Lost Game Notes (Novel)

Chapter 24: Eavesdropping

Alex could hear Kamila's faint footsteps in the adjoining room, which was Dawn's bedroom. What she was doing in there, Alex didn't know, but it made his stomach queasy. The noodles that had tasted so wonderful seconds ago frolicked about his stomach walls. He wished he could hear Kamila's conversation, but from where he sat propped up against his pillows, her words were nothing more than a murmur.

It irked Alex to know he could be missing clues to the game of lost notes. He eyed the wall and measured the distance he would have to lean. Moving carefully, so as not to pull on his stitches, he set the tray beside the bed and leaned towards the wall. After a few flares of pain and readjusting, he could comfortably press his ear against the wall. If he listened carefully, he could just make out Kamila's words, especially since she sounded rather annoyed.

"I honestly don't know, William. Stop yelling and just hear me out, okay?" A pause. "So I got here on Monday...I took a quick detour to Avendale—That's the one. But when I got here Dawn was gone. Both Lawrence and Alex mentioned a school camping trip, but that may just be a cover up. No, of Dawn... Do you think she backed out last minute?"

The sound of her footsteps wandered closer to the wall, and Alex automatically shied back. So Dawn had contacted Kamila somehow, and Kamila didn't know where Dawn was. But—if Dawn had contacted Kamila, was it possible that she also contacted Hudson? No, Dawn probably already knew Hudson had been the one to murder their mother. With that resolved, Alex leaned in and strained to hear.

"...sounded so sincere. We agreed on it, and I turn up to find she's not here... Come on, William. Think about it." A pregnant pause. "Well whatever. Alex hurt himself and I've got to tend to... I don't know. I have a feeling Lawrence did it, but Alex wouldn't say anything... Thanks. Keep a look out. I do trust Dawn, but for her to run off like that is a little dodgy. Do you think maybe—? Okay, okay, you're right, sorry. Bye."

Alex eased himself away from the wall and settled back unto his pillow, gritting his teeth. How dare Kamila tell this Hudson guy about his stitches!

Seconds later, his bedroom door clicked open and Kamila entered with the bandages. Alex appeared to look nonchalant, but so did she. She set to work carefully bandaging his side, chatting about her past experience of being nurse. Whiles Kamila chatted on, Alex got to work building up his walls.

Kamila claimed to have been Olivia's friend. So if Hudson had truly killed his mother, why was Kamila talking to him? Wouldn't she want revenge? It all seemed suspicious, and until Alex figured out why, he was going to stand guard.

After Kamila finished with the bandages, she gathered her things and bid goodbye, after instructions about caring for the wound, resting and drinking a lot of water. She left some painkillers by the bedside. Just as Alex was closing his eyes and beginning to doze off, Kamila reappeared, peering around his door.

"Hey, Alex. There's some guy named Sky at the door. He says he wants to talk to you. Should I let him in?"

A bout of emotion stifled Alex's attempt at speaking, until he finally managed, "Tell him some other time. I'm falling asleep." He shut his eyes with finality and listened to Kamila's footsteps fade.

He was all alone now. Kamila had sort of been his last hope. He was through with Sky. And Dawn wouldn't be returning for...

Alex's eyes flew open. He fumbled for his phone, found he hadn't switched it off and the battery was low. Just before the screen went dead, Alex saw the date. 4:30, Saturday. As if things couldn't get worse. Dawn had promised she would be back in seven days, and nine days had passed. This could only mean that she had ran into some serious trouble.

And Dawn never broke her promises.


*****


A multitude of nightmarish scenarios plagued Alex's mind far into the night. His sister could be in terrible trouble right then, and there he was lying in his comfy bed, safe and sound. The worst thing, Alex summed, was that none of this had to happen. Dawn had clearly stated in her letter that when Alex found all of the notes, he would know where she was. By now he should have found her, wherever that was, and brought her home and given her a good, long lecture. He didn't want to admit he had failed; maybe Dawn wasn't actually in trouble. But even he knew that possibility was thin.

Alex stared into the darkness and mulled it over in his mind. Maybe he still had a chance. If only he could connect what he already knew to the bigger picture, he might just figure it out.

Lawrence was a black piece on the chessboard, he himself had proved that. Somehow he had owned eight thousand dollars, but they pretty much lived in circumstances only slightly better than Sky's. With Kamila's contribution, he was stingy.

Kamila, the one who despised Lawrence, and Hudson, the one who killed his mother, were circled red in Dawn's books.

There was something else Alex was forgetting. It took him a while to remember, and what came to his mind was not a name but two piercing, ocean blue eyes. Alex's pulse raced. The painting. Back when he had rediscovered it in Lawrence's closet, he had felt strongly that it was an important part of the game of lost notes. And then he had found that newspaper clipping and abandoned the theory.

Alex tried to dredge up the words of the clipping from the bottom of his mind, but all he could recall was ripping it down the middle and sobbing like a baby. Had he thrown the paper away?

Alex considered rummaging through his waste-basket, but that wasn't a pleasant option. God knew what was in there after weeks of not throwing it out. Maybe he had tossed it under his bed, which was more likely. All that was left to do was the daunting task of searching through the mess. It wasn't any more savoury than lazing on top of it, and Alex had a hard time dragging himself out. But he needed the bathroom anyway.

Alex was careful with his movements. Just standing caused pain in his side, knocked the air out of his lungs and blinded him for a few moments. He limped to the bathroom first, finding his limbs were stiff from two days of not working them. He didn't even chance a glance in the mirror. By the time he got back to his bed, he needed a break. Finally, he decided just to ignore the pounding in his head and stoop to look under. That only made his growing headache worse. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed a piece of crumpled paper, torn down the middle, right in the shores of the ocean of clutter beyond. The little stretch to reach it caught his breath and caused a moment of unbearable pain in his side.

With a grunt, Alex pulled himself into his bed with one last boost of effort. He unfolded the newspaper clipping and gazed at the words.

Conan Simmons tried at court after attempting murder on Olivia Brooke.

Now Alex had the decency to feel a little embarrassed of having jumped to such big conclusions. Conan wasn't the one who killed his mother after all. But he had attempted to. Why? Why would anyone want to hurt his sweet, precious mother? The image of her was becoming more and more fragmented in his mind, something that scared Alex. There was that one photo of her in the album he could turn to, but it just wasn't the same. There wasn't one sparkle to be found in her eyes.

He had been so young when his mother and Lawrence got divorced, maybe four years. Alex hadn't seen her once after that. It surprised him how envious of Dawn he could feel even now, now that their mother was gone. She had spent all her life with their mother.

Alex was so lost in his thoughts he hardly noticed darkness preying on him, until he was swallowed up by its jaws. That was when he awoke with a start.

His bed felt strangely comfortable, the blankets plush and warm. There was such a feeling of content he whimpered a little when two hands wrapped around his middle and easily lifted him up.
Alex opened his eyes to swim in the gaze of two, gentle blue oceans. The man's face was almost indiscernible, yet smiling. Rays of warmth and love poured out of piercing eyes. The touch of the man's fingers on Alex's cheek was slight, like a brush of the wind.

Alex felt himself being lifted closer to the man's face. Seconds ticked by, and suddenly the face twisted and contorted, melting and hardening into that of a monsters'. It's lips curled back, exposing needle sharp teeth glistening with strands of saliva, stained with blood.

Alex kicked and screamed, heart convulsing as he was lifted up to the bloody mouth. Teeth punctured into his side, ripping stitches out one by one.