D M Pruden - [Mel Destin SS] - Owen's Gift (html) Read online

  I held concerns they might come looking for me, but after the third day I started to relax and believe they did not know about how Owen and I procured a second cylinder. They’d contracted him to retrieve the stolen item from me and…too bad for him. I smiled to myself until my bruised cheeks ached.

  With him gone from my life, an open vista lay before me. Cable and all of us girls in the house now enjoyed the opportunity to create our own futures. The prospect frightened everyone.

  I returned the metal object to my pocket and my finger brushed against something. I pulled out the business card the old man gave me many weeks before. The name of Walter Bickell stood out on it, and I recalled his offer to pay for my education. He told me the sky was the limit and I would make a fine doctor or engineer. I liked the sound of doctor. I didn’t have a clue what an engineer did. Whatever I chose, he offered to take me away from Oldon to build a new life. Maybe he was like the fairy godmother in the story I read to Owen.

  A tear ran down my cheek as I remembered his cheery face. I worried I killed him by pushing him into the river. Didn’t he say he swam? Or did he only imply it? Did he hope I might be able to swim for the both of us? I wanted to console myself with the notion I saved him from something much worse. No matter how I considered the situation, my thoughts aways came back to the fact I pushed him. If he was dead, it was by my hand.

  How could I accept the miraculous offer made to me if I was responsible for the death of Owen? Fate dangled an opportunity of a lifetime before me and my conscience would not allow me to seize it. I needed to learn if he survived.

  I wasted almost an hour persuading Cable to return me to the city on his hover bike. I didn’t know where to find the warehouse, so he dropped me at the hotel where everything started.

  I got lost as I tried to retrace my steps. I searched for recognizable shops and signs; anything indicating I was there before. Everything appeared different and the same, but not familiar. I spent most of the morning turning in fruitless circles before I thought to look above the canyons of the streets.

  The Sato office tower loomed over every other building in New London, and served as a landmark for me to base my search upon. In another hour I walked along a road convinced I had been on before. I stood on the corner as the crowds of people flowed around me, peering from one end of the street to the other in search of some familiar sign telling me I was on the right track.

  My eyes locked onto some graffiti in an alley way. I ran to it and examined the art work. Buried among the complex tags of multiple artists, untouched and isolated, stood out the symbol Owen explained to me was the mark of his people, the Trogs.

  I hurried down the lane to the next street, where I discovered another one. I recalled how Owen used them to guide us around the labyrinth of streets and alleys. Within half an hour they brought me to Draco’s shop. From there I easily retraced our steps until I found myself before the wrecked frontage of the warehouse building.

  I entered the darkened structure and pulled out the light I remembered to bring. I nervously followed the winding hallways Owen led me down when we’d first met, eventually emerging into the familiar empty space of the building’s interior.

  With anticipation, I located the grate guarding his secret alcove. Peering through the holes in search of the lantern’s light, I saw only inky darkness. I pulled up the grating and shone my torch inside. There was no sign of Owen’s return.

  My beam fell onto his bed and the tattered old teddy bear upon it. Grief overwhelmed me while I crawled to the mattress and hugged the tiny figure to my chest. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I sat in that place, consumed by guilt and regret. The flashlight dropped from my limp hands to the ground, its beam of light splashing on the wall beside the wooden box. There, in the corner, a dark object caught my attention.

  I picked up Owen’s cold and damp magic sack.

  My tears of grief were transformed into ones of joy. I couldn’t wait for his return so I could read to him another story.

 

 

  Owen's Gift (html), D M Pruden - [Mel Destin SS] - Owen's Gift (html)

 

 

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