#####OQ#####
"Both of the boys' phones are a dead end. I can't get a signal on either one which makes me think they're turned off." Felicity positioned her tablet as he cleared the table.
"Or dead."
"Yeah, Stan's phone's last known location was his house, and Jordan's was soccer practice."
"He must have not turned his phone back on after practice. What did you find out about Josh's Aunt?" Rinsing a plate, he put it in the dishwasher.
"Squeaky clean. Not even a speed ticket. She's been the county library director for the last fifteen years. Has her masters in library science. Looks awesome on computer."
"Do I hear a 'but' at the end of that sentence?" He put the silverware in the dishwasher and dumped the left over green beans with caramelized onions and toasted slivered almonds into a plastic container and snapped the lid on.
"Maybe, okay, I admit I called Anna and asked her."
"And?"
"All she knew was she'd heard the woman was hard to work for, so I called Mae."
A smile tugged on his lips, as he opened the fridge and put the leftovers on the bottom shelf. "Go on."
"Got your attention, huh?"
"For years now, Felicity."
Turning, he winked at her, and the smile she rewarded him with tightened more than his chest.
"Flirt," she said in a voice that went straight to his groin as she talked with her hands.
"Guilty as charged."
Moving, he touched her arm, sighing as he found her warm skin beneath his hand. "What did Mae say?"
"That Janie Hall had never mentioned a niece and two nephews in California. Mae serves on the town council with her and from Mae's tone, she doesn't like the woman. Not that she said anything bad about Josh's aunt but she mentioned Josh's mom left this town at sixteen and it sounds like she never looked back."
"People do that. People leave and make lives somewhere else. You did."
"And I'm glad I did because if I hadn't left, I'd have never found you. But, Mae also told me they were half-sisters with different fathers and their mother died in a car wreck right before the sister left. I looked it up. The sister, Raven, disappeared off the grid for a while until she married Josh's dad at about nineteen and it was three years before Josh showed up."
"No babies before Josh?"
"Not that I can find. However, according to Mae, the two sisters weren't close, no contact for years close, and her taking those three kids in shocked everyone. Seems everyone considered her an old maid and hardly mother material."
"Now that's harsh."
"We're talking small town here. Mae even used the words 'bless her heart, she tries but she's just not mother material.'"
"Which means?" He grinned at her.
"I looked it up. In the south it means "poor dumb thing." She made air finger quotes. "Guess it's a passive-aggressive way of insulting a person." And she grinned back.
He shook his head. "Do me a favor and don't ever bless my heart, but maybe Josh's Aunt Janie had a change of heart, since her half-sister and her brother-in-law died in a plane wreck. Death does that to some people. It makes them step up and do things they normally wouldn't. I would know."
"Maybe, but I went back over each of these kids' files, and I don't know how I missed it, but Mike Peters was Josh's dad."
"And that's supposed to mean something to me?" He began to rub the knots out of her shoulders, and she leaned into his hands.
"Have you ever said Google look up something?"
"Oh course, who hasn't?" His hand found her bare flesh, running his hand down her arm and over the top of her hand to squeeze.
"Exactly, well, Josh's dad worked for Google and helped develop the program. The man's mind worked like a computer, maybe better than a computer. I respect that. And you know what else?"
"No."
"Josh is a fracking genius too."
"Josh? The kid who constantly flunks his drug tests and who always throws the first punch in fights at school? I know you're good at what you do, but are you sure you don't have your kids mixed up? Twenty is a lot of them."
She crossed her arms, pulling away from him, while looking up over her glasses at him. "He's been playing them. After digging deeper, I found Josh's IQ test. Talk about smart. He's off the charts smart, and he scored top of his class at that expensive private school he attended before moving here. I mean he's almost as smart as I am."
"Now that's saying something."
"Yeah, and he's fifteen. Fracking fifteen." She started talking with her hands, and he felt his love swell his chest. "But then I looked at his grades here. Talk about failing. He's flunking everything. And I do mean everything. He only takes the tests. Looks like he aces the tests and ignores the rest and the teachers are passing him on."
"Why am I not surprised."
"Back to his dad. If his dad would have lived Josh might have been another Steve Jobs. It looks like his dad was grooming him for Google. The teen's brilliant in math and science. Plus, I checked his aunt's checking account. Wait for it. She's drawing mega money off those three kids. And she's banking it."
"Really? Well she needs to buy Josh some new clothes since his are too big and they're ratty. And new shoes wouldn't hurt. He and most of the rest of team have already torn up their second set of running shoes." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to have to buy some of them another set of shoes soon. Jesus, I'm wondering how much more money's left in that grant?"
"I'll find out. And kids are hard on shoes, and you're right it doesn't look like she's spending anything on clothes for Josh and maybe the others. Now do you want to talk about whatever is truly bothering you? You've been quiet all night."
Felicity frowned at him as she looked up from her tablet, and he grabbed a dish clothe and wiped the table, sweeping the dinner crumbs into his hand before washing them down the sink.
"Have I? I thought we'd just had an entire conversation."
He hung the dishcloth up, straightening the towel twice, before he turned and stared out the kitchen window as he rinsed the rest of the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.
"We did, but I noticed you've been quiet tonight. Not like you're normally chatty, but did you have a bad day? I have to ask."
He looked out the window. "Jesus, when did you get to know me this well?"
"Years ago. Go on."
"Figures. I admit, today's been off. Look, I'm going to go out for a while. I can get those boy off my mind. Okay with you?"
"No, not okay. You pulling back away from me again. Talk to me, Oliver. What was off about today? Care to share. Please, reach out. Be an US."
Turning around, he found she'd removed her glasses as she rubbed her eyes.
"You need to not look at the screen all the time, to take better care of your eyes."
She met his eyes. "I'm addicted you know?"
"Yeah, I do know but too much screen time dries your eyes out."
"Okay, if you don't want me to look at the screen then talk to me." Reaching, she turned her tablet over and smiled her wonderful smile up at him, and he couldn't help but smile back as butterflies tumbled around in his stomach.
How could she look at him and turn him into an unsure teenager once again? He honestly didn't know how she did that to him but he loved her and his feelings weren't going away.
And since he loved her, he made the effort.
"Those three boys blowing off practice today influenced my team. I'd thought I was gaining ground with all of them and but after today, I'm not sure."
"Maybe your lost boys didn't just blow off practice. Maybe Josh's sister's right, and Josh is lying hurt somewhere."
"This has nothing to do with Peter Pan and if that's true, why would Stan and Jordan be missing too? They're not friends. Josh and Jordan were on the verge of fighting in the locker room yesterday. All these kids are angry and fighting's becoming a real problem during practice." He held up three fingers. "I've broken up three fights in the last two days."
"Ouch. Well, maybe they've reached the point they're sick of soccer practice."
"Sick of practice?"
"Yeah, don't you ever remember having to do something until you can't stand it anymore? Something you hated?" She made such a cute ugly face before she said, "When I was ten, my mother decided she wanted me to play the flute. And I hated it. I made my own ears bleed. It got to the point I pretended to be sick to get out of going to lessons. I lost my flute to get out of practicing playing. I finally accidentally forgot to move it from behind the car and my mother ran it over, and believe me, she's the only one who cried."
"You seriously did not."
"Yes, I seriously did. Her car smashed it flat and that was one time I was glad she was struggling since she couldn't afford to buy me another flute. Come on, didn't your mother ever make you do something you disliked?"
"Yeah, but I couldn't run over what I hated."
"Which was?"
"Ballroom dancing. My mother forced me to take dancing classes."
"The reason you don't like to dance maybe?" She grinned sweetly up at him.
Unable to stop himself, he touched her arm, grounding himself with her touch with the words, "But I like to dance with you." And taking her hand, he gently kissed her knuckles, and she stood and let him pull her into his arms.
She melted into him before she sighed and leaned her body against his chest as they swayed and she giggled. "But, there's no music."
"Trust me, I don't need music to dance with you." He stroked her hair and inhaled, savoring the moment.
"Smooth, Oliver, I'll give you that but tell me why you don't like to dance?"
He continued to sway as his hand smoothed her cheek, his thumb stroking her soft lips. "My mother expected me to learn so I could dance with her friends at her dinner parties. You're right. I got sick of going to dance classes. I couldn't see the point of going. And I didn't want to dance with her, okay I'll say it, her old friends."
"Well, maybe your team's sick of soccer practice. Maybe your team can't see the point anymore. What do you do during practice?" And she broke the contract and pulled away from him, with a toss of her blonde hair.
"We practice soccer." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and stuck his chin out. "That why they call it soccer practice."
"How?" She encouraged him with one of her smiles. "Come on, tell me about practice. Describe practice for me."
Uncrossing his arms, he said, "First, we stretch, then I have them kick the ball, pass the ball, try to score, which is pretty easy since I haven't found one of them who's a decent goalie yet, and then we run laps."
"Every time?"
"Pretty much."
"Well, no wonder they're wanting to beat each other up. Have you ever thought about making it a little more, how can I put this? Hmmm?" She smiled up at him, and tilted her blonde head. "FUN, maybe?"
"They're not there to have fun. They're there to learn to play soccer. And we only have three weeks left before we face our first opponents. Felicity, I don't have time for fun since they're still pretty bad. If they have any chance they have to play better."
"Or what? Oliver, you're doing that hand thing you do with your fingers when you're stressing."
"I am not." But he fisted his hands, clearly busted.
Moving, she wrapped her arms around him and like normal, he stiffen slightly before he gave in and accepted her touch, before he leaned in and pulled her into his embrace as he inhaled her scent and sighed. His body settled against hers in a way that fit like no other ever had or ever would.
And he swore she smelled like a spring day.
"I swear, I'm not stressed. I'm concerned. I've told you that people are planning to come and watch the games. People are planning to tailgate, to cook food in the parking lot, and party. And I'm thinking there's going to be a lot of people. My team has a Facebook page for goodness sake, with pictures and video."
"And I've liked it."
"Of course, you liked it'"
"Social media. You know LIKED IT?"
"Alright I'll admit I don't get this liking Facebook thing."
She stepped back, using her pointer finger to mimic clicking a mouse, with the words. "You know you click on the Like button to LIKE a page."
He would've, at one time, suppressed his smile, but it felt good to smile at her, thinking how cute she looked, as he forced his instant desire down. He had to adjust his pants as he pushed back the idea of taking her hard and right now on the kitchen counter, as she shook her blonde head, and gave him a sweet smile with the words, "Oh, never mind."
"Yeah, and I'd LIKE to move on. I've no desire to know any more about Facebook than I already do."
"Did you make a joke? I'm going to write today down."
Not wanting to admit it, he grinned and reached and touched her shoulder before withdrawing. "If you haven't notice social media isn't my thing. I glad it's your department and you can have it."
"You could learn social media if you wanted to."
"I wouldn't want to take your job away from you." And he beamed at her again.
Once more she shook her head. "You know, it's wonderful this town's supporting these troubled kids. Though, I think you're missing the point this program's trying to teach. And you're clearly turning this into a winning thing. You think your team has to win."
"I do not."
But he looked down.
"Yes, you do. You think you have to win for this game to be fun. I know it's hard for you to stop being competitive but somehow you need to make soccer about having fun for these teens and not just about winning because winning isn't everything. I've read that winning is the last thing on most player's list for playing a sport. Having fun is first and the most important reason people play the game in the first place."
"I hear you but trust me; we're not going to win anyway."
"Which is why you're stressing. Hence, the twitching hand thing. And I don't think your team is having fun playing soccer either. Do you?"
He pondered that, and he realized she might be right and he shook him head. "No, maybe not."
"Then maybe it's time for you to make practice fun somehow."
"You could be right. Alright, I'll think about it. Now have I shared enough? I want to go out for a while. Do you mind? Or do you want come too? I have three lost boys. And I don't think Peter Pan's coming to save them."
And he gave her a small grin.
She smiled her light filled smile at him. "No, you go on. Go look for your lost boys. I know you're dying to, and besides I'm still waiting on some searches. Do you want me to wait up for you?"
"No. Don't. Go to sleep if you're tired." His hand swept her shoulder, moving to touch and cradle her face. "I don't want you to tire yourself out."
"I'm not sick anymore. I promise, I'm a lot better. I hardly ever hit the inhaler anymore. And I'm getting better every day."
His stomach tightened before he said, "I'm glad, but I never want you to go through being sick ever again."
Her tiny smile made his stomach plummet, along with her words, "Life doesn't come with guarantees. People age, they change, and they get sick and die. I know now that I'm mortal."
"Don't talk like that. We still have lots of time."
"We don't know that, but yes, we have today. Wake me up when you come to bed. Okay?"
And she leaned in and gave him a promising kiss, sucking his bottom lip and making him almost harden. "I love you by the way and you just wait to see what I do with you later."
Oh, how he loved it when her hand swept his scruff, and he fought his hard on once again.
"I can't wait. I love you too."
And his hand swept her face and savored touching her. "I'll wake you up when I get home. I promise."
Her eyes met his and she winked. "I look forward to it. Don't be long, Oliver. Now go find your lost boys."
#####OQ#####
He cruised the streets on his bike, searching for any sign of his three lost boys, but Jordan wasn't hanging with his gang members on the street corner tonight. And when he rode past his Aunt's house, Josh's skateboard wasn't propped against the wall.
Josh's sister Ruby was beginning to look like she might be right.
The teen might be in trouble.
Slowing the bike, he thought about stopping and talking to Janie Hall, but Ruby had look frightened when talking about her aunt and the lights were off and it was only about 8:30 p.m. It seemed early for everyone to be gone to bed but maybe they were early risers.
Yet, he could feel it. Yes, there was something wrong with this household, and he wished he knew what. He already knew that Josh's aunt wasn't doing a good job taking care of those three kids but could something else be going on in that house? Gunning the bike, he rode toward Stan's.
Stopping his bike at Stan's house, he knocked on the door and introduced himself to the teen's stone faced step-father.
"Mr. Williams, hi, I'm Oliver Queen, Stan's soccer coach."
"Nice to meet you. Call me, Noah. I don't suppose you've heard from Stan?"
"No, I haven't. I was wondering if you had any ideas? Stan's never missed practice."
The worry, no almost panic, shown in Stan's step-father's voice, "Stan just doesn't not come home. Something's clearly wrong. And I've looked everywhere I know to look. I wanted them to activate an Amber Alert, but Jeff doesn't think Stan's been abducted since Jordan's missing too. He thinks they're partying somewhere and just didn't come home."
"Well, I hate to say it but Jordan might not be the best influence for Stan."
The man spat on the ground, before the older man said with bright eyes, "Okay, Stan might not be my boy by blood but he's still my boy. And, yeah, Jordan makes bad choices sometimes, but he and Stan have been friends since preschool. Jordan would never do anything to hurt Stan. He protects him and always has."
"Have you heard Stan say anything about Josh Peters?"
"Can't say I have. That's Janie Hall's nephew isn't it? The boy from California?"
"That's the one."
"Do you think he has something to do with Stan and Jordan being missing?"
"No, I don't but I know he didn't come to practice either."
"I just don't understand what is going on here. Three boys missing and the cops aren't even looking for them."
"I'm looking for them."
"Thank you and please, if you find out anything give me a call. Here's my number."
He programmed the number in his phone, with the words, 'Noah, Stan's Dad.' "Believe me, I'm looking for all of them. They're members of my team. And I'll bring them home if I can."
The man reached out and shook his hand. "Please find him. Stan's not a bad kid. A little misguided some times, but he and Jordan both have good hearts. I don't know the other boy, but I know all of them need to come home." And the man turned and shut the door.
Afterwards, he stopped by Anderson's Family Restaurant and spoke to the assistant manager, a tall gray haired woman, with the name Candy on her name tag.
"Stan never misses his shift busing tables, and he's missed two days in a row. He needs the pocket money because I know he's saving to buy a car."
"How long has he worked here?"
"About six months. He got a work permit at fourteen, and since I know his step-dad and the fact that Stan got dealt a bad hand, Rob, the owner gave him a change. He's a good worker and he's never been a no call, no show. Something's clearly wrong or Stan would be here right now doing his job."
Thanking her for her time, he then stopped at Jordan's house. A harassed looking woman, with a protruding belly and a toddler on her hip jerked the door open with the words, "Thank god at least you've found him. Now just go on and tell me what he's done now?"
"I'm sorry if you're talking about Jordan. I don't know where he is, but I'm looking for him, for all of them."
"Look, I'm sorry. I was just hoping you knew where he was Coach Queen. For all of them? I know Stan's missing. Who else?"
"You know who I am?"
"Of course, I know who you are. The entire town knows who you are. Haven't you seen your Facebook page?"
And he inwardly cringed.
The woman pulled a cigarette pack from out of her bra and deftly managed to light one up one handed, holding the toddler. He couldn't help but notice that her teeth were starting to go bad and one of her bottom front teeth was missing.
"So you haven't heard from him at all?"
"No, and believe me, Jordan always comes home. And he isn't in juvie. I've checked, repeatedly. And forget the cops. Jeff's no help. He thinks Jordan and Stan are partying somewhere."
"And you don't think so?"
She exhaled smoke and shook her head. "I know my boy. Something's wrong. Okay, he's made some bad choices in the past but something's wrong. He always comes home to eat. He's a growing boy. He loves to eat. And, I've got a bad feeling. I think he's hurt somewhere. That's the only thing that makes sense because my boy always comes home."
"I'm looking for him. Give me your phone number, and I'll call you if I find him. Do you know anything about a teen named Josh Peters."
"Sorry, never heard of him." And she gave him her number and he put it in his phone under Jordan's mom.
"Well, I'll let you know if I find out anything." And he turned to leave.
"Coach Queen."
He turned back and looked at the very pregnant woman, who reached and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Thanks for stopping by and for looking for my boy. Most coaches wouldn't brother."
"I'm not most coaches and you're welcome."
He thanked her for her time and drove by Josh's house one more time. but no skateboard had appeared propped against the steps. But as he drove on past, he wondered once again why the girl Ruby didn't want him to bother her aunt about her missing brother. And again, his mind insisted he had missed something.
Parking the bike, he crossed the parking lot and opened the Police Department's door. The woman behind the glass window looked up and gave him an inviting smile, and he smiled back with his 'Hi, I'm Oliver Queen fake smile.'
"Is Jeff in?" He knew the answer since he'd seen his squad car parked outside.
"He doesn't normally see people this time of night."
"He'll see me. Tell him Oliver Queen wants to see him."
The woman frowned, then shrugged. "Well, let me check. Have a seat."
And she slid the window firmly closed.
Jeff let him cool his heels for quite some time. He had time to walk around, use the restroom, and check out the glass case that contained drug paraphernalia and a sawed off shotgun. Seriously, he thought, people still did that? Finally, he'd run out of things to do, and he pulled his phone out to check the time.
9:22 read his phone and he settled in to wait. Reaching, he pulled her hair tie from his pocket. Rolling it between his fingers, he thought of her and the calm settled over him.
At almost ten o'clock, the woman finally called him back and opened the locked door.
Leading him down a small hall with worn carpet, she opened a door. "Here you go." Then promptly left.
Jeff's small office made him almost claustrophobic. An old desktop computer, complete with a large computer monitor fought for space against stacks of folders and paper on Jeff's loaded up full desk. Boxes piled in mishap fashion lay on the floor along the walls and when he looked up into the corner behind Jeff's right shoulder, he watched a spider wrap up a fly up in its web.
Clearly, no one dusted here and everyone needed to eat.
Forcing himself to focus, he tried to ignore the mess, as he shook Jeff's hand before he sat down in a worn leather chair that groaned beneath his weight.
"What do you want now, Oliver? Because I know you want something."
"Not always."
He pushed back in his chair and frowned. "Right, but I know better. You always want something. Let me guess. You've misplace some of your soccer team?"
Okay, he found himself glad that Jeff wanted to go straight to the point, yet, he hated Jeff's smug smile.
"Yeah, I've got three teens missing."
"You don't have to give me but one of their names. I know that Jordan Franks and Stan Markton have gone missing. Who's the third?"
"Josh Peters."
"Great the one from California that's been nothing but trouble since Janie took him in."
"Yeah, that's the one."
"Look, just go away. I don't know where the three of them are partying at. And truthfully I don't care. But if Josh's own aunt hasn't called him in missing, then clearly, she's not worried about him so why should I?"
"Well I'm worried about all three of them. Three teens don't just drop off the face of the earth."
"Want to bet? Anywhere from a million to over two million teens run away every year and a lot of them are never seen again."
"More the reason to look for them."
"They haven't been gone that long. They probably copped a ride over to the next town over and will show back up."
"No one has seen them in the last twenty four hours, and Josh has been missing more like thirty six. Something's wrong. You don't just lose three teenagers that normally come home."
"And both parents filed a missing person report. I've posted them as missing statewide and if they get picked up, I'll get a call. Now, let give you some advice. You're taking this coaching job way too serious. These kids excel at getting into trouble and giving their parents hell. Look, they're just having a little fun somewhere, and they'll turn up. They pretty much always do."
Standing, he said, "I don't think so and I don't suppose you'd reconsider putting out an Amber Alert?"
"Hell no. There's no way, I'm doing that. I'm sure those three are partying somewhere, and I'm not bringing a media shit storm down on this town over three screwed up teenagers, make that two teenager, since the one from California isn't officially missing. But the last thing I'm doing is making me and the rest of this town look like fools, when those kids wander back in after their party's over."
"I understand your reluctance to draw attention to the town, but that doesn't change the fact that they've been missing for almost two days, and Jordan and Stan aren't Josh's friends. That in itself is a reason to look for them."
"Well maybe they're all friends now. Teens are fickle like that. Maybe they're all buddies today, and they'll come back with hangovers."
"And maybe they won't. Maybe, we'll find bodies. We're wasting precious time here. Those teens have been gone for almost two days. Both Stan and Jordan's parents say they've never just not come home before. They didn't go to school. They didn't go to practice or to work. Something is wrong. And I think it's time that more people are looking for them than just me and their parents. I want you to reconsider."
"NO!"
Jeff stood and stuck his chin out and pointed his finger at him, with the words, "Unlike the girl that program's named for, I don't believe any of those kids have been abducted, and if you think I'm plastering those three kids' names all over the county on every digital road sign, radio and television station, not to mention every cell phone owner that's signed up by Liking their Facebook page, then you'd better think again. Now unlike you, I have things to do. This meeting is over."
And he clinched his hands to keep himself from reaching across Jeff's desk and grabbing him, forcing him. He'd truly love to knock some sense into the man and not doing it cost him dearly.
Making him exhale swiftly before he forced himself to turn away with the words, "Well I'll let you get to it. But you'd better hope when I find these kids they're still breathing."
Turning on his heel, he left the building and headed home to Felicity.
#####OQ#####
Josh took stock.
The room they were trapped in was about twelve by ten, which meant they had about one hundred and twenty square feet filled with debris from the roof and ceiling above them. In one corner, he'd found a pile of old newspapers and a bent metal filing cabinet.
He'd hoped for a water spigot or a bathroom but no such luck. So far his greatest find had been three battered cans of fish, one of which Stan'd managed to somewhat open with his tiny pocket knife and a lot of work. He'd also found two broken phones that were older than he was, along with two large yellow working flashlights, which he turned off quickly to conserve battery life.
Not that the flashlights were going to save them, but he conserved the batteries anyway.
The canned fish tasted nasty in his opinion, but he'd eaten a few bites since his portion gave him some protein and a small amount of liquid. Between Stan and him, with a little coaching, they'd even gotten Jordan to eat a couple of bites and drink the bitter water the fish had been canned in.
Jordan didn't have long to live and he knew it, and he didn't tell either Stan or Jordan that his left side had gotten worse.
You're dying too, his mind whispered.
His mind turned the problem of finding an escape over and over as night fell. They had wood from the tongue and groove flat roof, broken pieces of wood from the rafters and a lot of pieces of the roof covered in black tar with pea gravel in it.
Sitting down beside Stan, who sat on the floor by Jordan, he sighed deeply as he cupped his left side and readjusted his broken right arm.
"It's not much to work with is it?
"No, Stan, it's not. I have a lighter, and we could start a fire to signal for help, but I don't know how well the smoke would rise. It might fill the room up, and then we'd be in worse shape than we are now because I have no way to put the fire out and the tar would smolder and smoke."
"And stink." Jordan added.
"And the tar has a lot of chemicals in it." Stan moved his broken leg and groaned deeply.
He hesitated before he looked up, "Yeah, and I wish one of us could climb, then we'd just climb up to the next floor since it's only about ten foot."
"You could use the filing cabinet to climb up on?" Stan suggested.
"I've thought of that but I think it would tip over. It's pretty unstable."
"I could hold it for you."
"No, I'm too heavy, and I could never pull myself up with my arm the way it is. None of us can climb."
Jordan moaned and said, "And you're hardly heavy, Josh. Man, you're skin and bones, but I can't take much more of this. My legs are killing me. This shit's crushing me."
"Try not to think about it. Here, let me look."
He moved and raised Jordan's socks and saw that his legs weren't as pink as they'd been hours before.
"How do they look?" Jordan asked with a gasp, and he noted Jordan's teeth had begun to chatter.
"It looks like we need to get you some help soon, but you're still okay."
He didn't add the words, 'I need help too,' since he was now positive his spleen was bleeding internally into his stomach. He'd raised his shirt a little while earlier and took in the deeply purple skin over his swollen abdomen. Carefully, he'd pressed on his stomach and cried out in pain.
Yes, his aunt had done a real number on him this time.
Their eyes met and Jordan nodded. "I'm bleeding out. I'm numb from the cold. I've got the shakes. I'm not going to make it. I know it and you know it."
"Don't say that." Stan insisted.
Nodding, he swallowed hard, realizing Jordan's time was running out, and if he didn't figure someway out soon, all of them would die down here. One right after the other.
He'd noted Jordan's skin now felt clammy and his breathing seemed shallower.
"What are we going to do?" Stan's face looked pinched.
"We're going to cover him up and help hold in whatever heat he has left. It'll slow down his body's falling temperature. And help his core temperature from falling any lower."
Rising, he went to and picked up a stack of old newspapers and returned.
"Seriously, newspapers?"
"Yeah, help me, Stan. Unfold them and lay them over the top of him. Bury him in them. And make them several layers thick. Cover up the top of his head. Sorry, Jordan, it was dumb of me not to cover you up sooner. You're losing a lot of body heat out of the top of your head and your core body temperature's falling."
"You know this for sure?"
"I know this is totally out there, but the other day, I read an article of out The 'American Agriculturist' dated January 1876 that talked about the cotton shortage and how newspapers were just as good as wool."
"1876, truly, you read something that was wrote in 1876?" Jordan teeth chattered harder now.
"Written in 1876 and yeah, I found it interesting. And remember I have NO friends here. Words are my friends now. So I've read a lot to pass the time, since school's past boring."
"Okay, what else did it say?"
"Like you're interested."
"I am. Enlighten me. Anything to pass the time." Jordan tried to grin as Stan continued to open up newspapers and place them on top of his friend.
"The article said the high price of cotton had driven up the price of wool and that get this 'common newspapers make a very good addition to bed coverings.' Is that funny or what? Okay, I get that they were freezing. Then the article went on to say that the paper was a 'none-conductor' and aids to hold the heat in."
"I can't believe it but I feel warmer. Thank you, guys. It's warmer. And they're right, they work just like you put a warm blanket on me. But wait why was the price of cotton up?"
"Have you heard of the Civil War and slavery? Before the war cotton prices were cheap. The market was flooded before the war."
"I don't believe it but I'm feeling a lot better now. The shakes are going away. And yeah, that was a dumb question since I should have thought about the year but then history isn't exactly my strong point. Keep talking, Josh."
Jordan's teeth still chattered but not as much as before Stan continued to bury in him newpapers.
"Okay. Believe it or not the cotton industry was kind of like the oil industry today, only unlike the Middle East, we were the major suppliers."
"The slaves more like," Stan added.
"No, they were the work force. The plantation owners were the suppliers, and by 1850 America's leading export was cotton and it controlled Europe's economy."
"I think I read somewhere that the South used cotton as a bargaining chip, trying to get Great Britain to support the confederacy."
"Yeah, Stan, you're right but it didn't work as well as the South would have liked. They were trying to bully Great Britain into supporting their side."
"But the South still managed to use cotton to buy weapons, ammo and ships."
"Wow, Stan. You know history too."
"Okay, I admit I watch the History Channel. And I saw something about how after the Civil War the price of cotton went from ten cents a pound to almost two dollars."
Jordan shifted under the newspapers. "Finally something I know about. Two dollars back then would be worth over thirty dollars now. And our money would be worth about thirteen cents then?"
"How do you know that?"
"Numbers are my thing. Well, actually, I like economics. The math draws me in, that and the stock market. I suck at English and Science but not math." Jordan said quietly. "It's weird but it's almost like I can see it, understand it in my head, that and economics."
"Me too when it comes to math, but you can have the economics and the stock market thing. Hey, maybe we have more in common than I thought. Maybe you and I should talk."
"Maybe we should." And Jordan grinned up at him. "The newspapers are helping. I've warmed up."
"Well, the homeless cover up with newspapers when they're sleeping in the parks, so there must be something to it." Josh gave a slight grin and slowly the more Stan buried him the more Jordan stopped trembling.
"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm feeling pretty homeless right now. Josh could you go get me some more newspaper so we can cover up too? I'm kind a cold too." Stan pointed toward the pile.
"Sure." And he got up and got several more stacks.
"I'll make us a pallet to sleep on. Where do you want to sleep, Josh?"
"We should sleep beside each other. It will help conserve body heat and help us get through the night. And you're right if we put the paper under us, between us and the concrete, we'll be warmer."
Stan managed to get the paper laid out and Josh thought about the joint in his pocket. It was possible that Jordan or he wouldn't wake up in the morning.
It, somehow, seemed fitting to share.
"Guys, now, to celebrate us being warmer, I'm wondering if any off you want to help me smoke this?"
Pulling the paper out of his pocket, he held up his last joint. "It's the chronic. Which means it will help with the pain but it will make us wicked thirsty."
"You've been holding out on us. Fire it up, Josh." Jordan said with a large groan. "I'm already thirsty and at least if we get rescued, you won't get busted with it."
"When we get rescued and you're right. I don't want busted with it." And he fount it hard to laugh but he managed a painful snicker.
"I'm up, too, my leg hurts, aches." Stan gave him a toothy grin.
"Here, my lips are busted, and I might bled on it." He handed him the joint and his lighter with his left hand.
"I don't remember busting your mouth."
"Light it already. You get the honor." He said hoping Stan wouldn't ask about his lips again.
The teen grinned slightly. "Honored." And he lit the lighter and inhaled the smoke deeply before he held the joint for Jordan, who buried in newspaper couldn't hold it himself.
Jordan inhaled and then nodded as Stan passed it back to him. Hitting it hard, he held his smoke until he had to exhale; his lungs expanding and he coughed and held his aching right side, while he moaned.
They smoked half of the joint and Jordan said, "Put it out, Josh. You'll need it again later."
"You will too. We all will."
"Maybe."
But he wondered if Jordan would be here later as he took in the older teen's ears with his large ring piercings and thought about how he knew both of Jordan's arms were already inked full.
"Thanks, I feel better. Josh, you know, I wish I'd gotten to know you better. I should have made an effort. Maybe we could have been friends?"
"Not many people have been interested in being my friend since I moved here."
"It's the small town thing," Stan said, "That and your brain. We all heard that your dad was someone big in computers or something. And your aunt's this brainiac that runs the town library. And she's got a bunch of degrees. Besides, you've got lots of money, hell everyone knows you're rolling in it."
"That's were you're wrong. I don't have any money not anymore. My aunt gets it all. I'm lucky to see twenty bucks a month, plus lunch money. By the way, we just smoked about a week's worth of my lunches."
"No wonder you're thin." Jordan said quietly. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you eat in the lunchroom."
"Yeah, well, I don't eat much anymore. And my Aunt doesn't really cook. We eat a lot of Ramon noodles and frozen foods, pizza and mirco-wave meals. If I have money I eat off the dollar menu some days."
Jordan groaned a little. "That sucks. My mom's a fantastic cook. And Mom will be worrying since I always come home for dinner. She'll be freaking out and calling the cops. They're going to be looking for us."
"If I'm lucky my sister will be looking for me."
"Your kid sister? What about your aunt?"
"The last words she said to me were sleep on the street."
"The librarian?"
"Hey, it's no big deal. She locks me out all the time. Why do you think I hang out here? I needed a place to sleep."
Stan stretched his body out and gave a small whimper as he re-positioned his broken leg. "But it's hot here in the evenings and cold at night. No power or air. Nothing. Truly, man you really sleep here? Do you have a bed somewhere?"
"It's no big deal. I've got some stuff for a pallet, and I've been sleeping here off and on for months. She locks the door usually at six," he shrugged, not wanting to tell them it was safer to sleep here so he covered like normal. "Then I'm locked out. And since I'm normally late after soccer practice then I'm locked out. Sometimes I just come straight here after practice."
Silently, he wished he'd had come straight here yesterday and bypassed his aunt's beating.
You don't have a key to your house?" Stan added, "How weird is that? I've had a key to the house since I was eight and came to live with my dad full time."
"It's not my house and she's never giving me a key. So, where did you live before?"
"Lots of places."
"How often does she lock you out?" Jordan asked, almost cutting Stan's words off.
He looked down before he said, "Four or five times a week. Soccer practice you know?" And he wanted to say the words, "And she hits me too and maybe I deserve it." But he couldn't get the words out of his mouth since maybe they were true, and Stan and Jordan weren't really his friends. He might be high but no way would he give them that ammo to tease him about later if they lived.
Jordan gave a large groan with the words, "Now that's ironic. The little rich boy doesn't have a place to sleep and none of us knew. Me, I'm a poor boy on my third step dad. At least this one has a steady job with the city."
"The city?"
"Yeah, he works for the water department on the street crew. Fixes leaks and shit like that. He's a decent guy, I guess and better than what Mom usually picks. I've already got five siblings, two half-brothers, and one half-sister, two steps, one girl and one boy. And my stupid mom is pregnant with yet another one."
"Eight of you in one house? How many bedrooms?"
"Three and they're full enough without another crying baby. We're struggling some months. And since Mom's pregnant she's not working again, but at least I have a couch to sleep on and it may be crazy, insane most days at my house, but I have a house key and my mom's a good cook. We draw a few food stamps and my mom's good at stretching the food dollar. And she cooks from scratch."
"That's a lot of people in one house. How do you handle it?"
"I stay gone a lot. Hang with my friends. But why doesn't your aunt give you more money? I thought you were rich, had money? That skateboard you ride is worth a fortune."
"It's from my old life, when I guess I was rich. But I'm not rich anymore. I admit before I lived here I never thought about money. I had all the new toys back then. Hell, I had an awesome drone at one time but since my parents died, I'm dirt poor. Everything I ever had but that skateboard is gone. And now it's probably buried under the rubble."
"Where'd all your stuff go?"
"I don't know." He shrugged. "My parents died without a will and everything went into probate and was still there the last I knew. My aunt doesn't talk about that kind of stuff. I was kind of in a daze after my parents crashed their plane and my entire life. I do remember that my Aunt refused to ship anything, claiming it was too expensive. And she doesn't like clutter, so I left my stuff behind like the rest of my life."
"So you left it all behind?" Stan asked.
"Yeah, I got to keep my skateboard, my tablet, my laptop and one suitcase of clothes. I left my second bag of clothes in the airport when they told me I had to choose my clothes or my skateboard as a carry on. I chose the skateboard so I only got one bag, instead of two bags like Ruby and Will. My aunt hates my skateboard, but she couldn't stop me since I gave up the second bag to keep it."
The memories of those days washed over him. They'd just landed and she'd turned and asked where his other bag was, and he'd told her "LA" and her nose had flared. She'd been beyond angry that he'd refused to give up the skateboard his father and he had picked out together, and now she would have to buy him new clothes, and he'd never seen the beating coming as they'd entered her townhouse for the first time and she'd turned on him, hurting him badly that first time.
"Josh, are you okay?" Stan asked. "You're looking a little white."
"Sure, great." But he wasn't as he tried to push the ugly memories away.
I don't have any real parents either," Stan said quietly. "As my step mom points out on a regular basis, I'm lucky to have a home. She makes sure I know that my step dad and her didn't have to take me in, that they could have given me to the state. Some days I'm pretty sure she hates me but my dad loves me and she knows it, and I came first."
"That's hard. My aunt makes sure I know how much trouble I am, and how much she hated my dad and my mom."
"Well, I never knew my sperm donor."
"Stan, you don't have to talk about this."
"It's okay, Jordan. I don't mind Josh knowing. Hell, the entire town knows my dad disappeared before I was born. My birth mom met my real dad when I was four and when they broke up, we moved a lot. But Dad got custody of me after Mom lost me to the state for neglect when I was eight. She was doing meth, shooting it."
"With a needle?"
"Yeah, but Dad, he's my real dad because he wanted me, and he stepped up for me and jumped through all the hoops the state put us through for two years before they finally got out of our lives."
"The state?" His heart rate sped up.
"Yeah, you know CPS?"
"CPS?"
"Child Protective Services," Jordan said dryly.
"But Dad did everything they asked of him, parenting classes and home visits and the rest of the bullshit, and they finally closed our case. And at least I have my own room and a house key."
"Lucky you."
"I know and he's not even my real dad but he is because he loves me, and I know he's worried about me right now. I'd bet he's called the cops by now. I know he's worried, and I'm sorry I'm putting him through this but I hope he finds us soon."
"Where's your mom now?"
"Graveyard. She died in a car wreck a few years back." He looked down. "She was high and hurt some other people. Killed one."
"That's hard but that means your stepdad draws a check on you too."
"Yeah, but he takes good care of me. Look, I don't mind. My check helps pay the bills. It pays the light bill and buys some groceries. And it pays my probation fees and my fines and my allowance buys my spray paint."
"So you can get in trouble again."
"Shut up, Jordan."
"It's true. Every time you almost get out of trouble, you go paint something else."
"Paint?"
"Come on, Josh, to be smart sometimes you're dumb." Jordan groaned before he added, "Stan's an artist with the spray can."
"You paint graffiti?"
"It's art."
"Yeah, and he's an idiot and signs his work and gets busted every time." Jordan said dryly.
"Hey, did you do the wall over on Fifth Street?"
"Yeah."
"Cool, your work's awesome. I never knew."
"Thanks, man. I just hope I get out of here so I can get in trouble for criminal mischief one more time."
"Me too. Are you planning to go to art school after you graduate high school?"
"Never thought about it."
"Well, you should. You have talent."
"I do?"
"Sure, but look, I hate it but I'm going to have to sleep. I can barely keep my eyes open. My body's crashing." He lay down carefully on his left side in the fetal position on top of the newspapers as he cradled his aching arm and stomach.
"I'll cover you up," Stan started layering newspaper on him.
"Thanks, Stan. Good night, Jordan. Good night, Stan. Everyone try to sleep."
"Okay. Night, Josh," they both said and he hoped Jordan and he managed to wake up the next morning as he drifted away, thinking that if he died at least maybe he'd get to see his parents again.
####OQ#####
He jerked awake, the dream vivid in his head. His dad and mom had been there in his dreams and his mother had smoothed his face and comforted him as she'd rocked him and kissed his forehead before she'd faded away.
"Please, mom, I want to come with you. Take me with you. Let me come too."
"Not yet, son, you have to stay. It's not your time and your brother and sister need you. I love you with all my heart but you have to find a way out."
"Think," his father had said. "You can think your way out of this. Use that brain of yours. Find a way. The way out is in this room. You have everything you need. Find it. Solve the puzzle. I love you, Joshua tree."
Jordan ask quietly in the dark, returning him to hell, "You okay, Josh? You were moaning."
"Yeah," he lied, think about only his dad called him Joshua tree before he answered. "As okay as you. Try to rest. Morning's coming."
And Jordan groaned before he said, "Yeah, and tomorrow's going to be our day, Josh, one way or another, tomorrow's our day."
"I think you're right. But rest for now." And his mind worked.
#####OQ#####
And I know another cliffe but truly there was no way I could finish this in a couple of pages so needed another chapter. And as always thanks for the read, and please review if you have time. Reviews make me happy. And when I'm happy I write more. LOL