Fantasy

8-Abby

The room, along with its contents, unfolds as Jayce flips the light switch and florescent tubes buzz on. "Holey moldy cheese," is all I can say. Miscellaneous contraptions are scattered everywhere and swords, firearm blueprints, knives, I think a flamethrower and, of course, more guns line the walls. I kind of see why Marie was so reluctant to let me come.

"My life's work," Jayce comments, walking forward confidently.

"If this is your life's work I think you need to see a therapist," Jessica says. Jayce glances back at her and raises an eyebrow. I can't believe she just said that aloud. Why would she say anything that could possibly tick off the guy who owns more weapons than the National Guard?

"Oh, I had one, but she quit on account of she said I was a lost cause," he says severely. My eyes widen, but he smiles warmly at me. "I'm kidding. Yeah, I suppose I don't have the most kind and tender job in the world, but I do what I do in the hope that my weapons help more people than they hurt."

"Oh," Jessica says sarcastically, nodding. When Jayce turns around again she turns to me and hisses, "He's psycho."

I shrug, I don't think so, he seems nice enough and he's definitely not blood-thirsty or anything. We end up in the middle of the rectangular room where sits a rather odd workbench. Actually, it's more like four tables set up in a square with a good-sized rectangular space in the middle. Jayce lifts up a section of one of the wooden benches, revealing the hinges underneath, and opening a space for him to walk through to get to the center. The bench closest to this one is also wooden; they are connected at a right angle. The one on the opposite side is metal and around the back is a bi-fold tool cabinet. Built into the surface of the bench with the opening is a touch-screen tablet.

"Did you make this?" I ask.

"Yup," he nods, turning and pulling a pair of tin snips from the tool cabinet. I watch him, fascinated, though, like Jessica, slightly unnerved by all the other things in the room. Some of the machines look somewhat recognizable, but for most the closest thing I've seen is medieval torture devices! Jayce slides the hinges of the locket between the tin snips. He presses lightly, then harder, but nothing happens. He removes the snips, sets them on the bench and tilts his head to the side, looking for a sign that the cutters did any damage at all. It doesn't look like it. "Hmm, silver is a soft metal, it should have at least been chipped by now, unless it's some kind of alloy that I've never heard of," he says. "Abby, do you have any idea what's in here?" he turns to me.

"No, Mr. Shaw just said it was important."

"Great," he mutters under his breath as he pulls out a handheld circular saw, 3 pairs of safety glasses, and a pair of gloves. He hands Jessica and me a pair of glasses which we put on. I'm glad they fit over my glasses. Jessica's eyes widen.

"Are you really gonna use that thing?" she demands.

"Yeah, why not?" Jayce replies, adjusting his goggles and pulling on his gloves. I can't help but smile. It all seems like overkill just to open a silly little piece of jewelry. Jayce puts the locket in a vise and tells us to step back a little before he turns on the saw. I crane my neck to see him try to, again, cut off the hinges. He must've held the saw there for five minutes, but when he finally pulls it up and switches it off, there is not even a notch in the metal. I follow his example and remove my safety gear along with Jessica. He puts everything away and sets the locket on the tabletop.

He taps his fingers on the wood bench until they find his pocket and he pulls out a pocket knife. It has a wooden finish and there are words carved on both sides, but I can't read them because Jayce's hand envelops them. He rocks back on his heels, crossing his arms and bounces the knife in his palm. "That's insane; there's no way silver could do that. Yet it did. I don't know."