Passageways & Portals: Rebirth, Part 7

He pictured all of this, not as if he had just seen in seconds before, but as if the memory of this place was burned into his brain. He opened his eyes and looked around. Everything was just as he had pictured it in his mind. That feeling of déjà vu came back stronger than before. The feeling of it consumed it and he found it hard to breath.

Quickly he walked through the room, reaching for the door on the opposite side of the dresser and making his way into the bathroom beyond. He didn’t need to look around, he went straight to the sink on the opposite end of the room.  Turning on the tap, he began to splash the water that came out of the stainless steel faucet on his face. Next to the sink was a towel rack with a hand towel on it, the man didn’t need to look to know it was there sense memory reminded him that it was there, so he picked it up and dried his face off.

He looked around the bathroom; it was like an inverted version of James and Ronald’s bathroom, but cleaner. There were no stray towels in this bathroom; they were neatly hung up on towel racks. The bathtub was built into the wall, not on metal legs like the other bathtub. This tub also had a shower and a maroon shower curtain pulled halfway around the tub concealing most of the tub. Otherwise, the bathroom was nearly identical to that of the boys.

The man walked back through the door into George and Dorothy’s room. As he had done in the boys’ room, he wanted to look through the window to get a glimpse of the outside. Unlike the window in the other room this window was closed. He crawled onto the bed, his knees on the pillows, and peered out the window.

Where the family was at quickly was answered, they were in the back of the house. In the middle of the decently sized backyard was George, James, and Ronald each of them were wearing baseball gloves and they were passing a baseball between them. A little closer to the house, Dorothy lay on a lawn chair in a bathing suit reading a book; it was a great day for a tan.

The man sat there feeling as though he had been here before, in this very moment. A sense of dread pressed down on his shoulders. The image below him was a happy moment, but he felt as though it wouldn’t be happy for too much longer. He wanted to shout out to them to leave, get out of here, but he knew that no one would understand that he was in their house. Somehow, he felt that he knew these people, but he didn’t know how. Would they recognize him if he cried out to them?

Before he could even contemplate that idea further, James looked up at the window. The man wanted to leave, wanted to bolt down the stairs and leave the house, but he was rooted to the spot. James squinted as he looked up at the window. He began to say something to George and Ronald, it was muffled through the window and the man couldn’t pick out exactly what he was saying. Both George and Ronald looked up at the window; Dorothy laid her book on her chest and did the same. James pointed up at the window.

Just then, a loud but distant boom caused the man and the family in the backyard to jump. They turned their attention from the upstairs window and began to look around, but the man was no longer paying attention to them. A great pain shot through his head, from his forehead to the back of his head as if he was splitting in two. He doubled over onto the bed, his eyes streaming tears. 

Shaking from the great pain in his head, he lifted his hand to his face and wiped away the tears. He forced himself back up to the window and looked out. It was hard to see through the pain, but he could tell the sky was lit up bright as a roman candle. The sight of it made his head hurt even worse, but he refused to turn away. A rumble could be heard, it seemed as though the window and the wall might muffle it but he could tell it was getting louder.

He chanced a look down where George, James, and Ronald were previously playing catch, but they were gone. He looked to the lawn chair where Dorothy had once sat but she too was gone. Where they could have gone he didn’t know, but he knew no one was safe. 

 Everything started to happen in slow motion. The ache in his head got worse as everything started to become intensely hot like the sun was bearing down on the house. A massive gust of wind rocked the house, threatening to knock it off its foundation, and blowing out every window in the house including the way he looked through. The man was sure that shards of the window and penetrated his skin, but he couldn’t feel any pain but the throbbing of his aching head. The trees behind the backyard had all been leveled and the man could see a wall of smoke coming at him. 

This was what he expected, this is what he knew was coming. In that moment, though, all he could do was hope that the aching in his head would stop. The pillar of smoke and debris couldn’t reach him soon enough, he felt as though it was taking its sweet time getting there. Then the walls of the house began to disintegrate and he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Everything accelerated and he was thankful. Soon the headache was gone, as was all feeling and thought.

Passageways & Portals: Rebirth, Part 6

Ronald’s side of the room was much more orderly. Most of his “precious” belongings seemed to be confined to a couple shelves that hung above his Rolling Stone’s poster where a younger James probably couldn’t get to them without bringing the entire shelving units down. On the side wall, the man could see that there were quite a few comics kept in pristine condition still in their plastic covers with cardboard backs. A couple of hard cover books, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, Detective, stood on either side of the comics to keep them from falling over. Over the head of the bed, there was a .22 rifle with boxes of ammunition and air cartridges.

The entire room was almost perfectly split down the middle. Each boy had his own dresser that stood on the wall opposite the heads of the beds. In between the dressers there did stand a small table on which stood a transistor radio. Besides a few of James’ toys this was the only thing that stood in the neutral space of the room. 

Above the table with the radio there was a window that stood slightly open. The man could feel a slight breeze coming in from the outside and he closed his eyes as he took in the smell of freshly mown lawn and summer. He walked up to it and peered outside. A family on bicycles was riding past the house, and across the street a man was mowing his lawn; he waved to the bikers as they passed. It was a beautiful neighborhood: a place that he knew, or where he could say he belonged.

He turned away from the window and walked out of the room. Right next to the door leading into James and Ronnie’s room led another door, so he decided to see what was in there. He peered his head into that room and saw a bathroom and mild chaos. Immediately by the door stood a sink covered in washcloths and toothpaste. In between the sink and the mirror just above it, there was a metal tray screwed into the wall holding a nearly disintegrated bar of soap. 

In the middle of the bathroom floor sat a couple disheveled and still moderately wet towels. Next to the sink, right in front of the towels stood the toilet, the lid was closed and it looked to be fairly clean. At least they’re not complete savages, the man thought to himself with a chuckle.

Across the room was the bathtub, a porcelain tub on four metal feet. The brim of the tub was littered with GI Joe action figures and various other toys. He thought to himself that these were most likely the toys of James, if Ronald ever played with them it was most likely in private and he would never admit it in public. The thought of George or Dorothy walking in on him as he played with children’s toys made the man laugh as he pictured Ronald quickly tossing the toys with a horrified look. Teenage boys were above those sorts of games.

He walked out of the bathroom and across the hall to the next door. As he entered the door he knew he was in George and Dorothy’s room. To his right there was a king sized bed. The bed was perfectly made with an ornate maroon colored bed spread complete with elaborate designs in gold. Above the bed was a window with drapes matching the bedspread. As he stared at the bed he realized how tired he was and wanted to fall into it and curl up in the sheets. He figured that move would be imprudent though, he didn’t know how long he had before the family came home.

Where were they anyway? he asked himself. And why am I here? The answer to that last question didn’t come to him as readily as he had expected. Every so often the reason he was here seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, a feeling of déjà vu flittered around in the back of his mind, but it always seemed to go away like an apparition seen from the corner of the eye. 

He stood in the doorway of the room and closed his eyes. In his mind he could picture the exact layout of the room. He could picture the matching mahogany stands on either side of the bed down to the designs carved in the wood. He could see the wrought iron lamps that stood on either stand that matched those in the living room on the end tables. The old-fashioned chest that sat at the foot of the bed with the logo of the defunct British East India Trading Company branded into its lid was clear in his mind, as was the dresser that stood on the opposite wall. There on the other side of the dresser was the door leading to the adjoining bathroom, and across the room was the door leading to the walk in closet.

Passageways & Portals: Rebirth, Part 5

As he walked up the stairs he saw more pictures of the children he saw in the picture frame on the hutch in frames of bronze lining the walls. Most of the pictures were staged in a studio depicting the kids at different ages as they grew up. A few other shots that lined the walls showed the kids at play in a yard or by a creak. Here there was a picture of one of the boys learning to ride a bicycle as the father held on to the back of the seat. There a picture hung showing the older kid posing in a middle school football uniform. 

The young man felt as though he should be able to recall the boys’ names, but nothing was coming to mind. A sense of nostalgia creeped over him as he walked through the house, but he couldn’t figure out where the sense came from. Everything seemed just where it should be as if he would have put it here if he lived here. Had he lived there?

He looked around the second floor of the house. Off to the left near the stairs and before the first bedroom stood a small cabinet with a couple of drawers. The young man walked up to the cabinet and opened up the top drawer. Inside he found various cards that celebrated various holidays and birthdays for the family members.

One of the cards read, “George, Dorothy, Ronny, and Jimmy, We hope you have a very merry Christmas and the happiest of New Years! Love Andrew and Wendy” From this card he determined that the patriarch of the family must be George, and his wife was Dorothy, the mother of the children who were Ronny and Jimmy. As he dug through the cards and looked at a few more his suspicions were confirmed with a few anniversary cards written from George to Dorothy and from Dorothy to George. Out of curiosity, he pulled all of the anniversary cards out of the drawer and made two stacks: one stack comprised solely of the cards addressed to George and another of the ones solely addressed to Dorothy. After he was sure he had all of the anniversary cards, he counted each stack. When he was done, each stack had fifteen cards in them, so he felt confident in saying that the couple had been married for fifteen years.

He pulled out the birthday cards for Ronny and Jimmy, some of which were addressed to Ronald and James, and isolated the ones that were signed, “Love Mom and Dad.” For their number of birthday cards he came up with nine for Ronny and two for Jimmy. He went through the drawer again, but realized that they probably didn’t get cards for the kids until they were old enough to appreciate them. Especially considering they both looked a bit older than nine and two.

He took all of the cards and placed them back in the drawer. For a moment, he thought about going further down the hall but he didn’t know exactly how long he had here so he decided to explore the upstairs a little more. 

Looking over the layout of the upstairs there were four doors leading to rooms, two on either wall to his left or right, and across the hall was a window that stood partially propped open. He came to the first door on his right and looked in. This was obviously the boys’ room.  Hanging from middle of the ceiling was a complete replica of the solar system. On the far wall just above the bed was a poster of the band The Beatles, and hanging over the bed closest to the door was a poster of the band The Rolling Stones. Above the head of each bed were the names of each boy carved in stained wood. James slept in the far bed while Ronald slept in the bed closest to the door.

From the look of the room, the young man assumed that James was the younger of the two. James’ side of the room was littered with toys that an older boy most likely wouldn’t be interested in from a Major Matt Mason doll and matching Jane Apollo to assorted GI Joes and the Batman and Robin who assisted them with their matchbox cars. The man questioned if the parents would scold young James when they saw the shape of his side of the room. The thought made the young man laugh a little to himself.

Passageways & Portals: Rebirth, Part 4

Everything was only black for a second. When the young man came to, he was no longer in the crater. The old man was no longer standing next to him. Instead he now sat in a plush leather recliner in the living room of a house that seemed vaguely familiar to him. Why, though, he wasn’t sure.

The living room seemed fairly big. He looked around; next to his recliner was a matching plush leather sofa and love seat on the other side of that. On either side of the sofa stood end tables with coasters and lamps with wrought iron bases standing on them. A coffee table with tinted glass for its surface took up the center of the room. Across the room sat a large television with a wood paneled exterior. The TV sat in the middle of a bookshelf that seemed to double as an entertainment center. The bookshelf was expansive and filled with many leather bound books. The young man wondered if the owner could have actually read all of the books on the shelf. The floors were all dark hardwood. 

He went to stand up and found that his equilibrium was off balance again. He fell back into the chair feeling a little dizzy. Slowly he sat up placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The spinning of the room around him started to slow as a dull ache started to form in the center of his brain. As the spinning subsided, he tried to stand up once again while holding on to the arm of the recliner. The room wobbled but began to come back to a halt as he released his grip on the recliner.

For a moment he stood in a crouched position after releasing the recliner letting the room balance out. As the room evened out he walked over to the bookshelf and viewed some of the titles that sat there. Early editions and leather-bound copies of various types of literature sat on the shelves. He identified authors from JRR Tolkien to CS Lewis to Mark Twain and more. 

Just to the right of the bookshelf there was a hutch built into the wall of the living room. Behind glass doors on shelves at the top of the hutch stood various keepsakes and figurines, most likely the possessions of the lady of the house he considered. Just underneath these cabinets there were mirrors set into the wall leading down to a counter where family pictures stood. The pictures each portrayed an older couple, a man and a woman, and two boys. One of the boys appeared to be in his early teens and the other was around five or six. He picked up one of the pictures and stared at it for a moment; the picture sat in a wooden frame and showed the family sitting in an empty field. I think I know these people, he thought, but how?

He set the picture back down and looked up the stairs that ascended to the second floor of the house that stood to the right of the hutch. There was also another doorway that led to a dining room and a kitchen beyond that off to the right. The young man considered which route to take, even considering the possibility of walking out. The last option was quickly tossed from his mind. There had to be some reason why he was here and he was determined to figure it out.

With that logic he decided to move up the stairs instead of to the kitchen. He didn’t think he could learn anything from the kitchen, at least not as much as he could learn from the second floor of this massive house.

The Black Ring: Chapter 3, Part 16

“Yeah, we did.” Bryson could feel the anger ebbing away, but he didn’t want to let it go. He wanted to tell Ian that he thought back to those days too and that he wished they could go back to the best days of their lives. The gravity of the situation didn’t allow him to do so though. If Ian was indeed a CIA agent then the situation was graver than he had thought.

They reached the parking lot and Bryson could finally see Ian’s face clearer and he was surprised by what he saw. The bruises and scars came through much clearer with the artificial light of the parking lights shining on his face. Bryson began to feel a little bad about how he had treated Ian a few minutes ago.

Ian pulled out a little disc that looked like a mini version of the floppy discs that were used for old computers; this particular disc was about the size of a cartridge you’d stick in a Nintendo DS. That’s actually what Bryson thought it was when he first took it from Ian. In answer to his quizzical look Ian said, “I don’t have a badge or anything I can flash, we don’t work like that.”

“Then what the hell is this?” Bryson asked.

“This is why I asked you out here. I work for a black ops department of the CIA and I’ve been mistaken for being a double agent. That disc I just gave you is the only thing that can clear me, and it has some valuable information about other double agents working within the CIA.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“Not everyone that’s working for this anti-American organization within the CIA is on that disk, so I don’t know who I can trust within the CIA. I’ve got both the CIA and these double agents after me and I need some place safe to keep it until I can find an outlet within the CIA to vet it for me. I figured, well, I hoped that you were still someone I could trust.”

“Should you have told me any of that? I mean, if someone were to find out that we talked could I get away with plausible deniability?”

Ian laughed, not a pleasurable laugh but a cold laugh that Bryson could tell stemmed from his own naiveté. “Plausible deniability? You’ve been watching too many movies! That’s why I asked you to pick some place we’d be alone. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t putting you in anymore danger than I had to, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not in danger. If they CIA finds you, you’ll probably just end up hidden away somewhere so you can’t divulge any secrets you’ve learned. If a double agent finds you though, whether you know anything or not you’ll probably end up dead.”

Bryson could feel his blood beginning to boil again. “Why bring it to me? I don’t want to be marked for death! You fucked up my life once, did you really need to do it again? Why didn’t you just take it to Julie? Last I saw you two were pretty close.”

“That wasn’t what it looked like. Besides I couldn’t go to Julie even if I wanted to, she’s dead.”

Bryson felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on his head causing his mind to draw a blank. Any anger he had for Ian vanished from his mind, and all thought of that day ten years ago drifted off into the night. He may have held a grudge all this time but he never wished any harm on either of them. As if trying to find his breath, Bryson finally drew enough composure to ask, “Wh… what happened?”

Ian looked down for a moment before looking Bryson in the eye and replying, “I killed her.”

Bryson felt himself falter a little bit. Was he even standing up straight anymore? He felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. His high school flame, the girl he still considered the love of his life, the girl who made him a man, had been killed by his best friend. He didn’t know how to respond or what to say next. He never had to come up with the words.

“Get down!” Ian shouted as he pushed Bryson down to the ground. Bryson could hear the bullet whiz past his ear as he fell.

The Black Ring: Chapter 3, Part 15

Bryson jumped at the touch. “What the fuck man?! You couldn’t just come up in front of me?” As Bryson turned around he saw a slight smile on Ian’s face as though Ian wanted to laugh but couldn’t bring himself to. He looked different than the Ian Bryson knew growing up. He was more muscular, but his face was gaunt, lines of age and chipped away at the youthful exterior Bryson had once knew; the youthful glee that had once gripped his face was replaced by a weariness far beyond his years.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t risk you running in the opposite direction if I just walked out in front of you,” Ian answered. “Since it’s not well lit here I figured that was the best way to keep you from leaving.” The thought that went into Ian’s movements disturbed Bryson even further. Why was he putting so much thought into this? Was he in trouble? Was he thinking of himself or Bryson when he came up with a meeting place and all of these security measures?

“What the hell is going on here?” Bryson asked. And then it all exploded out of him: “It’s been ten years Ian, ten fucking years! Do you know how many times I’ve thought about contacting you? Millions, I mean we were best friend since we were four; that was fourteen years! Do you know why I never contacted you? The last time I looked you in the face you were taking up my place in Julie’s bed you asshole; and now you come to me in the middle of the night after not speaking for years because you want something from me? You need my help? Why didn’t you think of that when you fucked Julie?! And then you start pulling this cloak and dagger routine like you expect me to buy the fact that you’re actually in danger so you can… I don’t know get me to loan you money or whatever. Well, fuck it man, I don’t owe you shit! You owe me!”

Ian was silent for a few moments just staring at Bryson. Bryson couldn’t tell if he was dumbstruck or choosing his next words wisely, either way he didn’t like the silence. Finally Ian spoke, “I know, I owe you a lot of things, mostly explanations. We don’t have time for me to explain them all, but first off I want you know that I never meant for things to go this far, to last this long, and I’ve thought about reaching out to you but certain circumstances have prevented me from doing so. I’m sorry for that. I wish I could tell you more, but right now I can’t give you too much information. Right now I need your help.”

Bryson struggled for a moment to grasp the meaning behind all of this. “What could have been so important to keep you away for so long?”

“I can’t get into that right now, besides the less you know the better,” Ian responded.

“No, goddammit! If you want me to help you then you’re going to tell me why I should help you now!”

“I can’t Bryson, it’s too dangerous.”

“Then that is it, I can’t help you with something I know nothing about. If you really want my help then you will tell me why I should help you not just how I can help you.” Ian turned his head away in the darkness and kept quiet. “Fine, there’s your answer,” Bryson finally said, “I’m leaving, you can figure this out on your own.” Bryson stepped past Ian and began to walk up the path the way he came.

“I’m CIA, Bryson,” Ian called after him. Bryson stopped in his tracks and turned around.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. CIA? No, Ian was just messing with him to try to get him to listen. He couldn’t really be CIA, could he? “There’s a pool down the trail a little bit…”

“Yeah, I saw it when I was checking out the area.”

“Before you tell me anymore we’re going to go up there and you’re going to prove it to me.”

“Ok, but time’s running out.” Together they walked toward the parking lot outside the pool. Bryson tried not to look at Ian on the way there. He felt he had the upper hand and he didn’t want to lose that by showing any further sign of weakness. “Remember that time we snuck onto Draa Field and played football before getting caught?” Ian asked.

“Yeah,” Bryson responded curtly.

“I keep going back to that day in my mind. That and the day they found that ten foot gator hangin’ out in the creak by your house. We had some good times back then.”

The Black Ring: Chapter 3, Part 14

Like a warring enemy though, an antithetical thought popped into his head just as his mind was made up: Ian filling up Bryson’s space in Julie’s bed. After all these years that image was seared in Bryson’s memory and he couldn’t erase it. He was almost to Colburn Park and anger and hate sprouted where forgiveness had stood merely a moment ago. He would not forgive Ian and he would not help Ian no matter what it was. If it weren’t for Ian he would probably be in a better place right now, he would probably be leading a better life with a better job and with Julie by his side. Whether any of that would have come true or not might have been a matter of conjecture, but all Bryson knew was that Ian had robbed him of any opportunity of finding out if something could have come from their plans and this was the first time he could really punish him for it.

Bryson parked outside the park and turned the engine of his car off. He wish he had brought a beer with him to chug back before having to meet Ian for the first time in years but the shock kept him from thinking things through properly. He heaved a sigh and rubbed at his face, his sense of nervousness displaying through his inability to stop fidgeting.

Finally he slowly opened the car door and stepped out. Quietly he shut the car door while looking for any sign of onlookers. He was quite sure the park was dead and empty, but Ian’s secrecy and paranoia was catching. Bryson made his way up to the pavilion but didn’t see Ian anywhere. Not knowing where Ian was contacting him from Bryson figured he could give him a few minutes to show up. Bryson found a picnic table under the pavilion, stepped up onto the bench and took a seat on the table top to wait.

To pass the time, Bryson pulled out his smartphone and started playing Angry Birds. Just as he was getting into the game a call came in from an unlisted number. Normally Bryson would just hit ignore, but since Ian hadn’t shown up and had already proved to be adept at finding him online that he should probably answer it in case the call was Ian.

“Hello?” Bryson answered the call.

“Are you alone? Is there anyone else around?” a voice answered on the other end.

“Ian?”

“Yeah, is there anyone else around? I just need to know that you weren’t followed or anything.”

“I looked around when I got here and I didn’t see anyone.”

“Okay, you probably wouldn’t know what to look for anyway.”

Bryson thought to himself, What would I need to be looking for? But he didn’t say it out loud. “Where are you?”

“There’s a trail behind the pavilion…”

“Yeah, I know,” Bryson said getting a little irritated with the cloak and dagger routine.

“Follow it a little ways into the more wooded areas, try not to freak out; I’ll find you when you approach my position.”

Before Bryson could answer Ian hung up the phone. Things were really getting weird, and Bryson was half tempted to walk away, but morbid curiosity won out over his other instincts. This was no longer about his past with Bryson, he was more curious about what Ian had going on that was leading to such secrecy. He looked around one more time and walked to the trail behind the pavilion.

He walked quietly and slowly, not because he thought anyone was following or watching, but because the stillness of the night seemed to demand it. It had been a while since he had walked this path. Mike lived close to Colburn and when Bryson had first moved to Green Bay he would walk this trail to help keep himself in shape after his discharge from the military. It especially helped in the wake of his boot camp injury. As he got further and further away from boot though he exercised less and less and all but forgot about his walks in Colburn Park.

Now it all seemed foreign to him. He recalled those walks listening to his iPod and watching local middle school kids play bocce ball, but this seemed to be the bizzaro version of that world. Too quiet, too night, and there was too much Ian standing behind him tapping on his shoulder.

The Black Ring: Chapter 3, Part 13

            What the fuck?! Those were the three words that kept going through Bryson’s head as he drove down Mason Street. One moment he was mired in self-pity and the next moment he was confronting his past, facing the moment his life had changed forever. He had pictured this moment for a long time but never expected it to come. Hell, he thought, ten years had gone by without a word, why now? Everything that he had thought about the moment shit hit the fan dissolved and intensified in his mind at the same time.

            What would he say? If it was asked of him would he forgive? Or would he through it back in the face of the accused? So many things ran through his head that he didn’t know what to think. Then another surge of anger sprang through him. Never once had either of “them” contacted him in ten years, and now the only reason he was here was because he needed something. It was obviously huge if he came all the way to Green Bay for Bryson’s help. But why should Bryson help him at all?

            Was Ian in trouble? He messaged Bryson under an assumed name, so either he was in trouble or he knew that Bryson would never answer a message under Ian’s name. On top of that Ian requested a meeting in the middle of the night in a park where they could avoid being seen. Bryson knew Ian must not know Green Bay that well, if he did he would have known that they could have met in the middle Wal-Mart and not been seen. But what did he need all the secrecy for?

            He had asked Ian while they were online, but Ian was in a hurry and wanted to make the meet as soon as possible. He swore that he would explain as much as he could as soon as they met but seemed to be leery of the idea of revealing anything online. Bryson offered a meeting place in Colburn Park on the west side of town. He knew it would be deserted, even if they would have been able to meet a few hours earlier, and there was a pavilion they could meet under and go for a walk into more wooded area than they needed to.

The other benefit to meeting in Colburn Park was the fact that it was on the west side of town. Sure he could hop on the highway and make it there fast if he wanted to, but he needed some extra time to process what all of this meant. That’s why he currently found himself at the intersection of Webster and Mason preparing to cross the Mason Street Bridge into the west side while contemplating the idea of forgiving Ian without provocation.

To be honest as much as Bryson hated to admit it, and didn’t to anyone except himself, he missed Ian and often considered the idea that they would make up if they ever saw each other again. He spent most of his life being friends with Ian, and for most of that time they were inseparable which made the last ten years somewhat difficult. He still hadn’t found any friends that he had the same kind of bond with. Often times he thought about seeking out Ian himself, but dropped the idea from his mind when stubbornness kicked in; why should he be the one to make the first step?

Now he didn’t need to make the first step, but it happened so abruptly he didn’t know what to think. At one moment an image of playing Jedi with sticks, Bryson as Darth Vader and Ian as Luke Skywalker, popped in his head. They used to like to go out into a patch of woods off Dixie Highway and have battles or try to see if they could make things levitate using the force. He also thought of fashioning big turtle shells out of old boxes and playing around with a pair of nunchaku to become Michelangelo from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles while Ian would dawn a cardboard shell and carry a stick so that he could portray Donatello. In that moment Bryson knew that he needed his best friend back.