth, a little smile appeared on Lachy’s face, and he perched his feet on the bike peddles. “Come on Jake, we’re gonna be late.” As they rode away, Lachy made sure to ride to the left of Jake. He wasn’t ready for Jake to see the imprints, he knew something different happened to him when the thunderbolt hit him, he was sure of that now.
With the Daniels boys a good mile behind them, Lachy and Jake were back in sync with their ride. They weren’t hassled by the Daniels boys every morning, usually the Daniels were late for school, and missed out on their opportunity to wreak havoc on their bike ride. Lachy considered this a bad way to start the morning, but he wasn’t going to let it ruin his entire day, and his mind drifted to his latest nightmare. He kept thinking about the voice that had spoke, as if it were inside his head, and the words it said, were stuck in instant replay. He had the words sitting on the tip of his tongue, he wanted to tell Jake about the voice, the shadow over the moon, and the fierce glowing red eyes, and was lost for a way to bring it up. It was only a dream. It didn’t have any logic or meaning to it that he could think of, it seemed unimaginable, and deep down Lachy would have believed that, if he hadn’t heard the voice at the hospital. His arm twitched. He gazed down as his heart sunk. The scales were still there, grayish-blue, and hard and even glistened in the light. All of this was frightening, and he was on edge, worrying if it was dangerous.
“Honeybrooke’s Summer Camp is starting next week, it’s the first year that you’re not going,” Jake said, in a subdued tone. Lachy had been so deep in thought that he nearly lost control of the bike at the abrupt sound of Jake’s voice. “Are you sure your dad won’t let you go?”
Lachy nodded absently, and turned his head away. “Dad is taking me with him on a trip for his research. We are going back to explore the Andes.” Lachy had a deep sinking feeling every time he thought of it, and he looked down at his snake shaped mark, and tried to will it away.
“He is coming.”
Lachy jumped with panic. He shot a glance at Jake questioning if he heard it, knowing Jake wasn’t the one who said it. Jake’s eyes hadn’t left the roadside, he didn’t blink or seem to have heard anything at all. Lachy chose not to ask him about it, and ignored the voice, willing that away, too. He was thankful as they passed the end of the forest line, it meant that they were home free on the long stretch to school, no more glaring eyed Amish, no more bullies, and best of all, no footsteps in the woods.
They made it to school just as the final warning bell had rung and Lachy parked his bike, with a bitter anxious taste in his mouth. He had been practicing a speech for the teacher, to get out of school sick, if the scales hadn’t gone away, or as he feared, gotten worse. When he finally had his hands free he casually reached up and relief warmed his chest, there was smooth skin where the hardened scales had been, it had vanished during the ride. They locked their bike chains, and raced to get in line, being bumped by girls from their class who were bouncing up and down, signing to the latest favourite song of the week.
“Awhooooo. Awhooooooo.” Drummed inside Lachy’s mind.
Lachy’s knees became unbendable. He had the shock of his life. The howling was loud, and shocking and it filled his head until he couldn’t hear or think of anything else. He pressed both hands on his ears, shaking his head, and screamed. “Stop it!” Lachy tried to drown out the howling, and he regrettably failed. It grew louder.
“What are you doing?” Jake asked, half-smirking Lachy’s way.
Lachy hopped up and down on one foot, and was stooped over in agony. “Make it stop! Make it stop!”
Jake laughed with his loud bark, and elbowed Lachy. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Apparently the little voice inside my head doesn’t Like Madam Gew-Gew.”
The howling stopped, at the exact moment the girls switched off their music. “Take a chill pill, Lachy.” One of the girls snapped at him, and pushed him out of the way as she went to stand in line.
Jake lifted his eyes heavenward. “Do you think we will ever figure out girls?”
“Not likely.” Lachy replied. With a heavy heart, he followed Jake in the line, all the while he knew something wasn’t right, he had been hit by Chris before, and knew the pain of being wacked by a Daniels boy. He looked up with surprise, as he noticed Chris and his brother Kyle had pulled up. Kyle was supporting Chris with an arm around him, as Chris’ hand hung limp.
“Out of my way, Wulf!” Kyle shouted. “You broke my brother’s hand.”
Jake gulped and Lachy blinked repeatedly.
“I’ll get you for this Wulf, you wait and see,” Chris shouted out, as one of the teachers came dashing over, and shook a finger with a tisk-tisk at Chris. She held his wrist in her hand and ushered him past the line, no doubt to the nurse’s station.
Lachy blinked at them, with a vacant expression. “What are they talking about? I didn’t do anything.”
“I know, what a baby,” Jake said, giggling. “He hit you. You didn’t hit him back.”
They followed the line and all the while Lachy felt like he was having déjà vu. He had learned about it in English class last week, from what he recalled it meant you had the strange feeling that you were repeating something that happened, as its happening, he didn’t know what that meant, until now. The water fountain seemed smaller, the doors to the classrooms seemed, elementary. The children around him, seemed younger, shorter, he as though he lived this day, before. Or was seeing it through, grown up eyes.
He shook his head trying to focus, and was happy to get to his seat in Mrs. McDonald’s class, first period was Math and Lachy loved Math, even though he wasn’t the smartest one in class. Jake was sitting beside him and seemed to have forgotten all about the Daniels boys when Mrs. McDonald started the lesson. As they stood to sing the National Anthem, Lachy pressed his hands over his ears, he felt as though the room had shifted. It wasn’t that it was spinning, it just felt off,
he felt, off.
“Are you all right there Mr. Wulf?” Mrs. McDonald asked, when the class had finished singing.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, eager to sit down.
“I heard you were taken to the Lancaster Emergency Center. Is it true that you were struck by lightening?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lachy replied, nodding his head. All the times he heard his dad say that news travels fast in small towns suddenly had meaning. A heat rose up in his cheeks when the class turned around, they were all ogling his way. Lachy shrieked back, there was a nasty jolt in his stomach, he didn’t like attention, and at that moment every eye was fixed on him with hung jaws. He forced a fake smile, and gulped. “It couldn’t have hit me very hard ma’am, I’m still standing.”
“Well young man, you were very lucky.” She said, taking a seat at her desk. “Would you like to see the nurse?”
‘Chris Daniels was there,’ had crossed Lachy’s mind, and he shook his head no.
“Then might I suggest you sit up straight in your seat, and pay attention in class.”
Lachy nodded ok, pulling out his books, his head was still woozy, and he took in long breaths determined he wasn’t going to take sick, and he would get through this day, he just had to take it a little step at a time. He feared that being sent home now, might be the end of the game for him, and it was tonight. The last thing he wanted to do, was miss the game. He kept his posture straight, and his eyes locked forward, he wasn’t about to let nothing or no one get him into trouble, he and the team worked way too hard this year, to let anything happen now.
“Ok class, today we are doing a riddle and the first one to answer correctly, shall have a prize from the treasure box,” she said, picking out a piece of paper from the box on her desk. “What has no eyes, but has a bed. What can run, but has no head. What has no arms yet is able to bend?”
“A river.” Lachy blurted out, before he had time to think it over, or realize he even knew the answer. It wasn’t a riddle he’d ever heard of, before.
“Very good Mr. Wulf, you may see me after class for your prize,” she said, kindly.
“I’ve got one,” Lachy said, with his arm raised up straight. “I was going to Saint Ives and I met a man with seven wives. The seven wives had seven cats, and carried seven purses. They pulled along seven donkeys and shared their seven loaves of bread with him. How many went to Saint Ives?”
His teacher adjusted her glasses, and cleared her throat in surprise. She sat straight up in her seat as her eyes scanned around the classroom. “Well now class, have any of you the answer?”
Lachy slouched in his seat. “Stop bugging me,” he said inside his head in his loudest, most stern voice. “All the kids are laughing at me now. See what you did?”
Mrs. McDonald was looking at him with a big grin. “Apparently not Mr. Wulf, how about you tell us the answer?”
Lachy felt his cheeks were still burning red, and he pushed out a breath. “One.” He replied to the tune of gentle laughter in the back of his mind. “Are you happy now?” He thought sullenly, to the voice.
“Yes, that is my favorite one. Young Draculoc would you like to hear another?”
“I would not.” Lachy whispered in his head, pressing his nose down, as if he was interested in the book on his desk. “Stop talking in my head.” Lachy said, and flushed again, as he realized that he said it aloud.
--
As lunchtime drew near Lachy was wishing that Chris hadn’t stomped on his sandwich, as he was getting hungrier by the minute. Lachy huffed out a frustrated breath when he heard stomping feet, and he rolled his eyes in disbelief, it could mean only thing. There was only one person in his class who would approach him so aggressively, and Lachy refused to look up, or even acknowledge that he heard him coming.
“You and me in the yard, Wulf.” He heard, and when he looked up, his eyes bulged. Chris’ knuckles were wrapped in a white cotton strip, they appeared, broken.
“I don’t have to do what you say,” Lachy replied sharply. “How’s the hand?”
“I’ll show you when I see you outside,” Chris said with a snarled upper lip. “You are a lame lazy dawg, no wonder your mom died. She wanted to get away from you.”
“You take that back,” Lachy said through gritted teeth as he slowly rose to his feet. Chris had been mean to Lachy for as long as he could remember, but this was a stretch, even for him, and he didn’t sound one bit sorry that it came out, that way.
“You make me.” Chris’s face hardened, and a glint of hate flickered in his eyes. “You big Wussy Wulf.”
“Leave me alone.” Lachy said, and he felt a heat rising up inside him, it seemed to be spiking from his toes. For all the years that Chris had picked on him, he never once spoke back, and now that he learned to use his mouth, he couldn’t seem to stop. At the sound of Chris’ laugher, Lachy felt his toes turn into a bushfire of scorching anger, it rose to his fingers and spread out to his ears. There was an enraged heat sprouting up before his eyes.
“Lachy get back!” Jake screamed out, pulling on his arm. “What’s wrong with you!”
Lachy shifted his toxic stare on Chris, and shot a look down to his desk. Shockingly his textbooks were blazing before him, he stood blinking at the flames in utter shock. Jake pulled him out of the way as Mrs. McDonald came sprinting in with the fire extinguisher and dosed the flames. Lachy barely heard her say. “Mr. Wulf and Mr. Daniels, off to the principles office. Now!”
Lachy trudged down the hall and didn’t notice the stunned faces from the other kids. Chris’ ranting was a like a distant voice, even when his father came in the principles office with a disappointed expression, he still hadn’t snapped out of it. All he could hear was the distinct voice in his head, that repeated. “He draws near.”
--
“What’s gotten into you son?” Horace asked, as he walked Lachy outside of the school. “They’ve suspended you for the remainder of the school year.”
“Sorry dad. I don’t know how that fire started. I swear.” Lachy replied, unlocking his bike, and he wheeled it over the back of his dad’s truck.
“I can see it coming from a Daniels boy, they’ve been causing trouble since I went to school here. But you? It’s not like you son.” Horace said, as he ran his fingers over the top of his head, and adjusted his hat, and he put the bike in the back, with force.
“I swear it dad, I don’t know how the fire started. I didn’t do it!” Lachy replied, hesitating before he climbed into the cab of the truck. He was somewhat confused about the trouble that he found himself in, it all started with the thunder, and that voice. He watched his dad as he climbed inside the cab, and his chest rose and fell. If his dad knew he was responsible for more than a fire, he might be grounded for life. He broke Chris’ hand, and Lachy didn’t think it would be fair to be punished for it. He didn’t do anything to break it, it just happened. Then Lachy faced the biggest worry he had all day, he was curious, if it hurt. Breaking a bone must be painful, and he wouldn’t ever do anything like that on purpose. Chris wasn’t the nicest kid in school, Lachy would be the first to admit that, but he wouldn’t have wished that on him, or anyone. And he felt guilty for it. Even more guilty than the fire.
“Are you walking, or do you want a ride?” Horace’s solid voice shook Lachy out of his deep thoughts. He nodded with his head lowered, and climbed inside.
“That’s what all 13 year old boys say, son. I was the one who wrote that line.”
Lachy half smiled. “Does that mean you got into trouble when you were my age?”
Horace laughed out loud, a deep belly laugh, it had been a long time since he heard his father laugh like that and it lifted Lachy’s spirits a little. Deep down Lachy detected that his father wasn’t laughing at what he said, it seemed to be something more because Horace Wulf had a far off look. Lachy’s ribs were rising and falling with effort when his dad thick hands swooshed into a sharp clap. “There’s only a week left of school anyway, and you know what
that means? We can leave for the Andes early.” Horace said, with a hint of excitement rising in his voice, as they drove out of the schoolyard.
That wasn’t the reaction Lachy anticipated. It was a new one, seeing his father excited, about, anything. Horace Wulf was a large man, he towered over most of the father’s that Lachy knew, and stood out in a crowd. The single mom’s in town seemed to notice him, anyway. He was slim in the waist area, but the rest of him was athletic, he was massive in strength. A strong chin bone, thick forearms, and powerful muscles in his legs. He wasn’t the type of man who many would think to cross, and he wasn’t the type of father, who Lachy would dare sass. Not that Lachy ever tried, or felt threatened not to, it was just his dad’s personality. He wasn’t one who messed around much, and he never joked.
“Am I grounded?” Lachy found the courage to ask, with his lower lip stuck out. He didn’t have the nerve to look at his dad, and he braced himself, praying for the right answer. “The basketball finals are this afternoon. I can’t let the team down.” He added, hoping that would make the difference. The moments stretched on, and Lachy squirmed in his seat, waiting. For a while he thought he might have to ask again, as it seemed as though his father didn’t hear him at all. He reconsidered. His dad wasn’t old enough to go deaf, like his grandfather, Lachy understood that his dad heard him, he was simply thinking it over. As they passed the Amish farmhouses, Lachy shivered when he saw the funny markings on the barns. “Do you see that dad? What does it mean?”
“It means trouble is coming,” Horace said flatly. “And yes, you can go.”
“To the game?” Lachy said, practically jumping out of his seat. He filled with excitement, he couldn’t wait to see the look on Jake’s face when he showed up for the game. No doubt all the kids at school would be talking about the fire, and figuring Lachy earned thirty years of grounding.
“Don’t make me say it twice, or I just might change my mind.” Horace replied as he parked the truck. With one arm stretched out, he mussed up Lachy’s hair with a rub on the head, and a deep chuckle. Lachy hopped out of the truck and immediately was drawn to the area where the lightening struck. The ash imprint was gone, the hose was stretched out across the yard, and there were wet lines from the drainage on the grass. A feeling of relief washed over him, knowing that he didn’t have to look at it anymore. He draped the strap of his school bag over his shoulder, about to head inside the house.
Lachy froze in one spot. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move from behind his treehouse, it was long and thin and it looked like a person. He thought back to the lethal frown from Mulish Schmidt, and rushed inside the house not daring to look back. He closed the door, and pressed his back against it with a long breath. His eyes sprung wide open with fear, the haunting voice returned, and it said. “He is here.”