Leech 01 Caleo Read online

  A man in his early thirties stepped out. He had long, dark red hair and a brown leather coat that seemed to conceal the man’s form from view as he approached Rachel’s mother.

  “Beautiful weather we're having here, ladies.”

  Rachel’s mother hurriedly climbed out of the car, her coat wrapped in her arms, as she pushed past the man and started to climb into the truck.

  “Whoa, there!” The man grabbed her arm and pulled to stop her. The baby fell out of her coat and she frantically tried to catch him, diving to the ground only to have the baby land softly in a patch of snow beside her. The man, realizing what he had done, reached to the ground to scoop up the naked baby. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “We have to get him warm.”

  “Don’t worry, ma’am. I think he'll be just fine.” The man chuckled softly to himself as he looked down at the baby like it was the most precious object he’d ever held. “We’ll get to a hospital. Jump in.”

  Rachel’s mother took the baby out of the old man’s arms and rewrapped him in the blanket. “Can you help my daughter into the truck please?”

  The man did as he was asked.

  On the way to the hospital, Rachel noticed a large golden-ringed birthmark on the baby’s waist and marveled at the complexity of it. Most people had birthmarks that are like ink spots, but his was different. It was a plain, golden color ring about two inches across with the band not more than an eighth of an inch wide.

  

  As she saw the marking in her head, she snapped out of the memory and ran down the hall to reassure herself that the mark was still there. Although she had seen it so many times before, she had to see it again to be sure that this was her baby. Sure enough, there it was in the same place it had always been.

  She sat down in the corner facing the crib and pulled her knees to her chest as she thought about all that had happened since Jeff arrived home. The fights, the test, and how the baby’s blood type didn't match his. Then it hit her, the baby didn't have the same features as her either. Not even her brown eyes matched the baby’s pale blue eyes. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her and she got up, running to the closet. She started to toss out some items.

  “It’s about time you started to pack,” Jeff sneered, pushing past her to the kitchen.

  Rachel let out a stream of curses, which woke up the baby, who began to cry. She ignored him and continued to look through the closet, throwing out coats and boxes. She allowed them to smash against the wall to help soothe her frustration.

  After a few minutes, Jeff kicked his way through the pile of junk. “You better shut your child up before I do.”

  Rachel flipped him her middle finger and continued her search. She opened a box and removed the wallet she was looking for, flipping through it frantically.

  “Yes!” Rachel pulled a card out and read it: Blood Bank Donor Identification Card.

  She glanced over her name, birth date, and other information until she found her blood type.

  “AB negative?” She stared at the card in disbelief. “How can this be? It must have been a mistake.”

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt silence that now loomed in the air. A slight shiver ran up her spine and she jumped to her feet. She made a mad dash for the baby’s room. The temperature seemed to drop the closer she got. As she rounded the doorway, she saw Jeff standing in front of the crib with a throw pillow from the couch in his hand.

  “What are you doing? Get away from him! You said it yourself; he’s not yours!” Rachel screamed, her breath now visible in the cold room.

  Jeff turned and smiled harshly. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m just taking care of our problem.”

  This time his smile didn't make Rachel feel any better. She rushed at Jeff and pushed him out of the way. Jeff shoved Rachel back, causing her to stumble backward and hit her back on the dresser. She fell to the floor, taking a lamp that rested on top of the dresser with her.

  When she got to her feet, Jeff was holding the pillow over the baby’s face and wasn’t paying attention to her. She picked up the lamp and charged him again. He saw her out of the corner of his eye and lifted the pillow to block the blow at the last second. Before either of them could connect, a white flash filled the room.

  

  A tall man in a tan county sheriff’s deputy uniform stood in the driveway of a small house. “So do you think this was a prank call?”

  “I don’t know, Joe. The neighbor said she heard yelling, followed by a scream,” replied the Sheriff.

  “We should at least go and check it out,” said another man wearing a tan, deputy uniform.

  The Sheriff looked at his deputy in distaste. “Really, Bob? I never thought of that.”

  The three of them walked up to the door and knocked. A pile of fine, white dust fell off the door and landed on the porch.

  The sheriff pulled his hand away from the door and rubbed his knuckles. “Man, that’s cold.”

  Joe reached out and ran a finger down the door. The white paint seemed to melt, leaving a trail down the door where his finger touched. “Frost?”

  Bob followed suit and each ran a finger down the door. Both yielded the same results. They all looked at each other silently, seemingly thinking the same thing. How can there be frost? It’s almost 80 degrees out here!

  The sheriff knocked again, this time yelling, “It’s the sheriff, open up!”

  The only answer was the cry of a baby in the distance.

  A worried expression crept into the Sheriff’s expression. “Okay you guys, go around the side and see what you can find.”

  The two deputies drew their guns and proceeded around the house in different directions.

  As Joe walked around the right side of the house, he could hear the crying was getting louder. He looked up and saw a window that appeared to be painted white. He took his flashlight and knocked on the window. When there was no answer, he pressed his hand against it. His suspicions were proven right. The ‘paint’ seemed to melt off the window just like it had from the door. He peered through the small hole in the frosted window and was stunned when he saw the frozen world within.

  A woman holding a lamp in mid-swing and a man holding a pillow up to block it were both frozen in place like wax figures, poised like a scene from a horror film. The only movement in the room came from the crib as the baby continued to scream madly.

  1

  In a small graveyard in the middle of nowhere stood a teenage boy, alone in front of a small, heart shaped marble gravestone. His ghostly white skin seemed to glow from under his black hooded sweatshirt, as his electric blue eyes stared off into the distance. He wished he was anywhere but here. Today, like every May 23rd, he had to visit his mother’s grave. He’d done it every year since as far back as he could remember. His grandmother would wake him up at three a.m. to do his chores. Then they would drive forty-five minutes out to the middle of nowhere to a small cemetery with only about ten graves placed in a row. They were no more than forty feet from the road and encircled by a thin row of trees standing about sixteen feet tall. Right behind the graves stood a tall, marble statue of a man holding a rose tightly against his chest with one hand and a little boy's hand in the other. The little boy was pointing up at the rose with a big bright smile carved into his face. Under the statue, carved in the stone, were the words: For my family - a place we can rest in peace ~ Jacob Archer.

  It’s not as if I even knew her, the teenage boy thought, still staring at the deeply carved name engraved on the head stone: Rachel P. Gaven.

  Absently, he remembered when he asked his grandmother why his last name was not Gaven and her ridiculous response was, “You don’t deserve to have that dead-beat of a man’s name. Besides, your name is much better.”

  Oh yeah, Caleo Anima is much better. As if I wasn’t a big enough freak naturally. Why couldn’t I at least have Archer, like Grandma's father? I would even settle for Rater like Grandma's. No she has to go and give
me my own surname. Yeah, yeah I get Caleo Anima means warm life, but what part of my life is warm? I don’t even have any friends, he thought bitterly.

  Caleo was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard another teenage boy yell from the driver’s side of a brown mini-van parked by the road. “Let’s go, we’ll be late for school!”

  Caleo stood up, wiping off the knees of his faded, black jeans.

  As he was walking back to the van, Caleo pushed back the hood of his sweatshirt, exposing his snow white hair and yelled, “Yeah, Jack, you’d really hate that, wouldn’t you?”

  “You two are going to wake the dead if you don’t quit your yelling,” Caleo’s grandmother said crossly from the front passenger seat. Her brown hair had faded to gray a long time ago. Over the years, all that remained the same about her appearance was the purple work polo she always wore.

  “Okay, Grandma.” Caleo climbed into the back seat. Beside him sat Jillian Barely, a beautiful girl. Her long, brown hair was pulled up into a tight bun, her face almost a picture of royal poise. She was scrawny, but Caleo knew better than to cross her. She had more than proven herself against her twin brother, Jack, the captain of the Butler Tornadoes swim team. Jack sat behind the wheel, his hair the same color as his sister’s, but cut with a military fade, and his muscular swimmer’s build was barely hidden under his black t-shirt.

  Jillian and Jack had lived at his grandma’s bed and breakfast, the Purple Rose, for the past nine years. Like Caleo, they were orphans. They’d lost their parents in a car crash nine years before, due to a drunk driver. However, this didn't make the three of them the same. Both Jack and Jillian were among the elites at school. Caleo, on the other hand, didn’t fit in anywhere among the cliques established at the school. Although he was as good as all of the jocks at most sports, he was always picked on because of his ghost-white skin and snow-white hair.

  Caleo’s grandmother turned and looked back at Jillian. “Do you have a ride to your...” she paused as she tried to think what Jillian was into this year, “… karate?”

  “Extreme dance,” Jillian corrected with a smile. “And, yes. Mike is going to take me.”

  “Extreme dance… ” Caleo’s grandmother tried to make it sound more like a statement than a question as she looked over at Jack, directing it towards him with a raised eye brow.

  Jack smiled back at Caleo in the mirror. “It’s a bunch of jumping around like drunken monkeys.”

  “No, it’s not!” Jillian punched Jack’s seat in front of her. “It’s like mixing cheerleading, martial arts, gymnastics and dancing all in one.”

  “Like I said, I just forgot to mention that the monkeys all dyed their hair blonde.” Jack adjusted the rear view mirror so his sister could see his beaming smile.

  When Caleo laughed, Jillian punched him in the arm so hard he had to rub the pain out. “Well, it’s better than your synchronized swimming.” Jillian stuck her tongue out at Jack’s reflection.

  While Caleo and his grandmother laughed, Jack shot Caleo an evil glare in the mirror.

  “I don’t—” Jack tried arguing, but was cut off by Caleo’s grandmother.

  “Alright! Alright! I need you boys to come straight home after school. The Gillman’s are checking out this afternoon; their room is in shambles, and we have another guest checking in this afternoon.” She looked to the boys for affirmation, as Jack pulled the van into the school parking lot.

  “And the dryer still needs to be fixed, Jack. I thought you said you would fix it two days ago? It’s still lying in pieces on the floor!” Jillian said, gathering her bag up and opening her door before the car even stopped.

  “Jillian, would you please wait till the car is in park,” Grandma said in an indifferent tone, while Jillian was already shutting the door.

  “What’s her hurry?” Caleo smiled at Jack, hoping for a joke.

  “I wish you all were as excited about getting to school as she is.” Grandma looked back at Caleo, her eyes crinkled in a look of playful disappointment.

  “Well if I wanted to flirt with my first period teacher, I would be in a hurry, too.” Jack looked back at Caleo with a broad white smile and Caleo couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Oh, quit picking on your sister and get to class.” Grandma slapped Jack on the shoulder, laughing to herself, then gave a little cough and composed herself. “And, Jack, sweetie, if you don’t think you can fix the dryer, please tell me so I can buy a new one before the laundry gets too high.” Grandma climbed out of the car.

  Caleo barely caught the smile on her face as she passed his door. She's baiting him. She knows darn well that Jack is a genius when it came to jerry-rigging things to work, she's just laying out a challenge so that he'll fix it.

  “No, I'll get it fixed, don’t worry about it.” Jack closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Caleo knew that Jack was thinking of the different possibilities, what would be needed to fix the problem, and ordering out each step in his head. If they were alone, Caleo would watch, fascinated, by how Jack’s brain was able to break things down into a system of steps and procedures, then execute them with precision.

  Grandma interrupted Jack’s thoughts as she passed in front of him to get into the driver’s seat. “Now straight home after school, I’m not playing.”

  “Okay!” Jack and Caleo answered in unison, running up the sidewalk to catch up to Jillian.

  When they were a few feet away from the van, Jack punched Caleo in the arm. “You’re supposed to be on my team, not hers!”

  Jack smiled a challenge and he and Caleo raced for the door.

  Caleo was reaching for the front door of the school, having passed by Jillian and beating Jack in the race, when Grandma yelled from the driver seat of the van, “Jack, I need the keys!”

  Caleo turned to face Jack, “You—” but his insult was cut short. The door swung open and hit Caleo, pushing him into the wall, pinning him between it and the glass door.

  “Why, hello! Jillian, let me get the door for you,” said the loud, obnoxious voice of Mike Karr, the captain of the varsity football team and Jillian’s boyfriend. As usual, his wavy, black hair perfectly framed his chiseled face.

  “Aren’t you just so sweet?” Jillian smiled and gently caressed Mike’s cheek as she stepped through the door and disappeared down the hall.

  “Awe, how sweet,” Caleo mocked, making kissing noises in the air.

  “At least I'm getting some.”

  “Getting some what?” Jack walked up behind Mike.

  “Oh … I seem to have caught one of them albino deer.” A look of fake surprise on his face appeared as he pretended to notice Caleo pushing at the door, trying to get free. Caleo stopped pushing on the door as he and Jack exchanged looks of confusion.

  “A deer is the best you got today, Mike?” Jack smiled and shrugged. “If you’re going to insult Caleo, at least make it creative.” Jack turned and started jogging back to the van. Then he said calmly, “Let him out. You don’t want to be late for class.”

  Mike let go of the door and disappeared down the hallway, running to catch up with Jillian.

  Why didn’t Jack just kick his ass? We could take him. Caleo leaned up against the wall and waited for Jack. Jack wouldn’t stand up for me, not at school. Who am I kidding?

  

  Caleo watched the second hand move past the six when three loud booms rang through the silent room. Caleo straightened up with a start, grabbed his pen, and pretended to be taking his test.

  “Miss Johnson, can I see you a moment?” asked an urgent voice from the hall. Caleo knew the voice belonged to Mr. Bernard, the school superintendent.

  Caleo took advantage of the teacher being gone to sneak a peek at his neighbor’s paper.

  After about a minute, Miss Johnson came back. Her face was pale with red blotches; her eyes appeared dark and confused. She went straight to the front of the class and stood right in the middle of the long, black chalkboard.

  “Class, I have some ba
d news.” Miss Johnson paused and waited for the class to quiet down. When it did, she continued. “The President,” Miss Johnson’s voice cracked as she tried to keep calm, “was just killed this morning.”

  Immediately the class room broke out in discussion.

  “Class!” Miss Johnson knocked her knuckles on her desk and waited once again for silence. When it didn't come she repeated herself. “Class. There's more.”

  The class went quiet.

  “Due to the recent events, we're sending you home at twelve o’clock today so you can mourn with your families. Now, I know you have questions, but, frankly, I don’t have answers. The busses will be here in two hours, and we'll all know more soon. For now, the test in front of you needs to be ripped up.”

  A roar of disapproval went through the class. Miss Johnson went behind her desk and pulled out a small, black waste can.

  “Don’t give me that, I saw you all through the window. Now tear up your test and throw it in the trash on your way out. Afterwards, I need you all to head to the auditorium. They have set up a TV, so you all can watch the news coverage until the busses arrive.”

  The class got up and walked to the front of the room and tossed the ripped paper in the trash.

  “Caleo, you won’t need that. I am going to make a new test for Monday.” Without looking up, Miss Johnson placed a trash can on her desk and tapped it twice, then made herself look busy organizing a stack of papers. Caleo went back and tossed his test into the can.