The Scroll 21

Here it is, a big action scene! This is a rather long post--it was fifteen pages written out and seven pages single-spaced. Sorry it took so long to post, but I wanted to actually include the action scene like I've promised for so long. So keep your hands and arms inside the ride at all times, and remember that the park is not responsible for any hats, cameras, cell phones, or other loose items lost during the ride.

* * *

Angela wanted to get back into that chatroom, but she didn’t want to scare the chatters away. She turned to her friend Bret O’Connell, computer whiz extraordinaire. Brett could hack into any computer he wanted—not that he did. He was too sweet.

When Angela showed up on Brett’s doorstep, he greeted her with a freckle-filled grin. “Angela! And what is my dark-haired beauty up to now?”

“Nice to see you too,” said Angela, letting herself in. She put her purse on his sofa and sat down. “I need some help with a case of mine.”

Angela told Brett the entire twisted story—starting with Leslie finding Gray on the beach, then with Angela observing all Gray’s little quirks and deciding that he’d come from a cult, and concluding with an internet search that brought the FBI down on her.

“But you didn’t stop there,” said Brett matter-of-factly. He sat across from Angela.

“No, I kept searching,” said Angela. “And did you know that hundreds of children have shown up around the world, all dressed in strange clothes and none of them knowing how to read their native language? They must have been integrated into society, because I found websites that they’ve written for each other. I even found a chatroom, but when I showed up as a guest, they all evacuate. I know if I could just listen in, I’d learn what in the world’s going on.”

Brett leaned back in his chair and threaded his fingers together. “It seems to me that you’re not worried about finding Gray’s family anymore. This is about something else.”

Angela shook her head. She said, “Don’t you see? There’s some big conspiracy going on, some sort of underground operation that we don’t even know about. Aren’t you even slightly curious about what’s going on?”

Brett grinned. “Of course.” He bounded up and headed straight to his computer. He brought up his internet, as well as a screen filled with lines of programming. “Just tell me the site, and I’ll have you hanging around like a ghost in no time.”

Angela told him, and Brett proceeded to work his computer wizardry. Though Angela had no idea what he was doing, she leaned forward eagerly. Brett typed furiously. “There, you have an account—kitkat23. I’ll write it down for you later. Password: I love Brett, all lower-case, no spaces.”

Angela rolled her eyes.

“Usually, you have to run these by the administration, and they activate it and send you an email. But not you—you’re already activated. That way, you won’t show up as a guest whenever you’re not here. But let’s skulk around for a little, just for fun.” Brett brought up the chatroom screen.

A heated discussion was going on.

Ember: No, I won’t allow it. I won’t let you put them in danger.

8asnayke: They can decide for themselves whether they’re coming or not. Everyone, if you’re with me, send me a private message. I’ll email you the exact time and place.

Ember: I won’t let you have the scroll, Shade.

8asnayke: Like you can stop me.

Ember: You may have your men, but so do I.

8asnayke: Then it’s a war.

Ember: I’ll see you at the front lines.

Angela and Brett stared at the screen for a few moments. Then Brett snapped into action, navigating through the site, bypassing firewalls and security checkpoints. He turned on a second computer monitor and worked on a split screen.

“What are you doing?” asked Angela.

“Looking up 8asnayke, a.k.a. Shade’s, account information,” said Brett, his eyes glancing from screen to screen as his fingers flew across the keyboard. “Something big’s going down, and if we can intercept his email we can go to the police with a tip.”

After a few more key strokes, Brett’s face lit up. “Got it!” He brought up another screen. “He’s sending an email right now.”

Brett typed furiously, then tapped his fingers on his desk. A window popped up, filled with gibberish. Brett groaned, “It’s encrypted? I don’t have a decryption program on this computer. It’s at the lab.” Then the text began to disappear. Brett put his head in his hands. “And it self-destructs.”

“I’ll bet these people got their program from the FBI,” said Angela.

Brett stared at the screen. He said, “Well Angela, I must admit I’m hooked.”

Angela stared at 8asnayke’s last comment. She whispered, “What war?”

* * *

The instructions in the email were simple. Go to Pedro Point Headlands trailhead at 10:00 tonight. Climb the trail on the right until the trail split. Wait for Professor Brown and give him the scroll. Simple. What could go wrong?

First, Leslie looked up the trail online. It was half an hour up the coast. That meant Leslie would have to drive up Highway 1 along Devil’s Slide, the most dangerous part of the highway, in the dark. Plus, they’d have to sneak out in the first place. Leslie did her best to swallow her worries and fears and continue with her day.

Sneaking out was easier than she thought. It was Family Outing Day, and Mr. Matheson took them to the beach. It was perfect surfing weather, and there were already several surfers hitting the waves. Mr. Matheson dragged Gray into the water and attempted to teach him how to surf. Leslie and Savannah were terrible surfers, so they stuck to their boogie boards and body surfed—when they weren’t laughing at Gray’s failed attempts to stand on his surfboard. The board kept slipping out from under him. He’d hang suspended in the air, his arms and legs askew, before plunging into the water. Each time, he washed up on shore, reminding Leslie of how she first found him.

Mr. Matheson was so exhausted when they got home that he immediately showered and went to bed. Leslie was tired too, but when Gray knocked on her door she was ready. She sat up on her bed and whispered, “Come in.”

Gray entered. He was wearing his shifter’s vines, complete with moccasins. The grey-green material shimmered slightly as he moved. His soul-binder stone hung from its new necklace. He slipped the sealed scroll into a Pringles container as he entered. “Ready?” he whispered.

“Yep,” Leslie whispered back.

They made their way downstairs to the garage, tiptoeing past both Mr. Matheson’s and Savannah’s closed doors. Gray started to walk towards Mr. Matheson’s company sedan, but Leslie stopped him. She pointed to a second—much smaller—vehicle.

For her sixteenth birthday, Leslie had gotten a Ford Aspire. While not the Mustang that some kids at her school got, Leslie was grateful she had something that ran—kind of. Aspires were little more than tin cans on wheels. There was no air conditioner, no power locks or windows, not even power steering. It was a tiny little hatchback, which meant that instead of a traditional trunk there was an open space that could be reached from the backseats. The car could supposedly sit five people, though anyone sitting in the back would have their knees in their chest. Plus, there was one more flaw that only Leslie’s Aspire had—the trunk’s carpet flooring had rotted away, so she had to cover the spare tire with a tarp. Yet for all its flaws Leslie’s little Aspire had two redeeming factors—it was a beautiful deep blue and had great gas mileage.

Leslie got into the driver’s seat and waited for Gray to go around to the passenger’s side. He stood staring at the car.

Gray said, “Your automatic transportation doesn’t look as trustworthy as your dad’s.”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “It’s called a car. Now get in.”

Gray climbed into the car and, following Leslie’s example, buckled his seatbelt. Leslie pressed the garage door opener, and the door slid up. Gray jumped and looked behind him. Leslie ignored him, shifted the car in reverse—it was a standard transmission—and backed up. The car whined.

“Are you sure your auto—your car—will make it to the trailhead?”

Leslie glared at him. “Hey, give her a rest. She’s over ten years old and didn’t have much to begin with.” She shifted her car into first and drove off into the night. The little Aspire grumbled the entire way.

They had been driving in silence for several miles when Leslie heard something rustle in the back. “What was that?” she whispered. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

“I don’t know,” said Gray. He turned around in his seat.

Leslie watched in the rearview mirror as the tarp rose up from the bottom of the hatchback’s trunk, crackling madly. Her heart caught in her throat. The tarp was pushed aside, revealing Savannah’s curly brown head. Her hair was even bigger than usual.

Leslie nearly drove off the road. She pulled over and screeched to a halt. Furious, she spun around in her seat. “You!” she snapped. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay home.”

Savannah pushed her hair behind her shoulders. “If Sarah Jane Smith hadn’t snuck aboard the TARDIS, she would never have gone on any adventures with the Doctor.”

Gray stared at Savannah. “What are you talking about?”

Savannah perked up. “You see, the Doctor—”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” said Leslie, cutting her off. “This could be dangerous.”

“And that’s why you need me,” said Savannah. “I read the email again, and it seemed a little fishy to me. I’ll be your backup—your eyes in the sky.”

Leslie turned around and shifted gears. The car complained. “Absolutely not. I’m taking you home.”

“You can’t. If you drive back now, you’ll miss your meeting with the Professor. And you’re going to need someone to watch your back. Admit it. You need me.” Savannah glared at Leslie through the rearview mirror, daring Leslie to shut her down.

Leslie sighed. She looked at Gray.

Gray smiled and shrugged. “She’s right. If we turn back, we’ll be late. And we could always use another set of eyes.”

Angrily, Leslie bit her lip. Still, she shifted the car into gear and continued onward. As she drove, she asked, “And how do you plan to help?”

“I brought these,” she said, holding up a pair of walkie talkies. “I know you have a cell phone, but I don’t and I couldn’t get Dad’s. I also have this,” she held up binoculars, “and this,” she held up a silver emergency blanket. “I can settle down somewhere, watch what’s going on, and warn you of any booby traps. Oh, and I brought this.” She held up a can of Pringles chips.

Leslie glanced at what Savannah had through the rearview mirror. “What do we need the chips for?”

“Hellooo, so we can have a fake scroll, of course,” said Savannah, rolling her eyes. “That way, if something happens you and Gray can scatter and the enemy won’t know who has the real scroll.”

“Assuming there is an enemy,” said Gray.

“Plus, I got hungry waiting for you two to get in the car,” said Savannah. She popped off the Pringles lid and scooped a couple chips out of the tube. She ate them happily.

Leslie sighed. “Just stay out of trouble.”

There were no other cars parked when Leslie pulled up to the little green gate that marked the trailhead for the Pedro Point Headlands. Uneasy, Leslie turned off the car. Her headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the gate. “I don’t like this,” she said.

“We can’t turn back now,” said Gray.

“I really don’t like this,” repeated Leslie.

“I’ll protect you,” said Gray. He grabbed Leslie’s hand and held it tight.

“Here’s a flashlight and the walkie talkie,” said Savannah. “I’ll follow behind. Remember—go to where the Arroyo trail meets the Middle Ridge trail.”

Leave it to Savannah to know the actual names of the trails, thought Leslie. She nodded. Her heard pounded ferociously in her chest. She suddenly realized how really, really, really stupid this was. They were nowhere near any type of civilization. No one would be able to hear them scream as they were thrown off the sea cliffs. Shakily, she slipped her hand out of Gray’s and turned off the headlights. She grabbed the walkie talkie and flashlight from Savannah and exited the car. Gray and Savannah were right behind her.

Leslie switched on the flashlight and led the way up the trail. Soon, the trail divided in two. To the left, the South Ridge trail ran along the edge of the cliff, eventually coming to the sea cliffs where a murderous stranger would have no troubles disposing of their bodies. To the right, the Arroyo trail went through a stand of eucalyptus trees before coming out in the middle of the gently sloping mountainside. A much safer trail, in Leslie’s mind. There was ground on both sides of the trail.

Leslie took the right trail, breathing in the strong scent of eucalyptus leaves. Gray walked by her side. Soon—far too soon in Leslie’s mind—they left the trees and walked in the open until they came to another fork in the trail. This was where they were supposed to meet Professor Brown—if he existed. Leslie didn’t see anyone, and the only cover was scrub brush.

Savannah slunk up to Leslie and Gray. “See that clump of rocks and trees?” she whispered, pointing. “I’ll hide up there. It’s a perfect lookout point.”

“Be careful,” Leslie whispered back. But Savannah was already gone.

Leslie glanced at Gray. He stared out into the gloom, first down one trail and then up the next. He tapped the side of the Pringles can, which concealed the scroll. As they waited, the fog started to roll in, obscuring their already-limited vision.

A crackle came over Leslie’s walkie talkie. She brought it to her mouth and pressed the button on the side. “What is it?”

There was a pause. Then Savannah’s voice said, “They lie. These emergency blankets don’t keep you warm.”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “Do you see anything?”

She heard Savannah sigh over the walkie talkie. “No. I keep thinking I see an elephant in the trees, but it’s just the fog. I think.”

A fox’s cry broke the mountain’s silence. Gray spun around. He narrowed his eyes. “Ask Savannah—”

“Umm, you guys?” Savannah’s voice cut him off. “It’s not my imagination. There is an elephant over there. Actually, there’s animals all over the place.”

Gray grabbed the walkie talkie. He held it backwards and tried to speak into it. “How many?” Leslie helped him hold it correctly and showed him how to hold down the button. He repeated, “How many?”

“One…two…three…another three over there, and some over there. Uh oh. We’re surrounded.”

The fog swept in, blanketing the world in blackness. Leslie’s flashlight made a weak beam of white light that only penetrated five feet. She turned it off. There was no sense in giving them away.

“Hold this,” said Gray, pushing the Pringles can into Leslie’s hands. She could barely see him standing next to her.

“Be careful,” said Leslie. “Your sickness—”

“You’ll bring me back if I go too far,” said Gray, interrupting her. Leslie sensed more than saw as his body melted and reformed. The black panther slinked off into the gloom.

There was another fox yip. It was met by the cry of a coyote. A bear growled. The ground rumbled, and Leslie could see the bear charging in her mind’s eye. Gray roared, and she heard the slap of flesh hitting flesh. The bear cried out in pain.

Suddenly, the trumpeting of an elephant split the night. Leslie spun around. A bull elephant charged at her from out of the fog, its tusks swinging from left to right. Leslie screamed and dashed out of the way, barely avoiding its scythe-like tusks. A cougar leapt onto the back of the elephant, streams of fog trailing behind it. The cougar bit into the elephant’s ear, and it thundered away, trumpeting and shaking its head.

Leslie shakily made her way back to the center of the trail. An ear-splitting shriek sounded above her, and Leslie looked up. A falcon dove out of the sky, but its attack was foiled as a horned owl rammed into it.

The walkie talkie crackled. “Is it just me, or are they fighting each other?”

They’re fighting for the scroll, Leslie realized. “Gray, you need to come back!” she yelled. “I’m being attacked.”

A mule deer with an eight-point rack of antlers jumped out of the fog, its head lowered. A muscle-bound liquid shadow leaped over Leslie’s head, forcing the deer back. The black panther jumped away from the deer and back to Leslie. The fur on the back of its neck bristled, and it roared into the night.

“Thanks,” whispered Leslie. Gray’s tail flicked in acknowledgement.

Suddenly a scream—a very human scream—echoed across the mountainside. Leslie staggered backwards. “Savannah!” she gasped.

Gray pivoted and leaped into the darkness. Leslie followed as fast as she could, stumbling over brambles and shrubs.

“Put me down, you overgrown monkey!” Savannah yelled. Leslie changed direction and ran towards her voice. “Stop treating me like you’re King Kong!”

The fog thinned, and Leslie could see Savannah. She was slung over the shoulder of a silverback gorilla like a very agitated bag of potatoes. Savannah kicked and punched, but the gorilla continued on, placing its free hand on the ground for support.

Gray ran at the gorilla at top speed, his sleek black form barely visible against the darkness. He leaped onto the back of the gorilla, sinking his fangs into its empty shoulder. The gorilla screamed, dropping Savannah. Savannah ran to Leslie, hugging Leslie.

The gorilla struggled to throw Gray off, but it couldn’t get a hold of him. The panther hung on, its powerful jaws clamping onto the shoulder, its claws digging into the flesh. The other animals gathered in a broken circle, one half on one side, one half on the other.

Something was wrong. “Gray, that’s enough,” said Leslie. He didn’t respond. Leslie took a few steps forward. “Gray, Savannah’s free. You can stop now.”

Still, the panther kept biting down. The gorilla stumbled to its knees, whimpering. The other animals paced back and forth uneasily. They’re scared, thought Leslie. They don’t know what’s going on either. Leslie ran up, grabbing the panther’s shoulders. “Gray, stop it right now! I said stop it!”

Slowly, the panther released his grip on the gorilla. He slipped to the ground, leaning heavily against Leslie.

The horned owl swooped down from the sky and shifted into a young woman. She landed softly in front of the gorilla. The gorilla changed into a middle-aged man. The young woman draped the man’s arm over her shoulders and helped him back to the circle of animals. The cougar stood protectively in front of them.

Leslie put her arms around Gray. He was still growling deep in his chest. She buried her face in his fur and whispered, “You can stop now, Gray. You don’t have to fight anymore. You can be human. You can just be Gray. Nothing else. Just Gray.”

Slowly, Leslie felt the fur under her fingers melt like putty. It ran together, changing into skin and shifter’s vines. She felt Gray’s muscles and bones stretch and twist, reshaping. He stretched, pushing against Leslie. She let go, keeping one hand on his back. She watched as his arms and legs became the right size and shape, as his claws became fingers and toes, as his tail shrank and disappeared. His head rounded out and his muzzle shrank, becoming a nose and lips. The changes stopped—

—But he wasn’t entirely human. Two long, thick fangs came out from under his top lip, reaching all the way to the bottom of his jaw. His eyes remained flat and yellow. Gray looked at Leslie. She shrank back.

Nervously, Gray brought his hands to his face. He touched all over, starting at his cheeks and eyes and ending at his mouth. His fingers found the fangs, and his eyes widened. He pushed Leslie away from him and scrambled backwards.

Gasps spread among the onlookers. From somewhere among the animals someone who had shifted back to their human form spoke. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Don’t touch him!” said a second. Gray turned, looking for the speaker. Everywhere his glance fell, animals flinched backwards. One by one, the animals turned and ran. A red fox lingered long enough to catch Leslie’s eye. Then it yelped over its shoulder and bounded off.

Leslie turned on her flashlight and aimed it at Gray. He flinched and turned away from the light. Leslie crawled over to him and reached out a hand.

“Don’ touchsh me,” growled Gray, his words slurred.

Leslie ignored him and put her hand on his shoulder.

Gray looked at her hand. “Why aren’ you afraid o’ me? They are.” He tilted his head in the direction of the fleeing shifters.

“Because,” said Leslie, sitting cross-legged, “you’re my friend.”

Slowly, Savannah came and sat next to Leslie. She stared at Gray, wide-eyed.

Gray looked down. “I’m shtuck like thish.”

Leslie squeezed Gray’s shoulder. “No, you’re not. Who are you?”

“A monshter.”

“No, you’re not.” Leslie said firmly, “Who are you?”

“Gray,” he said, looking away.

Leslie smiled. “Yes, you are Gray, Azure’s son. Do you know what Gray looks like, smells like, feels like?”

Gray blinked slowly. “Yesh.”

“Do you know what Gray thinks about and what’s important to him?”

“Yesh.”

“Then become Gray. Become yourself.” Leslie brought her hand down and clasped Gray’s hand in hers.

Gray closed his eyes. His forehead furrowed in concentration. Slowly, the fangs began to shrink. They went up into Gray’s mouth as though he were slurping up two ridiculously thick pieces of spaghetti. Finally, the fangs were gone. Gray opened his golden-brown eyes.

“Welcome back,” said Leslie, smiling. She hugged Gray close.

Gray sobbed softly. He whispered in Leslie’s ear, “Thank you. You’re better than a soul binder.”

When they pulled apart, Leslie turned to Savannah. She was staring at Gray in open-mouthed shock. Savannah whispered, “Vampires do exist.”

Leslie punched her lightly on the shoulder.