Anthony DeCosmo - Empire

“You’re braver than me,” she surprised him

“No chance.”

“Sure you are. Because the truth of the matter is that I don’t get afraid of all this. Not the monsters. Not the aliens. The only thing that sometimes scares me is, well, the fact that none of it scares me. Makes me wonder who I really am, deep down.”

A voice called from the smoky cooking pit over by the empty swimming pool, “Dinner is served!”

A chorus of cheers and claps broke out.

“You are…” he started and tried to find the right words. It took him a moment. “You are a very interesting person, Captain Nina Forest.”

“Not really,” she told him solemnly. “It just seems that way at first.”

Jorge Benjamin Stone rolled, then stirred, then finally woke. Or, at least, opened his eyes; his mind hovered somewhere between dream and reality.

The little boy sat up in his bed. The only light came from the moon hanging high in the heavens and casting a few stray moonbeams through his window.

He rubbed his eyes and vaguely wondered why he no longer slept.

Thump

Yes, that was it. A soft noise called him from slumber.

Thump.

JB swung his legs out of bed. His bare feet touched a cold wood floor. He staggered to stand as his mind tried in vain to convince him to return to the warmth of his blankets. Without thinking-on instinct-he grabbed his plush bunny and held it to his chest.

Like most doors in the mansion, his stood slightly ajar to allow the K9 guards freedom of movement through the home.

He pushed it open fully and stepped out into the dark, empty hallway. Several paces to his left was his father’s second floor office, which led to the master bedroom.

Thump.

Jorgie’s ears woke enough to trace the sound. It came from his right, along the hall toward the rear of the house where the door to a large bathroom stood. A faint glow came from behind that half-open door, a bluish glow from the night light therein.

He stood still, staring in that direction. His mind fought a battle between sleep and awake, before settling on ‘groggy’ but functional.

Thump.

“Ajax?” He whispered for the Doberman Pinscher assigned to guard him.

Jorge walked-more staggered-toward the bathroom. At this point, he needed to relieve himself, anyway.

Thump.

Louder this time. Closer.

JB used two fingers to push the door all the way open. Blue light splashed over his entire face.

Inside the large bathroom was a whirlpool tub, a shower stall, and of course the usual fixtures.

JB took two steps onto tile that felt even colder than the wood. A dark mass lying on the floor against the tub grabbed and held his attention. That mass moved, a little.

Thump.

JB’s eyes adjusted. He saw Ajax on the floor. The sound came from the dog hitting its head against the tub like some kind of machine malfunctioning. A pool of blood dripped from a growing head wound and ran red across the white tile.

“Ajax? Ajax?”

JB stepped forward, still not quite sure if he was stuck in a nightmare.

“Ajax, stop it,” JB cringed.

The dog whined, just a little. Not loud.

Thump.

Jorge saw another mass. This one inside the tub. An Internal Security agent. JB was pretty sure his name had been Carlos. JB played football catch with him in the side yard a few months before. He thought him a nice man.

Carlos’ white shirt was stained red as streams of blood gushed from his slashed throat.

JB drew breath in preparation for a scream.

A hand clamped over his mouth. Clamped tight.

A large silver blade slid against the little boy’s throat and hovered there.

“Hello, Jorgie,” the shadowy figure said. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance.”

JB froze in place. He felt the sharp prick of the knife against the tender skin on his throat and realized that, yes, this was a nightmare but he was very much awake.

“I’m sorry about this, really I am. I’m afraid it’s going to be a long night and it won’t be very pleasant. But your father and I have a lot to talk about. So let’s go get him, shall we?”

“Father.”

Trevor sat up in bed. His movement stirred Ashley, who groaned and opened her eyes.

The master bedroom connected off Trevor’s office, the room that originally served as the “command center.” Two figures stood in that doorway, their features hidden in the dark.

Trevor instinctively reached for the Beretta M9 under his pillow. He froze when he saw a flash of moonlight flicker off the blade held to his son’s throat.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the shadowy figure teased.

Trevor let the pistol be, and held both hands palms up and open.

Ashley wiped her eyes and realized she did not dream.

“JB? Trevor? Oh my God!”

“Quiet now,” the man raised a finger to his lips. “We’ve got some talking to do. So the two of you need to get out from underneath those nice warm sheets and come on out here. I have better manners than to stand here and watch the misses, but I’m afraid it’d be in all of our best interests for me not to let you out of my sight. You might just do something stupid, isn’t that so?”

Trevor, wearing navy blue sweat pants, cautiously rose from bed, still holding his empty hands aloft. Ashley wore considerably less. She grabbed a robe and tied it on.

The assailant led them to the office where he walked behind the desk, the knife never leaving Jorge’s throat. Trevor and Ashley stood on the opposite side.

“Go ahead, turn on a light. The smaller one,” the man directed.

Trevor switched on the desk lamp. Ashley gasped.

A human man held a knife to JB’s throat, but the scars he wore made him appear more creature than person.

“What’s wrong, honey? I don’t look appetizing to you?” The intruder reacted with sarcasm to Ashley’s shock. “Shoot, this stuff is a couple of years old. You should have seen me when the skin melted. Felt like jelly on my cheekbones for a couple of weeks. Still, I tried to dress myself up for our big get together.” He ran his free hand through his hair-what remained of it-in mock grooming. Flakes from old scabs fell off a cracked scalp.

Trevor saw more than scars. He saw starvation. The dirty coveralls the man wore hung loose on emaciated shoulders. Spindly fingers with chipped nails clutched the knife at Jorge’s neck. The man carried a stink of body odor and rot.

“You should put down that knife,” Trevor said as his eyes searched for openings; searched for counter-moves.

“Oh, I’m thinking no on that one, Dick.”

“You’re not going to get out of here. There are guards all over the place.”

“A few less. The dogs, they aren’t around. I sort of sent them off on a wild goose chase.”

Jorgie said, “Father, he killed the man in the hallway.”

“Carlos,” Trevor spoke the man’s name. He deserved as much.

The intruder said, “You can forget about the guy in the basement watching the cameras. Wilson, I think that is his name. Anyway, he’s got a good bump on the noggin’ and is going to be tied up for a while.”

Trevor’s mouth worked but the scarred man said, “Yeah, yeah, I know. In twenty minutes or so, someone is going to notice Wilson hasn’t checked in and then they’ll send folks this way. I expect to have things settled up by then, so don’t give it another thought.”

The wind rattled against the sliding glass doors that hid behind drawn curtains.

“What is it you want? Let my son go!” Ashley demanded.

“Oh now honey, you know I can’t do that so don’t waste your breath. Besides, you’ve got nothing to fear. I mean, we’re all family here.”

Trevor and Ashley glanced at one another.