The Scroll 7

Yay! I finally wrote some more! I promise that over Christmas Break I will write at least two more times. At least.

In this episode (issue? chapter?) of The Scroll, Gray feels guilt over his deception. Also, Savannah tries to tease the truth from Gray.

* * *

There were clothes everywhere. Gray had never seen so many clothes in one place before. And it wasn’t just clothes. Just a few paces away were aisles stuffed with boxed, bagged, and fresh food. In the other direction were toys, knick-knacks, furniture, all sorts of things. It was like an indoor marketplace, without merchants haggling their wares.

Matheson filled the metal cart with clothes and shoes, all of which he had Gray try on. “Don’t worry about your looks,” joked Matheson. “I’ve had to buy clothes for my daughters for the past two years. I’d like to think I’ve picked up a bit of fashion sense.”

Gray fingered a black button-down shirt that was on the top of the pile. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Matheson was doing all of this for him—and Gray wasn’t planning on staying. “I—I can’t accept this.”

Matheson grabbed the shirt. Gray looked up into his deep brown eyes. “Yes, you can. And you will. I don’t care if you never give me anything in return. I’m giving you this now.”

Gray let go of the shirt, casting down his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

After piling still more clothes into the cart, they got a backpack, a note pad, and different writing utensils. “You’ll want mechanical pencils, I suppose,” said Matheson. “All the kids use them nowadays. Nobody wants to get up in the middle of class to sharpen their pencils.”

As Gray pushed the cart down the store aisle, Matheson said, “I hope you learn to like it here. I don’t know how long you’ll be with us, but I want every minute to be enjoyable. I also want to get to know you. Who are you, Gray?” Matheson placed a hand on Gray’s shoulder.

Gray shrugged it off. “I’m just a boy.”

Matheson raised an eyebrow. “And who is this boy? What does he like to do? What’s his favorite food? Does he have any hobbies? Does he know what he wants to be when he grows up?”

Gray chuckled. Matheson was so persistent. Gray made a small motion with his hand. “Well, I like to hunt. I like a well-cooked roast. None of my hobbies are interesting, and,” he looked Matheson in the eye, “I want to save people.”

Matheson nodded. He clapped Gray on the shoulder. “Very commendable.” He tilted his head towards the front of the store. “What do you say we pick up a couple of pizzas and head for home?”

* * *

At the house, Matheson slid the pizzas into the oven. Gray realized the two sisters, Leslie and Savannah, were acting very distant—almost frigid—towards each other. They walked around each other in a very deliberate dance—not looking at each other, turning their shoulders so their backs faced each other, staring at the walls as they walked past. Matheson noticed as well. He shrugged. Girls, he mouthed.

Gray dropped his bags off in the bedroom assigned to him and took a shower. He felt cold, even after an entire day. He’d taken a shower earlier, comforted by the fact that they had running water here and pleasantly surprised that they had hot running water. Now Gray turned the hot water up so high that it nearly burned his skin. Still, he felt chilled. He doubted if he would ever feel warm again.

Tomorrow I’ll be warm. And tomorrow or the day after I’ll leave—once I know where to go. Matheson had shown him the shampoos. Gray squirted some on his hands and lathered it into his hair. It felt nice to have such luxuries. I wish my instructions were clearer. It seemed so easy—find Professor Brown, give him the scroll, and he’d know what to do.

But everything’s so complicated here. This isn’t the small town I was expecting, and am I supposed to just leave these kind people without a word of explanation?

Father would say yes. But Father’s not here. I am. With those thoughts running through his mind, Gray finished up his shower and dressed in some of his new clothes.

Downstairs, the pizza was just coming out of the oven. A strange tangle of smells reached Gray’s nose, making his mouth water. Leslie cut the pizza into eighths with a round knife that rolled across the pizza like a wheel, while Savannah got out plates made of paper. They piled their plates high with pizza. Gray followed suit, putting two of each type of pizza on his plate.

Matheson entered the kitchen carrying two small, thin boxes. “Okay, the choices are Time Thief or Meet Me at Forever. Which do you want to watch?”

“Meet Me at Forever sounds like a chick flick,” said Savannah.

Matheson looked at one of the boxes in his hands. “According to the description it’s a chick flick with a twist.”

Savannah groaned. “There’s no such thing. Let’s watch the other one.”

“Time Thief it is.” Matheson quickly placed pizza on a final plate and led the way into the other room. Leslie and Savannah followed. Gray, who had just sat down at the table, quickly gathered his things and went after them.

Leslie sat on a couch while Savannah piled pillows and blankets on the floor. She held a stuffed animal shaped like a small green person with large ears in her arms. “Come on Yoda,” she murmured. “Let’s watch a movie.”

Gray sat next to Leslie. Leslie was staring at a large black box that sat opposite them on a wooden table. Matheson fiddled with something for a moment. There was a whirring sound, and suddenly the black box filled with light. Gray jerked upright, nearly spilling his pizza over the floor. Leslie ignored him, but Savannah looked over, glaring at him. Gray tried to relax, staring at the colored box.

It was like a play, with all the actors trapped inside the black box. But as Gray watched—the plot ignored while he tried to guess the box’s secrets—he realized the actors were not aware of their audience. They gleamed with light, as did their little world. “They’re like Shades.”

“What?” asked Leslie and Savannah. Matheson looked over.

“They’re like Shades or ghosts, doomed to act out forever the same scenes with no variations. What do they think? Do they think at all? What do they feel? Are they aware of where they are and what is happening to them? Do they wish they could change their script, even for a tiny moment?”

“They’re just bits of data recorded on a disk,” mumbled Leslie.

Savannah nodded. “Interesting thoughts. I wondered that when I was little.”

“Let’s just watch the movie,” said Leslie.

Gray bit into his pizza. A conglomeration of taste bombarded him—bread and cheese and tomatoes and spices and meat and peppers—it made his mouth water. He quickly chewed and swallowed, swiftly taking another bite. The movie was forgotten as he ate. Gray realized he’d found a new favorite food.

When Gray resurfaced from his feast, the movie was too far into the plot for him to completely grasp what was going on. He watched, finally realizing towards the end that it was about a man who had stolen the secret of time. But in finding that secret, he had changed the course of history. Now he was desperately trying to fix time before all of creation unraveled. It was an interesting plot. Savannah kept glancing at Gray, as though she was trying to gauge his reactions.

After the movie, Gray bid the others good night and went up to his room. He put his clothes away and placed his school supplies—which he doubted he’d ever really use—on a desk. He reached into the paper bag he’d gotten at the hospital, pulling out the cylindrical tube. Inside the tube was the scroll he had to deliver—the scroll that could prove the salvation or destruction of his entire town, perhaps his entire world. He had to leave…but he didn’t know where to go.

Gray placed the scroll on the desk and turned to close the bedroom door. Savannah was leaning against the door jamb.

“I know who you are,” said Savannah, her eyes narrowing.

A thrill went down Gray’s spine, but he responded calmly, “And how do you know when I haven’t said anything?”

“It’s your not saying that says everything.”

“How does my not saying say everything?”

“By not saying what you would say, you say what you wish to remain unsaid.”

“If it is unsaid, then how does my unsaying say what must be unsaid?”

“Your unsaying says you must not say what must be said to say what is said.”

“And what have I said?”

“It’s what you haven’t said that says what you’re trying not to say.”

“And that is?”

“You’re not from here.” Suddenly, Savannah leaped forward, snatching the scroll from off the desk. Gray tried to grab it from her, but she danced out of reach. “And this is important.”

Gray nearly shifted right there. He snarled at Savannah. A deep rumble emanated from his chest.

Savannah laughed, cutting the rumble short. “Are you growling at me? You’re stranger than I thought.” She tossed the scroll back to Gray. He caught it easily.

All mirth left Savannah’s face. She pointed at Gray’s face. “I’m watching you.” With that, Savannah turned and stalked away, her dark curls bouncing on her shoulders.