Relic (15 page)

I drew a deep breath and recounted what had happened.

When I was done, Lisa lowered her head. “I should have been there. I'm sorry.”

“If you had come,” I said, “your parents would have noticed, and when the police came to your house, your parents would have known what you'd been up to. We wouldn't have been able to deny anything. You did the right thing.”

“You thought the homeless guy was shot,” Colin said. “But I thought
you'd
been shot. So when that lady cop was here, I asked her if anyone had been hurt.”

“You did?” I grabbed his arm. “What did she say?”

“She said no.” I heaved a tremendous sigh of relief. Colin pulled his arm out of my grasp. “Do you think they'll find your bike?”

“I hope not,” I said. A smile flitted across my face. “Then we did it? We actually stopped three people from getting killed?”

Colin and Lisa both smiled and nodded.

“I guess we did,” Colin said. He slapped my back and started laughing. “We foiled a heist. That makes us real live crime fighters.” He yanked his phone out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Let's call Archer.”

 

***

 

I left a message for Archer to meet us at the park, but since the calls the previous night hadn't been returned, I wasn't holding out much hope that he'd be there when we showed up. We walked to the park, laughing and joking, happier than any of us had been in a long time. Even Lisa seemed in good spirits, and I realized it had been a while since I'd seen her really happy.

We'd done what we were supposed to do, and now at least two people who were supposed to die, three if I counted the homeless guy, were alive.

To my surprise, Archer was sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper. We walked across the grass and sat down next to him.

“No ice cream truck today?” Colin asked, laughing.

“It's my day off.” For a moment, his tone was chilly. Then he sighed and forced a grin. It was then that I noticed a bruise on his cheek and scratches on his hands.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “Just part of the job, Dean. Just part of the job. I hope you three are taking the day off too. You must have had a pretty busy night. Tell me what happened.”

“Well,” I began, “it started when things went really bad at the police station…”

Lisa, Colin, and I took turns telling bits of the story, and Archer didn't interrupt once. When we were finished, Archer smiled.

“Excellent job, guys. Very quick thinking. I couldn't be more impressed.”

“I'm really sorry I couldn't get out,” Lisa said. “I wanted to. I really did.”

“You three are a team, Lisa. Don't worry if sometimes you can't make it to the game. There will be times when you'll need to carry more weight. There is nothing to feel guilty about.” He turned to me. “And your parents? How did they take the visit from the police?”

“My mom just cries a lot,” I said. “And my dad is really hard to read. I think I'll be having more therapy sessions, even though this coming Friday was supposed to be my last one.”

Archer nodded thoughtfully. “Therapy is a small price to pay for three lives, Dean. Remember that. If it means you have to talk about your feelings for a while, it's not a bad thing.” He looked each of us square in the face and added, “There are highs and lows with this job, guys. If you feel like you need to talk to a therapist about things, you should feel free to do so.”

“But that would compromise the Society, wouldn't it?” Colin said.

“I'd avoid talk about visions and secret societies. But you've all been through a lot. Talk about how you feel about what you've experienced. And talk to each other too.”

We nodded, and Archer stood up. “I'll be in touch. In the meantime, get some rest. Be kids for a while.” He trained his eyes on me. “I might be out of the city for a few days, but make sure you call if you have any more visions.”

“I will.”

He grinned. “Great job, you three. Really great job.” Then he turned and strode away.

 

We stopped by the museum several times over the next few days. It was actually hard to stay away from the place. News of the vandalism hit papers on Monday, and pretty much every day thereafter the lineup for admission stretched farther and farther around the side of the building. Sok was nowhere to be found, not near the museum or in the little park across the street. I wasn't entirely sure what I'd say to him if we did see him. He was probably lying low, expecting me to tell the police that I'd seen him. Lisa tried to talk to Sok's grandfather in French a couple of times, but all he said was that Sok was working on convincing people to give the relic back. I thought that was a lot of pressure to put on a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old.

“What do you suppose that means?” Lisa asked.

I shrugged. “I feel bad for the guy, but as long as I'm not having visions, he can do whatever he wants.”

Colin nodded. “I agree.”

“Even if he's going to try to steal it again?” she asked

“Can you blame him?” Colin asked. “It was stolen from his village first. It's not really stealing if you're just taking something back that belongs to you.”

I felt the same way.

Sok wasn't the only one we couldn't find. We also walked all over town searching for the homeless guy who had adopted my bike, but he seemed to have disappeared. I guess almost getting shot would be a pretty strong motivator to move along. My parents hadn't noticed my bike missing yet. They were too busy hammering me with questions every time they got me alone—especially my mom. It seemed she thought I'd grown accustomed to all the attention I'd received over the past couple months and wanted more of it. She kept encouraging me to have my friends from therapy over to hang out. I was getting more attention than a pop star, and none of it was any good. My dad wasn't much better, but he did keep his questions simple.

“Anything you want to tell me, son?” he would ask almost every time we were alone. I figured he knew something was up, I just hoped he didn't know I was the kid who smashed the window at the museum.

Needless to say, I tried to spend as little time as possible at home. We tried to meet up with Archer again too, but he must've still been out of town because he never returned our calls.

When Friday finally arrived, I relaxed. Despite everything my parents had been on me about during the past week, not once had they said I'd have to keep going to therapy after this last session. Hope surged in my chest that this was the last day I'd have to talk about my feelings, the last day I'd have to see Eric or listen to his whiny voice. I waited in my room until it was time to go, not wanting to risk doing something that would make my parents reconsider, and I only came downstairs when my dad called up that it was time to go.

 

***

 

Colin met me on the curb after my dad dropped me off. “Did you get my emails?” he asked when we'd pushed through the main doors.

“No,” I said. “I was trying not to make any noise in my room. Why? What was the message?”

Before Colin could speak, I was shoved from behind into the wall. I spun around to face whoever it was, but lost most of my nerve when I saw the giant goon leering over me. “Hi, Rodney.” His bottom lip jutted out, and his right eye, bloodshot and deep brown, twitched.

Eric stepped from behind his friend and sneered. “I'm looking forward to tonight, Curse,” he said. He gestured to Rodney. “We both are.”

I smiled. “Oh, are you two going out on a date? I always thought you made a nice couple.”

Colin and a couple of the kids around us laughed.

Eric's cheeks reddened. “You know, Curse, we spend a lot of time in The Field. I can't wait to get you alone in there.”

“Huh?” I turned to Colin, and he grimaced. “The Field? What the heck is he talking about?”

“I tried to email you. I only just found out this morning. I guess your mom didn't want you to find out until today.”

“Hi, Dean,” Rylee said from over my shoulder. “Thanks for the invitation to your party. I've never gone paintballing before. It should be fun.” She turned and walked over to the circle of chairs.

Eric growled and got right in my face. “You're so dead.” He glanced at Rylee and then back at me and growled again before backing off. A couple of the other kids in the group walked by and thanked me for the invitation. I had no idea what was going on.

“Party?” I looked at Colin as Lisa jogged in.

“Did you tell him?” Lisa asked. She turned to Eric and Rodney. “What do you two jerks want?”

A wicked smile spread across Eric's face. “Oh, I forgot you'll be there too.” He rubbed his hands together and glared at each of us in turn. “Payback times three.” Rodney laughed deeply, and the two of them stomped away happily.

I turned to my friends. “What the heck is everyone talking about?”

“Your mom,” Lisa said. “She's put together some kind of end-of-therapy celebration. She invited everyone to play indoor paintball tonight. I didn't find out until this morning.”

“Laser paintball,” Colin said with a grin. “It's just like regular paintball only with special effects, like lasers and flashing lights and stuff like that. It actually sounds like a blast.” He nodded to Eric and Rodney. “Except they're gonna be there.”

“Why didn't she tell me she invited them? Why didn't she tell me about the party at all?”

Lisa smiled. “I heard my parents talking about it last night. Apparently she wants to show you there are safer ways to get attention than acting out, and she thought you'd put up a fuss if you knew about it.”

“Safer ways?” Colin laughed. “Clearly your mom has never been shot by a paintball.”

“And she invited Eric and Rodney?” I asked again, unwilling to believe she'd do that. “She has to know I hate those guys. I mean, she's heard us talking about them enough.”

“She invited everyone,” Colin said.

“The place is called World of Paintball,” Lisa said quizzically, “so why are they calling it The Field?”

“It's a nickname,” Colin said.

“The nickname is The Field?” Lisa laughed. “Not exactly catchy.”

“It's not called The Field,” Colin said. “That's just what some people say. The real nickname is something else.” He paused for effect. “The Killing Field.”

 

Just like Colin said, the place was called World of Paintball, which sounded a bit like an amusement park. But when we pulled into the parking lot, it looked like something else entirely, and I saw why they called it The Killing Field. Cinder block walls painted a drab gray formed sharp right angles that went up about three stories to a flat roof. Spotlights lanced out from the rooftop and rolled across the parking lot. The word “prison” sprang to mind. Rodney was going to feel right at home here.

“All right, kids,” my mom said, “I've already taken care of everything with the manager. Just go right in and have fun. Remember to play nice. I'll see you at eleven.”

“Play nice?” Colin asked, then leaned toward me and whispered, “Your mom does know we're going to be shooting each other, doesn't she?”

“Thanks, Mrs. Curse,” Lisa said happily. “We'll see you at eleven.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, “thanks, Mom.”

A couple other kids from therapy waved as their parents drove away.

I shivered. The only thing that made this place look like it might be okay were the glass doors leading to the lobby.
Prisons probably don't have glass doors,
I told myself.
Or lobbies for that matter
.

Eric and Rodney shoved past, carrying duffel bags. They seemed far too comfortable in this place, and I wondered how often they came here. The girl behind the counter wore a tight black shirt and a green army-style hat. She had a tattoo on her forearm of something I couldn't make out. She greeted Eric and Rodney with smiles. Yep, it was pretty clear they came here often.

“Listen up,” the girl said. She pointed to a long table at the side of the room. “You'll find coveralls, goggles, and masks on the tables over there. Put your gear on and proceed to the next checkpoint through the door.”

 

***

 

“Not bad,” Colin said, looking down at his paintball suit. “I look like an Army Ranger.” He eyed Lisa maliciously. “Better watch your back, girlie.”

She laughed and then sighed and jabbed him in the stomach. “Call me girlie again. I dare you.”

“Through the doors!” the girl behind the counter shouted. The door led to a platform that overlooked a huge warehouse with corrugated steel walls and a concrete floor. Small barriers had been erected randomly throughout the area, and crossover steps and metal gangways rose all around, offering a height advantage to anyone who managed to claim one as a perch during the game. At first it reminded me of one of those mazes that scientists created for lab mice, but when I looked closer, it was clear it wasn't a maze at all. It would be easy to run straight from one end to the other…except, of course, for the people who might be hiding around the corners waiting to blast you with paintballs.

A voice boomed from somewhere below. “Walk down the stairs to the weapons station.”

At the base of the stairs was a long table filled with paintball guns and large metal canisters of compressed air. Two men stood behind the table, their lips pressed into identical lines. The first man was a giant with thick arms and no neck, just a giant head on giant shoulders. He reminded me of one of those WWE wrestlers you see on TV. His head was shaved bald, but he had dark grease streaks all over his face and head, which made him look extra dangerous. The other man was scrawny, with a narrow face and a long, dark goatee that hung from his chin and covered most of his neck.