Chapter 1

Jason 'Shadow' Parker celebrates his birthday with countless friends, and that very night fate turns on him, and his whole life changes.

 

The Sunday Project

By Saskia Liddick

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

The sun shone through the water of San Francisco Bay with nothing less than perfect clarity. People leapt out of beds to soak in the way clouds methodically painted the fairy flax blue skies. Boats raced across the bay, water skies tore open white gashes in the blue ocean, and people found the confidence to jump off boats and into the water where fish could be clearly seen darting around like butterflies in the water.

June eight was a day of carelessness for almost everyone. As people splashed by, none of them looked up at the manor. It was ghostly beautiful, the way the house stood in total solitude. It was once the eye sore of San Francisco, back in 1926. The house homed the millionaire family, the Faber family. One day though, neighbors watched on as Harper and Allen Faber packed minimal clothing, documents, and the cat into a car and drove off, leaving behind two things. One was a letter, a request that the house be left to rot into nothingness. No one should ever open the gates for anything. So chains and padlocks sealed the property since, and the Ocean View Manor was left to smolder and fade into gray with the rest of History. The second was a secret that hid inside of the house. A secret that moved into the house when the Faber couple moved out. Someone protected by the letter, and the last thing on the minds of San Francisco citizens. Their daughter was left behind in the house too. Beautiful Frescia Faber was never seen again.

 

People sat in the living room early that pure morning, fidgeting as they looked at the clock. Somebody must have taken the cogs and wheels out of it. Every time someone lookup up hopefully, it seemed to have hardly budged. The man who sat closest to the crumbling oak door seemed the most excited. He pushed hazel hair out of his amber eyes and looked towards the door, waiting for some sign of life on the other side. Others sitting down and around looked just as and noting less than anxious. A long white ferret the size of a lioness sat curled under a coffee table, looking a little board.

Everyone looked like they were ready to follow the animal as it put both paws over its eyes and fell into slumber, when the man at the door whispered, “here he comes.”

At those words everyone stood up, and listened to the footsteps that moved slowly down the hall.

            “He walks like his age,” the ferret said.

            “Weasel quiet,” the man at the door snapped.

The footsteps stopped just outside the door, and everyone seemed to have frozen in time, like someone had taken a great big remote control and hit ‘pause’. The spell of silence and excitement broke when the doorknob opened slowly and pushed into the room even slower.

The figure on the other side was tall, dark clothes that could have been cut out of black parachutes hung around a thin body. The face of the figure was pale, tired, but young. The jaded blue eyes looked at the people who stood in the room and yelled, “Happy birthday Shadow!” to which he yelled back in a thick British accent, “Damn it Soho you weren’t suppose to remind me!” and turned around to try and hit the man by the door, who jumped out of the way retorting cheerfully, “No use bitching about something that happened 82 years ago! You complain about age like a human does.”

            “Eighty two years…” Shadow moaned and sat down in a stuffed chair, looking at all the happy faces who eagerly put presents down on top of the coffee table. It was true, Shadow didn’t age the way that humans did, he had finished aging when he was 26 years old, became immortal, just like the rest of the faces before him. He thought about why they still kept track of his age while the ferret strangely named Weasel crawled out and placed a dead mouse on his lap.

            “Happy Birthday, Shadow.” He said sticking his tongue out at the man who looked disgustingly out at the little creature’s forehead.

            “You wondered why I became a Vegan for what reason again, Weasel?” Shadow asked and flicked the dead creature away, only to be replaced by a tiny gift. It hadn’t even been wrapped, it didn’t need to be. The ornate design of the pocket watch glimmered in the absence of the sunlight that was hidden by huge curtains.

Shadow looked up at the girl with flaming red hair and sparkling green eyes.

            “You always complain about not knowing what time it is, it seemed appropriate. Besides Spieren said it was annoying him too.” She said in a soft voice, like willow leaves blowing in a summer breeze.

            “Thanks love,” Shadow said and hugged Frescia Faber before being over-come by even more presents. Most of the presents were clothes, mostly socks (“When you think the world has turned on you, there are always new socks.” Was Shadow’s philosophy) but along with them came poetry books, a hefty note book from Spieren, fudge from Soho, and a card from his brothers. It was 3 in the afternoon by the time Shadow had opened up every bag of new socks, had attempted to poison Weasel with the fudge from Soho, and everyone finally settled down at an old man that looked very much like a basset hound sat down at the coffee table and pushed the wrapping paper aside to reveal a blue print. As the old man named Evil Eye sat down with a tiny pencil no longer than an infant’s middle finger, people passed around the fudge that was apparently made for Shadow. Shadow didn’t mind it, he had never trusted Soho’s cooking anyway. Soho was the con-artist of the century, but the best worst cook. Some how he had managed to make this desert without burning the edges or catching someone fire. He deserved applause for that one.

The afternoon dragged on in silence as people munched slowly on the fudge, as Soho watched each face trying to find approval. It was five o’clock when Evil Eye finally declared, “finished” and slamming the pencil down with a sense of superiority. Shadow slid down from his chair, causing an avalanche with the packets of socks and presents as he did so.

            “This is the entire layout?” Shadow asked, running his index finger down the faint pencil marks that had been painfully etched into the blue print.  

            “Yes it is,” Evil Eye said with satisfaction covering his voice like a fur coat covers a women in winter.

Shadow observed the trail Evil Eye had made carefully, noting where Soho and Dawn had marked the general positions of guards in the different exhibit rooms. He was going to at least need Soho with him, Soho had memorized everything, and could even pick the locks when they got to the testing room, that was down in the basement wasn’t it? Yes it was.

Shadow looked carefully at all of the rooms, trying to figure out who would be needed for this heist. Spieren could do well, he was quiet and strong. Dawn too, he would make a good look out.

Everyone looked at Shadow carefully, waiting for him to come to the conclusion of who would help him with the mission. It was another hour when Shadow said, “Soho, you’re coming with me, Spieren, Dawn, and Weasel are coming with me. Spieren, Dawn and Weasel, you’ll be look out posts, Soho is coming with me to find the experiment and get him out. Everyone else you’ll stay here tonight.”

Those whose names were called out looked excited and a little nervous. Spieren was a chocolate skinned man with a heavy set jaw, and his eyes sparkled when he fantasized breaking into the Museum. Dawn was a skeleton with empty sockets that shimmered steel color with lust. Soho bubbled over and stood up saying, “let’s go now!”

Shadow shook his head and say, “we’re going to wait until closing time and almost everyone has gone home. They don’t have the cameras since Soho tampered them last week. So they have normal people patrolling, that just means we have to be more careful, get me?” Shadow looked sharply at each person’s fore head. They all nodded understandingly and said, “just say when you’re ready Shadow.”

Shadow nodded in reply and said, “I need a few hours, that’s all,” Shadow said and stood, walking out of the room.

 

The day had ended all too soon for those who played in the water of San Francisco Bay. Almost everyone finished the day with a burger or dinner at their favorite restaurant and maybe a drive around town, enjoying the warm night air. It felt too good to be true to many of those people as they sat sharing chocolate milkshakes and eating their hamburgers. For some people that night brought apprehension, that apprehension was work. So the guards of the San Francisco Museum grudgingly put on their uniforms, kissed their wives goodnight with the promise they would be back the next morning, and started out to take the grave yard shift.

 

Back in his room Shadow sat in bed for a few hours reading the poetry books, smiling at each inside message from the different group leaders. The first pair of socks was heavenly, Shadow always loved the fresh feel of socks on his feet. It was a weird thing to like, but Shadow just told people to shove it when they laughed at him.

It was about eight o’clock when Shadow stepped out for his smoke. Because of Shadow’s immortality, he wasn’t easily effected by human drugs. They were like candy to him, but he still smoked meth or a cigar when he needed it. Tonight was one of those occasions. Tonight the sky was deep purple, clouds drifting slowly across the night as Shadow sat on the balcony facing San Francisco Bay. His feet dangled over the side of the balcony, smoke spiraling into the air like dust being swept off the front porch. The cigar was suppose to calm his nerves, instead his fingers only shook harder with each inhale. Shadow didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know who had come through the rotting French doors and sat down beside him.

            “I know what you’re going to say, it won’t stop me from tonight,” Shadow said and his little brother sighed. Cicero Parker was the only person aside from Mason who could get away from calling Shadow by his real name.            

            “Jason, you don’t understand,” Cicero began, but Shadow cut in, “no you don’t understand. You’re the only one of us who hasn’t joined, you don’t know what good this will do for us.”

            “But I know the bad it will do for them,” Cicero retorted and Shadow went quiet. The two brothers sat there for a long time, watching cigar smoke rise into the air like a million gray birds.

Finally Cicero blurted it out, “Jason don’t do this.”

Shadow tapped the cigar over the side of the balcony, watching the gray flutter into darkness.

            “I don’t have a choice, Cicero.”

            “Yes you do. You’re the leader, you’re the brain. You can tell them the heist is off,” Cicero replied, his eyes and voice made Shadow cast his little brother a side ways glance. Cicero looked unhappy.

            “What’s bothering you, Cicero?” Shadow asked, putting out the cigar and turning his attention to the youngest of the Parker siblings.

            “I don’t want you to get caught. Hibernius said it would happen, but I want to stop it.”

            “Hibernius says I’m suppose to…” Shadow’s confidence and comfort dissipated as he coughed, “Caught?”

Cicero nodded and Shadow looked down at his unlit cigar and lit it again, his hands shaking more than ever.

There was a long, long pause as Shadow let his arrest sink in. He couldn’t believe it, he didn’t want to believe it.

Cicero looked out at the bay, trying to find an answer for some question.

            “Did Hibernius really mean it? When did he tell you?” Shadow asked, turning his head just enough to see Cicero’s worried profile.

Cicero swallowed and said, “He told me two years ago. He just said it would be during a heist you were trying to pull off.” Shadow went quiet again and looked out at the night sky again. It looked so much prettier than it had before Shadow came outside. That’s what moments like this made you do. Made you see the greatest beauty of the simple things. The quiet between the two brothers went on for almost eternity, when a third voice broke the quiet, making Shadow jump high into the air in shock.

It was Soho, who leaned out through the doors and said, “It’s almost midnight, Shadow. Are you ready?” 

            “Uh, yeah, yeah I’ll be there in a few minutes Soho, wait for me.” Shadow said and watched as the man vanished back through the door.

Cicero watched defeated as Shadow began to stand up, his knees knocking painfully together.

            “I have to do it then, Cicero. If Hibernius says I’m suppose to be captured then…” Shadow took a shuddering breath and looked back out at the sky. “Then I have to do it, no questions asked….” And Shadow vanished through the doors after Soho as Cicero called after him, “but Shadow you don’t get it!”

But Shadow was already gone.

            “I was suppose to stop you from doing the heist…” Cicero said quietly and looked out at the bay, where the water, stars, and the moon seemed to be mocking him.

You failed Cicero, you failed.

 

As night time fell, fog had started to roll in from the bay. It reminded Shadow of the poem that compared fog to a cat who sat on its haunches, letting its breath roll down onto the city. Shadow decided he would have to read that poem when he got home. Then he remembered he wouldn’t be coming back from the heist tonight, he was going to be arrested. Through the underground tunnels of the city they walked, rats moving hurriedly out of the way of the large ferret that moved ahead of the group.

            “Shadow, you feeling alright? You’ve looked a little pale since we left,” Spieren suddenly said, shining his flashlight over towards Shadow, who had been unnaturally quiet ever since they submerged into the darkness of the sewers and networks.

            “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Shadow said, but Spieren didn’t look totally convinced. They kept walking anyway, conversation hanging awkwardly in the still air that was stirred by the walkers. As they reached the tunnel that would take them to the building behind the San Francisco Museum, Shadow spoke.  

            “Guys, whatever happens, if something goes wrong, I want you to abandon the heist and get out,”

Soho spun around and yelled, “What!?” so loud that his voice echoed for a few minutes.

It was Spieren who asked, “why?” looking absolutely devastated.

            “Because… as the leader of the group, it’s my duty to protect you, and even if it comes at the expense of my freedom then so be it.” Shadow said, drawing himself up to a monstrous height. Everyone looked at each other, and Shadow continued, a little shakier, “just, don’t question it, I know what I’m doing… let’s go.”

Soho turned around and pushed carefully on a plot of dirt, that popped a square of grass out of its place up above. Soho was the first to jump up onto the real world, looked around, and everyone else followed suit, pulling themselves up onto ground level and hurrying across the grass that was already wet from the settling fog.

Shadow set the grass square back in place and followed quickly after everyone else, vanishing for a few seconds, and reappearing inside the shadow of the Museum. It was one of his gifts, Shadowcrawling. One he found useful and troublesome at times.

Soho and Weasel broke off from Spieren, Shadow, and Dawn, slinking off into darkness. There was a few moments as noises could be heard from the creaking Museum, and Shadow stared out at the sky. Would he ever get to see it again? What would the humans do once they captured him? Would they keep him and perform experiments? Try and kill him? The thought made him snort, which earned him a weird glance from Spieren. They couldn’t kill Shadow, who was a human cockroach. Only he couldn’t be killed by being stepped on either. He was a special case even for immortals, the only thing that could kill him was a special flower that bloomed once every 18 or so years for only two months. What were the odds of humans finding it anyway?

            “Shadow, Shadow!” Spieren whispered loudly, snapping his bronze fingers in Shadow’s face, who came from his thoughts with a shake of the head and an, “oh, sorry.”

Soho and Weasel were holding the door open, the alarms silenced. They were in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inside the building it reminded Shadow of an old Italian Architect Evil Eye and told him about once, the way the building arches curved and the way the ornate designs curled up the walls and across the ceiling like ivy plants. Soho couldn’t help but turn in circles as he walked, trying to soak up as much of the beauty as he possibly could. Shadow did the same, only without the turning around in complete circles and bumping into Spieren, who was jumping at the slightest sound that didn’t seem to belong to any of them. Shadow didn’t blame Spieren for once. He himself was turning his head every which way as they continued down a corridor, each person diverging off into their own hall just as they had planned.

Finally Dawn the skeleton manifested into nothingness, Shadow let a shadow drag him into the world of shades, where he could see Dawn making himself comfortable not far off. Soho looked around, obviously to check if he was being watched, and began to shrink, his face and hair contorting, receding, and lengthening. Within seconds a man that couldn’t have been Soho a few seconds ago was standing there, blinking and flexing his fingers. It was Soho’s gift to become a clone of anything and anyone he looked at, he could be come that thing, right down to the last blood cell that might contain a cancer.

So Shadow stood in darkness for a long time, staring at Soho, waiting for him to move, and trying to anticipate when they might be found out. Would the guards see just him? Or would someone else blow the cover, and in the end it would be Shadow with the shackles? Those were the thoughts that haunted Shadow as Soho started walking, moving quickly and purposefully, greeting guards in the same way that the man Soho was tonight – Aaron – would have on any other day. It was another fabulous performance by Soho Tevye Knight. The minutes dragged on as Soho strolled, moving faster now, the amount of guards that seemed to bar his way was frustrating, even for Soho, who was looking like he was going to punch out whoever got in his way next. The stairs came next, and Soho moved down them quickly, stepping over the red rope and downwards. Shadow followed after quickly, checking over his shoulders the entire time. It had to be any minute…. Any minute now. No alarms, no guards jumping out of no where holding guns. It seemed almost too perfect, too good to be true.

At the door labeled “Caution: Do Not Enter” Soho knelt down and pulled a silver pick about as thin as a needle from his pocket and set to work, casting a glance over his shoulder every other ten seconds. Five minutes seemed to be a stretch, but that was how long it took Soho to open the door and disarm the alarms that were decorating it like Christmas lights. That took another ten minutes, and at that point there were gunshots upstairs, making Shadow’s blood freeze and Soho loose his concentration. In not even a second, Aaron had vanished and Soho was standing there, shaking uncontrollably.

            {Dawn, where are you? What’s happening?} Shadow called out, his telepathic message hanging in empty air. Dawn must be unconscious. Then someone else called out,

            {Spieren got shot, we have to get out of here.} Dawn was saying, and he could be heard continuing, {I have Spieren out, I don’t know where Weasel is. Soho, Shadow we have to get out right now, they just called for reinforcements.}

Soho looked up at Shadow, who stood there uncertainly, then ordered, {Everyone find a way out, I’ll hold them off for you.}

            {But Shadow,} Spieren said groggily.

            {But nothing, we made a promise that you would leave me behind. Soho is in charge of the group now.} Shadow said, and no one said anything else. Everyone seemed to come to silent agreement about Shadow’s agreement, and when Shadow turned around to tell Soho to clear out, he had already vanished. There were footsteps hurrying down the stairs, and Shadow prepared himself for gun fire, and maybe a dead man. Before he even had a chance to see what he was up against, something sharp hit his shoulder, a dart. They were going to drug him, good luck. He pulled the tranquilizer dart out of his shoulder blade and looked at the men. It was a SWAT team, some armed with rifles, the other half had tranquiller guns, which were aimed at Shadow’s vital blood streams. Shadow squinted, trying to find eyes behind the heavy glasses that they all wore. They had thought ahead of this, definitely thought ahead. It seemed like they were… prepared for this. Like someone had told them that Shadow would be here tonight.

            {I did it Shadow, I’m sorry.} A voice whispered telepathically to Shadow as the darts flew towards him. Everything seemed to be slowing down as the adrenaline in Shadow’s blood actually turned painful.  

            {You killed my family, I only joined the group so I could find out what your next heist would be,} the voice continued, and one of the darts hit Shadow’s throat. He fell to his knees, as another pierced both of his elbows.

            {You traitor.} Shadow thought as he fell onto his back, the SWAT rushing around him, more darts

 

Shadow couldn’t see when he opened his eyes. He was blindfolded, and the shackles around his ankles confirmed the horrible reality made Shadow shudder and someone began to speak, his Miranda rights. Oh shut up, Shadow thought as they pulled him onto a stretcher and began to carry him. I don’t deserve the Miranda rights…

Still the voice continued to speak, a headache started to form in the center of Shadow’s forehead. Make it stop, make it stop.

Then the coldness of outside hit Shadow so hard he shuddered so hard the stretcher trembled with him. He could hear a large van rumbling, an armored van maybe. Then he heard more voices, radios, and even a couple people could be felt close by.

            {Jason,} a voice said, and Shadow turned his head to where he was sure Cicero was hiding behind a tree, out of sight of humans who were standing and gaping at the scene.

            {Cicero, go away, I don’t want you to see this,} Shadow said and looked back up at where he believed the sky was. Why did Cicero have to see Shadow like this? A man who had fallen to where not even grace could see him.

            “He’s awake,” someone muttered, and Shadow could feel more tranquilizers being pushed into his system. He felt sleep coming on again, and just before his thoughts became nothingness, Cicero muttered, “I can’t even call you my brother…” and then nothing.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. Went a clock in the living room. Frescia was pacing, Evil Eye was trying to get his nerves calmed by reading the heaviest book he could find. It didn’t work. Then voices were screaming, “We have to help him! We gotta get him out of there!” Evil Eye was the first to stand up and hurry out of the room, and Frescia followed after him, her skirts swishing like angry wasps as the voices got louder in the middle of the main hall. Soho and Weasel were yelling loudly, and Spieren was being slapped in the face by Dawn. They all looked distressed.

            “What’s going on?” someone called and Soho screamed back, “Shadow got caught, we have to go help him!”

Everyone went quiet at that. Some people looked grim, others were smiling with the thought it was a joke in their minds.

            “That’s impossible, Shadow can’t be caught, he’s, he’s Shadow!” a fiery headed boy called, his eyes widening when Soho didn’t break out in a joking smile.

Frescia and Evil Eye looked at each other, as if coming to some kind of decision about something.

            “I’m taking a few people and we’re going to break Shadow out,” Soho said but Evil Eye said, “No you won’t, we aren’t doing anything, Shadow is suppose to be caught.” Evil Eye said and started walking down the stairs, Frescia following him along with a few others. It looked like a funeral procession.

Soho stared at Evil Eye incredulously as the old man came to stand in front of the party.

            “What do you mean he was suppose to be arrested?”

            “Hibernius told us that two years today, Shadow would… would be arrested, while trying to break into the Museum.”

            “We thought that the prophecy wouldn’t come true, it was just a joke of that Hibernius had invented in his free time,” Frescia said slowly, running her hands through a gentle lock of hair and looking at the dumbfounded group who still lay panting and, in Spieren’s case, bleeding.

            “Well, did Hibernius say that the someone would help him out? That Shadow would get away somehow?”

            Evil Eye looked away and Frescia closed her eyes and bit her lips, holding back a small tear that still managed to slide between her eyelids.

            “He said that was going to be decided by someone who was close to him, we assumed he was talking about one of his brothers, but we haven’t seen either of them.”

Soho sat down and muttered, “I saw Cicero sitting out with him while he was having his smoke, do you think he knew about it?”

Evil Eye shrugged and someone else, the same pyro mumbled, “Maybe Cicero has a trick up his sleeve…”

No one said anything else, they all stood and sat in a formation of mourning. The sun was starting to rise, casting their shadows away from the heavenly light of the sun.

 

            Shadow’s head hurt immensely, a throbbing that continued on and on and on. Like a miner slamming his pick into the side of a mountain was the best way to describe the headache. He opened up his eyes and tried to rub his head. His hand had been tied down to the arm of a very uncomfortable chair, as with his ankles and his shoulders. His entire body was aching, like the very mountain side that miner was searching. There was a table before Shadow, and on that table was a tape recorder, a microphone, and a speaker. From the speaker came a voice that said, “Mr. Jason Parker, can you hear me, please speak into the microphone before you.”

Shadow tried, but couldn’t reach forward enough, so instead he cleared his throat and replied in a loud enough voice, “Yes.”

The best thing for him to do right now was cooperate. The worst they could do to him right now was…. Was… was nothing. They couldn’t hurt Shadow, maybe a few darts to his vital signs would knock him out for a few minutes, but a whole gallon of it wouldn’t do much either. Over doses, killing drugs, gas chambers, drowning, none of that could kill Shadow.

So the man leaned forward in his seat as far as the restraints would allow him and listened to the questions, answering each one. Did he have an alibi for the night of the murder of Matthew Capistrano? No he didn’t. Did he murder Gary Foulton? Yes he did. Why did he kill these people and the countless others they didn’t have the breath to announce? He had no impulse to stop himself. He told them exactly what they wanted to hear, and it seemed to be enough for them.

Towards the end, Shadow asked the big question, “What do you plan to do with me after this? You can’t do a trial because we all know that I am in fact the leader to Group 87, that I did kill all those people, make all those robberies, and attempt a break in at the Museum. What’s your game plan? You don’t have one, I guessed so. Your normal prison can’t hold me, I’m sure you know. If I were the one who was planning to put a person like myself in prison, then I would make a cell special for them with electrical waves that will shock and kill any one with those similar blood cells who came close enough to the cage.” Shadow’s answer on the other line was total silence. He had either just given them the best idea they had ever heard, or they were laughing at his proposal. He didn’t care if they took him up on that offer, making it to that exact design. Shadow had no more regrets, only being caught. He didn’t care what they did to him now, Gravity’s spirit would just leave him after death and go find someone else, leaving the Government and police rolling around on the floor in total hysteria.

During that day dream, the police said they were handing him over to Government hands, who would figure out what to do with him then, and suddenly people swarmed in and pushed more anesthetic into his system. The world began to spin, and Shadow’s entire weight brought the chair onto its side. Before his head hit the floor, he was asleep and there was nothing.

 

Sacramento was totally quiet when the armored van containing one of the most wanted men in America rolled by. The parking garage was just as monstrous as the capitol. Shadow couldn’t see it though. He felt like the lions in the cage that Shadow always sat close to when he worked for a small time circus. He had been one of their best performers, yet he preferred the company of the toothless lion, who would sit with it’s nose at the edge of the cage, looking up at Shadow with the most beautiful amber eyes. He felt like the lion now, who is most likely dead and gone now. He felt people leering in at him, observing him like some kind of new weapon. He wouldn’t be a weapon for them, he would find a way to kill himself before he had to work for them.

Shadow didn’t know how long the armored van remained in the garage, it was the best place they could think of hiding him for now. They didn’t bring him any food or water, which was better for him. His immortality made food an option, which was fantastic for him. At that moment though, a burger from Joe’s Burger Joint would have been nice…

Suddenly the car began to move and Shadow couldn’t help but say, “where to now Taxi?” and people actually laughed outside, but went quiet again when they remembered who they were dealing with.

They drove for another few hours, and finally the door was opened and nighttime spilt into the car. Shadow looked out at the night sky blinking slowly. People grabbed at his chains and tugged him out of the back of the van. He stood in the night air for a long time. They were back in San Francisco, what for? Then Shadow saw it and his spirits couldn’t help but spiral just the tiniest bit, and by tiniest it meant he was trying not to panic. There was an entrance to the under ground Tunnels a few feet away, and Shadow realized they had taken him up on that offer. He could see electricians and other workers emerging from the mouth, unbuckling guide ropes that had used to not get lost in the Tunnels. Someone stood on top of the van and threw a blindfold over Shadow’s eyes, and they started walking, pulling him along. Just before they started, they asked, “any last request, Shadow?”

It seemed like the only proper thing do to.

            “One more day, I want to see the sun rise.” He said slowly, and a few people looked around with smirks.

They respected his request anyway. So they sat him down on the edge of the van and they waited. The chill air was making them all shiver, but not Shadow, whose sweater and pants kept him perfectly warm. They had been made for him special for times like this. Birds started singing, and they lifted up Shadow’s blind fold just enough for him to see the bay.

Sun rise was his favorite time of the day. His mother always told him that the stars at night were God’s little children who danced across the night sky, playing games under the big black blanket that was the sky. The stars would dance, and sing and laugh while the Nightingale serenaded him. When the run rose, it was like God peaking under the blanket to make sure the children were sleeping, and once that first ray of light filtered into the sky, the stars pretended to sleep until the blanket was put back down. Mother was up there now, she was one of those stars who stared down at him now while she danced with their father who had died so long ago. Just as Shadow had known it would, the sun rose in a splintered way, at first it was just a tiny glimmer of light that barely penetrated the dawn, then it was a bright light that exploded elegantly, and all the mist that hung around their ankles turned gold for just a moment, then the golden mist evaporated, and Shadow was happy.

The blindfold was back over his eyes, and they tugged him for the Tunnel mouth. A few people had already woken up and were watching as Shadow vanished down into the Tunnel, down into nothingness. The last thought on Shadow’s mind as the darkness made everyone shiver was the sunrise, the golden mist, and the stars. When would be the next time he would ever see something like that?

 

 

It was two weeks after the Museum mission, and Shadow’s arrest. Frescia came downstairs with her eyes puffy from tears. They had been like that a lot these days, everyone knew that Shadow and Frescia had been very close in more ways than one. It hurt everyone to know that Shadow wouldn’t be sitting in the living room now with his feet kicked up on the coffee table and reading his favorite book by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Evil Eye and Soho didn’t place chess much anymore, and Spieren was in his room kicking a punching bag more and more now a days. Everyone sat around now like bumps on logs. Finally one day Soho called everyone into the living room, and they all sat in, looking hopeful. Maybe Soho had come up with an idea for Shadow’s return.

Instead he looked grim, his eyes almost sad.

            “I have news from Manhattan Base,” Soho announced and everyone went from quiet with a couple of whispers to absolute silence.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, a letter. He unfolded it with shaking fingers and read it through one more time and put it away. Suspense was making their stomachs hurt.

            “1419 says that because of Shadow’s sudden absence, something about Group 87 needs to happen. So this is my solution…” and he reached into his other pocket and pulled out papers.

            “Jade, you’ll be joining Group 547 in the Easter Islands… Rosary, Group 46 wants you to join them in Argentina…”

            “Wait, wait, what?” a spunky girl with jade green eyes jumped out of her seat, and a few light bulbs exploded.

            “What do you mean I’m going to the Easter Islands? I haven’t applied for a different location, my time doesn’t end for another four months!”

Soho coughed and said, “I know, because I am moving you all to active groups. Group 87 is officially inactive because it is lacking in the requirements of a permanent leader and a Dark Element. Group 87 is shutting down.

            “But, you’re our leader!” cried the girl named Rosary, her hands shaking unhappily while Soho bit his lip and replied, “I’ve made arrangements to go to Manhattan.”

            “No!” Spieren roared now, and Frescia said, “you can’t leave though, Shadow put you in charge…”

            “Evil Eye is in charge after I leave.” Soho said and he stared at the entire Group who looked back at him, their eyes filling up with tears, Frescia’s eyes were already pouring over.

            “Everyone, please, none of you will want to hang around here now, there’s nothing to do except for reading and playing chess, you’ll all feel much better after you leave…” Soho said and put all of the papers on the coffee table, spreading them out. 

            “Just… go, everyone go.” And Soho left the room, his head bowed down in defeat, his teeth grit tightly together.

Rosary walked over and began to comfort Frescia, and Jade sat next to Evil Eye and said, “I don’t care what the Easter Islands wants with me, I’m staying here until Shadow comes back, whether that’s in two weeks or 100 years.”

Evil Eye smiled and patted the girl’s shoulder. “You’ve got spunk, that’s what 1419 liked. He’ll want you to use that to good use. You won’t be able to use that spunk here now that the place is dead. Go somewhere else.”

People were already standing up and picking up their own papers and leaving the room to go and back up the belongings they had.

Jade bit her lip and said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Frescia walked down the hall that was the most familiar to her, Shadow’s hallway. She could almost hear Shadow’s voice saying from the room, “Okay, okay. Let’s do that again.”

She saw herself sitting on Shadow’s bed as he paced around the room, a boyish grin on his face as he looked around the room.

            “I spy with my blue eyes something…” he continued to look around, and Frescia smiled. “Something red.”

Frescia felt the bedcovers as she knit her eyebrows in deep contemplation. “The curtains?”

Shadow shook his head still smiling.

            “The carpet? My hair!” Frescia threw a pillow at him and said, “You always have to say that!”

Shadow ran up to the bed and jumped onto the mattress landing beside her. “I know, I’m so boring,”

Frescia smiled down at Shadow and nuzzled his forehead and everything seemed perfect.

            “Frescia, what are you doing down here?” Soho’s voice said and Frescia turned around and the memory was gone.

Soho was standing in the doorway to his own room, a bundle of shirts in his arms.

            “I wanted to come say goodbye.” She said and started walking up to him.

His room was already half bare. Soho had always insisted on covering every inch of wall with paper, he had hated the color of the walls. If had been up to Soho, he would have done this to the entire house.

A suitcase was sitting on his bed, where most of his clothes were already folded up neatly.

He picked up a photograph of himself and Shadow standing in front of Alcatraz island. His fingers trembled as he put that in his suitcase to.

            “Where in Manhattan are you going?” Frescia asked as she read one of the newspaper clippings that was plastered to the wall.

            “I’ve been thinking about joining the Broadway Circle. Be an actor for a while, it had always been one of my biggest dreams, ya know?” Soho looked over his shoulder and started to take down more posters, folding them up carefully. Some of the paper was already turning yellow, others were fresh. The oldest was a clipping saying, “Irene Knight sentenced to hang”. Why did he keep that? It seemed to torture him every time he read it.

            “What about you? You have Glade practically on a string for your opinion. He’s not shabby either.” Soho said casually and started to open up a second suitcase, throwing some clothes into it carelessly, others he folded with all the care of a mother.

            “I can’t leave here for some reason; it is my parents’ house after all. If Glade ever wanted to come to call, or have some question, he can come here. Anyway, what if Shadow got out? What if there is some magical happening and someone takes pity on him?”

            “Frescia you’re being silly. We all know that no one would ever take pity on Shadow. Look at what he did! He couldn’t control it, but still, we’re the only ones who knew the truth about Shadow.” Soho said and snapped his suitcase closed. Frescia looked away from Soho and back to the door. There was silence between the friends before Soho said slowly, “I’ll call you when I get to New York…. Good luck.” And pushed past Frescia out the door and out of sight.

That night the house took on a different, less friendly air. The house seemed dead.

 

 

 

 

 

Years Later

 

 

 

            The scum that covered his shoes made the man standing there in total darkness want to puke, covering the walls with even more disgusting decoration. Then he remembered who had been down here much longer than 1419 and started walking, more pity than disgust shrouding him. The walk was shorter than he anticipated, maybe because he was walking faster than a normal person would be when they walk in disgusting scenes and sewers. Down, through, and around corners that most people we never notice, 1419 finally found what he was looking for. A long lonesome tunnel labeled “Tunnel 51” with rotting wood in Soho’s handwriting. There was no noise coming from the long stretch, and 1419 was starting to think that his travel down here was all for not, then a sob broke out, “hello?”

The shattered voice made the tall man with a featureless mask over his face smile. It always appealed to 1419 the way that people could sound so pained. He loved it more than anything else in the world. He started walking again, the tunnel starting to take on more detail, along with the large cage at the end of the tunnel. The cage was just about as large as a gourmet kitchen. In the center of the cage was a man, a pitiful man. He lay on his back, long black hair strewn everywhere, thin threads of it still hanging to his scalp so slightly.

1419 stood there and stared at the depressing sight and called out, “A lot has happened since you’ve been put down here, Shadow.”

The man in the cage didn’t stir for a long time, and the man standing in the center of the tunnels mouth was starting to be convinced that Shadow was gone, not dead, but gone. In another mind frame. Somewhere else. Not there. Then his head rose, a thin pale head covered in greasy hair that fell in ugly clumps around his head. A shaky hand with elongated nails slowly pushed the nasty locks of black hair out of the dim blue eyes and looked up at the man.

            “…You?” Shadow’s voice was low, cracked and distorted.

1419 shifted his legs and say, “We let a traitor into our ranks. Half of the Society is dead or dying. We had to relocate completely, and at one point everyone went on a recall to the Demon World. We never found out who it was, but they seemed to have come from your group…”

            “I know who it was; they tipped off the police that we would be trying to break in… I don’t remember who it is now, but…” Shadow stood up slowly and swayed dangerously, only to fall back to his knees again.

            “ We handled him, but the damage has been done. The SS is on lock down, everyone has gone back to normal life, but we are all on recall. We do not know how long it will last… but that’s why I came down here.”

            “Just to tell me that? Talk to me, 1419. I haven’t heard a voice of someone other than myself for so long… how long has it been now, 1419? How long have I been down here… in this place?”

The man on the other side of the bars, the free man, scuffed at some rat bones and mumbled, “I’m not suppose to be down here, Hibernius forbid all of us to come see you. It would only make you hopeful, because no one can help you. No one will help you.”

Shadow stood up again, a little taller, but still weak. “Wha- what do you mean? Can’t you get Evil Eye to hypnotize a human? Isn’t there something you can do?”

1419 started to back away, looking at everything but the man in the cage, his best friend, at Shadow.

            “Hibernius says there is a plan for you… but I can’t say anything else, I’m sorry Shadow.” And he began to manifest.

            “Wait! Wait don’t go!!” Shadow screamed, but he was already yelling at nothingness. “Benedict! Benedict please!”

His voice echoed, 1419 was gone. That was the ugliness of these tunnels, Shadow realized as he sat back down, shouting louder and louder each time there was no reply. He could scream as loud as he could for as long as he could, and no one would hear him. No one would ever know that he was in complete agony and distress.

Reviews

[WriterSki7]

Wow. Now THAT's a good chapter. Honestly something you should be proud of after spending so long to write it (assuming you take a decent amount of time to write things). Very well written, well composed, could use a little depth but I like it. In retrospect it's similiar to a lot of my work; which is probably why I like it. Excellent job.