Yes, I know it's been forever since I last updated. Blame 'City of Heroes'. I've been kinda addicted to that game for awhile. But here's a brand new chapter for you, and I hope to have #4 done a lot quicker.
Past Evils
Chapter 3 - Keep Your Friends Close
We reached the theatre without any further trouble. I parked Possible's car in the back, just in case any of the soldiers at the school had caught sight of it. The three of us made our way quickly to the door and into the large building. I had planned on calling the police as soon as we arrived, but upon entering I suddenly felt very tired. I fell into one of the theater chairs, running my hands through my hair. For awhile we all just stood there, the silence pushing down on us like a heavy quilt; daring us to break it.
"Phone's in the office," I sighed, finally standing from my seat, "better call the cops." I moved toward the stairs that led up to the top floor, but was suddenly stopped by a hand on my arm. Looking back I found Wilks looking up at me.
"Wait," she said, sounding a little nervous, "what if they...." She trailed off, looking unsure of what she wanted to say. "I mean, those guys looked like they were in the army," she tried again, "what if they have some sort of contact with the police. They could be waiting for you to call." It sounded paranoid, but then, paranoid had saved my ass more then once.
"She could have a point," Possible added.
"Alright," I agreed, "I won't call the cops. I DO know someone else I can call. He might be able to help out."
"Wade could probably find something out," Possible muttered, "I'd have to go back to my house for the communicator though."
"Well, they didn't see you with me," I headed towards the stairs again, "should be safe for you to leave." Possible seemed to be reluctant to go, but must have realized the importance of information.
"Alright," she called, heading for the back door, "I'll be back as soon as I can." She left, the door thumping shut behind her. The sound echoed through the empty theater with a strange sense of finality. Footsteps behind me told me Wilks was following me to the stairs. Stopping, I half turned, looking at her over my shoulder.
"They didn't see you either," I stated, quietly, "you should get out of here while you can." Her mouth immediately opened to protest, but I cut her off. "There's nothing you can do to help me, and I'm safe here. Go home." I turned back around, hoping with all my being that I would hear her turn and head towards the door. Unfortunately, the steps didn't move towards the door, but in my direction instead.
I continued to face away. If I looked at her I wouldn't be able to think straight, and I needed to be thinking now. But then I felt the small hand on my shoulder, gently pushing at it, and I found myself turning around. Looking down at her, all my careful plans and logic seemed to fade into nothing. Her hand on my arm slowly moved beneath it, snaking its way around my waist. My mind screamed at me to pull away, to turn and run up the stairs, but her eyes held me in place. Those strange, unreadable eyes that seemed to drill into me every time I allowed myself to glance at them. The click of the back door opening broke the spell. The hand jumped away from my waist, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit to feeling disappointed.
"Hey," Possible called from the door, unaware of what had been going on before she entered, "I thought I'd better see if... ummm... Sidney?" She wasn't sure of the name. "See if I could drop her off at home."
"Yeah," I said, swallowing, "she'll go with you." I said this firmly, looking back at Wilks as I did. Her head bowed in defeat, and she headed towards the door. As she went through the door, she glanced back over her shoulder and I caught her mouth the words "Be careful" to me as she left.
I headed up the stairs to the office. What I hadn't told Wilks or Possible was that the person I was calling WAS a cop. He was actually the same friend who rented the theater. I had met him right after I started teaching at the high school. He had been in charge of one of the locker checks and I had bumped into him afterwards in the parking lot. It turned out we had both been in the military in our younger days and we soon became good friends.
"Yes, I was looking for Detective Jim Palo," I called the station first, in case he was still working. The desk told me he had gone home for the day so I tried there instead. It took some convincing to get him to believe my story. Of course, I'm not exactly a practical joker, which probably helped.
"I don't know Steve," he sighed into the phone, disbelief still lurking in his voice, "I just can't imagine anyone trying to kill you."
"Yeah, neither can I," I replied, a little bitterly, "but I've got about 10 or 20 bullet holes in my apartment that tried their best to convince me otherwise."
"Okay, okay," his voice took on a more serious tone, "just stay there for right now. I'll look around and see what I can find. I still think you should let me call the station on this."
"Not yet," I shook my head, "these guys are real professionals, Jim. There's probably a very good chance they've got someone in the station or at least monitoring the phone lines. I'd like to keep it quiet until we've got a little more information on who these jokers are."
"All right, Steve," he conceded, "but it all sounds real paranoid to me." He hung up the phone, leaving a dial tone ringing in my ear like the flat-lining of a heart monitor. An omen of things to come? Shaking my head I headed back downstairs. Thinking that way wouldn't help my situation. Not having anything to do other than wait, I grabbed a beer from the supply that Jim always kept around, and settled into one of the seats.
I'm not sure how much time passed. I kind of zoned out, thinking about things. My job, the people trying to kill me,.... Sidney. Somehow my mind kept drifting back to her. That look she gave me as she left the theater had dropped a ton of lead in my gut. I'm not sure what it was, maybe just because no one had looked at me like that in a LONG time, but I couldn't get her out of my thoughts.
The soft click of a safety catch stabbed through my musings like a spotlight. I fell to the side as bullets tore the seats to pieces. I rolled underneath the row in front of me, trying to put as many chairs between me and the gunman as possible. The shooting suddenly stopped as quickly as it had begun, replaced by the soft pad of footsteps over carpet.
He must have thought he'd hit me. I watched his feet from under the seats as he moved to the row I had been in. I waited until he stopped beside it before pointing my gun at the visible feet and pulling the trigger. He screamed as he fell to the floor, his feet leaking blood all over the carpet. I rose from my hiding place, placing two more shots in him without hesitation.
I moved over to him cautiously, kicking the rifle away from him just in case. He was alone, but I knew the others were most likely outside. I should have moved immediately. They had to have heard the gunfire and would be sending in more men to check and make sure he had succeeded. Unfortunately, I couldn't move. I was frozen to the spot as I looked down at the man on the ground, his blood slowly staining the carpet.
An insignia on his left sleeve caught my attention, a large rat with red eyes and wisps of smoke framing it. The sight sent a chill through my bones. It was the insignia of my old squad from the army. It was after a particular mission in the sewers of China. A terrorist cell had taken to using the tunnels to move about the city. My team had been down there for almost a month and taken out close to a hundred of their soldiers. We were never once spotted by the enemy until it was too late. News of the mission reached the rest of the squads and they gave us the nickname, Ghost Rats. The name stuck and soon became our official call sign. The insignia had been designed by Private Barns, the camps local artist. I knew that symbol as well as I knew my own face. I also knew that every member of the Ghost Rats were dead.
I had buried my past long ago and started a new life for myself. But my past had risen from its grave. It clawed its way back into my present, and now it was reaching out to me. Intent on dragging me back down with it.
To be continued....
