Chapter 3 – Charlie’s

A flash of light blazed and a strange shape drifted in and out of focus. Mike blinked, dimming the light and peered through his almost closed eyes as a muffled sound became a voice.

The voice grew stronger, more persistent. “Mike…” it called again, triggering a faint recognition.

“Huh—” he said, becoming more alert. He looked up, and saw Charlie’s mother, towering over him, her face lined with concern. “Mrs…Peyton?” he began, and lifted his head to look around.

 “Ugh…” he winced as a headache, like a jolt of lightning, blasted a hole through the top of his skull.

“Take it easy, son,” someone said, pressing a hand gently on his shoulder. He looked along the arm pressing on his shoulder, at George, Charlie’s pa.

Mr. Peyton spoke again. “Don’t worry, Mike…” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “…everything’s going to be all right,” she continued, wringing her hand in her apron, before turning away quickly and bringing the apron to her face and dabbing her eyes.

Fighting his throbbing headache, Mike squeezed his eyes against a fresh eruption of pain and propped himself onto his elbows. “What’s going on? Where….where’s Mom… Noel?” he asked, squinting about the room.

He recognized it. He was in Charlie’s house, in Mr. and Mrs. Peyton’s bedroom. “Why…why am I here?”

Nobody answered.

A wave of nausea reached the back of Mike’s throat and he fought the urge to throw up.

The nausea passed. He thought about his cat. “Is Captain Jack okay?” he asked. But as he spoke, he heard a commotion outside the two-roomed  house.

“More neighbors…” said Mrs. Peyton. She looked at Mike. “You just lie still for now. I’ll explain everything when I get back.” She looked at Charlie. “You stay here and make sure he doesn’t pull off that bandage,” she said, pointing at Mike’s shoulder.

Charlie nodded, “Okay, Ma.”

Mr. Peyton gestured to her husband, “C’mon, George,” she said, leading him through the door.

Mike watched as they walked through the only other room in the house and out the front door, to the neighbors gathered outside. He looked at Charlie, “What are they doing here? What’s going on?”

Charlie shifted awkwardly.

“How did I get here?”

Glancing through the front door, Charlie sidled along the bed and bent closer to Mike, “Ma will kill me—“ he said in a low voice, “—I’m not supposed to say a word, but you’ve been out for nearly six hours.”

“Six hours?” blurted Mike, jerking his head in surprise, making it ache even more.

“Shh. . .” urged Charlie, fanning the air with his hands.

“Six hours?” repeated Mike in a hushed tone.

“What happened?” said Charlie.

“What?” Mike replied, searching Charlie’s eyes.

“I found you lying outside our front door, and no one knows how you got there.” said Charlie.

Mike stared blankly back at him.

“Do you remember anything?” continued Charlie.

“No not much. Noel left my stuff down by the pond, so after you left, I snuck down to get it. But then I got this bad feeling—like something was going to happen and bolted home as fast as I could.”

“And?” said Charlie.

“I never made it, because just as I got to the bend in the path, a blast came out of nowhere and knocked me flat. The next thing I knew, the trees were swaying back and forth, and branches were falling on top of me. I couldn’t move.”

“So how did you get here?”

“Someone must have brought me.”

“Who?” asked Charlie.

“Dunno—-I think it must have been—just before I passed out, I thought I saw someone trying to help me.”

“Who?”

Mike shrugged, “I’m not really sure, my eyes were too blurry, guess —no one knows how I got here?”

Charlie shook his head.

“Weird,” said Mike.

“Yeah, and it gets even weirder,” said Charlie, pausing. “Who’s Varax-Ra?”

“Who?”

“Varax-Ra. You kept going on and on about him. You said he had to be stopped or he would destroy the world.” Charlie paused and screwed up his face. “You said…you had to stop him.”

“Huh?”

“Told you it gets weirder.”

“Does—” Mike felt another shard of pain pierce his skull, “—Mom, Noel, know I’m here?” he asked, narrowing his eyes against the fresh eruption of pain.

Charlie winced, the blood draining from his face.

Despite the pain, Mike sat up suddenly. “They’re all okay, aren’t they?”

Charlie turned and glanced outside.

“Charlie?”

Charlie looked at him and Mike saw the pain on his face, “I—I’ll get mom,” said Charlie, turning towards the door.

Mike gripped the back of Charlie’s denim overalls. “Where are they?”

Charlie inclined his head and slowly turned around, a pained expression on his face. His mouth moved, but no words came out.

Then he sighed and found his voice. “Mike…you’re…you’re my friend, and I reckon friends oughtn’t to keep secrets…but your Mom…Noel…they must have been in the house” he said, his chin quivering. “Now it’s gone and…”

Mike stiffened.

“I’m sorry Mike…they’re gone.”

“Gone?” said Mike, the word, a death knell, tolling in his brain. “they can’t be—they were okay when I left them, just before I ran ho…”

“I’m sorry, Mike; I shouldn’t have told you,” said Charlie, before turning about and running out of the room to the group outside.

Overwhelmed, barely noticing he was alone, Mike rolled to one side and closing the world around him brought his knees to his chest as he wrapped his arms around his legs.

Not even the sound of Mrs. Peyton hurried footfalls registered. “Oh, Mike…Mike,” she said, gathering him in her arms.

Mike clung to her, and sobbed, deep into her shoulder. Gently, she stroked the back of his head and rocked him back and forth, “Ssh…I’m here. I’m here,” she said, her voice a whisper.