We burst through the apartment doors, scaring the hell of out Dad, who had a gun drawn and cocked even before Mom had time to even breathe. But, seeing that it was only us, he put the firearm back in his belt and asked what was wrong.
I noticed that the entire group of remaining X5s was back and sitting at our kitchen table. Jace, Krit, Syl, and Brin were all gathered together and looked at the disheveled Mom and I with frightened faces. Brin was in a wheelchair as Syl massaged her wrinkled skin, while Krit and Jace remained apart. Cindy was no where to be seen, but I remembered that she had a date that night, and Dad had probably kicked her out anyhow.
"There's been a slight problem," Mom replied, grabbing Krit's glass of water and chugging it down. I had failed to notice during our mad rush back home that she had broken out into a sweat. Had I truly had time to think, I would've noticed her quivering hand as well.
"Like what kind of problem?" Dad asked, rising to his feet from his spot at the table. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he looked at Mom and I with questionable-but cold-eyes.
"Like the kind of problem that Donald Lydecker is still alive and has a son, who Alanza has been unknowingly dating."
Dad's eyes sliced inward to harsh daggers. "What? No." he shook his head, trying to sort out his jumbled mind. "No, Lydecker died a good couple months ago."
"Well, then, Zack, you drive down to that restaurant and tell me why he's standing there shaking my daughter's hand!"
Mom's remark hit Dad like a physical slap, and I could see its effect. With a curt nod in the other X5's direction, he stated, "Let's get going. We can't stay here much longer."
"I have to go see James," I responded. "I have to ask him what's going on."
"You, 'Lanza," Dad replied, pointing a stiff finger at me, "are not going anywhere. If what Max says is true, you're in real danger."
"You don't even know him!"
"I don't have to know him because I know his goddamned father!" Dad spat, his face flushing with rage.
I didn't reply as I turned sharply on my heels and headed for the door. In a flash, Dad was standing in front of me, blocking my exit. For an old guy, he could move pretty fast.
"Get out of my way," I hissed.
"I'm not going to let you do this."
"Out of my way or I go through you, what's it gonna be?"
"You want to take me on, huh, 'Lanza? Go ahead," he snapped.
Grabbing him by the wrists, he turned me inwards so that his forearm was pushing down on my jugular. I gasped for air, attempting to bite his hand, but slightly stunned to be in such a military position. Mom was screaming something that I couldn't hear above the pounding of my blood. Dad, though, leaned his head close to my ear, and hissed, "Get your head in the game, soldier." Soldier. The word sent a shock wave through my body. I was just a soldier to him. With one violent kick backward into his shin, I loosened his resolves and, moving at a speed close to light, I flipped him around to face me.
"Think I'm not in the game?!" I cried, watching in almost childish delight as his eyes narrowed in fury, trying to contain his amazement. Then, clutching him by his lapels, I tossed him fiercely to the ground without a second thought, throwing my entire body weight with him so that I landed overtop of him, barely avoiding Mom's toes. "Think again," I hissed, pressing my face close to his.
Standing up, I didn't even wait long enough to see his response, but instead brushed my dress off and opened the door. "'Lanza, no!" he yelled, trying to stop me. But, by the time he had risen to his feet, I was already on my motorcycle and heading down to James' apartment.
It took me approximately one-third of the time it usually did to reach James' due to the fact I pushed the speed limit. A cop saw me speeding down the road, my hair flying out underneath my helmet and immediately jumped on my tail like the anxious doughnut-lover he was. Fortunately, I was able to lose him in a back alley after leading him down a dead end, then turning around and jumping over the hood of his car, leaving him to do nothing but sit and swear.
Yet, my disappointment was tremendous upon arriving at James' when I saw that his car wasn't in the lot, and, figuring by some minute chance that his father could have dropped him off, I stood outside his apartment door, knocking fervently for a good five minutes. A nosy neighbor told me to "quit the goddamned knocking", while I shot back with a fierce "go to hell". After all, if Mom was telling the truth that James' father was Lydecker, we needed to talk as soon as possible.
By the time my knuckles were sore from knocking, I reluctantly gave up and began to head back home. Being slightly saddened that James was not available, I took my time getting back home. I figured that maybe he would be out on the streets, driving home in his little Focus from the restaurant, and I would then be able to catch him that way. But, to no avail. So, I returned home empty-handed and answerless. Neither situation I wanted to be in, yet there was no other way to go. Now, I had to face the furious father and try to explain to him why I had burst out on him like I had. It wasn't going to be pretty, so I was secretly hoping that Mom would back me up.
In our building, I trudged up the cracked stairs, my mind a sick whirlwind, attempting to process all of the information that had been fed to me in less than two hours. James' father was Donald Lydecker? No, it couldn't be. Dad had seen the dead 'Deck with his own eyes…it wasn't possible. And, none of the things that I had heard from James and Case made any sense either. A hooker loving construction CEO? Case had met Lydecker, for pete's sake, so maybe Mom was mistaken. Yes, that was all, Mom was getting her facts twisted because she was all hyped up about Dad's return. Nothing more. This new revelation caused me to feel fairly pleased with myself, and I almost skipped up the stairs, delighted with my newfound logic that my boyfriend wasn't the enemy.
Yet, all existing pleasure turned to dread when I came upon our apartment, and I froze right in my steps, not wanting to believe the scene in front of me was real. It was just a dream…no, it was a nightmare.
The flimsy wooden door was torn off its hinges, thrown nearly half way down the hallway, splintered in half right across the middle, while the frame where it had once stood was literally peeling off the plaster walls. My heart thudding dreadfully, I hurried inside the apartment, praying for Mom or Dad to be there, and nearly threw up when I saw what was inside.
Brin's wheelchair was flipped over, the canvas seat slashed in two with the metal frame hellishly bent, which lay right next to the crushed couch that was ripped open, vomiting its cotton innards across the floor. The table where Krit, Syl, and Jace had been sitting only minutes before was bent, cracked under the weight of some fiend who had jumped on it. Pressing my hand to the cheap wood, I could feel the outline of Dad's shoe. After all, he had the biggest feet of anyone that I had ever known.
A strangled sob rose in the back of my throat, but I forced it down, willing myself to be strong during such a moment. Underneath the dying table, was a puddle of blood, which wasn't extremely monstrous, but ominous enough. Somebody had been hurt. Somebody had been hurt bad.
All in all, the apartment was a war zone with dirty footprints on the walls, dents smashed into cupboard that hung lazily by broken hinges, and food that had been sitting on the countertop mashed into the ground.
I turned away from the scene and was about to go into the extra bedroom, when something met my precise eyes. Scrambling towards the object that shone in the apartment light, I crouched down and picked up Dad's watch. Surprisingly, it wasn't broken or cracked, but perfectly in tact as if he had thrown it before blackness welcomed him in. An inner sixth sense told me that he had left it for me to find. I knew, then, that I was my family's only hope for escape from Manticore. After all, it didn't take a genius to put the puzzle together: Lydecker in the restaurant, James missing, and my family taken away. Mom was right; Lydecker was back and I waited one moment too soon. Had I not left to find James in vain, perhaps I could've saved them. Now, they were suffering because of me.
My body burned with adrenaline-the kind of nervous, tingly feeling that occurs just before the gun in blown in a track meet-and, furiously, I changed into my street clothes in a flash. Fastening the watch around my wrist, I smiled, despite my present situation. Dad, I'm coming.
A noise from downstairs distracted me for a minute, and I exited the apartment and peered down the crumbling stairs. At the bottom, entering the doors of the lobby, black suited sector police, pushed pashed the frightened citizens, assuring them that "they would find the burglar", and they began to move up the stairs towards my location, ready to search for a man that would never dare to be found.
Quickly, I dashed inside the apartment, and I grabbed a scrap piece of paper, which advertised for cheap yoga lessons downtown, scribbled a message on it, knowing that Cindy would be back from her date, then laid it on the seat of Mom's motorcycle that she still parked inside. Logan or someone must have delivered it after Mom and I had gone to dinner-but before Lydecker came back.
Then, I turned, and in one blind rage, I flew through the window, making sure my head was tucked downwards-just like I was diving into the pool where I had nearly screwed Brandon-sending glass flying in all directions. I landed in the alley on my haunches, dashed to my bike, and roared off into the distance, hoping that I would be back. If not, Cindy would know where I had gone. I could only pray that she would understand the note I had left her. The four words, which were, of course, a wicked parody of an incident long dead, read, in my sloppy handwriting, "Went back for them."
