Reborn Chpt 4

A discovery links David and the guys

Chapter 4

His friends were laughing about something when Craig first came screaming from the bathroom. He had stumbled into the door in his haste to get away from the scene. The fear that he was locked in splashed across his mind before he manged to pull the door open. He ran across the asphalt parking lot, his robe catching up in his feet sending him tumbling. The fabric tearing as his knee hits the paving, his hands catching himself before his face. Tearing much of the skin from his palms. The laughter dropped quickly. Craig's panic was obvious as they ran to meet him. Mark almost collapsing as Craig ran falling into his arms. Harold had fished his cellphone from his gym bag sitting on the hood of his car before running to Craig.

 

"THEY'RE DEAD MAN!" Craig screamed as Mark held him up. The blood from his hands and knee had started to flow. His face contorted in panic, and desperation. That look was all Harold needed to hit 911.

 

Eric and Curtis ran to the bathroom stopping in the bright lights that illuminated the area around the Squirrel Barn and it's bathrooms. They looked at each other as they approached the door slowly. The sound of Craig's breathing clearly reaching them from fifty feet away. Eric pushed the door open slowly with one hand. His body tense and leaning away, ready to flee as the blood in his veins pumped faster. The bright lights of the bathroom reflected off the tile wall that blocked their view of the stalls. Eric held the door open as Curtis crept forward. He stopped before crossing the threshold, looking left and right from the still lit ball field to the cars on High street before proceeding. Eric stepped in at his back, now using his body to hold open the door, stretching his neck to look over his shorter cousin.

 

They stared at the pale corpses hanging in the frames of the stall doors. Frozen like statues neither of them moved as they stared. Curtis bumped into Eric as he backed away, startling him into taking a breath, and making him catch his footing. Eric had stretched out his leg to hold the door open, and it now started to close. Curtis caught it quickly and stepped outside, holding the door for Eric. Not knowing why, maybe a desensitizing to violence brought on by a childhood of violent games, maybe just simple curiosity, Eric grabbed his cellphone from his pocket and took a picture of the two men dangling before him.

 

"Oh man Cuz, get the f**k out of there." Curtis said his anxiety growing.

 

Eric needed no further invitation, he put his phone in his pocket and they left. The door swinging closed behind them as they walked back to their friends. Harold and Mark had managed to get Craig back to Harold's car. Craig was sitting on the passenger seat with the door open, his feet on the ground. He hung his head, his hair hiding his face as the first of the sirens approached. The blue flashing lights brought the reality of the night to bear.

 

The police had spent two hours questioning Craig. Repeating the same answers to the same questions as each new division of law enforcement arrived. Paramedics had bandaged his hands and knee. The blood stained robe, torn and dirty had been removed, but his jeans that he wore beneath were torn at the knee. The white bandage beneath flashed brightly, changing color from blue to red to yellow with the various lights of the emergency vehicles that had arrived. A small crowd had gathered standing just beyond the wooden barricades and yellow tape that the police had put up. The fog of their breath hanging in the cold air of January.

 

It was eleven thirty when the police let Craig and his friends go. Their parents had arrived well before with the exception of the Fogg boys dad of course. The crowd had thinned to just a few. Even the news teams had left after the earlier swarm. Each of his friends had spoken with various reporters several times, but Craig refused. He just wanted to go home.

 

Craig stayed in his room the following day, Sunday. He only emerged for dinner at his fathers request. They ate in silence. Staying home from school on Monday he started to feel more normal. That night he slept deeply, the image of the dangling corpses only briefly altering his dreams.

 

Returning to school on Tuesday, he found he was now a celebrity of sorts. Even Tammy had talked to him. He liked Tammy but was always to shy to approach her. By the end of the day he was feeling okay about things, and the days got better. The guys didn't talk about Saturday night at school, not even about the battle, which was unusual. Craig was glad tho, it made it easier to put behind him.

 

By Thursday his celebrity had already started to dwindle. The day passed uneventfully and Craig looked forward to that night, when they would get together and set up the weekends battle.

 

The Fogg Brother's family had once been prominent in the city of Portland. A large farm running for three hundred acres of Blueberry and Blackberry fields had dwindled over time. Lot after lot sold for the sake of debt, taxes, or simple greed had eaten away at the once proud estate until all that remained was the family home. The land fell victim to urban sprawl, giving birth to the neighborhood known as Rosemont. The house itself was not immune to the cancerous devastation either. It had been divided in order to generate income for the family. The front of the house, just twenty feet off Brighton avenue, was now The Rosemont Pharmacy, and the remainder of the first floor a small apartment. The renovations had been a necessity, and the income they generated paid the bills.

 

Barbara Fogg, or Mrs Fogg as Craig knew her, Big Barbara by her friends, was an imposing woman until she smiled and the warmth within shone from her cheeks and eyes. Aged beyond her years by raising six boys on her own, the oldest three having moved out now, she still had a strength of spirit that shone to any who knew her well.

 

Craig and Mark heard her voice through the door as she shouted from the top of the stair within.

 

"COME IN!" Mrs Fogg's voice carried a sense of irritation that was evident to the boys as they stood in the alley between the Fogg home and the convenience store a mere 10 feet away. The irritated voice brought a smile to Mark's face, He knew she had told them to 'feel free' and just come in, but they liked to bug her.

 

The scent of garlic and oregano grew strong as they climbed the stairs along with the sound of Count Basie and 'Sunny Side of the Street'. Craig had no idea what the song was but he always seemed to like the music Mrs Fogg played. Not his first choice in music, but she always seemed to listen to upbeat and happy songs.

Mark sprinted up the stairs turned right and back around to the next flight to the third floor. Craig hearing his thudding steps above him while still halfway up the first flight.

 

"Whose herding cattle in my house?" Mrs Fogg bellowed.

 

"Sorry Ma'am." Craig said as he reached the second floor, and leaned to turn his head into the kitchen where she was doing dishes. She was dressed in a simple yet nice dress of light blue and white, her hair in a neat bun, and an apron to protect her clothes as she stood at the sink the last of the dishes in her hand.

 

"Oh, Hi Craig." she said, the concern evident in her voice.

 

"You been doing okay?" she added while placing the last plate in the strainer beside the sink.

 

"Yes Ma'am. I was a little weirded out at first but I'm fine." Craig told her standing in the door to the kitchen. A large bag of Doritos in one hand. and a small stack of books in the other.

 

"Well your a good boy and I'm sure you'll be fine." Mrs Fogg said drying her hands on a dish towel before stepping up to tussle his hair.

 

"Tell the boys I'm leaving soon, and not to destroy the place will you?" she added as Craig turned away.

 

"HEY GUYS, YOUR MOM'S LEAVING SOON!" Craig yelled after only two steps.

 

"I COULD HAVE DONE THAT!" Mrs Fogg yelled back as Craig started up to the third floor, a smile spreading across his face.

 

"..on the news. The police don't have a clue." Craig heard Eric's voice as he started up the stair followed by silence as the old steps beneath his feet signaled his arrival.

 

The large attic of the old home was the domain of the boys. Mrs Fogg had long ago announced that she 'Will not be traipsing up and down those dam stairs to take care of pigs', and had kept true to that statement. The initial result had been chaos, the boys argued amongst each other over who's mess was who's, and for quite a while the appellation of pig held true.

 

It was out of necessity that the attic was cleaned up. A 'minor' incident in Craig and Mark's backyard resulted in them being banned from battling there. "If you want to be idiots and bash yourselves with sticks do it in somebody else's yard!", Mark's father had shouted as he hurriedly walked Mark to the car, his hand holding a bloody dishtowel to his son's head.

 

Several things resulted from that incident. Mark received eighteen stitches and a scar that just poked out to his forehead from under his hairline, the Fogg's attic was cleaned up for their meetings, and rubber padding was put on the ends of Gorham's staff.

 

The attic was large. The walls on the sides rising just four feet before meeting the inclined unfinished ceiling, it's cedar crossbeams evenly spaced in row after row along the roof's length. Two rectangular windows were in the back, bare of curtain or shade. Three single beds were lined evenly across the back wall, each with a small dresser at it's foot. A large pile of boxes, crates, and the skeletons of three bunk bed tops, had been stacked along the stairs opening to the back. It obscured much of the view. A wooden rail ran along the stairs to the front. Meant to guard those that may stumble into the opening, the strength of the cedar had been put to the test often.

 

Beyond the rail the front of the attic was a large open space running for sixty feet and ending in an apexed wall dominated by a large circular rose window. The window, an intricate design of iron tendrils radiating from a central sun with heavy leaded glass in shades of yellow, green and blue, was a symbol of the wealth this home once held. Four support beams had been wrapped in old mattresses, grey duct tape wrapped repeatedly about to hold them in place. The wooden floor was worn and dusty. The only furniture a long fold out table in front of the window, six folding chairs arrayed along it's front, and a single high backed plush arm chair beyond. The upholstery a faded gold and torn at the front of it's thick curled arms.

 

Harold sat in this chair. As Dungeon Master it was his right. Others had tried their hand as the narrative lead. Mark had even attempted to start a world in a post apocalyptic genre. They always returned to Harold's world of Kara.

 

Eric sat at the end to Harold's right. They both had laptops open on the table in front of them. A bowl of chips, a couple cans of soda, and a small stack of books and papers completed the table.

 

Dennis and Curtis were standing, foam swords relaxed in their hands, facing Mark who had not yet gone far beyond the stairs.

 

They all had a nervous sort of look on their faces. Mark looked back with raised eye before heading toward the chair at the other end from Eric.

 

"You guys ask him." Mark said as he sat down. Curtis and Dennis started to half heartily strike at each others swords while Harold slowly closed his laptop.   Eric looked about, a puzzled look on his face.

 

"What's the big deal guys?" Eric asked before looking at Craig.

 

"They think you might be freaked after the other night and not want to run Harold's new scenario." Eric said as if there could be no reason for Craig to have a problem.

 

'What scenario?' flashed in Craig's mind before the instant macho response.

 

"Gorham can take whatever you throw at him, but I'm getting tired of raising your sorry a*s." Craig announced as he marched over pushing mark practically off his chair before sitting next to him.

 

"That's good man." Harold said, his hand holding the screen of his laptop open just an inch.

 

"I've been studying Eric's picture, and think I've come up with something cool." he added.

 

'Eric's picture?' flashed through Craig.

 

"I call it, The Succubus of City Park." Harold said with a grin.