531 Westwood Drive, Arcadia Bay Oregon, October 9th, 2013 3:14 AM
James peddled all the way up the driveway getting up from the seat and letting the bike fall onto its side on the gravel, out of breath and exhausted he lifted the garage door up then grabbed his bike and placed it along the wall before slowly bringing the door back down. He walked inside the home and climbed up the stairs turning right and down the hallway to the door on the left side, turning the knob and walking through the door before collapsing onto the bed in front of him and letting his consciousness slip away.
531 Westwood Drive, Arcadia Bay Oregon, January 29th, 2002 7:30 AM
Today was the day. For seven-year-old James Makintosh, it was the day his father had to leave and go to some foreign country that he couldn't even pronounce the name of. For twenty-nine-year-old Thomas Makintosh, it was the day he had to serve his country.
James wasn't really sure why his father had to leave, he knew that the President had declared war on this country back in October because of 'Terrorism' or something, James kept hearing that word all the time now. It all had to do with that Tuesday back in September when he was in school. and now that word was everywhere, and people were really scared because of it. After that day his mother would do nothing but sit on the couch and watch the news all day when she wasn't busy at the flower shop along the coast. James didn't like that word very much, it made everyone scared, too scared to do anything like flying. His family had to skip their Christmas vacation to Boston to see his grandparents because of this word. But worst of all, this word made his father scared.
James looked up to his father, he was his hero, James wanted to do be just like him, Someone who was smart and liked to help others, do the right thing and make the world a better place, but most of all, He wanted to make him proud.
But James didn't want to focus on that word anymore. He wanted to focus on the present, His father was dressed up in some Military Outfit covered in some weird pattern of squares made up of all different kinds of colors, with a duffel bag slung around his right shoulder, His hair was cut shorter than James had ever seen him have and a clean smooth face replaced the brown beard he had just a couple weeks ago. Thomas embraced his wife and they shared a kiss
"Thomas Makintosh. Don't you dare get yourself killed" Melissa tearfully told her husband to which Thomas responded he would. Then he knelt down to embrace his son, James was sad that his father had to leave but knew he was going to do the right thing like he always did. "
Will I see you again soon?" the son asked the father, Thomas gave an optimistic smile and shook his head "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it"
James jolted awake and sat up in his bed. He hadn't exactly had a nightmare but he certainly dreamed something he didn't want to. he placed his forehead into his palm and wiped away the beads of sweat that trickled down. He took a minute to collect himself and got up from the bed.
The room was completely illuminated by the heavenly glow of sunlight that came in through the only window inside the room, he took a good minute to scan the room. the walls were painted dark blue in color with an off white trim at the bottom, on the wall opposite to the windows was an old bulletin board with several notes tacked onto it along with a road map of Arcadia Bay with several red Thumbtacks pinned to specific areas on the map seemingly indicating locations of interest, in front of the bed stood a computer desk with a folding chair next to it. The desk was bare and clean, much like the rest of the room that laid bare and empty.
James looked down at the watch strapped to his left wrist and noted the time was around 8:30 and stood up from the bed and walked over to the closet that sat at the back left of the room pulling out a plain black T-Shirt, and a new pair of Jeans. Stripping off the clothing he had worn all day long and replacing them with the things he had pulled out, he placed his brown leather belt through the loops around the waist and adjusted the buckle. Once he was done dressing he grabbed his Blackwell Jacket and put his arms through the sleeves and zipped it up, once he was done he adjusted the hood and walked out of the door and out into the hall.
James stepped into the Kitchen where he noticed his mother was leaning over the counter looking out the window that overlooked the backyard, His dog Mia was lying down next to her. She looked up from the window and over at her son who was standing in the doorway
"Eggs over by the stove if you want them" She said gesturing towards the stove top that had a plate of eggs already prepared. James nodded and grabbed the plate walking over to the small table that sat towards the back of the room, he began to take small bites out of the breakfast as he usually did, he never really did have much of an appetite which explained why he was so thin and lanky. Melissa walked over to the table and sat down adjacent to her son "
I heard what you did yesterday. Trying to stop that girl from jumping" She said attempting to initiate conversation "That was. Courageous. It's something he would have done..." She sighed sadly before letting out a small laugh "In fact, it reminds me of the time back when we went to Blackwell. Your father ran out into the road to stop this huge truck from running over William Price" She recalled a story that he had heard before, He really didn't want to think about him much. Not after what happened, the dog tags that jingled every time he moved was reminder enough. James looked down at the small metal discs, the name imprinted on them wasn't his name, it never was, nor was the date of birth, or the blood type, or anything. Nothing on these identification tags were ever his.
Melissa's expression went from happy remembrance to focused concern "There was a break-in at the Academy late last night, someone broke into the principle's office and stole a bunch of money for the Handicapped fund, then broke into the pool house." She explained, "James, I know your history of 'entering without permission' please tell me that wasn't you." She asked referring to the time James was caught trying to lock pick a door.
{CHOICE}
{DENY/ADMIT TRUTH}
"No, it wasn't me..." James lied, If the circumstances were different he may have been more honest, James didn't feel bad about breaking in, that was merely a means to an end like many things he had done. But agreeing to take that money was eating away at his conscious, everything he had done up to last night could be justified and James knew the loopholes of certain laws he technically broke. But this was unjustifiable, and not something he would have done and it bothered James to no end.
Melissa arched an eyebrow in response but decided not to question further "Listen, James, I don't want to lecture you. But I don't want you to do something that would get you serious trouble. You are such a kind, intelligent, young man and I see so much of him in you. Don't squander it, please" she pleaded with her son. James nodded and assured her he would. The two sat in silence for a minute not really talking to one another, this wasn't unusual as James wasn't a very social person often interjecting in conversations rather than starting them,
"I'll be able to sell everything and close up the shop by this weekend thanks to you helping me Monday." Melissa smiled, which caused James gave a weak smile in response
"Thats... good to know", his mind was more preoccupied with different things, the mother rested a hand on the son's shoulder
"I know you must be thinking about a lot, what with happened yesterday and with your little 'investigation' involving that missing girl. But I want you to know that I'm proud of you James, and he would be too..." she said in a comforting tone, James nodded and then stood up from the table.
"I'm going to head out, do you mind if I take the truck?" James asked
"I don't have gas money and you don't have a job" his mother joked at his expense
"The bike it is then" James sighed "at this rate I'll be legible for the goddamn Tour de' France" he said sarcastically in his head while walking out of the kitchen and down the stairs towards the garage door.