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MWA-HAHAHA! This is where I usually write an introduction . . . But! I'm being mischevious (and/or perhaps merciful) and thus you shall find no introduction here.
Michael leaned towards Steven, "Sometimes he talks in his sleep . . . maybe if we let him sleep we can listen to his dreams."
"You think someone that's been traumatized so badly they can't speak will still be able to talk in his sleep?" Steven asked doubtfully.
"It's possible . . . Bet it works better than what you're trying right now."
Michael's smugness irritated Steven, but what choice did he have? Steven tried to stand Andrew up, but he wouldn't budge, so Steven picked him up.
"I'm not sure where the best room in my house is, I just got the thing and I haven't looked around too much. We may have to look around awhile to find a clean room with a bed in it."
Michael stood up, walked to the door and opened it, standing aside so that Steven could walk through it.
* * * * *
The sky was beginning to grow dark. Michael and Andrew hadn't seen their parents in about an hour. Michael was worried, but pretended not to be so he wouldn't frighten Andrew, his younger brother. They wandered around the park, looking for the entrance they'd come in with their parents. It seemed like there were a dozen entrances, though there were only three, and nothing seemed familiar at any of them. In one of the paths, Michael thought he saw a path they'd gone down before, so they turned.
The path went on and on, but they were afraid to turn around and go back only to discover it had been the right path. So they continued. The path opened onto a little junk lot with pieces of scrap metal laying around, and a few patches of grass. They kept walking through the lot and found themselves at a city street.
A tallish blonde man in a grey sports coat was walking down the street with a newspaper under his arm. The man spotted the boys and jogged over to them.
"Hi, I'm Steven, you guys look like you're lost. Where are your parents?"
"I don't know, we lost them in the park . . ."
"Do you know your phone number or where you live?"
"No," they said in unison.
Steven looked at his watch, "Well, it's too late to call the police now--"
"Huh?" the boys said in confusion.
"It's almost nine o'clock! They're all at home eating dinner with their families," Steven said as if it was obvious.
"Oh," Andy said dejectedly.
"Tell ya what, you can stay with me tonight, my house isn't too far from here. We can call the police in the morning."
"Okay," said Michael, frowning. "I'm Michael, this is my brother, Andrew."
"Nice to meet you, Michael . . . Andrew," He leaned down and offered his hand to them each in turn. As Steven leaned down, Michael noticed a gun in the man's coat.
* * * * *
Steven carried Andrew as Michael walked in front of them, clearing their path and making sure Andrew's head didn't hit anything. He also wanted to make sure that Steven chose a good place to lay Andy down.
"Hey, check this bedroom." Steven gently pointed Andy's body at the room he meant.
Mike turned the door knob and swung the door open. The room was a little messy, but there was a shabby cot, a chair, and a short table. It was better than the other rooms they'd checked so far.
"Yeah, this'll do."
"Glad you approve," said Steven, trying not to be antagonistic. Steven stood waiting as Michael cleared the papers and trash from the cot. When the cot was significantly cleaner, Steven walked in front of Michael and laid Andrew down. Then he walked back to the door and shut it.
"I don't think he'll be able to sleep well with all this light, but if he doesn't have a night-light he won't sleep either."
"Got just the thing for you, Andy," said Steven as he felt through his pockets. He pulled out a small flashlight, turned it on, and set it on the table, bright-side-up. Then he walked back to the door and flicked the lightswitch off.
Andrew dozed off within a few minutes. It didn't take much longer for him to start mumbling.
"What's he saying?" Steven asked shortly.
"'The road goes merrily up and --' crazy stuff. I doubt it means anything."
"Wake me if he starts saying anything important."
"Okay," Michael said sincerely.
* * * * *
Michael waited patiently until Steven was lightly snoring. Then he crept over to Andrew.
"Andrew . . ." he whispered, watching to see if Steven moved. "Where did you hide it?"
"Huh? What?" Andrew responded groggily.
"Where did you hide the gun?"
"In the flowerpot."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah . . . I put it there after the fire.
"Can I trust Steven?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Seems alright ... always scheming though."
"Did he . . . you know?"
"I dunno, I wasn't in the room . . . I don't know." Suddenly, Andrew tensed and opened his eyes, thrashing and screaming, "The fire! THE FIRE!THEFIRE! THEFIRE!!!!"
Steven jumped up as Michael tried to quiet Andrew.
"Shh, it's okay . . ."
"What happened?! What's going on?"
"It's coming, it's coming, I can't get out, gotta get out . . . . HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! Michael, where are you?!"
Michael grabbed Andrew and held him in a hug, "It's okay, there's no fire here, you're safe. Calm down."
Andrew began crying, and muttering nonsense.
"It's okay, Andy, you're alright," Michael said as he patted Andy.
"What happened?" Steven asked impatiently.
"I don't know, our idea to get him to talk in his sleep wasn't as good as we thought."
"As I recall, that was your idea . . ."
"Whatever! He's done more talking in his sleep than he did when he was awake!" Mike whispered hoarsely.
Andy's glazed-over look returned, and Mike laid him down on the cot again. Steven didn't sit back down again.
Mike stood up from the cot and started walking towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Steven demanded.
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"Don't go far."
"Alright."
* * * * *
Andrew searched the pantry shelves looking for something worth eating.
Most of the boxed food had been chewed into by rats, and they didn't have a can opener to open the canned food. The prospects for dinner weren't very good. There were other ways of opening canned vegetables, but a six year-old technology-addicted boy often has trouble imagining them.
Andrew noticed the pantry was starting to get hot, so he turned around. Fire was working its way into the pantry from the door.
He panicked.
* * * * *
As soon as Michael was out of earshot, he began running quietly. He didn't have much time. He quickly made his way to the stairs and raced down all three sets.
When he reached the ground level, he turned left and into the kitchen. If the creaky stairs were hard to be quiet on, the tile floors were posed a different silence problem. Sneakers even squeek on unwashed tile floors. The fire had blackened the kitchen with ashes. He quickly turned the door handle and swung the door open. He ran out the back door, and onto the patio. The only flowerpot sat decaying on the patio rail. Michael pushed his hand through the dirt in the flowerpot.
The gun was there.
He pulled the gun out and brushed away the larger pieces of dirt. He flipped the safety off and put the gun into his coat pocket.
* * * * *
"What took you so long?"
"I couldn't find any toilet paper, you really ought to go to the grocery store." Michael sat in the chair, "It's kind of hard to believe you didn't buy any groceries for your new house."
"I've been busy . . ." Steven protested.
"Doing what?" Mike raised an eyebrow.
"Signing papers and stuff."
"Oh, I didn't realise it was so hard to inherit a house," he said with some sarcasm.
"Hey, don't get smart with me . . ."
"You're not my mom, and you're sure not my dad. Why would you wanna burn your own house?"
"Burn my house? I didn't try to burn anything!"
"Yes, you did. Only you forgot you had guests, and Andy nearly burned with your house, you jerk."
Steven reached to grab Michael, but Michael pulled the gun out out of his coat. Steven stopped.
"Where did you get that?"
"I found it in the bathroom, behind the toilet paper," Michael said sarcastically. He turned to Andy and asked, "Can you walk with me?"
"Yeah," Andy said weakly. Andy sat up and put his legs on the floor.
"We're leaving now. Don't follow us or I'll kill you."
Steve sat down in the chair and buried his face in his hands, Why did this have to happen to me?
* * * * *
FENWICK HEIR CONVICTED FOR KIDNAPPING, ARSON, ATTEMPTED INSURANCE FRAUD!
Sooters News Service - Yesterday, Steven Fenwick, an heir to the Robert Fenwick fortune, was convicted of two counts of kidnapping, one count of fraud, and attempted insurance fraud. On May 5, 2003, Steven took two lost children into his home. Then, forgetting the children, he attempted to set fire to his newly inherited house in order to collect money from his insurance company.
Two weeks ago, in a stunning twist of irony, Fenwick's insurance company revealed that Fenwick had been six months behind on his insurance payments. The insurance company would not have reimbursed Fenwick for the fire even if it had been ignorant of the arson.
Continued, FENWICK 6A
* * * * *
And they all lived happily ever after (except for Fenwick). *Tee Hee* *Tee Hee*!
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