The phone rings. I jerk up from my seat and pick up the receiver before the first ring is finished, practically smashing the phone into my ear. I wince as my heart races, ear now throbbing against the silence coming from the other end.
"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and shaky.
After what seams like ages, I finally get an answer.
"Denton?"
My heart leaps into my throat and I'm on my feet. I know that voice, like honey, but small and croaky at the same time. She is not okay.
"Willow," I breath back, "Willow, what have they done to you, where are you?"
Silence again. I run my hand through my hair, heart pounding. I haven't heard from her in days, seen her in weeks. I knew they had taken her when she stopped returning my calls.
"Denton," I hear again.
"Yes, darling I'm here. Tell me where you are and I'll come get you." Her voice sounds weak and I pace across to the window to stare into the dark city.
"They know where you are."
I freeze. How could they have found me? No one ever finds me; I'm invisible to everyone except Willow. Willow...
"I'm sorry, Denton." she says, her voice shaking more and I hear a sobbing noise. "They hooked me up to something and they know where you are now. They can see you." She's sobbing now, softly, her hand probably covering her mouth.
"Tell me where you are Willow, I'll come get you." I say checking the streets below for any dark purple figures, but I find none. She doesn't answer me. I bite my lip. What are they doing to her? Why won't she answer me? God, it's killing me.
"The old high school Danton." I nearly drop the phone, her voice startling me. "In the art building I think, there's a lot of old crumbly pottery. Please hurry."
"I'm on my way baby, hold tight" I rush towards my closet, keeping the phone to my ear just in case she has more to say but the line goes dead. I throw on a dark grey hoodie and flip up the hood even though I know no one will see me, old habits die hard. I quickly pull on my shoes and check the window once more but see no purple men down among the night time travelers. Slowly I open the door, no one's in the hallway. I quickly make my way down the stairs of the apartment building and slip out the front door into the streets. Even in the dead of night, this city is awake and busy, the perfect place to blend in when avoiding an ambush.
The cool breeze cuts through my hoodie and I shiver, stuffing my fists farther into the jacket pockets. I make my way past a bus stop. Curiously, someone is sitting there, as if waiting for the bus even though it stopped picking up two hours ago. Even more, I feel as though he is looking at me, it's an odd feeling, nostalgic almost, usually people look through me. My heart skips a beat and I realize why this might be. I quickly look back at my feet and pick up the pace, trying to put the old man out of my head and focus on making my way to the old high school.
Westville High was like any normal high school. A decant sports program and awful everything else. The school had its fair share of drama queens and drop outs as well, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the incidents that kept happening in the science department. A kid's senses are incredibly enhanced, another starts moving extra fast. All treatable conditions, except when one kid goes missing in the middle of his presentation and he takes a liking to his new found ability before they can locate him, and strap him into a hospital bed. The school took quite a few hits after that incident and was closed down that summer. It's a frequent hangout spot for miscreants now, but what less is to be expected?
I find my way through the overgrown parking lot and easily slip through one of the many holes in the chain link fence surrounding the desolate building. Smashed windows boarded by gratified planks of wood decorate the school like an art museum. The sidewalks are littered with empty beer bottles and food wrappers. Why they never sold the property and rebuilt the school into a Walmart is beyond me but I shake the memories of ringing bells and shuffling papers out of my head and slip into the building via broken window. The inside is even more of a mess: flipped tables and chairs are scattered throughout the hallways, loose papers catch slight drafts and flutter around like lost birds. The memories of loud teenagers are written along the walls in the form of evocative words and abstract art. I shuffle through the halls, my footsteps echoing around me.
The screech of an old intercom sends me flattening myself against a wall, fear washing over me in waves as my heart pounds. Distant shouts of startled squatters clamor off the empty walls.
"It's nice to be back, isn't it. It's a shame really, seeing this glorious building of learning and community so battered and broken." The disembodied voice snares overhead.
I peel myself off the wall glancing up and down the hallways, imagining purple figures leaping from behind the toppled tables. The voice sends shivers down my spine and I continue walking towards where I remember the art building being.
The voice comes back on over the speaker, cracking and shrieking every once in a while from disuse. "It's nice to finally be able to see you after all this time. Pity you couldn't have staid just a little while longer to finish your presentation, I was really looking forward to hearing all about molecular biology." The intercom clicks off and I am left again to the sounds of the night.
I push open another door and step out into the courtyard. Two teen sit under a tree, doing unspeakable things. They don't pay attention to me at all as I make my way up trash littered stairs. I look through the smashed glass of the art building doors. The hallway is empty except for the array of littered art supplies and old drama costumes. Slowly, I pull open the heavy doors and slip back inside. This building smells pungently of mold and skunk, probably a frequent weed spot.
Not two seconds after I lowered my hood does something catch my eye by the grand piano, which is less grand now as it's missing a leg and has obviously been stripped for parts. Another flicker of fabric pulls me away from the piano and I stair that the empty doorway that leads to the theater. I put my hand back on the door and my eyes shoot around the room. A door slams downstairs and I push back on the door but it doesn't budge. I turn around to use both hands and jump at the sight of the old man who was sitting at the bus station. He looks dead into my eyes. I push on the door again, but he holds it with inhuman like strength for a person his age. I back away from the door, realizing I'm trapped and visible, my heart racing.
A rough hand wraps around my mouth and a bulky arm shoots around my waste. I pull the hand down sharply and bend over as much as I can. The person grunts loudly as I elbow him in the gut and hit him in the groin. I free myself from his grasp and spin around to face him. A quick kick to then side of his head lays him out on the floor. The click of a safety releasing and I freeze, breathing hard. I close my eyes for a second as a cold barrel lightly taps my left temple. I raise my hands in surrender and look at the shooter out of the corner of my eye. He's dressed in a purple cloak similar to the man who is laying on the ground. The hood is pulled well over his eyes and his small grin is the only thing that is visible.
With one swift movement I push my arm upwards and through gun and tuck my head as a bullet hits the wall to my right. I twist my hand and jerk the weapon free of its owner and shoot him in the hip. He lets out a cry and slumps towards the piano, clutching his side. I look behind me and the man from the bus stop is gone. The man I kicked in the head pushed himself of the ground as I turn around and I hold my gun towards him.
"I'd advise you go put pressure on your friends wound over there." I say, motioning with the gun towards the man by the piano.
The man glares at me and stays where he is.
"Or, you know, I could shoot you too and then you'd both probably die." I shrug, pointing the gun at his abdomen.
He glares at me again but slowly moves towards his partner. I hear the piano man yelp as pressure is applied to his wound. I move slowly down the dim hallway, holding the gun out in front of me and trying to walk as softly as possible.
I turn to the right, passing the stairway and coming up to the old photography and clay rooms. The door to the photography room is locked and I decide to save my shoulder for better things instead of trying to break down the door. The door to the clay room, however, creaks open, and I hide against the wall before pushing it open all the way. Nothing inside moves and I peak in. Clay covers the ground and many of the tables, old art sits crumbling on shelves. Nobody's inside.
That's when I hear it. A small whimpering, coming from the boarded up windows. My heart skips a beat and I strain my ears, trying to hear the sound again. The soft cry comes again and I immediately drop to the floor, pushing myself up against the block-like tables and make my way carefully to the windows, checking the isle ways for purple men. I finally make my way over to the windows and turn toward the sound, now a lot more audible. The sight before me crushes my soul.
She is sitting on her knees, hands tied behind her back and to a pipe on the wall. Her clothing is dirt smeared and ripped, relieving scrapes and bruises. Her brown hair hangs in front of her face, greasy and tangled and her face is tear streaked and in pain. I stare at her for a second, my eyes taking as much of her in as my brain can process before realizing that she hasn't looked up at me.
"Willow," I croak, "Willow, what have they done to you?" I finally come to my senses and reach for her but her sudden jerk up makes me jump. Her face is panicked and fearful.
"Will--"
"Denton!" She cuts me off, "Denton, go get out of here!" her scratchy voice startles me and I stare at her in disbelief, rooted to my spot.
Willow thrashes against her restraints and I reach towards her to try and calm her down but my hand passes through her shoulder and I gasp.
"Denton you have to leave! It's a set up, they know you're here, please!" She cries, begging me.
I hear the door creak and Willow cries out in distress. I peak around the table and see three purple figures coming into the room and closing the door. I'm trapped and I still don't know where Willow is. I check the cartridge on my gun and see that I have ten bullets left, plenty. I scoot silently to the next table, careful not to step on a crushed aluminium beer can. I hear the men speaking to each other and Willows whimpers as I move onto the next table. I turn down one of the isles towards the door and press my back against the desk before taking a deep breath.
Quickly popping up I swing the gun over the table and fire three shots towards the men. One of them cries out, and drops to the floor with a loud thud. Two to go and seven bullets left. The men are arguing louder now and I can hear them moving. I slip into the window isle again and move up one more table and shuffle down the next isle to the second table in. I listen for the men again and make a guess as to where one of them is before popping up in his direction, finding him and firing 2 rounds at his side before crouching down again. Another thud and I've got five bullets left. The last man swears and I quickly move away from where I hear his voice. My heart beats against my rib cadge and I try to slow down my breathing. I shoot up from my hiding place and look around the room, finger ready against the trigger but the man isn't there. All I can hear is Willows sobs.
And then he hits me. Out of no where, he slams into my side, wrapping his arms around my torso. The gun flies out of my hands and slides across the cold ground, I hear ribs crack and pain shoots up my spine as we slam into the ground. The man quickly pins me to the ground with his forearm across my shoulders and neck and his left shin across my legs. I gasp in pain and dig my nails into his arm, just trying to relief the pressure he is putting on me so I can breath. He is breathing hard but chuckles a little at my struggling. Willow cries out harder, like she is fighting against someone.
The door creaks open again and he turns his head towards it. I can see a thick scar that peaks out from under his hood and follows his jawline towards his ear. More voices follow the creak of the door and I struggle to look towards the door, seeing four new pairs of shoes, before the man pushes harder on me and I'm forced to continue looking at his scar. The four men come over and surround us as the man on top of me stands up and leaves me laying on the ground. They whisper to each other for a second before one of them grabs the front of my jacket and pulls me harshly off the ground and onto my feet. I wince as I apply pressure to my right leg, pain shooting up my hip, side, and down from my rib cadge. I turn my head to look at the spot Willow was sitting and see she isn't there any more.
My blood starts to boil, "What did you do to her? Where is she?" I shout at the man who has my jacked, swinging my arm at him and thrashing in his hold. I struggle through sharp pain, my hands ripping at any flesh they can get a hold of. The men start to yell again and they all grab onto my arms, trying to restrain me. One of them punches me in my right side and I collapse in agony. The men half carry me out of the room and back into the dark hallway. I'm taken into the old green room and two of the men walk towards the stage and disappear around a corner. It feels like ages until one of them comes back and motions for me to be taken onstage.
Out of all the building that I have seen, the theater seems the most well kept. Besides a few broken seats and lights, it looks almost as it did before the school shut down. The wine colored curtains stand elegantly separated at the sides of the stage and only a few wood splinters stick out of the ground. A couple of bright lights shine down, lighting up the center of the stage where a pole has been bolted to the floor. I squint as I am pulled into the spot light and my hands are bound tightly behind my back. I begin to slump forward and towards the ground, wanting to relieve the pain on my leg but one of the men pushes me back up holds me against the bar.
"Denton!" Willow screams.
I crane my head towards her voice and see her being lead towards left stage, her arms and head hooked up to some sort of machine. She tries to run to me but her captor has a tight grip on her shoulders. I tense up as a chilling laugh comes from behind me, a laugh I'm too familiar with. The hair on the back of my neck rises as the click of shoes comes closer to me. My side erupts with pain as he digs his fingers into my broken ribs, I cry out and try to move away from him. He swings around in front of me and grabs my chin, pushing my head back into the pole, I stare into his bright green eyes breathing heavily as he scowls at me. His lips morph into an evil grin and he shoves my face away as he steps back.
"Long time, no see." he sneers, holding onto the last two words. I glare at him and he chuckles. "You still remember me, right?" he takes a gun from one of his men and turns it in his hands. I keep my eyes on his face and don't reply. His eyes burn against mine and he strides over to me again and sticks the gun to my head, "You don't remember your best friend? Huh!? Miho and Denton, two peas in a pod they use to say! What, going invisible erase your memory too?" he says through his teeth. The safety clicks and I close my eyes, swallowing hard. Willow cries out, begging him to stop.
Miho laughs again, patting my face harshly and taking the gun away. He walks to the end of the stage and looks out towards the empty audience. "You always wanted to be on the stage right?" he says over his shoulder, "Such a good public speaker." He turns around and points the gun at me again. "It's a shame you'll die on one before getting to speak on one."
"No!" Willow screams, she struggles against her captor again, but gets no where.
Miho smiles at her. "She loves you very much, it's such a tragedy, really." he chuckles, keeping the gun pointed at my heart.
Realizing I'm stuck, at gunpoint, I think of the only thing I can do to try and get us both out of here alive, keep him talking. I look from him to Willow and back at him again. "Miho, what do you want, why did you bring me here?" I ask, shifting my weight and trying to stand up a little straighter.
"It's simple really." he says, with a smile.
Then, he fires.