He had a beacon before him even though it was dark in the forest. He had a role model who showed him to face with the past: Big Z. And if the legend could do it, so could he.
Now that he thought about it, their stories were awfully similar. Both of them played their death to escape from their formal lives. Neither of them succeeded. They were forced to face their past by friends who wanted the best for them.
He climbed over the familiar, tall stone fence that separated the villa from the forest. Like a shadow he sleeked from bush to bush.
The villa was a two-storey white building with big windows. It was beautiful. He crawled to a window on the ground floor and pulled out an extremely thin and sharp knife from the backpack on his back. Let's see if James Nubbins had had an alarm installed into his office after last time.
He slid the blade of the knife in between the window frame and the left jamb and started to move it up and down. A soft click was heard. He repeated it in the bottom then climbed up to the windowsill and he opened the upper lock too. Man, James could have at least changed the window's locks.
He gently pushed the glass and it opened without a sound. He climbed in and closed it. The office was just the way he remembered it: long, rectangle shaped room with a door on the right side, a desk with two comfortable chairs just before the window, a crystal chandelier, a thick rug, two sofas around a small side table and 3 giant bookcases by the left wall, all of them had drawers on the lower parts.
He calmly walked around, turned the light on, and pulled out James' journal from one of the drawers and went back to the desk. He looked at the ceiling. The master bedroom was just above the office.
He pulled out two small clay vases. He didn't plan to cause any harm to the household. He lifted the first one and hurled it at the ceiling. The poor vase was crashed to pieces with a loud crash. He waited a minute before smashing the other on the floor. Then, as if nothing has happened, he calmly walked up to the chair, placed himself comfortably on it, leaned back against the wide back rest, opened the journal and turned towards the window.
...
James woke up to a loud crash. And it was coming from his office! He jumped out of the bed and ran out of the bedroom. He heard another crash from the same place. He bolted through a short corridor that was filled with mirrors.
He was a rockhopper with average height, bright orange beak and a long, proud, awfully yellow crest. His pattern wasn't complicated at all: one white spot on each side of his neck.
He dashed downstairs but stopped at the office's door. The robber might be dangerous. He carefully opened the door and peeped through the crack. No one. He opened it a little more. Still nobody. He finally opened it wide and stepped in. Still nothing, except the brown fragments all over the floor and his chair facing with the window.
He took a few more steps. What was going on here?
- Oh my, so unfortunate! – the unknown voice made him jump. – Looks like last year the McBrin family left the business. I believe you have lost quiet a bunch of money.
- Who's that? – James snarled at the chair. – Show yourself!
- Now, now, be patient, please – the voice said. – I see you still managed to get the farms of three other families after that. And this one? Oh poor, Johnson, he won't even know what have hit him.
- What are you talking about?
- Your business, of course! What else?
- Get out of my office or I will call the police! – James growled.
- Call the police? Seriously? – the voice was mocking him. – You would do such a thing to me? I didn't steal anything nor did I destroy anything. Those fragments are from two vases I brought along the way…
- YOU DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE! – James shouted. – Show yourself, creep!
- Creep? – the voice turned cold. – So this is what I am to you? A creep? Do you even remember me… Dad?
And the chair slowly turned around. At first James didn't know where to put the stranger, but then… That pattern, those grey eyes, that yellow crest (now brushed aside)…
- Rory? – he whispered, eyes widening, wings shaking. – Son, is that you?
- Have a seat, Dad – Rory said calmly. – Because now we will have a nice long talk.
James slowly sat down, never breaking eye contact with Rory.
- Is that really you? – he asked. – Or am I seeing a ghost?
- Let's say I'm a… semi-ghost – Rory leaned back, the journal still in his wings. – We owe each other an explanation. Me, because I ran away and you… for these – he dropped the notebook onto the desk.
James looked at the journal, then at his son again.
- Dad, I… - Rory sighed as he leaned forward, wings and eyes on the desk. – You need to know this: I ran away from you because I was going mad here…
- Why? You had everything—
- Except friends… and surfing. And sincerity– Rory interrupted. – You didn't let me practice surfing—
- Because it is a dangerous sport! – James said firmly.
- Yes, I know. But it is also the way we penguins fly – Rory answered softly. – And I loved that feeling. You would have loved it too. But it wasn't the main reason, of course. I loved you Dad, but this… – he poked the journal as it was a dead rat. –… this scared me. Showed me your other side. Dad, what you are doing is horrible!
- This is the way a farmer can improve – James' voice was hard and unquestionable. – This is our way, son—
- I get it! – Rory snapped but fell silent right after that. – I am not here to change you, Dad. Mum tried… and she failed…
- She showed it to you, didn't she? – James cocked his head to one side. – You were always just like her.
- Say good things or say nothing about a dead! – Rory waved.
- I wasn't saying bad things about her – James pointed out. – I was stating facts.
- The point is… – Rory continued. –… She did show me all your deeds. And it scared me. Dad, you are treating other families as puppets! Objects! Like they don't have dreams and lives like you do.
- Son, business is about cruelty – James shook his head. – If they were foolish enough to march right into a trap then so be it.
- But those traps are not there originally! You set them up.
- Yes, so?
- Dad, how many lives do you want to ruin? – Rory asked desperately. – You ruined Mum's, wasn't it enough?
- I did not ruin hers – James' eyes were like blades.
- You did! – Rory snapped. – You just didn't notice it. Dad, Mum died because she was so desperate to help those families out, to stop you from wrecking more! She fell ill because of your stubbornness and she raised me against you out of fear that I would be the same.
- What are you saying? – James hissed. – You dare to say I killed Amelia?
- No. Your ways had killed her! – Rory growled then leaned back. – But as I said, I won't try to change you. I just came to tell you I am fine and have my own life. And I won't come back.
James stayed silent.
- Dad, I am finally truly happy! – Rory continued. – Do you have any idea what life is like out there? Let me tell you: it's hard, but it's also full of happiness and craziness. Things I could never experience here! True freedom lies over those fences, Dad. I have my own job, I live easily and I spend my time with friends… I met new buddies during the Big Z Memorial Surf Off! Life is an adventure, you see. And I'm enjoying every moment of it!
-… Yet – James said simply.
Rory paused.
- You will see – the old rockhopper leaned back on the chair. – Don't want to come back here? Fine by me. But remember your old life when hardships will come.
- I know they exist, Dad – Rory whispered.
- Yet you act like you don't.
- Why should I worry over things that are not even real?
- Son, if someone born with such luck to have a rich family in his back, he should be grateful for it! Not throwing it away for some kind of crazy fairy tale!
- I am grateful – Rory said. – I'm grateful for having this family for a while. It taught me a very good lesson: how to realize that you are being tricked and how to expose those who want to double-cross you.
- Oh really?
- You have no idea how well I've learnt that lesson – Rory nodded calmly. – But my new life taught me too. I have learnt how to survive. I know how to find friends in the crowd and how to rely on them. I know hard work, Dad. And I know sincerity. Something only Mum showed me here.
- And did the truth make your life better? – James asked gloatingly.
- Yes – Rory answered simply. – It opened my eyes. Truth hurts, yes. It hurts very much. But it's not unbearable and with time you can accept it or even change it.
James snorted. Rory stood up and headed to the door. His father followed him.
They were in the anteroom when the old rockhopper spoke again.
- You know if you go out on that door, you won't be welcomed here anymore? – he asked coldly.
Rory paused for a moment but only to place a small penguin figurine on a chest. It was made out of shells. He then turned to his father.
- Yes, I know. But my job here is done – he said. – I just wanted to have a last talk before I leave. You have changed, Dad. I can't love you anymore… – he looked at the figurine. – Did you even tell little Susie I exist? If yes, then give her this… and tell her that her foster-brother sends his best wishes to her.
He walked to the big front door, opened it, and with a soft "Farewell" he stepped out into the night without looking back.
Note that I don't truly understand these business stuff, I just made it up. :) One more chapter to go! :O