"Shit! I am so screwed," Noah muttered as his heart leapt in his throat.
From where he knelt behind the lilac bushes out front, Noah could see his father's beige Lexus roar up Cedar Drive, its headlights flashing an accusatory glare over everything it examined. He unconsciously covered his mouth while he leaned forward to further obscure himself. He heard the sedan rumble past him and screech to a halt up the driveway. Noah knew that there was no way his father, Dr. Kaster, could spot him within the foliage, but an irrational fear seized him all the same. He could only assume that his black sweatshirt would allow him to blend in under the cover of night. However, that overreaction was likely the result of what he'd later describe as "food poisoning" if he so happened to get caught vomiting on the lawn past curfew.
"He couldn't have seen me," Noah nervously whispered. He was now grateful that his paranoia had gotten the better of him. If Noah hadn't jumped behind the bushes the second he heard the car coming, he'd likely have to do more than explain far too much to his old man. And he didn't want the stern and esteemed surgeon to catch him out of bed way past curfew and suffering from the consequences of eating the wrong kind of food with friends, "Zeke drove back the other way. There's no way he saw us."
Noah flinched as he heard the driver's side door slam shut. The sound of steps came next. They were remarkably loud and disorderly as they shuffled over the cement. The boy lifted his head slightly and swept aside the bangs of his shoulder-length hair to get a better view of the scene beyond the bushes. Noah saw his father, with his tall, wiry frame, urgently yank open the front passenger side door, wrench out a stranger from the darkened interior and steady him onto his feet.
"Dad, what the hell are you doing?"
The nearby streetlamp had cast enough stray light from across the street to make a few select features more apparent. The stranger his father kept upright was most surely a man, a young man with short, styled hair and clad in a hooded leather jacket. Noah could tell that the stranger looked to be in his early twenties. Dr. Kaster had one of the man's arms over his right shoulder while the stranger used his other arm to weakly clutch at his chest. The doctor then gently led his guest up the driveway, cautiously moving the man as the stranger struggled to remain standing.
"What's up with this guy?" At that instant his intuition intruded into his thoughts and presented Noah with a theory that, while unproven, felt legitimate given what he was seeing. He not only accepted the theory as an answer, it was the answer. Deep down, for some peculiar reason, Noah knew that it was the truth, "Oh God, he's been shot."
Noah tried to fix his gaze on the scene, but the whole picture began to blur and spin uncontrollably. The chills washed over him once more while his heart palpitated with the skewed rhythm of his body's fitful tempo. It wouldn't be long before he'd feel like doing little else but emptying the contents of his stomach to relieve the pressure. He planted his hands and brought himself closer to ground while he closed his eyes. Noah strove with great effort not to raise his voice, but the nausea and nervous tension had made that task all the more trying.
"Damn it. This fucking sucks! I just wanna throw up and get it over with. I swear to God, I will beat the shit out of Zeke if he knew that stuff was tainted."
But even during this restless bout with nausea, Noah could still hear his father clearly in the tranquil dormancy of this suburban night. It was like he'd caught the two men in the middle of conversation; but no matter how hard he strained with closed eyes and open ears, Noah could only make out a few words from his father, "You're never a burden," Dr. Kaster said tenderly. "Besides, it's not like I had to dress myself to pick you up. You're just lucky I can treat you from home."
He didn't hear the young man say anything in response. Instead, the only thing Noah heard after a while was the distant sound of the basement door swinging open with a grunt and shutting loudly with a keen forcefulness.
Noah continued to crouch on the cold, damp grass for a moment as the cool air began to dry his brow free of sweat. As he knelt there for an indeterminable amount of time, allowing his nausea to further subside, Noah pieced together what he had overheard, "He's gonna treat him in his study," he said in an indoor voice, dropping the pretense of blending in with the quiet night, "But why? Why not just take the guy to the hospital? Why bring your work home at two-in-the-morning, Dad? This makes no sense."
He steadied his nerves of broken glass long enough to bring about some meager form of composure. Noah then forced his eyes open and gingerly rose off the ground. For a moment he stood there weak and wobbly, his body wavering from side to side like a spinning top about ready to topple. He breathed heavily as his eyes darted from the car then toward the back of his family's lavish Winnetka estate. It was at this point right now that Noah knew exactly what he had to do next in order to make sense out of everything he'd seen, "I gotta check this out. It didn't sound like he locked the door, so I bet I can still slip inside."
He stumbled back to the sidewalk and walked his way to the Lexus a good ten feet away in search of anything amiss. He leaned on the car's frame and stared at the ground for any signs that would validate what he felt earlier when he saw the stranger clutch at his chest. However, no matter how keenly he surveyed the cement in the dim light, he failed to find anything that would serve as proof for the time being.
"Well, I don't see anything," said Noah mildly dissatisfied. He bent his knees and sunk lower in hopes of catching anything that would pique his interest, "It's too dark. If there's any blood, I can't see it. But it doesn't really matter." Noah now took this time to scrutinize the path ahead which led to the backyard while he slowly rose to his feet. He knew where the good doctor had taken the stranger; and it was a foregone conclusion that he would follow them. It was just a matter of when he'd make that first step past the dimly lit driveway and into the solid black wall of darkness that laid beyond its border.
"Why should I be afraid of the dark? I know better," said Noah with a twinge of confidence. It was a faint spark that could flameout at any moment, but that same spark still shone brightly even with the night encircling all around him with its great black wings, eager to snuff it, "There's nothing out here," he said to himself while taking his first steps down the driveway, almost tripping over his numbed feet. "I don't know why Dad said all that stuff when we were kids; but nobody's gonna help me find my way in the dark. It's just something I got to do on my own."
It only took a few more steps before he'd left the beige Lexus behind and set out into backyard where he would find the door which led to his father's basement office. The yard was spacious and had few trees, but the night had made the whole scene impossible to navigate underneath the unyielding nocturnal shroud. Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to scrape his feet across the sandstone pathway. But as quickly as his drowsy feet were able to find the path itself, they just as efficiently found a way to trip over themselves and bring Noah crashing down.
"Ah, shit," he hissed through bared teeth. "I hope I'm not bleeding." As Noah shambled to his feet, he felt around his palms for anything that would feel like liquid. He felt as if his hands were on fire but, aside from some curled skin, there was little else to report. "It's okay," he sighed. "I'll survive." Even with this landmark under foot, he still took great pains to ensure that he wouldn't fall over himself a second time.
It didn't take much longer for him to find the basement door by trailing the serpentine path. Once there, Noah braced himself against the door frame, slowly turned the knob, and smiled widely as it met no resistance from the lock. He then just as slowly pulled the door, cautious enough not to have it creak open and shatter the silence.
He stood there in the threshold, observing the distinct fluorescent glow of the office lights spilling out into the open. Fortunately the office door was left conveniently ajar. But before he could begin his descent, a strange sound caught his ears. It was the blunt and brutal sound of metal striking metal. The boy mouthed the only words which came to mind and likely the only real explanation, "The bullet?" With one hand on the railing and the other on the knob, he silently closed the basement door behind him and began to warily walk down the carpeted steps in the near dark.
But suddenly, that same dull, metallic sound rang out once again. And then again. And again. Noah, trembled in place as he kept his ears peeled for other noises, "Oh God, how many times was this guy shot?" But after a brief moment wherein nothing else followed, Noah continued to venture down the stairs. In short order, Noah had reached the landing and began to prowl up the center of the furnished basement toward the corner office. And it was at that point when the sound of metal on metal once more returned to fill the air. And then again. Again and again. And again.
"Christ, dude," said Noah breathlessly, an unmistakable chill sprinting up his spine as he lurked ever closer to the door. "What kind of trouble were you in?" The boy kept his eyes glued to the door for any signs of movement while he quietly lurked his way behind the fully stocked bar. It was from this convenient vantage point where he could catch a good view from around the corner from underneath the safety of the counter. From here, Noah could see his father, the revered, bespectacled surgeon with shortly shaved sandy blond hair, treating the stranger while the young man patiently sat on the padded treatment table. And while the boy couldn't see much of his father, whose back was turned away from his son at an odd angle, Noah could see plenty of the stranger who directly faced Dr. Kaster during the examination.
The stranger, from the look of it, was most definitely a young man who couldn't have been more than a few years removed from adolescence. His face was soft, oval-shaped and devoid of rigid facial features; and his brown hair slanted forward in a small, shapely faux hawk. His shirt and leather jacket were both gone; and the harsh light now revealed a body that was lean, youthful and muscular. But his skin tone was deathly pale. It was odd to observe the portrait of a sturdy young man juxtaposed against an eerily pallid complexion. The contrast was simply unnerving. Noah watched with baited breath as his father treated a wound that looked far too grave to be anything but mortal. It was like a huge hole had been shot out of the man's chest.
"It pains me to see you like this," said Dr. Kaster with distress as he began concealing the man's chest wound with gauze. "I rarely know what you're up to, and it worries me. You vanish for months on end. And there are times when I don't think I'll ever hear from you again. And are you sure you'll be fine if I just leave you like this? I feel like I've barely done anything."
"I'll be fine, Liam," the pale young man said with reassuring warmth, his face and body both slack with ease of mind. "The only reason I called was because I needed somebody like you to fish those pellets out for me. So don't act like you haven't done anything. You've done plenty of good. The wound should quickly close on its own now that they're out of my system. In any case, you shouldn't worry about me. I can take care of myself. It's not like I haven't bounced back from worse."
"But even you aren't invincible, Walt," replied the doctor jokingly. "Your lucky streak won't last for long at this rate. And I don't want you dying on that lonely hill before you meet Noah."
"You still worried about him?"
"It's not him I worry about," said Dr. Kaster, delicately applying the dressing with consideration. "It's his circle of friends that bothers me. He doesn't keep good company. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they're mixed up in drugs; and I sure as hell don't want my son to fall in with the wrong kind of people. Those kids are nothing but deadweight," Dr. Kaster said contemptuously.
"I didn't like your friends all that much. Remember?"
"You kidding me? All they did was cut class and smoke. We weren't bad kids."
"Jesus, Liam," retorted the pale man with pained laughter as Dr. Kaster applied pressure around his chest. "Aren't you a little young to be senile?"
"What? You going to give me more crap about Socrates being full of shit?"
The stranger then chuckled at this charge, "I don't recall ever saying that Socrates was full of shit. I'm pretty sure I said that even wise people like Socrates get old and misremember the past through rose-tinted lenses. I doubt Noah's friends are all that bad. Kids aren't getting worse, Liam. You're getting older."
"I don't know how you can say that with any conviction, Walt," scoffed Dr. Kaster with mild impudence. "You've never even met Noah or his friends. You haven't met any of them."
"I've seen enough of your son. I heard the eulogy Noah gave at the service. He's a good kid. He's also the spitting image of his father. And I guarantee you were exactly the same when you were his age. Warts and all. You may not remember all that well, but you were quite the handful back then. But even you turned out alright in the end. Just take a look around. You live in a house straight out of a John Hughes movie. I always knew you'd do well. And Noah will be fine. He'll make something of himself when he's older. He's your son, after all. And the apple never falls far from the tree."
The doctor suddenly ceased his work. The doctor tore his mind away from dressing the wound, leaned back and "I'm glad you came to the service," he said solemnly, "It meant everything to have you there."
"C'mon, Liam, I'm insulted," said the young man with feigned offense, "Did you really think I'd skip out on her funeral? Of course I'd be there. I miss Jules just as much as the rest of you. It would've been disrespectful to stay away."
Just then, Dr. Kaster lovingly embraced the man.
"I missed you so much," said Dr. Kaster hoarsely, his voice choked with emotion. "I know you don't want me to worry about you, but I can't help it. My biggest fear is that you're going to die one of these days, and I'd never know. You'd just be gone, and I'd never hear from you again. And I don't want that." Noah's father took a step back and rubbed his eyes. "I just want you here with us. You're the closest thing Noah has to a grandfather, and he doesn't even know you exist. He needs someone long in the tooth to show him the way. Just like we all did. And I want you to be a part of his life. If anything, I just want you to be there. I miss having you in our family, Dad."
Noah didn't know just what to make of what his father had said. It was as if the boy had no idea whatsoever how to process that information. Their opaque revelation hung over him like dust motes suspended in beams of light. All Noah could do was stare bemusedly with mouth agape as a fragment of coherent thought escaped his lips, "The hell am I watching?"
The stranger then abruptly grew silent and turned away. The smile had left his lips and his pale face noticeably darkened with the drastic shift in posture under the ceiling light.
"I know you don't like it when I call you that, but what else is there to say? You've been my dad since I was three. What else should I call you?"
"Have a little confidence," said the stranger, his eyes and smile once again returning to meet the doctor's face, completely ignoring the question posed to him. "Noah's got you for a father. He's already in good hands. You shouldn't worry about him. Also, it's very clear to me that you two haven't always been on the same page; but it's not too late for you both to play catch up. You could even tell Noah how much you care right now."
"I don't understand," said Dr. Kaster with a small laugh. "You say I should wake him up?"
"Actually, no" said with a sharp, toothy grin. The pale young man turned his head with one fluid, purposeful motion and stared directly at the teenage boy on the other side of the door with playful menace, "Not at all."
Noah shrank in terror as he felt his heart tumble down his throat the second their eyes locked. It was then at that moment he wanted, more than anything else, to simply scream and run away. A primeval, inborn reaction swept over him and was dying to find release, but the air had been brutally sucked from his lungs.
And with a wink he finished, "In fact, he's right behind the door."
Suddenly Noah found himself in bed, gasping for breath and covered in sweat. He could see the first light of dawn filtering through the Venetian blinds and onto his wet face. Noah rolled onto his back and stared for a moment at the stucco before laughing, "Holy shit! Oh my God, that was crazy. Would you call that lucid dreaming? I don't even know. I tell ya', I'm pretty sure he knew I was there the whole time."
But that laughter soon subsided after the boy felt around the bottom of his palms, "Wait." Whatever was there felt very smooth under his probing fingers. He tore his hands out from under the bedspread and stared intently at the seamlessly ordinary find that, nonetheless, felt unexplained and inexplicable, "That's weird. When did I have time to put these on?"
Noah stared at the bandages that covered the bottom of each palm for what felt like a solid minute. But their presence didn't bother him for very long. Quickly thereafter, a peaceful, relieved smile spread across his face. There was only one word that came to mind as his head fell back onto the pillow. In retrospect, he wasn't sure why he said it, but it felt more than proper to say it out loud. It felt necessary, "Thanks."
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