Magnolia's Code

Den Förlorade Pojken

Jay found the note in his mailbox that morning, when he was fetching the rest of the mail and feeding the dogs. A fragile, see-through piece of paper slipped from between two envelopes and fluttered to the ground. He knew at once that it was Tim's handwriting, even though he'd never seen it before. It was shaky and unsure, just like its writer.

He picked up the note, dread curling in his belly. What had that idiot fitta gone and done now? Jay had made him promise not to do anything stupid, and now here was this note, sitting ominously in his mailbox, at no-thank-you o'clock in the morning. For someone who was extremely shy and didn't like to confront people, Tim sure made a lot of headstrong decisions.

Jay scanned the paper quickly, confirming what he already knew: that the fitta had gone back into those caves. "Gud hjälpa oss al," he muttered angrily. Now he would have to go on a bloody rescue mission, all because the stupid archaeologist just could not get a hint. Jay knew there was something foul in that cave -- everyone in De Vuo City knew that. People -- multiple people -- had gone crazy there; obviously there was something wrong with it.

Okay, granted, Jay hadn't actually believed it until last night, as he watched his newest friend go crazy before his eyes, but still, Tim should have known better than to go into the Magnolia Caverns alone after he'd gotten lost in them for a whole bloody day! That was just common sense, as far as Jay was concerned.

Right, he decided with determination. I have to go check on the little fitta. He probably lost his nerve. He's probably in his apartment right now, trying to work up the courage to call me and tell me not to go looking for him.

He was in the middle of pulling on his ranger uniform when it occurred to him that he actually had no idea where Tim lived. It struck him that he had only met Tim about three days ago, which was strange, because it seemed kind of like he'd known the quiet archaeologist all his life. He was worried about this idiot fitta because of this weird bond they'd formed in the span of such a short time. Not even he and Zoe had bonded that quickly, and Zoe was the most outgoing person he knew. Tim was just some awkward kid.

Bloody fitta. Jay didn't even have his number. He realized he had no idea how to contact his friend because Tim had never given him any sort of identifying information. Jay sighed a long-suffering sigh, looking up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He would be forced to call every single apartment building in DeVuo City until he found the one he was looking for. This was going to be fun. He headed into the kitchen and sat down at the phone, reaching for the Yellow Pages with a resigned attitude.

About thirty minutes later, as Jay was arguing heatedly with some apartment receptionist about whether he was allowed to know who lived there or not ("Just give me one bloody name! Tim Rayland! Yes, that's--no, don't hang up on me--") he heard something moving in the living room. He immediately tensed up, dropping the receiver and grabbing the closest thing that wasn't attached to the floor, which happened to be a banana. He looked at it, cursed quietly, and switched it for a heavy pitcher instead. He wished his gun was hanging in the kitchen instead of the living room, but the pitcher would have to do.

He crept to the threshold to the living room, back to the wall, gripping his pitcher as firmly as possible, like he had learned in the self-defense classes he had been required to take during ranger training. He took a breath and then leaped out, yelling bravely, brandishing his weapon above his head, only to be met with a high-pitched scream. Before he could regain his senses, something smacked his cheek, hard. He saw stars, his head spinning, and he took a few steps back.

"Jay?" That was Zoe's voice. Oops. Jay had completely forgotten that she had stayed overnight on the pull out couch in his study. "What the hell are you doing? Have you gone insane?"