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Alchemist: Chapter 2

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Their lips touched, gently. Greg froze for a second, but then kissed back, doing as he was told, and closing his eyes. He'd never kissed a girl before. A peck on the cheek, sure. But a real kiss... this was his first.
The warmth in his heart returned instantly, as did the quickened and heavied heartbeat. He breathed in deep through his nose, taking in Taffy's faint perfume. It filled his mind; all senses attuned to her presence. He leant forward, pushing away from the wall, and wrapped his arms around her. The warmth spread between the two of them, intensifying and drawing them even closer together.
As he stared through closed eyes, he saw a red glow. The kind you see when you close your eyes and look up at the sun. Was this from the kiss? An effect of his racing heart and deep breathing? He didn't care. All that mattered was the moment.
After a few minutes of making out, she slowly pulled back from him. They both opened their eyes and regarded each other with a new vision. Taffy had long since had a quiet crush on him; ever since her physics class coincided with his. She'd watched him from across the room, hiding behind a textbook for cover. But now he reciprocated her feelings. Greg was sure this was love. At least, it was the closest thing to love he'd ever felt, that much was sure.
"Er... Thanks," Greg muttered.
"Heh," Taffy laughed. "No problem..."
Once again, her beauty had returned; her cheeks flushed, her eyes dancing in the moonlight. The girl that stood by the door was back, and all thoughts of her other selves were gone from his mind.
He saw a glistening on her cheeks. Sweat? No - there was no way the cold night air had let a sweat break out... They were- tears.
"Are you okay?" Greg asked, a pang of concern in his voice.
Taffy nodded. "I'm fine," she said, pulling her face into a grin. Greg pulled her close.
A silence for what seemed like forever hung between them, as they sat in each other's warm embrace. After a while, it was interrupted by his phone buzzing. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and flipped open his mobile. The alarm he'd set earlier that night was going off. Ten o'clock.
"Damn," Greg mumbled.
"What is it?" Taffy asked.
Greg turned the phone around to show her the time. "Ten o'clock curfew. Blown," he said, with a smile. He quietly picked up his bag and headed for the door. He opened it and turned to look back at his new-found love. Unable to think of what to say, he muttered a simple, "see ya," and walked through the door and out into the clearing.
It was virtually pitch black, now. The moonlight didn't seem to help him as he made his way to the cut through to the street. He wandered around the fridge and hopped over the bicycle remains, stumbling into the road beyond. All the street-lamps had come on now, with a couple still stuttering, their faint popping sound carried along the street by a light breeze.
He walked to the end of the street and started down the main road towards his house. As his heart slowed to a steady beat, and the chill of the night air started to nip at his exposed neck and hands, he started to go over the night's events.
The men in black, standing, sentry-like along the route to Taffy's house. Watching his every move. He realised then that he hadn't seen them on his journey home. Perhaps it was all in his head, as Taffy had suggested. He hoped so. It would keep the day's events down to a manageable 'perplexing', rather than the full 'crazy weird'.
Then there was the way she held her ear and strained to listen. Did she have a hidden ear-bud in there, like a spy or something? Secret communications whizzing back and forth between her and her 'handler'? Or just another figment of his imagination?
As he neared a 24 hour convenience store, he crossed the road and entered. He shuffled round the shop, picking up a bag of crisps, a half-litre of coke, and a chocolate bar. All the running around had made him thirsty. And tired. He would sleep well tonight. Sleep and dream of Taffy...
He reached the checkout and slumped down his purchases, the bored, half-asleep adolescent starting to scan and bag them. Greg felt something. At his chest. He patted over his school jumper, until he struck something hard. It dug into his breastbone, and he mumbled a curse. Feeling around his neck, he found a thin, black cord. Pulling it up revealed it was tied around a weight. He held the object in the palm of his hand, holding it up to the synthetic, headache-inducing shop lights. Was it a marble? No. It was almost like a pearl, except- except it was dark. A black pearl? He didn't think they existed. Apart from a certain pirate ship of the same name.
"Three pounds thirty, please mate!" the adolescent repeated, wrapping on the counter to get Greg's attention.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, mate." Dropping the black pearl to his chest, Greg reached into a pocket, slammed down a selection of coins on the counter and picked up the plastic bag waiting for him in one smooth motion. "Keep the change," Greg called back, as he strode through the door and out onto the street.
He paused under a nearby street-lamp, and pulled out the black pearl once more. Even in the dim light, it seemed to almost glow. Had Taffy given it to him? When she leant in for the final embrace? A token of her love for him? Of their secret kiss?
As he continued along the main road, he turned it in his fingers, lovingly. He couldn't help the smile the curled its way across his face.

As he reached the traffic lights lining a busy junction, he turned into the gravel drive and followed it up to his house. The small gate, usually kept closed by strict order of his mother, was wide open, bouncing lightly on a the wooden post just inside the garden. He flicked it closed with his foot, not wanting to release his hands from the now icy chill in the air.
He strode to the front door and wrapped on it. No answer. He rung the bell. Dogs barked from the inside. Not real dogs, of course - the incredibly bad recording of dogs that had gotten stuck in the supposedly random array of bell rings stored in the tiny plastic box in the hallway.
Greg sighed, tutted, and made his way round to the back of the house. Lightly kicking over an all but empty plant pot, spilling the remnants of soil onto the otherwise perfect gravel path, he bent down and picked up the spare key. Walking back round to the front, he tried it in the door, opening it wide. He entered and wiped his feet while closing the door behind him. He flung the key onto the small ledge to the side of the door on top of the dog-eared fivers, rusting coins, and bits of fluffy tissues.
He took a couple of steps into the hallway before kicking off his shoes and slinging his bag into a corner.
"I'm back!" he called up the stairs for his mum to hear. No answer there, either. At least he'd escape the inevitable telling off he was due for being late. Tomorrow he'd get it, though. She had all weekend to pounce.
He entered the living room, expecting to see his younger brother James sitting in front of the TV, beating up bad guys, shooting up bad guys, or... destroying bad guys in the medium of puzzle-solving. But it was quiet. As he rounded the corner, he saw the TV was on - paused in the middle of a dungeon in an RPG his brother had been playing non-stop for the past week.
"James?" he called. "James - is it okay if I turn off the Playstation?" No answer from him, either. Not even at the risk of losing his progress. Odd. Very odd.
Listening now for any sign of life whatsoever, he was answered only by the hum of the TV and whir of the fans at the back of the console. Was there really no one home?
He whipped out his phone, tapping onto the text he'd received from his mother as he was leaving the school. 'Sure. Study hard. And be back FOR 10!' There was nothing to suggest they were going out somewhere in there... He pushed the green button, starting up a call to his mum. He held the handset to his ear, waiting for the pulsing tones to break, and his mother's voice to respond. But she didn't pick up. He took the phone from his ear, staring at the screen, making sure had had signal.
Then he heard something. Coming from upstairs. He bounded up the stairs and then stopped on the landing, poised, straining to hear which direction the tuneful sound was coming from. Deciding it was his parent's bedroom, he entered through the open door to find his mum's mobile laying on the bed, buzzing and wailing a catchy tune; alerting whoever was near that someone was calling.
He snapped his phone shut, and the other fell silent. He turned on the spot, wondering where they could've all got to. He saw a line curving down a mirror, hanging on the outside of a wardrobe door. He ran his finger down, along the length of it, and realised it was a crack. Near the bottom, a big chink of glass had fallen to the floor, tiny shards glinting in the thick carpet.
Something was seriously wrong here. Stepping over the glass towards the large bay window on the other side of the bed, he tapped on his phone, setting up another call, this time to his dad. He held it to his ear, the tones pulsing into life again.
"Come on... Come-on-come-on-come-on..." he muttered, waiting for somebody - anybody to pick up. But no one did.
He reached the window and looked out, across the gardens and houses that lined the hills surrounding his house. The clouds had started to gather around the moon obscuring the view, but filtering the light, spreading it further for a more all-pervading ambient moonlight glow. His eyes slowly fell to the front garden, with the living room's light spilling onto the small patch of grass and the trees on lined up along the front wall.
He noticed something glowing in the grass. Squinting, he could make out it was a small rectangle, shining brightly in the taller-than-ideal grass. He knew what it was. He closed the phone, cutting off the call, and the light in the lawn disappeared into the night once more. His dad's mobile.

Greg rushed down the stairs, and slid down the last few, almost twisting his ankle but catching himself at the last moment. He grabbed his coat from the rack standing by the front door and pushed an his hand through an arm. It was a puffer jacket - one that always kept him warm in the winter months. With his other hand, he scrolled down the list of contacts on his phone, before remembering he hadn't remembered to get Taffy's number before leaving the hut. He pushed it back into his trouser pocket and pulled the coat on properly, zipping up the front.
Greg stormed into the kitchen and flipped on the lights. A couple of plates lay smashed along one of the tops. This must've been where his mum was when they came. Pushing it out of his mind, he rummaged around in a could of cupboards before finding the right one. Then, grabbing an old, emptied one litre bottle of Doctor Pepper, he slammed down a fist on the tap's arm. Cold water spurted out of the tap into a bowl, still half full of washing up. He turned the bowl onto its side, crashing the plates out onto the sink, and then pushed the bottle under the stream of water.
As he waited for it to fill, he glanced to the side, spotting a pair of still wet gloves strewn on top of what remained of the plates in the drying rack. Just as he figured out what the red was that stained the outside of the gloves and the jagged edges of the plates beneath them, he shot his head back to stare intently at the bottle in front of him.
He didn't know why exactly he needed to fill up a plastic bottle, but felt he should. He could faintly remember some piece on the news about what to do in an emergency situation at the back of his mind. It was likely talking about an earthquake or flood, but he didn't care. He just had to do something.
After what seemed an age, the icy cold water met his hands, telling him the bottle was full. He brought it out from under the tap and pulled the handle up again, turning off the water flow. He picked up a cap that looked like it was the right size and screwed it on tight.
Taking a couple of steps back into the hallway, he shoved the bottle into his bag, then picked it up and slung it over a shoulder. He went to the front door and found his trainers, flipping them the right way up with his toes. He then prized his feet into them, leaving the laces done up and treading down on the heels until his feet were in. He reached down and did his best to flip the heels back into their correct position.
He slid the key off the ledge and reached for the door. He swung it open with a little too much force, slamming it into the wall to the side. Taking a step outside, he turned, slamming it shut behind him. He did his best to ignore the bullet hole he'd missed entirely when he came into the house, and fumbled with the key. Finally slotting it into the keyhole, he pushed up the handle and turned the key, locking the door tight.
Shoving his hands into the puffer's pockets, he started out through the gate and onto the main road, towards Taffy's place. It had to be those men in black. Just had to be. And he had a feeling Taffy knew more than she was letting on. Maybe she was even in league with them. Distracting him while the others stole his family away, to... To what? What could they possibly want with his family? And why didn't they take him? He was furious, now. He wanted answers. And he was going to get them.
He rounded the corner and started down Taffy's road. She'd talk. If she knew anything about what happened, she'd better talk. He clenched a fish in his jacket pocket until it hurt. Such anger as he'd not known. Fury he didn't know he had in him.
His stare was cold; unmoving. Staring at the empty street ahead. Most of the lamps had gone out now, with a few still fluttering at the end, near the dead end. But one, just a few feet ahead, stayed lit up, a brilliant white, dazzling the tarmac below it.
As Greg neared the edge of its light, there was a sudden clunk, bringing him to a halt. He looked down to see a huge dent at the top of the base; just below the long neck reaching into the sky. That hadn't been there before, surely? How was it still upright, even? As if in answer, a low, moaning creek resounded from the street-lamp. The neck slowly bent down, until it slowed at a perfect forty-five degree angle. Then a sudden snap came from the dent, and it crumbled completely, the neck falling swiftly to the ground, smashing the light violently on the ground. The glass shattered and skittered across the tarmac, Greg shielding his eyes with an arm.
When the last piece of glass had rested, Greg relaxed his arm, peering over it cautiously. He now saw that the rest of the road had become completely black. No stuttering bulbs. No sounds, apart from the soft crackle of the exposed wiring that now stuck out of the stump of the street-lamp in front of him.
He took a moment to compose himself, and then continued on his journey; stepping over broken glass and skirting around the the exposed wires. He didn't know what the hell just happened, but with his family gone, he didn't much care. He had to find Taffy!
He strode up what he assumed to be her garden path and wrapped on the door. No answer. All was dark inside. He then remembered Taffy's sick mother. Even if he demanded answers, getting a sick lady out of bed just to tell him she's not home didn't seem like the greatest thing to do.
He looked to the right, up the road, towards the woods. He'd try there first. If she wasn't still at the hut, he'd break this door down if he had to, but only after he'd checked the hut. He walked back down the path to the street and started up the road to his left. Giving the bikes and fridge a wide birth, he shot into the woods, and into the pitch black.
Greg was surprised at the darkness beneath the cover of a few trees. It seemed no moonlight penetrated them at all. He moved slowly through the trees, hands outstretched, while his head still bumped into low-hanging branches.
But then he saw something. A light, filtering through the trees, but intermittent - like it was being turned on and off... When the light shone, he moved as much as he could towards the clearing, pausing each time the light disappeared and everything went dark. Slowly but surely he made his way to the edge of the clearing, finally stumbling out onto the grass and a gap in the canopy that streamed moonlight across and onto the concrete hut.
There was a lull in the flashing light, and Greg stood, hunched over, getting his breath back. Then it came again. Without any trees to shield him from the brunt of it, the brilliant white light all but blinded Greg. His knees buckled, and he ducked to the floor. In the shadow of the concrete wall, the white light shot above him. It was so bright! What could possibly be making it? When the light abated once more, he looked up at the hut finding a large enough hole in the misted windows to see through. Then, ducking under another blast of light, he strafed around to his right, waited for the light to die once more, and popped his head up.
And there she was. Taffy Goldwhit. Standing in the middle of the room. Around her chest hung a pendant. Greg squinted, seeing it was a black pearl, like his - only this one shone much brighter. In fact, the light seemed to grow, building up to... Greg dove to his right, taking cover in the shadow of the door.
"Taffy!" He tried shouting, but he couldn't hear his voice. It was as if, although all was quiet, his words were being drowned out by a deafening noise. He waited and cleared his throat. The light died again.
Greg shouted at the top of his lungs this time. "Taffy!"
He waited for a response. A moment's pause, and then scuffles echoes out from within the hut. He watched the fuzzy silhouette move over to the door, which then opened.
"Who-" Taffy stood in the doorway, squinting out into the clearing. "Greg- is that you?" she gasped.
"Yeah - it's me," Greg replied, gruffly.
Taffy looked back into the hut sheepishly, as if she'd been discovered. She quickly closed the door behind her, hiding whatever lay beyond.
"What were you doing in there, then?" Greg asked, hands folded across his chest.
"Nothing," Taffy replied.
"Oh really..?" Greg answered. A long silence fell between the two.
Taffy finally decided to break the silence. "What's the matter?" She could see he was in a state; worked up about something.
Greg opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. He felt... unsure. Was he really right to be mad at Taffy? Did the men in black really kidnap his family? Did they even exist? Maybe he was just going nuts. Bonkers. Completely round the bend...
His breath became shallow. "I... My... Parents... Men..." His vision blurred, and he could feel his legs giving out from under him. He was vaguely aware of Taffy calling his name and rushing forward in the hopes of catching him. He felt himself collapse to the ground.

Taffy dragged Greg into the hut, propping him up on a stool in the corner. She then collected his bag from outside and closed the door once again behind her. Walking over the unconscious boy, she plopped the bag down on the ground next to him.
Hearing the slosh of a water-bottle inside, she opened the bag. She rummaged through it and finally produced the commandeered Dr. Pepper bottle. She unscrewed the cap and held it to his mouth. Seeing the water was just running down his chin, she tipped his head back, parted his lips and tried again.
After a moment, he coughed and spluttered to life. "What are you trying to do, woman?" gasped Greg. "Drown me?" He rose up off the stool and snatched the bottle from her hand, spilling half of it on the floor.
"Well, at least you're awake now," Taffy replied, calmly.
It slowly dawned on Greg that he'd fainted outside, and was dragged into the hut by Taffy. He sunk back to the stool, doing his best to look apologetic without having to actually say the words. Taffy waited for them, but they didn't come. He was still in two minds whether to trust her or not.
"So, as I was saying..." she began. "What's the matter?" Greg looked around at the floor, searching for a place to start. Taffy provided one. "What was that about your parents?"
"I think they took them," Greg replied, eyes fixed once again on Taffy's.
"Who?"
"The men. In black. The ones who were following me."
"Oh - those guys..." Taffy responded, dismissively.
"'Those guys'?" Greg boomed. "What exactly do you know about them?"
A pause hung in the air. Taffy didn't know how to say it. How to begin her story...
Greg sighed. "You're in cahoots with them, aren't you?"
"Cahoots?" Taffy asked.
"Yeah - cahoots. Collaboration. Collusion to nefarious ends," Greg rattled off. "Cahoots, damn it!"
"What-" Taffy started. "Why would you think that?"
"While I was with you- here- they were being kidnapped." Greg started to tear, a bead at the corner of an eye threatening to drop to his cheek.
Taffy began to understand why he was so out of sorts. "Your parents?" Greg nods. "Were kidnapped?" Another nod.
"James my little brother, too," Greg added, looking down, remembering his face. Would he never see them all again? The anger started to build once more. He looked back at Taffy, accusingly. "While you were keeping me busy."
Taffy looked startled. She took a step back. "Me? I would never- You don't think-" She paused a moment, watching Greg's tears fall down his face, which reddened. She'd just have to explain.
She took in a breath, steadied herself, and began. "Those men turned up way before you did," she said.
"What?" Greg was confused. They were following him, weren't they?
Taffy continued. "They've been following me for the better half of a year. I think it may be because I'm growing up, and..." She catches herself before she dug a hole she didn't want to dig. Not yet, anyway. Picking up where she left off, she resumed her explanation. "They've been following me for half a year - since we started in september. I don't know who they are, or what they want with me, but I am definitely not in cahoots with them."
Greg thought on this. He believed her. Felt a pang of guilt over suspecting her in the first place. But what about... "What about the communicator?" he said.
"The what-now?" Taffy replied.
"You know - the one in your ear. You kept fiddling with it when we ran to the hut; when you yanked me down to the floor," Greg said, remembering his arm, which was still saw. "You looked like you were listening to something..."
Taffy laughed at this, doubling over. "What - like a spy or something? Are you joking?"
Greg laughed with her, nervously. Now he thought about it, it was a pretty dumb idea, but that didn't mean he was going to forget about it. "So? What's it all about?"
Taffy stood up straight stroking flat the creases in her blouse. She thought for a moment. This was a tricky one too. "I... I do have a way of hearing them. Sometimes. From their radios. The men in black talking to each other. Stuff like 'the bird has left the cage', or 'the bird has reached the playground,' - things like that."
"So what were they saying today?"
"They were talking about you. Or at least, they started to. That's when we bolted for the woods." She averted her eyes to the ground, ashamed. "I didn't want you to get dragged into this. I'm sorry..." Her cheeks reddened.
Greg didn't notice. "So didn't you hear them talking about taking my parents? My brother?" She shook her head. "How could you not hear them? We're just a couple of blocks away!"
"I told you - it only works sometimes. I'm still ironing the kinks out of it..." She paused. She couldn't explain any more. Not right now. "Look, it's... it's a little hard to explain."
"Well why don't you try explaining it? Just explain to me why while we're sitting here, they were running around throwing my family into the back of a van headed for Mexico!"
"Mexico?" Taffy pondered.
"Like in the movies - you know. Or maybe they're being taken to some lab to have freaky experiments done on them by some mad scientist!" He wasn't making much sense, and he knew it. He was just so frustrated, and scared. He wished someone would just tell him what he should do...
"Well I don't think they were taken to a lab at least," Taffy piped up.
"Oh really, Taffy? And what would you know about it?"
"Because the lab... The lab's for me."
The second chapter of the book "Alchemist".
© 2011 - 2024 Whothehellisthat
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