Trails

Chapter 20: Haven Side

As I swerved the steering wheel, I found a green street marker with the white letters that spelt: Haven Side.

The street had an enormous forest, something you would see in Harry Potter. It had thick trees, small bushes containing wild berries, and a solemn fog rising above the woods.

I cranned my neck at the forest, hoping to see at least a road, but there isn't.

"Great," I moaned. "Where should we park?"

"I guess, park near the giant oak tree." Ben shrugs.

I slowly shifted the clutch to parking and shut off the car.

"Let's get going," Ben insisted. "The sooner we get Beverly, the more relief Nebraska will get."

He opens his car door until I lean over and kissed him passionately.

"W-what was that for?" Ben stuttered after we separated.

"Just in case if something bad happened." I say as a matter of fact.

"Also, I wanted to say that I love you."

Ben stared at me for a moment then tucks a lock behind my ear.

"Cole," he began. "I know-"

"We made a promise that we will always support each other." I continued, cutting him off.

"But sometimes, I worry about losing my best friend. What if something did happen to you, just like Zach-"

Ben wrapped his arms around me and hugged me very tightly. Suddenly, I felt my tears falling on Ben's shirt and smiled at the touch of his pale skin.

"All my heart is yours, sir: it belongs to you;" I quoted. "and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever."

He stopped hugging me and wiping away my tears.

"It looks like my Irene has been reading Jane Eyre."  he laughed.

And that's when he kissed my cheek: "I'm yours, I'm yours, heart and soul."

Becoming Jane, I thought to myself.

After a brief moment, we got our bags and leaped out of car.

Ben and I kept moving forward into the creepy forest. Our shoulders were getting sore from carrying the straps of our knapsacks, but none of us complained.

Instead of whining, I reached for Ben's hand and held it for awhile. Even though his mind remained focus, his fingers rubbed my knuckles.

"You're feeling romantic?" he teased.

"Just because I am holding your hand, doesn't mean I'm romantic." I retorted.

"Sure," Ben said sarcastically.

Nonetheless, our hands gripped onto each other.

We kept going straight until we saw the warehouse, looking right back at us.

It was something out of Monster House: the warehouse was made entirely out of wood. Thick streaks of cracks grew on the windows, a red door.

Green leaves and moss grew on the roof. This seems odd, I thought, stepping closer. The soles of my sneakers crushed the fragile leaves. To me, it didn't look like a warehouse; it looks like any normal house.

As soon as Ben and I reach to our destination, we released our hands and took out our flashlights.

"Are you ready?" Ben asked.

I nodded as I unbolted the door and together, we rushed inside.

A wave of chills overwhelmed my skin as Ben shuts the door. Whoa, I thought. We stood in front of a gray, empty room.

I noted the cracks on the cemented gray walls and sighed. In the right corner, dirty water drips out of the rusty pipe, leaving a small puddle under it.

Of course, I thought. Someone made it to look like  a house.

But rather than marveling the interior, I saw the wooden stairs spiraling up to an elusive room. Quietly, we raced upstairs and turned on our flashlights.

We scoured for something unusual, until I saw a trail of blood staining the pink carpet.

"Ben," I whispered, tapping his shoulder. "We're not alone."

He nodded slowly then took a closer look at it. All of a sudden, I felt pain on the back of my head and instantly landed with a huge thud.

That afternoon, I reminsce the time that I went gun shooting with Dad. I remember Mom didn't go, mostly because hates guns. And besides, she is taking a six hour shift at the newspaper business.

I remember standing at least four feet tall,  I wore braces, a scratchy blouse, jeans, and white high tops. My hair was in a poofy ponytail and I wore black glasses.

Before, my dad wore his traditional Michigan Police Department uniform, had very dark skin, and he was pretty cool.

I remembered him taking my hand and leading me to a room full of experienced cops. Their guns clenched to their hands as they rained bullets on a piece of paper.

"Did you remember your visar glasses?" Dad asked.

I nodded as I removed my glasses and replaced them with a white plastic visars. Even though I was thirteen at the time, I knew the gun warnings.

But still, I didn't know why Dad took me to a shooting range.

Dad covered my ears with yellow earmuffs and handed me his Glock 47. firearm.

I hesitantly gripped the handle of the gun and pointed to the target.

"Okay," he said carefully. "In reality, if you see a  loaded gun on the grounded, what do you do?"

"Leave it alone," I answered. "Ask around for help-"

"Of course not," Dad interrupted. "Whenever someone is giving you a gun, or if you even see it lying on the ground, you need to know how to survive."

"Like that dojo practice you made me sign up?" I ask curiously. 

"Yes," he said.  "I have already loaded the gun for you. Don't forget to remind me to teach how to load it."

I nodded.

"Now breathe," he urged.

I breathed.

"Now, take the shot." he ordered.

I pointed the gun at the target, pulled the trigger, and fired five times.

After the last bullet wounded the target, I heard shells ricochet in different directions.

Dad slapped his hand on his shoulder as he marveled my performance: five bullet holes landed in the center of the bull's eye.

"Ugh," I moaned.

I rubbed my hand on my sore forehead.

What happened? I thought.

The good news is, my sight recovered from the earlier blow.

But the bad news is, I see Beverly tying Ben against a pipe.

Even though she wore her cheerleader uniform, I saw the outlines of a gun hidden in her pocket.