Hidden in the Blood: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 5)

Chapter Six: Al, Summer, 1975?

"Just listening to my Charlie Brown Christmas album."

She frowned. "In the summer?"

"Yeah, I know, you're not the first to ask me that."

Rachel sat in the chair Sam currently occupied, and Sam became transparent where Al could see him at all. Did she not see him? That was odd. She'd never seen Al's imaginary friend George, and Al had never told her about him, but Sam was supposed to be her imaginary friend, although in the future. Maybe that made a difference.

She listened for a while and then asked, "Why do you like this?"

"Honestly? The music is comforting. It's sad but it gives me a warm feeling inside."

Rachel thought about that and nodded. "It's because a lot of those chords are minor chords."

Al looked over at her and asked, "What does that mean?"

"I play them on the piano when Mrs. Anderson teaches me. That one Schroeder plays? Fur Elise? That's in A minor. Minor chords sound sadder than major chords, but I think the most memorable songs use minor chords."

Al smiled at her and said, "You always complain about having to learn piano from Mrs. Anderson, but you've learned a lot from her, I can tell."

Rachel shrugged in irritation. "I'd still rather be outside playing."

"We're not outside now, are we?"

"Want to go see what Joe and Sunny are doing?"

"You didn't go see them first?"

"I don't know. Joe's mom scares me. Every time I'm around she wants to feed me, but she doesn't want me hanging around Joe too much."

"Is it because she doesn't want you marrying him?"

"Yeah. I don't think I will, now. It's just too aggravating dealing with her disapproval."

Al thought those words were rather large for a nine year old to be using. Something about this flashback didn't ring true, but he did remember her saying something along those lines, and it made him happy for reasons he didn't know how to express at his age. "What about Sunny's mom?"

Rachel shrugged. "She's okay, I guess, but she's always chasing around his little sister, and I feel bad for interrupting her. It's easiest to come to you first, because your mom's nice."

Al felt warm inside when she said that. "Thanks. Let's go together, then." 

He got up and lifted the needle on the turntable, turned it off, and slipped the vinyl record back in its sleeve, filing it away on his bookshelf. When he turned around, he saw that Rachel was standing, but Sam wasn't sitting in the chair anymore. "Hey, did you see where...?" he began, then closed his mouth.

"Where what?" Rachel asked, brow furrowed.

"Nothing," he said. 

He led Rachel out of his room, taking her hand to reassure her she had nothing to fear from Hunter and Duchess, who sat at attention next to their food bowls in the kitchen, waiting to be fed. Mom, who was puttering around in there, saw them and said, "Going outside to play? It's a nice day out there, I'm glad Rachel pulled you away from sitting in your room."

"Hey, Mom," Al said, "Is it true Dad isn't my dad?"

Mom stopped in her tracks and sagged like a balloon leaking air. She said nothing, and wasn't even looking at him. Unnerved, Al said, "Mom?"

No response. He wanted to go to her, try to get her attention, but something about her limp posture and her silence scared him.

"Come on, Al, let's go!" Rachel said impatiently, tugging his arm.

He nodded dumbly and led the way to the front door. He opened it and walked through...

Into a white haze. He couldn't see his front yard, or anything else. It was bright, though, brighter than the brightest summer day in Queesnborough, and it hurt his eyes. He turned back but didn't see Rachel behind him. He was all alone in this white nowhere, with the only sound that annoying beep, beep, beep.

Something about what Sam had said came back to him. Something about being in a well and climbing out...

A new sound, in the distance, just barely audible behind the beeping. He thought it was the murmur of voices, but he couldn't hear what they were saying.

"Hello?" he called, but just using his voice to make that one word seemed to enervate him, and the white haze seemed to recede. It was too tiring, staying here. He couldn't hold on to this place. He felt himself falling back and

Everything

Was

Darkness. 

Thanks for reading this far! This chapter was a short one, but I wanted to show how erratic his comatose experience is. If you liked what you read so far, hit "Vote" to send this title up the ranks. Leave a comment and let me know what you think!

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