I am sorry that the formatting is messed up. When you copy and paste, it does that. So, I hope you won't be annoyed at that. Enjoy!
{Chapter 3}
Andrew woke sometime later. His head lay against the window of the suburban. The noise of the wind rushing past droned on in his head.
Memories of what happened when he was last awake filtered through his mind. Suddenly, at seeing the sight outside of the car window, the thoughts were gone, replaced by a terrifying memory.
#
“You have been a bad boy.” The voice was a deep throaty growl, like that of a monster. Andrew’s throat constricted. “For that, you will pay for your—,” He didn’t hear the rest. His head plunged into burning hot water. The burn felt as if it was screaming a long, guttural screech.
It turned out that it wasn’t the burn at all. The terrible noise was coming from his throat. It seemed inhuman.
#
Andrew closed his eyes trying to fight off the memory. Closing his eyes didn’t help. A wave of nausea rolled over Andrew’s stomach. It felt like claws scraping across his heart. Why had this happened to him? Andrew’s mom had always said that it was a teaching lesson from God.
Andrew despised God for doing this to him. What kind of god taught people lessons by inflicting pain on them? Not one that Andrew would believe in or follow.
The hatred Andrew felt towards God and Thomas welled. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs at the both of them. Andrew knew, though, that such a thing was impossible, Thomas wanted to kill him, and God didn’t exist.
Andrew was filled with panic. Thomas wanted to squash him like a bug.
“Mom,” Andrew said, “Where are we going?”
Anne looked from the road to Andrew, “Sh, we’re going to the airport, we are going to Austin. We need to see your grandpa. He will know what to do.” She said almost inaudibly.
Andrew changed the subject by saying, “Can you turn on the radio.” Tears were swelling up in his eyes. He was trying hard to keep them in, but still they leaked out. He put his palms to his eyes. I am so childish! Why do I keep crying? I hate myself! I hate who I am!
The tears were soaking through Andrew’s fingers. He was able to hold back a loud sob.
Suddenly, the radio turned on, and a familiar tune filled the confines of the car. The song was played by a symphony. It was Songe d’Automne. Andrew began to hum along with the exquisite music. Each note brought calm to Andrew’s haggard mind. He finally took a large calming breath.
The song ended.
Anne pulled the suburban into a parking spot. Soon, Andrew and Anne were walking into the terminal with three large bags.
#
“You can’t get cheap tickets on such short notice.” The man standing at the Southwest counter said.
“No, you don’t understand. I have tickets. I just need to get them upgraded for the next flight today.”
“I am very sorry Miss Crey.” The man looked at the ticket Anne had handed him in hope that he could help. “It just won’t work out.” Anne could tell this man was not sorry in the least.
“Listen,” Anne leaned in so the man was an inch from her face. “I am going to enlighten you on a subject.” Her voice had become a growl. “A very bad man is after my son.” She shoved a finger towards Andrew, who at the moment was staring out the window trying to be oblivious to the conversation at the counter. “He is after my son. I want to leave a day early to get away from a psycho. Can you help us?” Anne had become fierce.
“I will see what I can do,” the man said with wide eyes. He tapped at keys on his computer.
Minutes later, Anne and Andrew were headed through security holding new tickets that had been reprinted.
“Hello, Mrs. Crey. How are you today?” The TSA agent asked her with a soft smile.
“I have been better.” Anne said.
“I’m sorry ma’am,” the TSA agent said with sincerity. He waved both Anne and Andrew through. Enjoy your flight.”
Andrew and Anne passed through the rest of security was ease. They were soon on their way to gate C2.
Once Andrew and Anne had sat down on the plane; Andrew fell into a deep slumber.
#
The next thing Andrew knew he was jolted awake. He was sweating profusely. His breath came in labored gasps. A small dream had taken a terrible turn.
Andrew had been in a field of brilliant green. Soft, melodic music hung on the wind.
The sun hung in the sky as if by a string. The sky was a brilliant blue tinged in red fire. That was where the pleasantries ended, though.
Suddenly, the grass caught fire. The winds ceased its beautiful blowing. The sky turned black as ash; like it had burned and all that was left was blackness.
A dark face filled the sky. Fire burned behind the gray of his eyes. A sharp cackle filled the world. It gained amplitude. As the cackle rose, so did the fire. The smell of death hung impossibly thick in this terror.
The fire disappeared as soon as it had come.
Andrew jolted awake when the plane had hit a field of turbulence, causing the plane to rattle like a snake. He calmed his breathing and looked at the night sky filled with bright stars. He felt safe up here. No burning sky, no evil cackle; just the sound of the plane droning on.
#
Thomas Markham sat in a white Mustang across the street from Andrew and Anne’s home. The tinted windows shielded his face from any prying eyes. Thomas had chosen the mustang because it wasn’t too pretentious in this neighborhood. Everyone and everything moved about their business and didn’t care whether there was a new car on the street.
They would write it off as one of the neighbors acting high and mighty with all their money.
In Thomas’ hand, the left one which was not touching the wheel was a Smith and Wesson black 9mm semi automatic pistol. He had chosen the gun for the special purpose of killing his son.
Some would call him demented for even thinking of doing such a thing. Thomas would agree with them and say, “Yes, I am demented. But if you knew why I would kill my son, you would agree, that I am far from demented.”
Thomas tapped the gun against his thigh in time with the soft pulse of the music. He didn’t know what station he was listening to. Nor did he care. The music caused his blood to pump faster giving him a sort of high.
Thomas had given up drugs and taken to increasing his adrenaline. He liked the highs from natural adrenaline more than he did with artificial crap.
He watched the house across the street with roaming eyes. Every light was off in the house. The Suburban Anne drove to and from work was not in the driveway, most likely in the garage; because a storm was brewing.
Thomas studied the house for a few minutes longer. He nibbled idly on a piece of pepperoni pizza. Every few seconds he dabbed a napkin on the pizza so as to get rid of the grease. When the piece was just crust he threw it into the box and took a swig of his orange soda.
Then, he opened the car door and stepped into the night.
Thomas walked quickly across the street. He did not dally when he came to the front door. He bent down and unlocked it quickly, using a bobby pin. Some preferred real pick locking equipment. But, Thomas would rather use a bobby pin any day of the week. They were cheap and if they broke, well you could just grab a new one out of the bag, instead of having to spend a hundred and fifty bucks.
Once the lock popped up, Thomas opened the front door and stepped quietly and quickly into the foyer. He closed the door as quickly as he entered. Anne could detect cold air anywhere.
Thomas walked to the stairs and stepped lightly on the first step. What am I doing? I should just storm up there and kill the boy! He was about to sprint up the steps when he mentally kicked himself. Are you stupid? You can’t just come in guns blazing. Thomas rubbed his eyes and continued his slow movements up the steps.
When he reached the landing at the top of the stairs he walked to the room that Andrew slept in. He knew it was Andrew’s room because right outside the door was a sign that said, Do Not Enter Without Permission! Only a teenager would have one of those signs on their doors.
Oh well, guess I am going to enter without permission. Thomas opened the door slowly hoping that it wouldn’t creak. It didn’t. Thomas was greeted by darkness, and a pile of dirty socks, which he tripped over. Careful! He yelled in his mind.
Thomas sidled to Andrew’s bed. What he found was a perfectly neat bed that looked like it had been made recently. At first, a white hot fury spread through him. Then he remembered that they took his bait. He had said he would kill Andrew. So Anne had done the thing she thought was best, run to her daddy like the frightened little girl she was.
Oh, yes, Thomas was excited to go on this little adventure to find his son and kill him. He was excited that his wife had played into his little game. She was so stupid. Thomas laughed.
Aren’t I stupid for thinking they would still be here? He thought. Of course not!
He stepped from Andrew’s room and laughed a long, wicked cackle. He thought, Might as well do a little damage while I am here.
Thomas walked to a window and, using the bobby pin, he scratched a message in the window: Gotcha little twerp. He went to every window writing different messages. When he was done with Anne and Andrew, they wouldn’t even need to change the windows.
Before leaving, Thomas went back to Andrew’s room and tore down the curtains by the window. He wrote a long message on the window, “No matter what. I do what I do because I love you.”
He moved to the hall and said, “If you believe that, twerp. Your stupidity proves your need for death.”
Thomas walked to the front porch outside. He shut the door, locked it, and skipped across the street to his Mustang. Be prepared, Andrew. I’m coming to get you.
He slid into the driver seat, revved the engine and sped down the street towards the highway. Next stop, death. Thomas grinned widely as he drove. Oh, I am good.
#
When the plane touched down in Austin, Texas, Andrew and Anne rushed out in front of everyone. Many grumbled angrily, some just moved away so they wouldn’t get step on.
Andrew still felt the affect of his dream. It was a sort of panic. It wasn’t to bad, but Andrew felt sluggish and kept looking over his shoulder to see if someone was following them. No one was. At least, no one that Andrew and Anne wanted to stay away from.
The baggage claim area was nearly empty. Only a few others grabbed bags off of the conveyor belts. Andrew and Anne stood quietly waiting for their bags. When they came, Anne pulled out her cell phone and clicked the number one. “Hey dad, can you come pick us up at the airport? We’re in trouble. Big trouble.”
Andrew thought big pile of crap trouble. He smiled at the word crap. He was still the immature kid who laughed when someone said words like that. He nearly laughed out loud, but thought doing so would be inappropriate.
“Thanks, dad.” Anne ended the call and turned to Andrew. “Grandpa is on the way. He will be here in ten or twenty minutes. Do you want to get something to eat? I am starving.”
“I’m not. I feel sick.” Andrew said holding, his stomach. “I do, though have to go to the bathroom, really bad.” Anne took Andrew’s bag from him and Andrew went to the men’s room.
It was empty, and eerily quiet. Each foot step echoed loudly around the tiled area. Andrew took deep breaths as he stood at the urinal. He cleared his mind and let his heart become lighter. The unsettled feeling in his stomach drained and he let out a sigh.
Only after the sigh was out, did he realize another man had walked in the bathroom and was relieving his bladder. Andrew’s face turned red. He said, “Uh… You know how it is… after a long plane ride. Everyone has to pee…” Andrew walked away quickly. Did I really just say that? He thought.
He washed his hands quickly and walked quickly out of the bathroom. When he was out, and his laughter would not echo, he let out a loud fit of laughter. He wiped a tear from his eye. He leaned down and touched his knees, letting the fatigue from sitting all day go away.
When the stiffness of his joints subsided, he walked back to his mom. She was chatting it up with a TSA officer. As Andrew walked up he heard the TSA officer say, “You don’t look like you sat on a plane all day. You’re extremely pretty.” Yack! Andrew walked up and glared at the man. His badge said he was Marley Pippert.
When Marley noticed Andrew he said, “Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you had a boyfriend.” Andrew’s eyes grew wide. He stared at the man with disbelief.
“First of all, this is my mom! Second, that is disgusting! No offense mom.” The officer stared weakly at the door.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Excuse me.” The man walked away red in the face.
Anne turned to Andrew when the officer was out of sight, “Excuse me? ‘Disgusting’?”
Andrew grinned sheepishly. “Oh, I thought you would know what I meant. I meant you’re my mom. So the thought of being your boyfriend,” he shivered, “is gross.”
“I know.” Anne’s phone buzzed. “Hello,” she said.
“OK. See you out front.” Anne hung up her phone and said to Andrew, “Time to go. He’s out front.” Anne walked at a speedy clip out to the front of the airport. She stood for a second before entering the night air.
Andrew was greeted by the warm night air. Sitting by the curb was an idling Ford F-150. Grandpa George hopped out of the struck and threw the bags into the truck bed. “Get in.” That was all he said. No, “Hey, how’s it going! You’ve grown a lot!”
It was silent in the truck cab. Not even the radio was on.
“Thomas isn’t here… why is it necessary to have that with us?” He was speaking about the shotgun that was sitting in the front seat.
“Precaution. Thomas is a bad man, and I don’t want to be caught off guard.” Grandpa George said in his strong soothing voice.
“Okay…” Andrew said. He was silent for the rest of the trek to the house. When they pulled into the driveway, they rushed into the house. Once the front door closed, and the locks engaged did Anne breathe a long sigh of relief.
Andrew heard the pounding of bare feet in the hallway. “Thank God!” Grandma Helen said when she entered the room. She ran up to Andrew and lifted him off his feet. “Thank God you are okay!” Grandma Helen was a strong lady for her age of sixty-two. She could lift a hundred and fifty two pounds of dead wait.
She kissed Andrew’s forehead and said, “Let’s make some tea. We need to talk.” She went into the kitchen and started to fill up a pot with water.
Andrew, Grandpa George, Anne, and Grandma Helen sat in cushy chairs in the living room holding cups of tea. Andrew took sips of the hot liquid slowly. When he had first gotten his cup he had taken a large swig and burnt his tongue. He had forgotten that it was hot and his dehydration took a hold of him.
His tongue already had blisters. He didn’t want to get up and get a drink of water to cool the heat, because he didn’t want to show that he had actually burnt his tongue. So he sat in the rocking chair with a swollen tongue listening to his mom explaining all that had happened.
He wasn’t really paying attention. He didn’t want to reopen any boxes in his mind that held the fear he had felt the day before. He kept his mind busy by studying the large painting on the wall. It has all sorts of circles, squares, triangles and other shapes he couldn’t make out. He zoned in on each of the shapes, and then looked at the whole painting all together. Each shape was a part of the larger picture of a man laughing.
The painting was quite good. The use of color accentuated each part of the face. Only if you looked close would you notice the shapes. That is what made the painter good at what he did.
Every so often, Andrew would hear a few sentences of what was being said, or asked. He would shiver and occupy his thinking with some sort of idle task.
At one point, he noticed the talking had ceased. He re-entered the conversation and stared at each of the adult faces. As quickly as the talking stopped, it began again. “We need to call the police. We cannot do this ourselves. We need the help of someone. Someone needs to stop him.” Andrew was paying complete attention now.
Grandma Helen said, “But, he isn’t here now. DO we need to concern ourselves yet?”
Grandpa George contemplated what she said for a moment. He said, “He knows that Anne and Andrew are here. He’s smart. He is playing a game. We need to stop his sick game before he decides that he is finished playing and just comes in for the kill.”
“Who are we supposed to call?” Grandma Helen looked at her watch, “And at two o’clock in the morning for goodness sakes!” Andrew wasn’t even tired. He had slept so much the past twenty-four hours that he felt like he had drank a whole can of Monster.
“The law doesn’t ever sleep.” Anne said quietly.
“Exactly,” Grandpa George said. “Besides, I know the procedures.”
“Well, that helps.” Grandma Helen said sarcastically. “What we need is help. Not procedures!” Grandpa George looked at Grandma Helen for a long moment.
“Yes, we do need help. Tomorrow we will go up to the precinct and explain what’s going on. For now, we should all go to bed. If Thomas is coming, we need to be ready, and being exhausted will not help us in the least bit.” Grandpa George said.
Andrew was the first up out of his seat.
The house was four bedrooms. Andrew’s grandparents slept in the master bedroom. The room Andrew would sleep in was large. It even had its own bathroom. Actually, it wasn’t that cool. Every room had its own bathroom. There was a window in the room that opened up to show a hillside. In the dark, you could barely see the sharp incline. During the day, you could see it, and the deep green grass the covered the base of the hill.
Andrew took off his clothes and put on a pair of Nike sweat shorts and an orange t-shirt. He wore white socks that he pulled up to his mid calf. He climbed under the soft covers and immediately fell into a dreamless slumber.
Thomas Markham sat on the plane twirling a toothpick between his fingers. He would much rather have been twirling his knife. But alas, TSA would have confiscated it and would have put him custody, and he just couldn’t have that now. No, that would be bad. He was so close to completing his task, he could taste Andrew’s blood on his lips.
The plane had departed nearly an hour earlier and Thomas beginning to feel annoyed. The plane was moving too slow. It couldn’t get to Austin quick enough.
Thomas sat next to a fat, snoring man. He felt like jabbing him in the chest to get him to sit up straight and stop leaning his flubby cheeks on his Thomas’ shoulder. Instead of jabbing him, he unbuckled his seat belt and moved the aisle seat. That solved that.
The problem of the plane moving too slow was still at hand. Thomas fought the urge to start cursing randomly. It would have been funny, but he didn’t want to make a scene. Or maybe, he did. That would make the plane go into a funk. It was nearly empty too.
In the end, Thomas just leaned his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes and thought of ways to kill Andrew that would keep him alive long enough to feel the most immense pain.
This gave him a great thrill. He would enjoy ridding the world of his son Andrew.
Andrew pulled himself out of bed at eleven-thirty in the morning. Despite the air conditioning, the room he occupied was hotter than a furnace. He noticed that his suitcase was covering the air vent, and when he moved it, freezing air rushed into the room, cooling it almost instantly.
Andrew went into the bathroom and turned on the shower faucet. He stepped in, after he folded his night clothes and set them on the counter. He took deep breaths and let the cool water wipe his mind and body clean. Sleep calmed his mind, but the water cleansed it.
He hummed quietly and let the noise soothe him deeper.
When the water stopped its soothing effect and became a freezing downpour, he shut it off and stepped onto the towel he had laid out, so the droplets of water wouldn’t create a swimming pool for tiny little bugs, like ants.
Andrew wrapped a towel over his body and went to the main part of the room to grab his clothes for the day.
When he was dressed, in blue jeans, a red shirt, and white socks, he went into the living room. He was the only one out there. He sat in the rocking chair he had sat earlier that morning. He thought for a moment, and decided to grab his phone and check his texts.
He had ran into his bedroom and picked up his phone from the bedside table. He had one new text from Molly, his good friend. Some said she was his girlfriend. She wasn’t. They were best friends and had been for a long time, since well before the incident. She had visited him in the hospital and still cared for him when she saw his face.
Andrew wanted her to be his girlfriend. More than anything in the world. But, he was too nervous to ask her. He wasn’t really sure he could let her into his heart completely, though.
Molly had blonde hair and tan skin. She went tanning every few days to keep the lack of sun from showing on her skin. She had a loving personality and was extremely pretty. Her blonde hair hung to just below her shoulder blades.
The text said, “Where are you?”
He replied, “In Texas. Where are you?” He knew where she was. She was sitting in science right about now.
She replied within minutes, “Poop you! When were you going to tell me you were going to Texas?” ‘Poop you’ was Molly and Andrew’s inside joke in a way. Molly never used bad language, so when she was mad, she would say that.
“Well, it was kind of sudden. A family emergency happened… How’s science?”
Andrew waited for a few minutes, and when a new text didn’t come in, he walked out to the living room, phone in hand and sat on the couch facing a large picture window overlooking the street. He began to study everything within his sight.
He scrutinized every detail of every house, car and tree.
When his phone buzzed he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked at the message, “Sorry, Schwartz tried to take my phone. I almost busted him in the face. Science sucks, like usual. I am bored out of my mind, and I hate you for not telling me.”
Andrew replied, “You seriously hate me?!?”
A reply came instantly, “You know I don’t hate you. You know I love you.” This sent Andrew’s heart fluttering like a baby dove when it first sets flight.
“And, I love you too.” He added the sign for heart and sent the text. Right as the text sent, Grandma Helen walked out wearing a pair of blue khaki knee length shorts and a white blouse.
“Hi, Andy!” She said. She filled a pot of water and set it on the stove. She came into the living room and sat down.
“Hey, Grandma. How’d you sleep?” Andrew could tell that it was not well. She had dark bags under her eyes and her eyes were filled with worry.
Despite her haggard appearance she said, “Perfectly wonderful.” The pot of water began to screech. “Want some tea?”
“Sure,” Was all he said. He sat on the couch and began to study the world outside the house again. He closed one eye and studied the view. Then, he did the same with the other eye. He did this to see if he could see things a different way.
It didn’t really change anything. It was the same old view no matter how he looked at it. He returned his focus to his phone which had a new text, “Gotta go. PE time. YUCK.” Andrew stifled a laugh. He knew how much Molly hated Physical Education. She was extremely athletic. But, she hated having to work out with all her friends.
She was the type of person that worked out as much as she could… by herself. If anyone was around, she would get shy and start randomly talking about random things such as, “Oh, she has the cutest pinky finger.” Everyone around her would look at her like she was a freak and she would turn bright red. She often spurted off random facts as well.
Andrew felt quite bad for her at times. He was also glad he didn’t have to have PE with her, because she could be quite crotchety.
Grandma Helen came into the living room holding two mugs filled with water and tea bags. “I know Candy Cane tea is your favorite. I’m sorry I didn’t give you that type last night. I was kind of stressed.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” He smiled and took the steaming cup from her hands. “Thanks,” He said.
“How are you, Andy?” Grandma Helen took a seat in the rocking chair almost directly in front of Andrew. Andrew did not necessarily like being called Andy. But, it was okay when Grandma Helen called him that. It was like falling down when you’re a kid. You only want mommy to kiss it and make it feel better. It brought comfort that no one else could bring.
“I am doing fine. Pretty stressed, ‘cause well, you know.” Andrew tried to grimace but all that came from his attempt was an ugly scowl. Grandma Helen looked at him sympathetically.
“We’ll stop Thomas you know that, right? Grandpa George could hardly sleep last night. He kept mumbling that he was going to, well, you know how he feels about Thomas.” As soon as she finished her statement, Grandpa George came out into the living room with Anne.
“Come on. We are all going to the precinct.” Grandpa George grabbed the truck keys off the granite countertop.
“Do we all have to go?” Anne asked.
“It’s a precaution.” Grandpa George said. “Come on, let’s beat the lunch rush.”
Thomas watched through the windshield of his Escapade, Andrew, Anne, George and Helen all walk out of the home. They all piled into the Ford F-150 and drove away.
Thomas counted to twenty, then powered the car on and followed them. He stayed just far enough behind to be conspicuous, but just close enough to trail the car. He wasn’t sure as to where they were all going.
He had never been to Austin before and everything was new and unfamiliar. He didn’t necessarily care where it was they were going. He just wanted to feel the thrill of watching them. It gave him a sense of power over the situation. Knowing that he could see them, but they could not see him was an immense pleasure.
Thomas drove at a leisurely pace. He could tell that people were getting annoyed at him. He smiled and flipped them all off. They drove around him blocking his view of the truck. He cursed them all and drove around them. As he passed them, he kept his middle finger perched high.
He returned his attention away from the grumpy travelers and began to follow the truck again. He followed until the truck turned into a parking lot. When Thomas saw what building lay within the lot he swore.
He didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe he thought they would play along with his game. Party poopers, Thomas thought.
He was not worried about the police getting involved. There were no worries about that. They would only dampen the game with their help. Thomas swore again and drove down the street where he turned around and waited for them to leave the precinct.