Victor Black - And the Garden of the Gods

Chapter 21: The Morning After

"What's that noise?" shouted Victor, sitting upright, tangled in his sleeping bag.

At five o'clock in the morning, the ground vibrated. A crashing resounded through the hills surrounding Pikes Peak, causing several birds to chirp and flutter off into the darkness. Several whisked over the tent, but one blue jay flew into a tent post and fell to the ground with a broken neck. The thump of the bird on the lawn woke Pam, who opened her eyes to find the bird six inches from her nose.

Pam—startled—rolled over to find Victor sitting up, and still as a rock. His golden-brown hair had become matted to one side of his head, and he didn't have a shirt on, revealing an athletic, but pale, blemish-free body. Pam thought, for a moment, he seemed to glow—making him look almost translucent in what little moonlight made it through the thick air. She rubbed her eyes and adjusted her own body away from the dead bird.

"Did you hear something?" said Victor, who had noticed Pam's movement.

"No," whispered Pam.

None of the others stirred.

In the distance, another sound welled up from the direction of Pikes Peak. It started low and grew in volume and intensity as it roared up the pass into Divide.

This time the other kids stirred, unable to sleep through the rumbling. Victor Shadow's sleeping bag lay empty.

"Where did she go?" muttered Pam, who reached over and turned back the top of Shadow's white sleeping bag. She didn't expect to see the girl when she did it, but instead found a piece of paper with writing on it, held down with a Sharpie. Pam picked it up and squinted to see it in the dim light.

"She says, 'I had to go, sorry, I know what I'm doing. See you next week'." Pam tossed the note back on the ground as the others under the tent stretched and yawned, rising from their sleeping bags. The rumbling continued. A crackling and popping noise followed. In the direction of the sound, red streaks flashed behind the fog.

A clamoring resounded from the direction of the house. Mr. Black flew through the front door, dressed only in a blue bathrobe, cinching its belt while running through the damp grass. He stumbled over a chair, chastising himself for the mishap, and threw it out of his way.

"Are you all ok? What's —"

Everyone stood up. Victor slid a hoodie on, and Pam held her sleeping bag up to her shoulders, still in it, to hide her lack of a proper top.

"Sounds like thunder, but it's weird," said Victor.

"Look at the lightning, it's red," Alan said with a low gasp.

"Looks like it's over Manitou."

"Dad?" said Victor, "do you have any idea?"

Mr. Black stood there, as confused as the kids. Thunderstorm? Maybe. Red lightning? Impossible. He assessed what he saw and made sure there was no trouble with the kids who requested to sleep outside under the tent. Everyone seemed fine, but Victor squinted and rubbed his temple.

"Need some pain reliever, son?" he said to Victor.

"Yikes," said Victor, who had cupped an eye with his hand. "Feels like a knife in my head. I'll go get them." He sprinted across the lawn away from the others.

Pam squatted down and fished around for her shirt at the bottom of the sleeping bag as the others stood and continued to stare toward Colorado Springs. The lightning show, masked by the fog, made for an eerie start to the morning. Alan looked at his Seiko—the time read five-fifteen, much too early to be awake on a Sunday morning.

Josh and Darius, always in cahoots, settled back onto the ground in their bags, side by side, mashed up against each other.

"It's freekin' cold man," said Josh, shivering. "We should go inside. You have more rooms, right?" Victor didn't answer, he had run inside to get some pain pills.