Trespasser

Chapter 8

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Really? Invisibility now? So many Harry Potter references…

I held the thought in the center of my mind, and slowly walked towards the Questioning Room.  I finally reached the door.  Dang it.  No window. 

I passed through the door, keeping my invisibility. 

I looked around the room.

Then I saw him.

 :o

:O

D:

I woke up in a white room.  White walls.  White furniture.  Desperately in need of David Bromstad’s assistance.

Stereotypical lamps shone in my face, causing me to squint.  I spoke.

“You had to go for the ‘NCIS’ interrogation room.  Soo last season.  Hawaii Five-O is in now!”

A man emerged from the shadows.

“Let me tell you a story.  Once there was a boy, about the same age as you seem to be.  He randomly materialized into a top secret questioning room.  How did the boy do that, huh?  What was the boy’s name?”

Oh gosh.  That’s why I’m here.  I must have released the thought when I saw...Him."

“Wolf Bane Grizzly.”

His straight face faltered for a second, with a hint of a smile coming unto him.  He quickly regained it.

“I like you kid, I really do.  But humor won’t get you out of this.”

I smiled. “Mommy always said I was funny.”

I felt the tension rise, and his annoyance come with it.

“Ok son-

Anger rose in me. “You’re not my father.”

“Ok then, well “Insert Name Here”, I really need to know how you got into that room.”

“And I really need lunch.  I guess we’re both out of luck today.”

Interrogator One sighed.  “I’ll be going now.  Another agent will be here shortly to continue your interrogation.”

“Sir yes sir!” I gave him a hearty salute.

He sighed again, leaving the room.

“Ok, screw this.”  I mumbled to myself.

I looked down at my wrists.  Hah, they didn’t even take the time to try and restrain me.  Not like that would help.

Pass through.

I casually (and invisibly) walked through the wall and back to the orphanage.

Two minutes later.

Agent Heald enters the room.  A stunned look appears on his face.

“Sir!” He yells.  Agent Poll answered.  “What?”

“He’s gone.”

So here I was, a wanted criminal, sitting in my room casually playing Black Ops.

For once, however, my mind was not on the game.

It was on the man I saw in the Questioning Room.

The criminal who kidnapped and killed a boy who looked like me.

The criminal who looked like my father.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never seen my father.  But I’ve imagined what he looked like.  And that man, that despicable man…was spitting image.

I paused the game, and went over the desk.  The orphanage had raised money to buy every room a computer, so I’m (thankfully) still fairly up to date.  The TV and the games, let’s just say that Kurt “found” them.

Sitting down at the worn-down desk, I pulled up Google and typed in two words.

Jason Markwell.

Instantly multiple Facebooks popped up.  I scrolled down.  Finally, on the fifth page of results, I saw two pages that looked good.  I clicked on the first one.  My father’s obituary on an online version of the town newspaper.  I sighed deeply.  I was about to go back and see what the second page was about, when a few words caught my eye.

Submitted by Carla Markwell.

My heart rate quickened.  I ignored the second page and typed in a new search.  Carla Markwell.  A Wikipedia came up.  The first thing that I saw was the picture.  A middle-aged woman with graying black hair and muggy green eyes hugging a man I would recognize anywhere as my father.

The caption read, “Carla at a press interview with her son, Jason.”

I read her biography.

“Carla Markwell was a businesswoman who later got into local politics.  She ran and achieved City Councilwoman multiple times.  She is now retired and works part-time as a criminal investigator at the town Police Office.”

I have a grandmother? 

And she’s probably trying to arrest me?

Great.

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