D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“We gotta get outta here,” Mark ordered.

He turned to the wall, pushing aside some of the cardboard boxes to try to get to the door. What he found instead was a solid wall.

“They cemented over the door,” he declared. “I don’t get it. How long have we been gone?” Courtney asked in wonder.

“Long enough. We’ve got to go up through the house,” Mark announced, heading for the stairs.

The others followed. The dog trailed behind, wagging his tail happily.

“Let’s hope they’re asleep,” Mark whispered. “Let’s hope they don’t have guns,” Courtney added. “Yeah, that too.”

They crept quickly and quietly up the wooden stairs. Both Courtney and Mark had been through the house many times before, yet they had no idea what to expect when they entered the living area this time. Patrick had no idea about anything. The dog probably knew something, but he wasn’t talking. The door on top of the stairs was still open, thanks to the black Lab. Mark reached the top step first, and he stopped to look back.

“If the barking didn’t wake anybody up, maybe the house is empty,” he whispered hopefully.

“Or maybe the police are up there waiting for us,” Courtney countered.

Mark gave her a sour look. He glanced down at Patrick. Patrick looked as if he were going to faint. Mark gave him a smile of assurance. He wished that somebody would give him one too. He turned forward and quietly stepped into the house. It was exactly as Mark and Courtney remembered it…

Except that it was fully furnished. The basement door led up into the grand foyer. From there a circular staircase led to the second floor. Mark gazed around in wonder at the opulent surroundings. He looked to Courtney and opened his eyes wide as if to say, “Wow.”

The place definitely deserved a “wow.” Mark thought that whoever now lived there had some serious money. A soft glow from the living room gave them enough light to see detail. A huge, ornate crystal chandelier hung overhead. Rich Oriental rugs graced the highly polished wooden floors. Oil paintings of idealized countrysides hung everywhere. Mark glanced into one room to see fancy, expensive-looking furniture, along with enough sculptures to make it appear more like a museum than a household. The wall paint was no longer chipped and scarred. Intricate wooden trim traced every corner. The stairs leading to the second floor looked like highly polished marble. It was a showplace.

The only detail that truly mattered just then was the front door on the far side of the foyer. Freedom was only a few yards away. The dog pushed past Mark and scampered deeper into the house, passing through an archway that led into the living room. Mark motioned for the others to follow him toward the front door. All three moved quickly and quietly across the floor, until Courtney stopped so suddenly that Patrick bumped into her from behind. Nobody said a word, nobody complained. Though Patrick did throw her an impatient look. Courtney didn’t notice. She was too busy staring through the archway where the dog had just gone.

Mark tugged on her sleeve to keep her moving. Courtney ignored him. She kept staring into the next room. Mark tugged again. Courtney’s silent answer was to point into the room. Patrick and Mark followed her gaze. Patrick gasped. Mark stared in wonder.

Beyond the archway, in the living room, a fireplace blazed. The fire in the hearth was the source of the warm, flickering light that was guiding their way. That wasn’t what they were staring at. Nor was it the dog, that had curled up in front of the fire to keep warm. What got their attention was hanging over the fireplace. In the dim light it wasn’t clear if it was a painting or a sculpture or even a photograph. It didn’t matter.

Looming over the fireplace, measuring about five feet across, was a huge, five-pointed star. It was the symbol that marked the gates. It hung in a place of honor, like a revered icon.

Mark’s knees went weak. He was getting too much information to assimilate in such a short time. There was no doubt anymore. Things had changed, and it wasn’t just that somebody had moved into the Sherwood house. The star symbol was now known here on Second Earth. It was out in the open. Did that mean the flumes had been discovered too? Mark forced himself to look away. He had to focus. They were in a bad place. They wouldn’t find the answers if they were stuck in jail for breaking and entering. That realization snapped Mark back to his senses. He pulled Courtney’s arm again, this time more forcefully. They had to get out of there.

The three moved quickly to the front door. A thick, dead-bolt lock sat just above the door handle. Mark put one hand on the handle, the other on the bolt’s turn key. He glanced back at the others and whispered, “We’ll go for the wall where we always climb over. Stay close to the house, in the shadows.”

Mark twisted the lock. They didn’t have to be quiet anymore.

The moment the lock was thrown, an alarm shrieked. The horn cut through the silence of the big house as loudly as if a fire truck were barreling through the living room. The dog started barking again. A red light on a keypad next to the door started flashing. It was the alarm control.

Courtney looked at Mark with wide eyes and said the only thing that made sense under the circumstances. “Run.”

The three bolted out of the door, ran across the wide porch, and jumped down the stairs to the gravel drive below. Floodlights burst on, lighting up the yard like a football field. Or a prison yard where a break was under way. Courtney and Mark took a sharp right and ran for the cement wall that surrounded the property. They knew there was a tree on the other side they could climb down. The trick was scaling the wall from this side. They’d done it enough times to know how. No words were needed.

The harsh alarm sound was even louder outside. Speakers were hidden in trees. Floodlights followed them as if powered by motion detectors. The once-deserted home of a chicken farmer named Sherwood was now equipped with some serious security.

“We’re okay,” Mark panted as they ran. “We’ll be long gone before the police show up.”

Bang!

A bullet whistled by. They weren’t alone anymore. “I think they’re already here,” Patrick whined. “No way,” Courtney gasped. “The police don’t shoot at you, even if you are trespassing.”

“Then who is?”

Two more flat cracks sounded. Bang! Bang! Grass and dirt kicked up around them.

“I’m on the bottom!” Markshouted. They were at the wall. Courtney didn’t argue. She knew what he meant. Mark put his shoulder to the wall and cupped his hands for Courtney to step into an “alley-oop” up. Courtney barely broke stride. She leaped into Mark’s hands, right foot first. Her momentum kept her going. Mark launched her upward as she pushed off her foot. She was airborne. Like a flying trapeze artist she grabbed the top of the cement wall and hoisted herself up, all in one smooth movement.

“Let’s go!” she called down before she was even settled.

Mark cupped his hands again, looking to Patrick. “C’mon!”

Patrick was unsure. “I can’t do that.”

Patrick needed inspiration. He got it. The sound of machine-gun fire cut through the alarm. To their right, the cement wall began to explode from rounds being pumped into it. Splinters of cement flew everywhere. The attack was getting closer. It was all the convincing Patrick needed. He jumped into Mark’s waiting hands, leaped up, and grabbed Courtney’s down-stretched hand. Mark pushed and Courtney pulled. Adrenaline helped. Patrick was up on the wall.

“Climb down the tree,” Courtney barked at Patrick.

Patrick didn’t need to be told twice this time. He scrambled for the tree. As the cement wall was torn apart by gunfire, Courtney leaned down and reached for Mark. Mark looked up to see that she was actually smiling.