Running from Lions - A Novel by August Perez

Running from Lions - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I decided to wait another half-hour. I mean, they probably just went out somewhere, right? So, I sat myself at the kitchen table with a bag of crisps and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I waited for roughly an hour and a bag of crisps before I was really, really concerned. They wouldn’t leave for a long period of time without telling me. I got up and went to the house phone on the wall to see if I could get ahold of anyone. I first punched in the number for Mother’s cell, but it went straight to voicemail. Then I tried Abby’s cell, but again, straight to voicemail. In desperation, I tried Ricky’s cell, and it actually rung.

As I waited for him to (hopefully) pick up, I observed the state of the kitchen and dining room. It looked almost exactly like it did before I left, which seemed suspicious. Father’s newspaper was exactly where it was when I left, on his spot at the table. His coffee cup was tipped over and the contents of it was all over the paper, table, and dripping onto the floor. Mother’s tea was still full, and her robe laying on the floor.

Finally, Ricky picked up the phone.

“Ricky, hey! Do you-” I began, but I was cut off by a voice that wasn’t my brother’s.

There was first some static and interference. Then, “Finlay Connell, what a lovely surprise,” said a warped voice, obviously put through a voice changer. “I came to see you, but you weren’t in.” I tensed up and stood up straight against the wall. “Who...who is this?” I stammered. “Who are you? Where’s my brother? Where is my family?”

“Oh, them? They took a little… vacation. Veeeery far away,” the voice said. “I made sure they wouldn’t be able to come home for a very long time.” I gritted my teeth and teared up a bit. “Who the hell are you?” I growled, curling my fingers into a fist. The voice chuckled. “Do you really think I will tell you that? Silly boy. Do some investigating, you should figure it out. For now, good bye, Finny.” Before I could protest, the line went dead.

The phone slipped out of my hand, and I slid down against the wall to sit on the floor. The phone, hanging on the coiled wire, swung like a pendulum and hit my shoulder. Oh God, I thought, holding my head in my hands, gripping my hair for dear life as I breathed deeply. Oh God, what do I do? What can I do? My head began to hurt and I took deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Soon enough, though, I strayed from the rhythm and my breath came in short, panicked gasps. Everything spun around me, then it all slowly faded to black.

***

When I came to, my head felt like it had a hatchet in it. My ears were ringing, and my vision was fuzzy. I tried sitting up, but everything was spinning, so I gave up and collapsed back to the floor. What the hell just happened? I thought to myself. I scoured my mind for a moment, before I remembered the phone call. They took a little… vacation. Veeery far away. I made sure they wouldn’t be able to come home for a very long time, the voice echoed. I bit my lip and winced due to the pain in my head. I ran a hand through my mussed-up hair and felt something wet and warm. Blood, I realised. And a possible concussion. I knew I needed help, but I had no one to help me and definitely no time for a hospital. I propped myself up on one elbow and took a few deep breaths. The room was acting less and less like a merry-go-round, so I sat myself up completely. Something hit my shoulder and I flinched, but then I realised that it was just the wall phone. I sat for a moment and tried to collect my thoughts. Who could I trust that I could have called?

There was always my doctor, but he would want me put in a hospital immediately. So he was out. Allen, maybe. I heard he was taking some nursing classes. But my situation would be a bit difficult to explain to him. The only other person I could contact was… of course! I felt stupid for not thinking of him sooner. I grabbed and fumbled with the phone for a second and checked the sticky note taped to the back. Thankfully, Mother was practical enough to keep the important numbers handy. Doctor Marshall, Colonel Martin Harris, ahah! Jim Aspin. My father’s best mate and the only man to trust right now. I punched in his number on the phone and held it to my ear. It rung for a few seconds, and he thankfully answered.

“Richard? Hey, mate, how’s it going?” Jim greeted cheerfully. “Uhh, actually, no, s’Finlay,” I said awkwardly, slurring my words some. A symptom of a concussion. Just keep focused, Finny, I thought to myself. “Oh, hello Finlay. Why are you calling?” he asked.

“Well uh…” I explained the whole thing to him. How I found myself alone, the phone call, my possible concussion. My speech was slurring and I started to feel light-headed. Jim stayed quiet for a moment, and for a second I thought he had hung up. “...He-”

“Take some paracetamol. Ice it. Take a nap. Hire a taxi and meet me at the Corner Café on Westminster Avenue tomorrow at noon. Got it?”

“Uh…”

“Be sure to write it down. I’ll see you then.” Then he hung up. And I was alone again.