Kingdom Come (3 page)

“I’ve done as much research on the subject as possible,” Dr. Fowler said. “There isn’t much that can be found, given the Andreas family has kept this under wrap for centuries. It’s a deeply buried family secret that most members have taken to their graves.”

The light bulb flickered again, and the doctor took that as his cue to walk over to one of the storage shelves. He grabbed three small battery-powered lanterns and placed them by his step stool before sitting down again.

“There are four scrolls,” he continued. “Each scroll is opened seven days apart—no sooner, no later. Even a minute’s difference in the timing will destroy the entire process. The final scroll can only be opened on New Year’s Day—symbolic of a new beginning, if you will. Given this, the first scroll must be opened—”

“On December eleventh,” Ethan finished. Danny mumbled something under his breath, to which Ethan shrugged. “What? You can’t do math?”

“So, what do we do now?” Nate asked. “Just sit around and wait for the world to crash down around us?

For the first time, Dr. Fowler looked angry. Frustrated. Shaking his head, he answered, “No. No, I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

“What?” Danny asked through a laugh. “You plannin’ on turning into some superhero and stopping it? Whatever the hell ‘it’ is?”

“It can be stopped,” the doctor replied. “The first scroll has been opened. There are three that now remain. Any interruption in the process will be to its detriment. If I find Bennett, then he can be stopped. It will be no easy feat, though . . .”

He stood and walked toward the wall, his back to us. “The storm won’t be over anytime soon,” he said, turning around. “I have some thinking to do. I suggest pulling up a comfortable patch of floor and settling in. I dare say, we’re in for one heck of a night.”

“You’ve officially lost your damn mind,” Nate said. “That’s got to be the craziest bunch of bullsh—”

“What, we’re just gonna sleep
here
?” Danny interrupted. “With no blankets or anything? And then what?”

At that, thunder shook the entire room, silencing us. The light flickered, and seconds later, went out for good. With a
click
, the doctor flipped the switch on one of the lanterns he’d picked up.

“We’re going to do all we can do, from this moment forward,” he said, his face illuminated by the soft light. “Survive.”

Chapter 3

Silence enveloped the room. 
Survive
played on repeat in my head, and the absurdity of our situation started settling in. The six of us stared at one another for a few minutes before Nate broke the silence with a scoff and made a beeline in my direction.

“This is ridiculous,” he said, nearly stepping on my foot once he reached the stairs. “I guarantee that things have calmed down by now.”

“I highly recommend staying down here,” Dr. Fowler called out, but he made no move toward Nate. Instead, he only watched as Nate climbed the stairs. It must not have been too bad out there if he wasn’t dragging him back down, right? He wouldn’t possibly allow a patient to get hurt. That had to be against
some
kind of rule.

 I watched Nate approach the door, curious as to what would happen. Was the doctor as loony as the rest of us? Or was he right?

The very second Nate turned the handle, the door burst open, taking him right along with it as he yelled. I shrieked and jumped to my feet, and Ethan pushed past me to charge up the steps. My heart raced as I followed him, but stopped short when he pulled Nate back toward the staircase. Between the two of them, they barely managed to pull the door shut. As Nate stumbled down the steps, panting for breath, Ethan secured the deadbolt on the door and turned back to us with wide, frantic eyes.

“Holy shit,” Nate said with a wheeze. He leaned over to put both hands on his knees. “Son of a bitch.”

Dr. Fowler cleared his throat. “I hate to say I told you so.” He shook his head and lowered himself to sit on the step stool once again. “Moves like that, at a time such as this, are a good way to get yourself killed. As I was saying—make yourselves comfortable.”

Nate, who seemed to have regained a bit of his fire, stomped down the stairs and back to his place beside Danny, who clapped him on the back a couple of times. The two of them took seats on the floor, as did Haven. I followed suit, sitting down at the foot of the stairs with my back against the wall. A moment later, Ethan sat next to me, leaving only an inch or so of space between us. He looked the same as I remembered, but there was something different about his eyes. They looked older, in a way. They looked like they held stories, stories that were buried deep down and haunted him.

“How long is this supposed to last?” Danny asked after a long silence. The contempt his voice once held was gone. Now, he sounded scared. Paranoid. “A day? A week?”

“As long as it wants to last,” Dr. Fowler replied.

I narrowed my eyes, having had enough of his sudden short answers. When I opened my mouth to tell him just that, he spoke again.

“While each soldier is given at least twenty-four hours to do as he pleases, each phase lasts one week. So, in theory, this particular storm can continue as long as it wishes until the next scroll is broken. Then, a new form of destruction commences.”

Soldiers of the apocalypse. Ancient scrolls in the hands of some guy barely older than me. And the world crashing down around us. The doctor should have a mental evaluation of his own.

Danny scoffed. “How do we even know—”

“Can we please tone down the hostility in here?” Haven drew her knees to her chest. She was huddled in a corner, looking like a frightened puppy. “Can’t we just do like he said and rest? I’m exhausted, Danny. You’re tired and crankier than usual, and it’s not even night yet. And I don’t know about you, but my brain needs time to process all of this without a bunch of yelling.”

The room became silent again at her request, and while I craved more answers, she was right. It wouldn’t do much good to keep probing someone who obviously didn’t want to elaborate; though for what reason, I had no idea. I could only hope we’d either get out of this room soon, or that he’d tell us more of what he knew.

“So.” Ethan’s low voice interrupted me from my thoughts, and I turned to look at him. His lips turned up into a tiny smile. “I’m guessing you remember me?”

His question confused me, and then I remembered admitting to “kind of” knowing him just a few minutes earlier. I managed a smile and nodded. It would have been hard to forget him. He was the only kid in our class who came to school with fresh bruises every day, yet acted as if nothing was out of sorts.

“And I guess that means you remember me?” I asked.

“Well, it’s only been a few months since I last saw you. I think I’d be a little insulted if you forgot about me that quickly. I’m sure the feeling’s mutual.”

I laughed lightly, which he returned with a smile so warm it darn near melted me on the spot. Just like that, it almost felt as if we were the only ones left in the room. However, a loud hacking cough from Nate reminded me that wasn’t the case. I shivered from the mental image of what just happened, of how he was almost another victim of whatever was going on. Just like Dr. Tyler . . . I forced her blood-streaked face from my memory. I had no idea exactly what was taking place above our room. All I knew was that the wind still howled loud enough to be heard through the cement walls surrounding us.

“Junior year feels like ages ago,” I said. “But you’re right—it’s only been a few months since then. You left in . . . what was it? April?”

The breath-taking smile wavered. He cleared his throat while repositioning himself, crossing his legs out in front of him. “Yeah,” he said under his breath. “April.”

Realizing he didn’t want to elaborate, I lowered my voice and asked, “What do you think?” I nodded toward Dr. Fowler. “About what he said, I mean. You think there’s any truth to it?”

The tension lifted with the topic change. With a glance in the doctor’s direction, Ethan shrugged. “He really seems to believe it,” he said. “But I don’t know. I mean, this is all pretty far-fetched. Honestly, I think he may have read one too many fantasy books. Come on—he tells us the world’s ending, then just says ‘go to sleep’? Who
does
that?”

I snorted. He had a point. But when I looked at the doctor, who appeared to be deep in thought, I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. “What about this guy he says he treated? The one supposedly doing all this? That’s a lot to make up. Pretty extravagant story, you know?”

Ethan shrugged again. “I have no idea what to think. For now? I’m just planning on riding out this storm for the rest of the day, night, whatever. Guess we’ll see what happens in the morning.” He reached over to rub his thumb across the cut on my cheek. Even though his touch was feather soft, my skin still tingled once his hand dropped to his side.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.

“I’m okay.” The words came out in some kind of weird gurgle, like I’d forgotten how to talk. He bit back a smile, but didn’t mention my newfound idiocy. Brownie point for him. “Besides, the cuts probably make me look tougher, right?”

“Much tougher,” he said with an exaggerated nod.

“You’re lying through your teeth.”

“Maybe.”

I giggled, which earned me another one of those heart-melting smiles of his. Why the heck was someone like him in a place like this? Back in school, he’d always struck me as a nice guy. He kept to himself a lot, actually. Of course, I was also in “a place like this,” so what did that say about me? Way to be a judgy-McJudgerson, Kerrigan.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Ethan’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he took a quick breath. When I gave him a small nod, he continued, “You don’t have to answer, obviously, but . . . well, why are you here? You don’t exactly strike me as the type to have behavior problems, or whatever.”

And apparently I’d found myself a mind-reader. His eyes focused on mine, and while one look into them told me I could trust him, this wasn’t really something I preferred to broadcast to the world. Though, Dr. Fowler had outed my craziness just a few minutes earlier. And Danny did say everyone knew that I “saw things.”
Blah
.
Way to make me feel more psychotic than I already do.

“Haven’t you heard?” I finally answered with mock seriousness. “I’m crazy.”

He gave me an “oh please” kind of look, so I rolled my eyes and let out a long breath. It was all or nothing with this guy.

“I have these dreams, and they’re really realistic. Sometimes, they’re
too
realistic. That’s what landed me here.” I paused, wondering if I should keep going. He didn’t seem to be scared away yet, so maybe he wasn’t too put off by my nuttiness.

“There’s something else.” He studied my face, and I couldn’t get over the intensity of his stare; it was like he could see through me. I guess in a way, he could. It was the second time he’d called me out on my vagueness, after all.

“I freaked out in class one day.” I looked to my hands, which were folded in my lap. “I saw fire . . . and I actually
felt . . .
”

Tears pricked my eyes. I paused, terrified I’d turn into a sobbing basket case in front of him. He shifted and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. It wasn’t some sleazy guy move, but one meant for comfort. And I kind of loved him for it at that moment.

“A few weeks ago, I started dreaming of everyone dying: me, my parents, my sister. And that day in class, I thought it was really about to happen. I thought that was the end.”

“Back when we were in school together,” he said only loud enough for me to hear, “I noticed you space out once in a while. I just thought you were daydreaming or something.”

 “That’s what I thought, too,” I said. My gaze flickered to Dr. Fowler. “Now, I’m not so sure.” Maybe it
was
more. Maybe there really was something wrong with my brain.

His hold on me tightened slightly, and instead of fighting the tears, I let them slip down my cheeks. There was no point in trying to hide it. He knew the truth—the gist of it, anyway. And I had a feeling no one else in the room really gave a crap about me crying. Heck, Nate and Danny would probably laugh about it in the morning once we got out of there.
If
we got out of there.

“For what it’s worth,” Ethan continued, “I never thought you were crazy. I still don’t.”

“That actually means a lot,” I whispered. I rested my head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” And with that, my eyelids fluttered close. I felt no embarrassment with him. I felt no uncertainty. In fact, even with the chaos of the previous few minutes, I actually felt safe.

I was asleep within seconds.

~*o*~

A radio crackling to life startled me awake some time later. The fact that it was static waking me up, rather than a nightmare, was a welcome change. Either I was too exhausted to dream, or . . . actually, considering I’d barely slept more than a few hours per night in recent days, my bets were on exhaustion.

Ethan was snoring lightly to my right, with his head relaxed back against the wall. Tweedledee and Tweedledum were sprawled out on the floor in front of us, dead to the world. Haven was still in a little ball in the corner. Dr. Fowler fiddled with a small radio that rested on a storage shelf, and, doing my best not to disturb Ethan, I reluctantly removed his arm from my shoulder and stood. He looked so peaceful—the last thing I wanted to do was wake him. I had a strange feeling we wouldn’t be getting much sleep after tonight.

I padded over to where the doctor worked with the radio’s antenna, but all I heard was more static. He briefly glanced up when he noticed my presence, but shifted his eyes back to the radio.

“You should be resting, Ms. Monroe.”

I stopped an inch or so away from him and crossed my arms in front of my chest. A chill had settled over the room in the time I’d been sleeping. I wished there was a way I could go grab a hoodie or something, but that probably wasn’t the brightest idea. Not after what’d happened to Nate.