Deadstone

A young man saves his friend from a Necromancer's goons.

CHAPTER ONE:

I walked with urgency as the cold wind bit into my flesh. I didn’t have much time and they were waiting for me. If I was late, then Clara would die! Poor Clara. None of this was her fault, and yet it would be her that suffers. I am completely the one to blame because I’m the one that stole it! Damn it. Why couldn’t I have just left it alone? 

I jump in surprise as my phone rang. I wasn’t expecting a call and I’m terrified that I had mistaken the time, or place. Have I?

“Hello?”, I answer, almost tripping over a branch that had been blown from a nearby tree.

“Henry, my darling...”, my mother’s voice started from the phone in my hand. CLICK. I hung up on her. I should have looked at the Caller ID. No doubt she’ll take it personal and wait a few days before she calls back. That’s a relief as I don’t have to worry about her finding out what I’ve done, or who’s going to suffer for it.

I walk several blocks across town. There aren’t many people out and about due to the weather. It’s almost midnight! Damn! I’m not going to make it. I walk as fast as I can, hopefully appearing to just want to get out of the cold. I can’t arouse suspicion and have someone follow me. Clara’s life is at stake and I must get to her. I curse myself for not being more cautious. 

Almost there. I can see the sparkling lights from the restaurant below the apartment I’m supposed to be at. The curtains are drawn, but light escapes through a corner of the window. I enter the door that leads to a staircase and make my way up toward my destination. Room 201. The stairs creak and the walls echo with the slapping sound of my shoes on the bare wood. The whole place reeks of piss. Paint is pealing off the walls. What color are the walls anyway....blue? Green? I can’t tell. I’m in too much of a hurry to care. Why should I care? 

I’m breathing heavily, the long walk and the rush up the stairs has taken their toll. I’m sweating and I feel hot, my wool hat making my head itch. I stair at the door of room 201. I look at my watch and see that I have only five minutes to spare. I’m nervous and scared. I’m almost in a panic, but I take a few breaths in an attempt to steal my nerves.

I raise my hand to knock and the door latch clicks. It’s open, just a crack. Golden lamp light spills into the hallway. I pause. Slowly, I push the door open and enter the room. The smell of incense hits me hard, the smoke hanging in the air stings my eyes. I see Clara in the corner of the main room, tied to a chair, blind-folded and a gag in her mouth. She’s scared, I can tell. She’s breathing heavy, and she c***s her head to listen as I walk into the room. Tony and his goons are lounging on the furniture, seemingly without a care in the world. Tony is smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. His two flunkeys just sit and stare at me. 

“Do you have it?” Tony asks me. His accent is south-side. One gold tooth gleams as he sneers at me. Tony alway sneers in a way that creeps me out. 

“Yes,” I say. My voice is cracking and barely above a whisper. The howl of the wind from outside can easily be heard in the room. Clara’s heavy breathing, also. Tony’s sneer grows wider, his attempt at a smile I suppose. He seems pleased with himself. 

“Hand it over, then. And no funny stuff.” Tony liked adding that last bit. 

I reach deep into my coat pocket and grasped the object I’ve been carrying with me. I pull out a small box. Tony jumps to his feet, his beer falling to the floor and spilling it’s golden liquid on the dirty green carpet. I press a button on the box and there is a flash of light, then everything is just a shimmer. Tony stops where he is, solid, like a statue. His goons stare stupidly at me, too slow to react. Clara is not moving. Perfect! But, I only have a few minutes. The stopping of time does not last long, and it will only work for me once. So, I have to hurry. I run to Clara and cut her bindings with a knife from the apartments kitchen. I scoop her up and throw her over my shoulder and make my way to the door. I struggle with the weight of another human and stumble down the stairs and into the street. 

I make my way a block down the street when Clara starts squirming and screaming in confusion. 

“Keep it down. It’s me!” I say. I set her down as the wind suddenly starts back up. Traffic bursts back to life, and people are again walking. Nobody is the wiser, although the wino squatting against the wall nearby looks confusingly at us.

Clara stares at me, her dark brown eyes full of fear, anger, relief. Her dark skin glistens from sweat under the light of the street lamp. 

“Holy s**t! I thought I was going to die,” she says.

“Not now! We have to go! They’ll be on us soon.”

So, we ran. The wind and the rain made for a terrible journey across town. We tried to vary our route as much as possible. I thought I was going to die from all the running. I’d never run like this before. Clara fared much better, her being a runner and all. She ran track at school, whereas I did not. I didn’t even come close to that! 

We spent the whole night out in the storm before me made it to Stan’s house. Stan lived on the outer part of the city. Tony didn’t know Stan, so he won’t find us. Not soon, anyway. Surely Tony’s boss won’t be happy with him for losing us. More importantly, I still have the object they want. Should I have given it up? Maybe. They probably would have killed me and Clara anyway. Besides, I think it’s more dangerous for them to have it than me. Without the stone, the “Necromancer” can’t raise his army of the dead. And, that’s a good thing. 

Author's Note

This is just the beginning of the story. What do you think so far? Is the dialogue weak?