Author's note: I've made another update to chapter two and I'm working on chapter three, which will be the last. So I would like to go ahead and thank everyone who's been reading and reviewing this story!
TWO
Upon waking up the following morning, Alvin's muddled mind was bombarded with flashbacks of yesterday's harsh happenings. Repeatedly he witnessed himself being beaten by Jake and his cronies. Continuously his nose became a bloodied mess and his knee a mound of scarlet, frayed flesh.
Uninvitingly, Dave's saddened expression wavered across Alvin's bleak visions.
Ashamed, Alvin gripped his bed sheets. Within the familiar confinements of his room, he recalled the night before. The tedious drive home…Dave's scolding lecture…Theodore's hacking coughs…These disconcerting details relentlessly plagued him.
A sharp, demanding voice abruptly rebounded against the walls.
"Alvin! Come and get ready for school!" Dave's yell was unmistakable.
Fiercely, Alvin disentangled himself from the covers. Trekking toward the kitchen, he halted. His knee wasn't burning. Frowning at the realization, he bowed low to examine the gash.
Fearfully tugging at the bandage which concealed his wound, Alvin grimaced. Removing the binding proved to be extremely painful. When his wound was visible at last, he pursed his lips.
The scab was already healing. Alvin saw this right away, and he was sorely disappointed. Contemplating, he rubbed his bent nose. It was hopeless. There was no chance of Dave letting him stay home.
Alvin ambled mindlessly through the house. Disheartened, he traversed into the living room, where Theodore reclined on the living room sofa. Stumbling upon this innocent scene, Alvin smiled thinly. Over the blaring of the television, he could faintly hear Theodore's rasping giggling.
He only has a cold, Alvin thought, detouring into the kitchen. He'll be all right soon. "There you are Alvin!" Dave, who was working industriously at the sink, careened around. He announced, "I've got great news for you boys!"
"I wouldn't get my hopes up, Dave." Simon, who was sitting at the table, poured milk into his bowl. He paid scant attention to Alvin. "All of your pervious girlfriends have fled away in terror."
Dave shrugged. "This one could be different, Simon," he said, drying his hands on his shirt. "She seems pretty strong-headed."
"Oh, another woman in the house?" Alvin's spirits rose slightly. Dave nodded.
"Her name's Miss. Hotch," he informed, "and she's offered to watch over you guys while I'm off trying to make that record deal. She seems to get along with children pretty well." He smiled wistfully.
Alvin, discovering his bowl, planted himself firmly into a chair. He felt slightly better. Having another woman in the house would be totally radical. For a moment, he almost forgot his dilemmas. With relish, he dug his fingers into the cereal box.
"Don't forget, Alvin, for the remainder of the week you have to spend part of your detention in Mr. Talbot's office, during playtime," Dave reminded his preoccupied son.
Questing for the elusive toy prize, Alvin froze. Mortified, he scowled at Dave. "Why? I didn't do anything wrong! I was the one who got beat up!"
Dave, waving a finger, reprimanded Alvin. "You almost gave Miss. Charlotte a heart attack!" He flexed his hands.
Alvin flinched. He had forgotten all about that.
Mr. Talbot stood regally in the doorway. Folding his hands behind his back, he scrutinized the approaching, shambling figure.
Under the light of a grinning, crescent, moon, Talbot could scarcely make out the bizarre visitor's shadowy façade. Short and stocky, the being concealed its face with a hood.
With a gait as unsteady as Talbot's, it hobbled along the wolf man's degenerating sidewalk, supporting itself with a hammer.
Claws scraped against concrete, rousing Talbot's suspicions. This deformed individual wasn't human.
Talbot held his staff aloft. "Excuse me. May I help you?" His distinctive, baritone voice, ever tranquil, unexpectedly wafted over the troubled creature.
There was a strangled squeak. Astonished, Talbot blinked. Alarmed, he cautiously beckoned the creature forward. "It's all right. I won't hurt you." He smiled.
Distrustfully, the hooded entity advanced upon Talbot.
Why, it's a chipmunk! Talbot thought, stunned.
Now that the rodent was standing under his swigging lantern, Talbot could just barely distinguish the munk's furry face, which was marred by scars and battle wounds. One particular, malicious scar snaked down the middle of the munk's warped expression.
"Half," the chipmunk grated, pointing at its abrasion. "Name Half."
"Hello, Half. " Talbot delicately held out his hand. "My name's Talbot," he introduced himself.
Half flashed a serrated grin.
The memory faded. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Talbot blinked. The dim, recollection of his earliest encounter with Half swiftly dissolved, leaving him unaccompanied in his office.
Presently positioned at his desk, he glanced down at his maimed hand. Two of his gnarled finders had been ruthlessly detached by a ravenously disoriented Half. Talbot, for years, had been keeping the chipmunk concealed in his attic, where spiders, rats, and dust bunnies abounded.
Well-acquainted with these nuisances, Half tolerated his living conditions. The impaired chipmunk never complained. Lately, however, Talbot was hindered by his failing legs, and he was unable to make frequent ventures into the attic. His recurrent absences, he feared, were transforming Half into an aggressive, demonic fiend.
He has eyes like Alvin's, Talbot realized. His blackened hand was burning. He ignored the pain. Fiery eyes…
"What happened to your hand, Mr. Talbot?!!!"
Speaking of the devil! With the explanation ringing through his mind, Talbot instantly cradled his hand. Alvin, having just arrived, was gaping idiotically at his principal's darkened flesh.
"If you can sit still, I'll tell you," Talbot began.
Alvin, surprisingly, fell silent.
Within the bowels of a massive, towering oak tree, a chipmunk named Speck yawned and pricked up his ears. Immobile and completely silent, he listened to the boisterous, stormy night. Alone, he felt completely vulnerable.
His mother had abandoned him that day. Almost obsessively Speck pondered over her rapid, silent departure. He couldn't find any reasonable explanation for her leaving him.
Sniffing, Speck buried his nose under arm. His fur rippled. He was curious about his father, too. He'd never known his father. He was a lonely child without any siblings who could enlighten him in these matters.
Outside, the rolling countryside rocked. Afterwards there was a sudden, earsplitting snap. The tree was falling, Speck realized. He was going to plummet to his death!
Speck squealed. The great, swaying oak's bark was splitting. The little abode he was holed up in started to collapse and the ground rose up to meet him.
When Speck awoke, his burning face was pressed into the mucky soil. Snarling in frustration, he pushed himself up from the ground. His face was on fire! There was something wrong!
Panicking, he raised his trembling flanks. Scuttling away from the felled tree, he searched desperately for a river. Once he reached the snaking trail of water that circled the foot of the hill, he peered worriedly into the murky liquid.
His face…His repugnant face was split by an extensive, jagged scar! Additional scratches crisscrossed his nose and mouth and his mortified expression was encrusted with shimmering blood.
Cackling intensely, Speck raised his head to the rumbling sky. Brandishing his claws at the rumbling sky, he howled, "I am Half! Never whole! Half!"
Only a livid boom of thunder answered his chilling assertion.
Pausing in his narration, Talbot cleared his parched throat. Ignoring Alvin's disbelieving glower, he downed a glass of water. "What's the matter, Alvin?"
"Why'd you stop?" Alvin rapidly fired the question.
Talbot supplied, "I needed a break." He downed a glass of water. "Don't you have any questions?"
Alvin shook his head. "No! Could you finish the story?"
With a nod of his head, Talbot resumed Half's woeful tale.
Since the night of the storm, Half's elongated journey turned grim and unpredictable. Never remaining in one place for long, he constantly wondered. His short legs carried him far. He traveled for years before he stumbled upon the town.
A small, homely place, it looked like a town where nothing went wrong. Homes were nestled into a small, boxed community. Trees dotted the edge of sidewalks. Half felt as if he were in a dream.
Loping down a sloping road, Half's sharp, piercing eyes roved over warm, friendly homes and manicured lawns. The flawless scenery went unblemished until he saw the mansion.
A looming, terrifying, building, the manor was an enormous eyesore. Sneaky veins trailed along the building's crumbling exterior while the edifice's windows were black, emotionless pits.
Surely no one lived here!
Expectantly, Half descended upon the house, wielding a stolen hammer. He faltered when an intimidating, obscured figure exited the house.
"That was me, of course." Talbot seemed pleased with himself.
Alvin glowered. "That still doesn't explain what happened to your hand." His gaze lingered on Talbot's malformed hand.
"Half bit my fingers," Talbot explained. His eyes dimmed. "I've held up him in my attic for so long…I'm afraid I haven't been able to visit him as often as I should. I can't get up the steps…But I managed to ascend them yesterday. Half wasn't happy."
"So he bit your hand?" Alvin's tone was disbelieving. "Why?"
"He's getting lonely, tired and lonely. He's through with eating mice. He wanted to try something different." Talbot feebly lifted his hand. "I guess my flesh sufficed."
Alvin's expression softened. "Hey, I'll get this situation fixed up. I'll dig deep into Half's mind and make him confess!"
"That's exactly why I invited you to my house," Talbot revealed. His eyes were twinkling now.
Wondering what he had gotten himself into, Alvin groaned. How did he ever get into these dire situations?
It was Wednesday, the day Dave had chosen to leave for his trip.
"Well, boys, I'm off." Dave lingered in the doorway. Weighed down by his luggage, he leaned precariously over the sidewalk. "Miss Hotch should be here any minute"
"You don't won't to be late, Dave!" Alvin dashed up to his father. "You better hurry!"
Dave grunted. "Now, Alvin, I know what you're trying to pull and it's not going to work –"
Miss. Miller's piercing bellow floated over the lawn. "You're not leaving now, are you, Dave? These boys will be all alone!"
Dave spluttered, "Y-You don't h-have to worry, M-Miss Miller! I've h-hired a babysitter!"
Miss. Miller wasn't pleased over this bit of news. "A babysitter? Who is she?" She stepped coolly out of Dave's way as he staggered toward his car.
"Miss. Hotch! She's really great with kids! By, Alvin, Simon, Theodore! I'll see you sometime at the end of this month – There's Miss. Hotch now! Bye!" With this hasty farewell, Dave loaded his baggage into the car and hopped into the driver's seat. He was speeding down the road when Miss. Hotch pulled into the driveway.
"That boy would loose his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders," Miss. Miller grumbled. She stomped away without greeting Miss. Hotch, who didn't seem to mind. In fact, the new babysitter was very happy and pleasant. Alvin liked her at first sight.
Nothing notable happened for the rest of week. Nevertheless, Alvin, paying his daily visits to Talbot's office, highly-anticipated the principal's Half-centered stories. At the end of the day, he would go home and share the stories with Simon and Theodore, who, under Miss. Hotch's care, was recovering nicely.
By that Friday, Alvin was geared up. He and his brothers were ready. They were going into Mr. Talbot's house.
"Why are you dragging us into this, Alvin?" Simon interrogated his brother.
"Hey, Talbot invited you and Theodore too!" Alvin, searching for his sleeping bag, rummaged through his closet. He tossed various toys into the floor before he eventually found what he was looking for.
Moonlight filtered in through the brothers' window. Simon, with his glasses pressed up against a telescopeic lens, explored the starry night sky. "Theodore's still sick," he matter-of-factly pointed out to his brother.
Alvin, as usual, ignored him. "I'll ask Miss. Hotch. She'll know if he's sick or not." There was a thump as Alvin flung his sleeping bag onto his bed, which was already overflowing with camping equipment.
"Why are you bringing so much junk?" Simon, throwing his hands into the air, reluctantly abandoned his viewing. His wearied gaze followed Alvin's rushed sprints.
"We've got to be prepared, Simon!" Alvin panted. He wasn't slowing down. "There could be anything in that house!"
Simon relented. He should've given up on Alvin a long time ago.
Downstairs, Miss Hotch placed a slender hand over Theodore's forehead. She determined, "It looks like your fever has gone down, Theodore! You'll be feeling as spry as ever by tomorrow!"
Theodore smiled. "I sure hope so, Miss. Hotch!" He rubbed his tummy. "Say, can I have a snack!"
Miss. Hotch giggled. "See, Theodore? You've got your appetite back!" Her freckled cheeks glowing, she teasingly tickled Theodore's rollicking tummy. The famished chipmunk giggled.
Soon after Miss. Hotch's departure, Alvin's voice floated into the kitchen. Theodore wondered what was going on.
"Is Theodore filling better?" Alvin asked Miss. Hotch. The babysitter was raiding the refrigerator.
"Oh, yes, he'll be fine!" she assured Alvin.
"Well, tomorrow, can he come with me and Theodore? We're going to our principal's house!" He innocently batted his oval eyes at her. She blinked at him.
"If it's all right with Dave." She considered the idea. "I hate to call him while he's away, though." Becoming desperate, Alvin gripped her lavender skirt.
"Please, Miss, Hotch? Please!" He resorted to begging.
"Oh, all right," she decided. "Just let me take care of Theodore first. Then I'll call Dave."
Alvin whooped. "I love you, Miss. Hotch!" He impulsively jumped into her arms and planted a whiskery kiss on her cheek.