The Rise Of The Forgotten King.

“Help”

That was the only content of the text I saw when my phone buzzed on the pillow next to my head. And it was from Noah. 

Adrenaline instantly rushed through my blood stream and I hit the call button but it rang and went straight to voicemail. 

“Yo, it’s Noah, do your thing after the beep.”

“Noah, pick up.” I was already yanking yesterday’s jeans off the floor. “Pick up, man.”

I ran bare footed on the cold hardwood heading straight for the entrance. I pushed the front door open and banged it shut behind me turning the key in a frenzy and headed straight for my car. 

Reversing, I rode into the road and into the empty street praying in my heart that nothing had happened to the boy. He lived just a street away so it didn't take me long to get to his house. I flung the door open and broke into a run, headed for the house. 

“Noah!” I yelled across the quiet lawns. “Noah, are you home?”

I took the front steps two at a time and pushed the slightly opened door the rest of the way. The living room was a total mess. The couch was flipped, the lamp was on the floor and one of the big framed photos of us at the lake was hanging by a thread, glass and the cracks giving off the vibe of a spider web. 

“Noah, answer me! Are you there?”

But all I heard in the silence was the echo of my voice and my breathing. I stepped over a cushion and that was when I saw the blood on the wall. A handprint slid down, fingers splayed like he was trying to hold himself up. Was that Noah’s?  

“Noah…” I called but this time, I sounded like a whimpering kid.

I walked farther in and got to the dining table which was shoved sideways. One chair snapped clean in half but in the middle of the table, propped against the napkin holder was a white index card that read- “You can't hide forever.”

“No.” I heard myself saying. “No, no, no…”

I threw the card like it burned me and it fell into the floor. How dare they? Rage boiled in my chest and my foot went straight through the wall. Pain exploded up my leg but I kicked again and again until dust poured down my jeans.

“You motherfuckers!” I yelled at the empty house. “You better not hurt him, he has nothing to do with you.”

I stood there panting and my foot was bleeding inside my sock. I don’t know how long I stood like that but finally, I mustered strength and walked into the cold evening and back to my car. 

Mrs. Henderson was out by her roses in that pink robe and yapping to her little dong when I pulled over. 

“Ethan? Honey, you okay?” She asked over the fence the moment she saw me. “You’re bleeding…”

Without as much as acknowledging her, I walked straight ahead and slammed my own door so hard as if to shut her noise out. Inside was pitch black but I didn't bother to turn on the light. I went straight to the fridge, yanked a beer, twisted the cap off with my shirt and took three long pulls. Feeling my throat burning came with a little sense of comfort. 

I hurled the bottle into the sink and it shattered loud enough if someone was at my door he would hear. 

 Walking fast down the hall, I shoved open the library door and hit the stereo power button so hard. Noah’s old playlist started screaming in the house. For some reason I loved the kind of music he listened to and now, some rock guy was roaring about burning it all down. 

Perfect! I stood in front of the back bookshelf breathing like I’d run ten miles, grabbed the fake Volume M and yanked it and the whole shelf swung inward. 

And for the first time in eight years, I came face to face with the one of the things I had buried at the back of my mind. I went to the garage, grabbed the claw hammer off the wall and came back swinging it even before I even crossed the threshold.

I hit the wood and took a large chunk of the wood off. I kept going, grunting with every swing. 

“Come on, come on fucking open!” I yelled and the wood cracked up as if it had actually heard me. I dropped the hammer and kicked the rest of the way through. The panel folded in half and I crawled over it, splinters digging into my palms but I didn't care. 

I stood up in the dark and slapped the light switch and one bare bulb blinked on.

Apart from the dust that had settled, everything looked the same. I stain on the coffee table was still there although the table had rusted a little. I knelt, knees cracking, and shook the floor board until I found was I was looking for. Pulling it up, I blew the dust off and punched in the numbers that I knew by heart. 

1-9-3-4-0-7 I typed and the handle dropped with a loud sound. Pulling the door open, I took a deep breath and looked at it. The Glock 19 was on top exactly where I had left it. I lifted it out and sniffed the tip. 

“I’m sorry, Noah. I’m so fucking sorry.” I spoke to the silence silently hoping that he understood that this was for him. I checked the chamber and picked a mag. The snap sounded exactly the same as it did when we were twenty-five and stupid and thought we were invincible. I grabbed the shoulder rig off the hook, shrugged it on and set the Glock. I took two spare mags and clipped them opposite the holster. And then the AR.

I just stood there, rifle hanging across my chest and tears dripping off my chin onto the concrete.

“Hang in there, Noah. I’m coming for you.” I whispered to the empty room and to my brother who wasn’t there.