In light
Chapter 2 of In shadows
Sometimes I wish I could write normal things. Or better things.


In Shadows

Chapter 2: In Light

Megan@Midnight

It was a bright morning in Fort Fisher, North Carolina, when Sheldon Sands: late of Mexico, recently eyeless, currently an MIA CIA agent presumed dead, stepped out of the sea cave and into sunlight. He'd stayed in for the rest of the night, in a cave with cool voice, glowing crystals, and a pair of gloriously brown eyes. He'd found on his way out that it took three hours to get down and out according to his watch. The fact that he could finally see his watch was enough to keep him smiling through the long dark of the tunnel out. That and the indiglo feature.

Sands takes a deep breathe of sea air; salt, sand, and the ever present dead fish smell. The tide is just coming in and he slips over the rocks with boots and gloves tight on the sharp, mussel-strewn rocks. He knows from experience the razor edges those damn shells had. He's used it before. The leather is ruined but it's well worth it.
When he hits the beach, he takes a long look at the ocean. Takes off his sunglasses and screams "FUCK OFF!" Throws them as far into the water as he possibly can. Gulls scatter every which way, shrieking and very likely cursing him in seagull. Sheldon laughs like madman.

It's a beautiful day, already seventy degrees and that's right on the water. It'll ninety by three o'clock and Sheldon's already planning a long walk about then. Maybe on campus. It's dry heat, same as in Mexico but there's no substitute for the sea winds.

It's been a long time since he's been on these beaches. This is a rocky shoreline, dominated by cochina clams, or at least their former homes. Tiny little things that build into huge yellow orange rocks. Often with the sharp edge black mussels on them. Sands runs finger over the edge of one, and watching himself bleed.

"Shel! Hey, Seashel!"

Sheldon Sands glared at the sand beneath his feet. He didn't look up at Georgie Hawkins, a large blonde eight year old, who was walking up to him. Sands, at seven, was beginning to hate his given name.

He clenched his fists in an effort not to strike at the older boy, which given his small frame would result in a beating from the second grade's bully. "Hey, Seashel! I'm talking to you." Sheldon's face twisted in fury.

"I've told you not to call me that." It's a soft dangerous snarl.

Georgie's a bit too stupid to recognize a threat when he hears it. "Aww… are you gonna cry? Poor little Seashel Sands," the bigger boy taunted.

"No." Sands says, and it's impossible not to hear the threat now. He raises his head and brown eyes meet hazel. The situation could have gone very badly for Sands, but right then the boys' teacher showed up.

"Georgie, you are supposed to be with your buddy. Who is over there, not overhere." She points and Georgie huffs under his breathe and walks off, leaving Sheldon with Miss Latimer. She sighs. "Sheldon, we've talked about this. You can't keep wandering off. You have to stay with your buddy. It's not safe."

"Yes Ma'am." Sheldon's heard it all before. His buddy, a boy chosen at random, was with a group of his friends. Sheldon picked his buddies for their ability to stay out of his way and leave him to free to explore as he wished. No one in the class would have said no to him. Most were too afraid. There was something a bit scary about Sheldon, the way he moved and spoke. Georgie was the only one who thought it was weakness.

"Go on now." Miss Latimer walked him back to the group of friends his buddy was with and let them be. Sheldon ignored the other boys and ran his eyes over the rocks. The bright cochina shells mixed with much darker and larger mussel shells. Sheldon leaned down and ran a finger over the broken edge of a mussel shell. Blood welled up, and Sheldon smiled.

The next day he's out by the sand box at recess when Georgie comes after him again. There's a large hand on his shoulder and a stupid voice behind him. "Whatcha doing, Seashel?"

Sands ducks out from under the hand and turns to face the older boy. "I'm waiting. And don't call me that. My name is Sheldon. Not Shel, or Seashel. Sheldon. It's not really that hard a name."

Georgie smiles, opens his mouth and says, "Yeah, gonna make me, Seashel?"

Sheldon moves like lightening. His hand flashes out and suddenly twin cuts appear on Georgie's face, running from cheekbone to chin. His face begins to pour blood and when he claps his hands to the long deep cuts, he starts to scream in pain. Sheldon smiles calmly. "Yes." He walks off the mussel shell in his hand, gleaming black, broken edge glinting blood red.

When Miss Latimer comes to speak with him later, the shell is long gone. Sands has ground it to powder and scattered it in the sand. Quick and easy disposal. Evidence gone. When she asks what happened, he says he doesn't know, that he's been here the whole time, and that Georgie must have fallen or something. And Miss Latimer believes him, because he's the good one. Quiet and keeps to himself but the good one all the same. Never any trouble.
Sheldon Sands watches the blood on his hand as he walks up the beach. Remembers the first blood he ever drew. Grins.

Steals a pretty silver Corvette when he gets up to the road and drives off.