𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

S I X

[graham eaton]

I sit directly across from my Father, my hands folded one over the other, staring him down. He blinks and groans.

"Shit," He says. "My old man eyes can't stare for that long."

I smile and lean back, interlocking my hands behind my head.

"That's twelve for me, how about thirteen out of thirteen?" I ask.

He shakes his head and laughs.

"Some day, you're gonna be blind too and it's gonna suck." He says. 

Atticus stands from his seat and approaches the door. He pens the door and hugs the woman who enters the diner.

"Sorry," She says, walking over with my younger brother. "I had the school board send me my transcript so I can finalize my registration process for NYU. I had to run to the library to print it off, then drove over to the post office to get it sent out."

I raise an eyebrow and raise my glass of iced tea to my lips. 

"Mm-hmm. Are you sure that it wasn't Chad keeping you busy?" I ask.

She glares at me and rolls her eyes. She plops down in the seat beside me and crosses her arms.

"First of all, his name is Chris. And no, I really was printing off my transcript." She says. "Would  you stop bullying him? I really like him and... I think he likes me."

Our father raises an eyebrow, now his vision and hearing both completely perfect.

"Young lady, you are too young to be falling in love." He says.

She rolls her eyes and looks over at our Mother.

"Um, you were Eighteen when you met mom," She says. "And you risked your life to be with her."

Our Mother laughs and shrugs.

"Technically, I saved his life and that's how we met, but yeah, he did risk his life to be with me. Don't argue with your father. He knows what's best for you." She says.

Olivia groans and lays her head back on the back of the booth padding.

"I'm eighteen years old--I'm not even a minor anymore! Legally, you have to let me make my own decisions." She says.

I laugh and take a French fry from the bucket, biting down on it.

"This is gonna be good. Atticus, you filming? I want this on video." I say.

Livia smacks me and I cough. 

"God, you're so immature." I groan out.

The TV behind me on the wall buzzes to life with a breaking news report, the recognizable tune grabbing my attention. We all go silent, turning to face the screen.

"The Nation is facing a dangerous threat that some officials claim could potentially turn deadly. Three months ago, the newly named 'Ghost Pyromaniac', nicknamed 'The Ghost', struck his first attack and started a flaming path, no pun intended, throughout the nation. The victims of his first attack was an abandoned motel building in Southern California. The Fire Department had officially claimed that the fire was started by faulty wiring and the dust took flame faster than they could put it out. The second location was an old Dairy Queen in Gillette Wyoming, the flames absorbing the small building in a matter of minutes. But, his next attack was far too daring. Two Weeks ago, a large high school in the Heart of Chicago Illinois was burnt to the ground. Although few were injured including an Eighteen year old senior girl who prefers to stay anonymous and a seventeen year old senior boy, Ryan Thomas, the flames left one boy--Thomas Elder--dead." 

My stomach flips and I feel nauseated. I promised Thomas's mother that I would find her son and save his life. I promised. But he was too close to the flames for too long and he never recovered. I blame myself. I wasn't fast enough. That's on me.

"Chief of the Chicago Fire Department, Rory Williams claims that the fire was caused by a burst gas line in the boys restroom where Ryan Jones and Thomas Elder snuck off to enjoy a cigarette, unaware of the gas already filling the room. When the oldest boy, Thomas, lit his lighter, the explosion went off like a bomb. But now, two weeks after the flames have destroyed the school and all that was within it's walls, the Fire Department is noticing some unusual things. Chief Williams and a few of his most experienced men noticed remnants of old pipe bombs placed near the cafeteria and boiler rooms which might explain why the flames spread so quickly. However, whoever this pyromaniac is, he's not going to willingly show himself to us. We are asking for anyone in Chicago or the nation that might have any knowledge about these attacks to please call your local police department to have your information transferred to us and the FBI." 

The TV is turned off by the waitress. She exhales sharply and returns to her work. I look back at my family and notice them all staring at Atticus and I.

"When were you going to tell us about the Pyromaniac?" My father asks.

I shake my head, looking over at Atticus too.

"We had no clue, honest." I state. "Rory said nothing about a Pyromaniac to any of us."

My mother covers her face and exhales loudly, groaning.

"To think that Livia could've been injured because some Pyromaniac broke into the school makes me sick." She says. "What happened to the world? I thought we were past this. Ted Kaczynski already had his fifteen minutes of fame already. We don't need another one."

I raise an eyebrow and look around the room.

"What if the report has agitated him? What will he do when he's mad?" I ask.

My parents look at one another with raised eyebrows.

"I never even thought of that. I'm gonna make a call." My father says.

He retrieves his cellphone and calls someone.

"We need to take that report down, now. If the 'Ghost' is easily angered, the report might have ticked him off into a spree. Keep eyes on any fires for the next few days. Anything bigger than a campfire, I want cops and firefighters out there with cuffs and hoses ready to put it out. Thermal imaging might be our only shot at tracking this guy down." He says.