My heart races strong at the sight of gleaming metal brandished in the light of the moon. Just the sound of it, shifting from the anonymous opp's waist to his hands, tells me it's unmistakably a gun. The assailant aims at us from the comfort of my bed and the concealment of shadows. I watch as his pale finger slips from the guard and cups the trigger.
"I guess everybody knows how to sneak into this place Shi. I know we live in a lil suburb and all, but damn. Your mom needs Ring or somethin," Dustin jokes as he slowly turns around and subtly puts his body between me and the gun. He flips on warm bathroom lights as he mollifies the intruder. "Hey man look. You don't have to pull the trigger. Shiloh and I are only seventeen. We're smart students with bright futures. We have promising sports careers. Our families donate to charity regularly. We invest money and time into impoverished communities across the country. We are good people. If it's money you want, we have it."
"Yes. Dustin Goodwin, star quarterback and point guard of the Black Hill Academy Vipers, son of Black Hills Mayor Daniel Goodwin and paralegal Yolanda Goodwin. Guess that's where you get your bullshit improv speeches from," he shades with a deep husk in his voice. "You also don't have a police force in Black Hills so you have to use de-escalation tactics, appeal to pathos and whatnot, even though you have the right, by law, to kill me where I stand for intruding in your home. But something tells me neither of you have the balls to do so, given your cushy lives. And so." He pulls back on the trigger without a second thought and there's no time to think. There's no time to choose the right flame. I only choose instinct as adrenaline courses through me.
I grab Dustin and ignite his chest and his head in a yellow flame of armor. Frightened, Dustin throws his hands up and the force of the bullet's impact sends us sliding back on the smooth tile floors as his body collides into mines. I catch him, but it's as though the friction of my Jordans and his Yeezys no longer work as we slide into the middle of the bathroom.
There's a warbling of wind that fills my ears as we stop. It's as if I'm speeding down a road with the windows rolled down, but my locs—they blow forward as if the wind is coming from behind me. And Dustin's shrunken afro curls stretch and whip wildly as I hold him up hoping for the best.
Dustin stands himself upright, his hands still firmly in front of his face. The wind around us grows and tiny fragments fill the the glass doors of my shower. I can hear a new creaking in the walls of my bathroom. The protective flames surrounding Dustin fade away as I struggle to breathe. I crash to the ground clenching my chest and as I look up at Dustin I see the bullet floating right in front of his hands, just inches away from piercing his eyes.
The bullet drops to the floor in a clatter next to Dustin's bone white 500's, it's outer casing bent around its base like a flower. And each petal is decayed and rusted.
"Dustin, what was that?" I ask as I pick myself up from the cold floor, finally able to breathe again. My heart races as I stare him down. He doesn't respond. His mouth sits agape. His body trembles. His brown eyes are stunned, fixated on hands that just stopped a speeding bullet. Both of ours eyes are until the shadowed intruder breaks into the silent awe.
"So the memory I retro'd was true," the assailant remarks as he slides off my bed. "This small town just got more interesting."
"What do you want from us?" I demand as I put myself between him and a dazed Dustin, his intimidating height forcing me to look up into his shadowed face. I'm sure to take in his black, baggy utility pants juxtaposed against a white, cropped, turtleneck sweater and his black trench coat. He steps black Fendi boots into the light of the moon and reveals himself. His skin is a shining cadmium with a coppery flush bleeding over his freckles. He looks white, but his hair coils and kinks just like mine in the roots and brunette locs drape over his forehead.
"I was almost certain this would go the other way, but I'm pleasantly surprised. I mean, Shiloh, you certainly are a phenomenon," he toys, his ivory hands clinging tight to his pistol as he cocks his his head to the side. He creeps closer and each step he takes fills the room with tension. "That video of you is relatively obscure nationally, but just bizarre enough to be a blip on my radar. I mean, I've only been here for about thirty minutes just watching the two of you stand there frozen in time, but I can tell by the chill in the air you've been like this for hours. There's only one other person in the world who could do such a thing, with fire no less. But it's Mr. Goodwin's display of power, that tells the truth about this place."
"And what is that?" I ask, clenching my jaw to lose it's tremor. His coal eyes meet mine. They'd look dead if it wasn't for the gleam of incandescent light reflected in them. But the longer I look at them, the deeper the chill runs through me. Looking into them is like staring at the walls of a room at night and seeing the darkness deepen and close in from the edges of your vision.
"Damn, You really don't know. Well let's do it this way," he says as he shifts the aim of his pistol onto Dustin. "Mr. Goodwin. Let's play hide and seek in this town of yours. It's about eight o'clock. You have until the lights of this astronomers' town are out to hide. Once we're in total darkness, we'll you don't want to find out what happens then so hide well."
"He's not going anywhere. We aren't afraid of you," I bite back with just a touch of deceit as I try my best to stare down his uncomfortable eyes.
"Good," he remarks with a callous grin. "That just means there's something in you for me to break." In almost the space of a blink he's at my neck with his pistol. Then he leans in, cold steel pushing down on my carotid and says, "And I already know what that is."
"What do you want?" I ask, his eyes seemingly blurring the edges of my vision again. I try to convince myself he doesn't scare me, and in a lot of ways he doesn't. He's not so built. If he didn't have a gun, I'd fight him. His face isn't menacing either, he's an e-girls dream, but something about him makes my chest rise and fall faster than it should.
"I want Mr. Goodwin to get up and leave now! Tell me Shiloh," he starts. He speaks my name and it seems to echo around me. "Can you stop a bullet at point blank range? Is the little flame in you fast enough?"
"Don't shoot. Please. I'm-I'm going," Dustin stammers.
"Great. And don't try anything while you're hiding. I'm not alone in the shadows," the ivory thug warns as Dustin carefully eases his way around us and down the stairs. I can hear his footsteps trailing off as he likely makes his way back to the sunroom he snuck in through. "And now that he's gone. I just have one question. Where's the database?" He demands. And as he does my fear for him intensifies. The room around me suddenly feels vast and disorienting. It's like all the blood rushes to my head and the burning sensation of water tickling the canals of my nose ensues.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I yell as flashes of a red light cross my eyes as I close them tight. The veins of my eyelids catch me in a fleshy net of fear and I struggle to breathe again.
"Don't lie to me!" He warns as he slides the fingers of his free hand into the back of my scalp as if he'll massage it. Something so gentle should feel soothing, but my lungs seems to deflate at his touch.
"I'm not lying," I choke out. "We have two computers and a router. One is on my desk the other one is in my parents study. You can have it all."
"Take me to the study," he orders with a furious grip on my arm. He pushes me out of the bathroom and presses his gun to my back. "This gun will be the least of your problems if you try me," he tells me as we step into the dark hallway.
I lead the threatening gunman down the stairs, through the foyer, and past old furniture of a sitting room we barely use anymore. We stop at an old, brown door of the original house built on this land. I turn the brass doorknob and open the door up to a single chair tucked underneath a wooden desk, a iMac, a bookcase partially filled with old books, and several white sheets covering boxes dad abandoned.
"There's nothing in here," I tell him as he takes in the room. "Just one of the computers and some boxes of my dad's old stuff. The computer's not even password protected."
"No, you can't pull me out. I'm close! This can't be it," he says as he presses a finger to a red light glowing in his ear. Frantic, he starts pulling books from the mahogany shelves. "My intel isn't wrong. I know what I saw. No, he doesn't know anything. I'm certain, but I know someone who must."
I could take him now. I could set his body ablaze. Or freeze him or, I don't know, teleport him. I should do something, but my feet stay fixed to the ugly green carpet my mom never had pulled up. And as much as I shake my hands to summon a spark, nothing happens.
"Seems like luck is on your side," he remarks as he slides the pistol into a holster on his hip. "You're just out of my reach for now and you should thank the stars above for that. I have to go, but expect to see my face again soon." He walks past me without a care for what I might do as he heads for the door. He knows just how much he's shaken me. He knows, for some reason, I can't attack.
"Wait!" I call, my feet finally able to move as the weight of him fades. He turns back, and stairs me down in the dark hall.
"What?" he asks, exasperated.
"Earlier you said that there was one other person who could do what I do. Who is it?" I ask as I hear our white metal door slide open in the foyer. The jingle of keys and footsteps echo throughout the empty house.
"Maybe you should ask your mom. Although she might be a little busy." He smirks and my face flashes hot as we hear soft moans drift from the foyer.
I push past him allowing my anger to be my courage as I move to confront her. And as I do, I hear a short, quick whooshing of white noise and a small clack. I look back to see the eboy is gone, and the flashing red light I saw in his ear is sitting in the floor of the hallway. I pick it up and slip the odd black, futuristic, secret service hearing device into my jacket pocket.
Just as I round the corner I see my mom wrapped around the waist of a tall, white man giggling and kissing him like two lovebirds sneaking around the school halls.
"What happened mom? Were all the hotel rooms in New Vine booked?" I jab, uptight and grossed out.
They both jump at the sound of my voice, but I can't even bear to look at her as I turn my gaze away from them.
"Shi!" She's no doubt surprised as she quickly climbs down and fumbles with the buttons on her blouse. "Why are you lurking in the dark?" She demands as she flips on the lights of a crystal chandelier. "What happened? I thought you were spending the weekend with friends." I'm not supposed to be home until Sunday. I was supposed to stay with Dustin after leaving Fever, but with everything that's happened, that's definitely out of the question.
"So me being gone gives you the freedom to just disrespect our house? What about dad?"
"You betta watch ya tone," she warns with a tense mouth, the slip of an AAVE twang and a piercing look that only a black woman could give, and it puts me back in my place. I lean onto the archway with folded arms and scowl like a kid who can't have a cookie before dinner. "Your dad and I aren't together anymore Shi. He's not coming back and I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry he hasn't had the decency to contact you in all this time, but you don't get to throw his mistakes in my face. So yes. I do have the right to do whatever I want in the house where I pay the bills. We will talk about this later. Shiloh this is Howard Russell. Howard this is my son Shiloh."
"Nice to meet you Shiloh!" He says way too eager to be sincere as he reaches out for a handshake. When I don't respond he awkwardly clasps his hands together and looks me up and down. "Wait. Morgan, this is your son," he states but doesn't ask and I can almost see his mood shifting. He must know something.
"Right. It is. That's my son. That's a chandelier. These are my keys," she quips, but his face doesn't lighten up.
"Can we speak in private?" he requests.
"I think it's a little too late for privacy, How. Whatever you have to say about my son can be said in front of him."
"Well the thing is, my office has been investigating him all day. I'm supposed to bring him in for questioning." My beating heart sinks deep as his words open a hole in my chest.
"For what?" Mom demands, keeping her cool all the while.
"He's wanted in connection to an arson."