Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Scorps

Will stood by the door after stashing the board in its hiding spot.  It was a grim sight.  The Shack forced its light into the yard glaring at the surrounding junk.  A few pieces that went unnoticed before were smashed in the walkway, the usual organized chaos marred by slight disturbances.  Something had happened. 

He settled on Mr. Mathews’ work area to keep watch.  The stone slab leading to the Shack’s wall was level under his feet with various vices and larger tools welded in place.  They would provide cover if anything happened.   

The glimpses he snatched through the door shook him.  He wanted to be by Chleo’s side.  She shouldn’t have to search her ruined home alone, but someone needed to watch their backs.  He was more help outside. Chleo would shout if she found something.

A glint caught his eye.  He focused on the patch of grass lit beside the door.  Slowly, he approached.  It couldn’t be.  The Mathews were too important to the community.  They weren’t a target.

He glanced back through the door.  Violence looked back.  

Will dropped his gaze.  His heart stopped.  It was hard to breathe.  He stood frozen in the light, hoping if he refused to move, the small coin half hidden in shadow would disappear, that Chleo’s parents would go back to missing rather than the horrible truth he saw lying on the ground.  

Blinking, he snapped his emotions behind a blank mask, he let out a breath.  Reality rushed back in.  The coin wasn’t going anywhere.  He reached down half-expecting it to burn or bite at his fingers.  It didn’t.

The coin sat innocently in his hand, the gold winking at the Shack’s glare.  A small ridge circled a simple scorpion, nothing else.  It didn’t need it.  The message was clear.

The Scorps were here.

He rushed inside pocketing the coin.  If the Scorps visited, Chleo wouldn’t just find a mess.  They never left a relo’s home without a corpse.

Will found her staring into her parents’ room, her face pale.  He tightened his hold on his emotions.  Control.  He was in control.  The people who took him in, who taught him and treated him like a part of the family, he didn’t want to see what had happened, to have their mangled bodies as his last memory.  He clenched his jaw.  He was in control.  Swallowing his hesitation, he pushed ahead.

Relief didn’t begin to cover it.  He stared into the empty room, placing a hand on Chleo’s shoulder.  He meant for it to be comforting.  Instead, he used her to steady his shaking legs.

“Will?” she asked. “Will, what’s wrong?”

He looked at her, his face blank.  Nothing he said would make things better.  The relief at not finding the Mathews’ bodies began to ebb.  They weren’t here.  They weren’t at the shop.

They took her.  That’s what the phantom voice, Mic, had said.  

What if he meant the Scorps?  Will felt ill.

Death was better.  The dead didn’t feel pain.  

He blinked refusing to believe it.  They would walk through the door any minute.  Mr. Mathews would start sputtering about the mess, immediately arranging it into manageable piles.  Mrs. Mathews would watch him with an affectionate smile as she asked Will and Chleo to go outside and find the dustpan and broom.

It would happen.  Any moment, it would happen.

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“Will.” Chleo stared at him.  He stared back with dead eyes.  He was granite, a stone, nothing showed, but somehow she could still read him.  “Come on, Will.  You’re freaking me out.”  

He couldn’t say it.  He couldn’t tell her.

Chleo tried for a worried smile that looked more like a grimace.  “I know things seem bad, but I’m sure Dad just stepped out.  He was probably worried and went to look for me and mom.  I bet if we searched the road, we’d find him on the way to town.”

Even she didn’t sound like she believed it.

“Chleo,” he said, his voice was as empty as his face.  He watched as she pursed her lips, eyes narrowing with determination.  It was a familiar look.  She was about to argue her point.  The hooded strangers were talking about someone else.  A thief decided to rob the Shack while her dad was out searching for them.  Her parents were probably on their way back, taking the scenic route to enjoy some meddlesome daughter-free time to themselves.  Chleo didn’t know what Will had found.

The coin felt like lead in his pocket.

Will watched as she opened her mouth to explain everything away in the matter-of-fact tone she always used.  A sound cut through the air.

They both jumped, spinning toward the window.  It happened again, a branch on the side of a wagon.  Someone was coming up the walkway.

Will grabbed Chleo’s arm, willing her to listen.

“Turn out the lamp, and stay inside.  Don’t come out unless I get you.”  If the Scorps were returning, he would say the house was empty.  Hopefully, they would buy it and leave.  They were after Chleo.  She was the relo not him, and he had the ID to prove it…  he would be fine.

Chleo took one look at his face, a protest dying on her lips. She gave a quick nod, and he was out the door. The light winked out behind him.

He hid behind Mr. Mathews’ vice and rubbed his face.  He was a commoner from the village.  Commoners from the village didn’t hide their emotions.  He lessened his control, letting some of what he was feeling shine through.  He waited.  Maybe they would see the darkened windows and turn around on their own. 

There were a few more scrapes, each closer than the last.  After seconds that felt like an eternity, wheels crunched onto the main drive slowing to a stop at the start of the junk field.

Will held his breath and stole a glance.  Two figures dismounted the wagon, the steam pipe blasting a few more clouds as it settled.  The driver’s lamps were lit casting their faces in shadow. The light spread across the wagon, highlighting the words stamped along the side: Department of Illegal Machinery.

He leaned back against the tool.  Not Scorps, then.  DIM wasn’t the best visitor, but he preferred them to the alternative.

Will left the cover of the work station.  He lifted a hand to greet them. 

“Agents,” he called, “is there something I can help you with?”

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