"So far, so good," Danny whispered to himself as he phased through the sides of the plane and floated down towards the roads below to see if he'd gotten off at the right place. Tucker had outlined everything the night before, telling him which plane to hitch a ride on, and how long to wait until he got off. According to his friend's calculations, he should get off the plane a few miles away from the town where the remaining survivor of the family now lived.
At first he'd questioned the morals of hitching a ride on the plane without a ticket, until Sam pointed out that he needed to get back as quickly as possible to avoid suspicion, not to mention that the sooner he could get to Jazz, the better. So, reluctantly, he'd agreed.
Now he just needed to find a road sign and a way to get to the address Tucker had given him.
" Ohio," he muttered, "Why couldn't it have been closer to home?" The only other time he'd ever flown this far, had been when he'd gone to Lake Michigan, and that had taken him…well…way too long in any case. At least he didn't feel so tired this time.
It took him a while to find the town he was looking for, but the real challenge proved to be finding the house. After a full two hours of searching, he finally stepped up to the home of John Evans.
It sat nestled among old trees and shrubs in a rural area with lots of acreage, and several animal corrals scattered here and there, leading up to the few visible houses from the road. Mr. Evan's household, however only had one empty chicken pen, and except for the small, overgrown lawn in front, the land surrounding it sprouted in untamed growth. All in all, it looked desolate and reclusive.
"Well," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his now black hair nervously. "Here goes nothing." And with that, he rang the doorbell.
After a few minutes, the door cracked open, and an older man with extremely dark skin peered through, his white eyes a bright contrast to the tired wrinkles that threatened his aging face. Danny knew from the report that he couldn't be more than 45, but he looked into his late 50's. Then again, he hadn't given his name. What if Mr. Evans had moved in with a brother or something?
"Who are you?" the man asked, his gruff, muffled voice laced with a wary curiosity.
"Er," Danny put on a grin, "I'm Danny Fenton, and I…was wondering if I could ask you...or…er…Mr. Evans a few questions."
The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What questions?"
"About your family?" The man blinked several times and opened the door wider.
"Why would you want to know?"
"I…er…uh…" Danny stuttered for a second before he blurted out, "It's for a report."
The man only looked more confused. "What kind of report?"
"Er…For…local survivors of deadly accidents," the teen nodded, hoping his smile didn't look too fake.
"Oh," the man sighed, looking suddenly resigned and tired. "Well, come in then."
"Thanks," Danny said unsurely. His parents warning voices started ringing through his head about never going into a stranger's house alone…but if worst came to worse, he could simply phase out of the house and get his information in some other way…he hoped.
The old living room he stepped into smelled faintly like the Casper High boys locker room, and the dark paneling looked as if it had seen better days. Many boxes, among other things, had been stacked or stuffed into corners and tight places, and (by the looks of the thick layer of dust covering them) forgotten. Still, the room looked clean, with the exception of one or two things lying on an old coffee table or the corner of the single, dark brown couch.
Mr. Evans (Danny assumed this was indeed the man he was looking for) ran a hand over his graying hair, and plopped into an old arm chair across from the television before gesturing to the couch.
"Have a seat," he said, his voice literally screaming that he was not looking forward to this. Danny nodded and walked in front of the muted television as his host turned it off completely and faced the younger man.
"Ask away," he muttered loudly.
"Er…" Danny cautiously sat down. "First, I want to say thanks for doing this."
Mr. Evans waved his hand as if to swipe away the comment. "No problem." Danny highly doubted it was "no problem", but he knew he had to do this.
"Um, I'm here to…er…just get the story on what happened that night."
"Just what the newspaper reported," Mr. Evans slouched in his chair. "We'd been to visit a lighthouse earlier that day, and were on our way home, when a drunk driver hit us. I woke up in the hospital several days later only to find out that every other person involved in the accident was dead." He paused for a minute, closing his eyes and shaking his head as if in pain. "Including the driver of the other car and his girlfriend."
"I'm sure that was unpleasant," Danny whispered, trying unsuccessfully to put himself in the same situation.
"More like heart-wrenching and horrific," the man mumbled before continuing. "After therapy and all of the legal crap, I moved around a few times, and finally settled here."
"I see," Danny nodded and looked down.
Mr. Evans suddenly focused on Danny. "Aren't you going to write this down or something?"
"Oh, er…right," Danny said, and pulled out a scrap piece of paper and a pen from his backpack. "Um…what were the names of…everyone else involved?"
"The last name of the drunk driver was Johnson. I forget his first name. His girlfriend's name was Jenny. Then my…" he paused again, obviously not used to recalling these upsetting memories. "My wife, Nora, my daughter Marsha and my adopted son Lars. We adopted him after my brother and his wife drowned. He survived and rescue crew found him half frozen, but alive, for all the good it did him." He looked up sadly. "All three of them died when the car rolled off a nearby cliff. It wasn't even that high," his voice dropped to a mumble again.
"Er…were those their…full names?" Danny prompted, hoping to get some sort of hint that he was on the right track with this lead. He hadn't really learned anything he didn't already know.
"Hmm?" Mr. Evans looked up, pulled out of his thoughts. "Oh, it's funny you should mention that. Marsha and Lars had been calling each other by their middle name for several days because of some game Lars learned at school. She had been so thrilled to get a brother…" he faded off yet again. "12 years ago next month…"
"So," Danny smiled, "what were their middle names."
"Marsha Alesha Evans and Lars Brian Evans." Danny felt the color drain from his face.
"Alesha and Brian?" he felt his voice whisper before shaking his head and forcing the smile back onto his face. "Well, that's all the questions I have…except one," he added hurriedly. "Where did the accident happen?"
"Didn't you find that in the newspaper or wherever you got your information?"
"Er…" Danny wracked his brain, but nothing came to mind. "I…just…have to verify the information," and the fake smile was back.
Mr. Evans nodded. "It happened a few miles south of Split Rock Lighthouse, in Minnesota."
"Well," Danny stood up, "Thank you for helping me out." The older man simply nodded, looking more tired and aged than ever. He didn't move, but laid a hand across his wrinkled, dark blue shirt. "I'll…let myself out. Thanks again!" Danny smiled again and walked quickly to the door. Just as he reached it, Mr. Evans stood as if coming out of a trance, and turned after his guest…just in time to see Danny phase absentmindedly out the door.
The man stood with wide eyes and a slack jaw at the point where Danny had disappeared for several minutes before shaking his head and walking to the kitchen. "I've gotta lay off the fast food," he muttered to himself.
Outside, Danny took out his cell phone, and tramped through the bushes around the side of the house before going ghost. He hit the send button as he launched himself into the air heading towards the nearest town.
"Hello?" Tucker's voice answered him.
"Tucker? I need you to look up Split Rock Light House and get me all the information you can."
Cakruet12: Well...you'll just have to see won't you? ;)
Darklite: So who were you? And I'm really glad you liked this. :D :hug: Thanx. The third one will start when this one ends...and it will start on a similar note that Return of the Jedi started on...although more bleak if I can help it.
Asilla: Sorry about the long wait. I just needed to revise my chapter about six times...sigh and know where I was going. Hope you like this one (longer).
So, I only got a few replys. sigh Guess that's what I get for not posting for a long time, but I'm warning you. If I dont' get replys, I don't get motivated to post more.