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hours2hours · 2 months

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THE HAWKINS PARADOX: Part One

Joel.

This time, I’ll get the better of my enemy, but the victory tastes bitter. The ache in my teeth serving as a reminder of why I’m here, why I have to do this, and why Aaron Russo will be lucky to leave alive.

I stand against an oak tree, my frail figure easily disguised by the trunk. Two feet from myself is my best friend, Annie. But she isn’t as alert as I, as a matter of fact it seems she wants to sleep above all else. She yawns, and I press my finger against my lips to remind her ‘stay quiet’.

Slowly, Aaron takes step after step directly into my trap, and if I hasn’t been here on such an important task, a smile would cross my lips.

“Helloo?” He calls. “I’m looking for a deal? From someone named Anon.”

Annie tries not to laugh. It’s anyone's guess how this kid became so gullible, but Annie and I knew he’d never pass up a chance for discount drugs. So, we slid a little flier into his locker, mainly as a joke. But it would prove to come in handy as soon as he fucked me over. Now he’ll think twice before walking into an obvious trap.

A few steps closer, Annie leans on her bat like a walking stick, ready to fall over from exhaustion, yawning without a care. I glance over the wood, Aaron raises a suspicious eyebrow at the sound. Fuck me.

“Now Annie!”

Without another second to lose, Annie pops out of the tree and strikes him in the temple. “Did you-” I start.

“-Knock the fucker out cold?” Annie interrupts. “That I did. And you were so worried for nothing.”

“Nothin’? It ain’t nothin’ to be careful.” I take the zip ties from my backpack and get to work. “Unless you’re lookin’ to run from the cops again. Who knows? Maybe it’d be a good pick-me-up.”

“Har har,” Annie mocks, tying Aaron’s hands together.

Even with our combined strength lifting Aaron Russo is no easy task. About a foot taller than me and easily twice my weight, it’s safe to say he’s all brute and no brains.

“So I was thinking,” Annie starts, still struggling to drag Aaron into the abandoned supermarket. “What if Miles started joining us?”

“Miles? Are you kiddin’?”

“What? Don’t think he can handle it?”

Miles easily clears Annie and I in height ion about the same way as Aaron. He’s huge, and I think he works out, but strength alone won’t get you through this kind of after-school activity. “Physically, he could handle it.”

“...But not emotionally.”

“It’s hard enough to get him outta that house, you want to bring him intio the town at night to commit crimes? Never gonna happen.”

“Maybe you need to reevaluate how tough your buddy is,” Annie flips her smartphone to face me, showing a text from Miles to her: “For sure! Be right there.”

“Annie!”

“What?! If Miles is gonna be a part of our group now he at least deserves an invitation.”

“That’s not the point,” I pull out another zip tie to bind Aaron’s hands to a metal pole along the floor. “We need to talk things through before making a decision. I don't want Miles involved right now.”

A gentle knock raps three times against the boards blocking off the front door. “Guess who’s heeere,” Annie sings.

“Go tell him to leave,” I reply.

“He already came all this way. If you think about it, it's more dangerous to tell him to go at this point.”

“Just-” I start, frustrated with this whole conversation. “Drop it.”

“You got it,” she turns to face the knock. “Miles! Get your butt in here.”

Timidley, Miles ducks under the boards blocking the door and enters the ruined supermarket. “Hey Joel, hi Annie. What's so important? I sorta left Mateo hanging with this project we’re working on.”

“Annie, a word?”

The two of us huddle together where I shout-whisper, “You didn't even tell ‘em what were doing out here?!”

“I was worried he wouldn't come if I told him,” she whispers back.

“Annie! This is not how you keep friends. This is a nightmare.”

“Uh, guys?” Miles says, pointing one shaky finger forward. “Is that… is he…” his eyes glaze over like he might faint.

“He’s alive!” I blurt. “Unconscious, but alive.”

“You wanna take a swing?” Annie asks with a proud smirk.

“N-no thanks.” He takes a few steps forward. “Is that Aaron?”

“Yep,” she replies.

“Otto’s brother Aaron…”

“You betcha.”

“When he finds out he’s going to hate us,” Miles notes. “Right?”

“Number one rule of kidnapping, don't do a thing without an upper hand. He won't say a peep.”

Aaron stirs, eyes beginning to flutter open. Once he’s conscious, I make sure that my face is right up to his. Bleach-white hair hangs over the shaved side of his head, slick with humidity. I study his face as my leg swings back, delivering a forceful yet restrained blow to his stomach. “Good mornin’ asshole.”

“Good morning to you too,” Aaron wheezes. Despite losing the wind from his lungs, he smiles. He knows well how deeply that smile infuriates me. Over the years Aaron and I have had our fair share of fights, and no matter how badly I hurt him he still won't wipe that sick smile off his face. He may as well be saying, “You can't hurt me, you're just wasting your time.” But today Aaron has finally gone too far.

“I'm not here for the usual cat-fight. You're gonna tell me who killed my dog, I want every detail.” It began the previous night. I was out walking my dog, Toby, late at night. I don't often spend my nights at home, I'd rather be out in the streets playing fetch, digging up old treasure (garbage), barking at the local birds. And as we passed the forest at the outer reaches of Matlock beach, it happened. An ice-cold breeze blew over me, a dark figure approached and just as quickly covered my face with their hand. I thought the hand was burning, but I realized after that it was so cold I couldn't tell the difference. The hand shoved me into the bushes, and when I came to, Toby was gone. I searched all night, all day, but found no sign of him.

Then, a knock at my door. A box appeared with my name on it, and my worst fear came true. The only friend I could rely on for my whole life, lay dead in that box. I screamed until I couldn't scream anymore, it had been the worst day of my life, but it didn't end there.

The next day was when shit really hit the fan. I went to school as normal, but kids I know, and kids I didn't know, would whisper when they thought I couldn't hear. It was only a matter of time before I discovered the video: Emo kid loses it over mail prank, hilarious!

The video never showed what was inside the box, only my horrified reaction. Someone hid in the bushes around my front door, filming me. With Annie’s help we traced the account back to a few old aliases before stumbling on the name Aaron Russo. That brings us to today.

“I'm sorry? Someone killed something? I never heard-” I cut him off with a fist to the nose.

“Don't play dumb with me you little fuck stain. Tell me right now!”

Annie leans on her bat, “if I have to use this thing motherfucker you're gonna regret it.”

Aaron laughs, “it'll take more than that to scare me.”

“Is this why we were invested in Aaron’s old SoundCloud account this morning?” Miles asks. Aaron’s eyes grow wide.

“Yup,” I reply, pacing circles around Aaron. “And if you don't want your cringeworthy dog shit heard ‘round town, then you're gonna talk.”

Aaron only laughs harder. “Okay? Show them! My singing is a giiiift.”

“Well, If you don't wanna talk, that's fine, no worries.” Pacing away from Aaron, I look into Annie's tired eyes. “Break his kneecaps.”

A delighted fury replaces the tiredness, Annie readies her bat. “Wait wait WAIT.”

Annie pauses, giving Aaron only a moment to spill what he knows, before swinging her bat into his knee as hard as she can. Aaron screams, Miles stands back. I decide to pull him off to the side, all while Aaron's screams echo throughout the room.

“Hey man, you okay?” I begin.

“Yeah, don't sweat it,” his fingers stret h for something to fidjit, and tugs at the hem of his shirt.

“You don't look very relaxed. If you wanna leave it's fine man.”

“No! I can do this.”

“Fuck fine, just stop!” Aaron shouts. Miles and I turn back ready to listen. “I didn't know it was a dead animal, okay?” Aaron continues. “Your reaction was priceless, but that's way too far, I admit.”

“So who's the sonova bitch who did it? What are you not telling me?” I nudge Annie in the shoulder, she resumes her batting stance.

“I don't know I swear to god! Alls I got was a note in my locker. Said I could humiliate you and all I had to do was film you opening some box at some time.”

“Sounds like a pile of bullshit if you ask me,” Annie notes. I'd be lying if I said I didn't agree, but better to hear him out first.

“It's the truth, I can prove it.” Aaron wiggles his fingers in reach of his pants pocket.

“Do you uh, need a hand?” Miles asks.

“You’re such a bad criminal,” Annie snorts. Regardless, Miles pulls a small slip of lined paper from Aaron's black skinny jeans. The note reads,

Be at the home of Joel Hawkins, 6pm in the hour, film his reaction and do what you want with the footage. A satisfactory reward will be waiting at the point marked in the map below. The hours will mark it.

When I’m finished reading aloud, the three of us stand in a circled around the note. A small silence hangs while we take it in, until Miles says, “This person was very deliberate in keeping their identity hidden.”

“Yeah,” Annie continues. “That's some psycho shit. Who do you think it is?”

“Need a list? That'll take a while,” I reply. I side eye Aaron. As vicious as our feud has grown, Aaron never had a stomach for killing. “Oh! I can help with that, Lua hates your guts pretty good, Wendy Anson probably has a photo of you taped to a dart board, theres-” THWACK. I cut him off with a fist to the face. Ready for more, Annie holds me back, “Cool it, Joel. We got what we needed.”

“This asshole deserves it and worse!”

Blood drips from Aaron's nose into his toothy smile. “Damn right. C’mon, let him finish the job. That's what you want, right?”

“Wanna find out asshole?” I lurch forward, but Miles hand stops me. Not forcefully like Annie’s, but gentle.

“It’s not worth it, trust me.”

Every inch of me shakes, aching for him to feel the hurt he caused me. Which is the exact reason I didn't want Miles here in the first place. I don't like me when I'm this angry, so what will my new friend think? The only friend I've made since I met Annie, no less.

“You'll get what's comin’ eventually,” I say.

“Yawn,” Aaron replies. “Can I go now? Now that my ketamine deal was a bust I need to go home and find something to get high on.”

Annie chimes in, “Not till we get the money your buddy left you.”

“spent it all on cigarettes and ketamine.”

“Then we'll settle for the smokes. Miles?”

Miles raises an eyebrow before asking flatly, “Why am I the one who has to reach into his pants?”

“Because I want you to feel included?”

“That's sweet of you,” Miles nabs the pack of smokes and hands them to Annie. “Next time I want a different job though.” She hands one to Miles before lighting one between her lips.

“Great,” Aaron says. “You got your info and my last pack of smokes, happy?”

“You're not leavin’ till you delete that video. I wanna see it, and your trash bin.”

“There goes my fuckin’ ad revenue,” he mumbles, but complies nonetheless.

“And for the record,” Annie unties his hands from the floor. “Anon is short for anonymous. It isn't a name, dickhead.”

“Do you mind? My night is already ruined, the least you could do it let me snort ket in peace.”

Annie, Miles and I exit the abandoned supermarket, on the way Annie points backward and shouts, “Don't make us kidnap you again!”

Through the thick bush we enter my vehicle, a dumpster of a truck I managed to scrounge the cash for. Annie hops in the passenger seat while Miles takes the back. “When I asked ya to break his kneecaps, I meant it.”

“Relax, we got more than we could have hoped for. Look at that big fat lead in your hands!”

It's true, I suppose we should take some credit where it counts. But it doesn't quell the fire alight in my stomach. I don't just want answers, I want him to hurt.

The engine sputters and screams as it turns over, as headlights flicker to life. Old gravel roads lead us back into the peacefully sleeping town of Matlock Beach. A strange town with strange histories, and strange people. But it's more or less a home. If I had the choice of course I'd ditch in a heartbeat, but until that day comes we’re left to create our memories here. Like it or not. From an objective lens, the Beach is a perfectly quiet little speck along the coast of Matlock Lake. The very fact that it’s name is borrowed from another is evident of it’s nature. A tourist town, a place your grandma and grandpa live in the warm Summer months, but the rest of us are stuck here year round. When the snow comes, we can rarely leave without fear of dreadful road conditions, transforming our beach-filled Summer utopia into an icy prison. Even so, I’ll admit this place can be beautiful in the Summertime, at least during the day. The trees canopy each street, blotting out the fault moonlight visible betweden clouds. Wonderful shade in the daytime, but paired with flickering headlights at night, creepy. “Where’re we goin’ anyway?” I ask.

Miles stretches to meet Annie in the front, studying the crude map. “I think that’s right around where Wendy Anson works.”

“Wendy’s out of juvie? Thought Aaron was talkin’ nonsense.”

“Got out last week.”

“And got a job already?”

“The old diner was hiring, you know how desperate they are.”

“Why?” Miles asks.

“Same reason that old convenience store shut down,” I reply, turning down main street. “Too far from downtown, without tourists buyin’ they can’t bring in enough profit year-round. In this case, they’ve been scraping by. Hey Annie, where are we supposed to find this spot?”

“Looks close to the train tunnel. We’ll find it with… hours, I guess.”

“Hours…” I trail off. But before I can give it much thought, we’re already here. The good thing about living in a place like this, nothing is farther than two kilometers.

“So, someone hates Joel, makes sense,” Miles starts, while I try not to look hurt. “But why go this far? Why be so… cryptic.”

“I’ve done some stuff I’m not proud of, I admit. But I never thought I’d do somethin’ to deserve this.”

“What about Jules?” Annie asks.

“He doesn’t got the nuts.”

Miles peeks his head from the back seat, “What did you do, anyway?”

“Let’s save the stories for another time,” I reply. Miles doesn’t need to know about my past, I can only hope he forgets about it.

The streets on the outskirts of town grow darker with each passing street, as the town cares less and less about replacing bulbs. Miles still sits perched over the seats in between me and Annie, obviously unsatisfied with my answer. “I didn’t do anything…” I admit. “...to Lua. She’s like Aaron, pretty much hates my guts for existing.” And it wouldn't make her the only one, there are plenty of people I’ve had beef with because they didn’t agree with my existence. That's life when you live in a town like this. It begins with a church, an understandable thing to build. People will have their beliefs whether I like them or not. But then years pass, the isolated town stays more or less the same, all while the people grow more and more cultish, until they don’t even remember what their original beliefs were. Instead of being all about love and crap, their believes grow into hate like a disease. It’s no wonder Annie has always dreamt of seeing the world, but as for me, I’d be fine with a city. Cities aren’t so closed off, there’s opportunity there, an escape from the small-town mindset that I’ve grown to despise. But until I can afford to leave, I have no choice but to deal with these problems.

I exit the vehicle and slam the door shut, heart racing with anger that slowly recedes back into my stomach.

Annie exits the car, popping a few caffeine pills on the way. “Joel keyed Jules’s car with me three times because he’s a little bitch, and he got Wendy arrested, both were hilarious.”

“If by ‘little bitch’ you mean horrible fuckin’ racist then yeah.”

Miles laughs, “well… sounds like the little bitch deserved it. What about this Wendy?”

“She’s crazy and I ratted her out to the cops.”

“Fair ‘nuff,” Miles replies.

The three of us enter an open field next to a rocky cliffside, barely lit by the near-full moon. The train tunnel runs through the cliffs, and should lead us to the right place. Not far from that is the old diner, which could pass as abandoned with its lights off. But it isn’t what we came for, Annie hands Miles and I large flashlights from her backpack. I flick mine on and scan the inside of the tunnel. It’s barely wide enough for the train to pass through, so we’ll have to be quick.

Creeeeeeeak. My head spins, an eyebrow raised.

“Did you hear something?” Annie asks.

I guide us through the dark tunnel, still aware of that drawn out creaking sound. Something about it sends gives me goosebumps, but what? It sounds almost like any ordinary squeaky tree, you'd hear a million of them if you listen hard enough. “Just the wind. C’mon.”

Footsteps echo off the long walls as we make our way through. Graffiti marks every wall top to bottom, but it’s a fair distance before we find our spot. In unnervingly neat writing, Hours To Hours is etched into the wall above a mound of dirt. I find myself staring at the words, even when Annie and Miles are satisfied. Just as I have since I was a child.

It’s an anomaly I’ve grown used to, and one I’ve given up trying to explain to anyone else. When I was just a kid I asked my mom why those three words were etched into my bedframe, but she assumed I did it and scolded me. When I go to the beach in town I manage to find the words somewhere in the sand every single time. Every abandoned spot I’ve explored in or around town has had the words painted on a wall or two, every room in my home has them written in someplace, and I even find brand new ones from time to time. Under the kitchen sink, inked into books, scratched into impossible-to-reach areas like the ceiling above a stairwell or fifteen feet up a telephone pole. But it got so much weirder only a few years ago when my grandfather was in the later stages of his dementia. Only a few days before he died he called me to his room, which was odd enough. Only an hour ago he told me he had no idea who I was. He called me in just to whisper those three words, and I never saw him again after. Though my memories grow foggy, I can recall so many awful moments in my life where I would be shortly reminded of those three words. When I failed ninth grade it was on my report card, when my dog was killed, it appeared just above the reward for the sick person who used it against me.

“Joel? You okay?” Miles eventually asks. I have no idea how long I was staring.

I dig through the Earth but turn up with nothing.

Miles kneels next to me and paws at the dirt. “What are we looking for?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “But there’s nothing.”

“That’s cause you’re looking in the wrong place,” Annie says with a proud smirk, before heading out of the tunnel. Lookling at Miles, he shrugs and we follow her.

Annie leads us back through the field and points to something across the road. A metal mesh fence surrounds the back end of the building. We walk closer when Annie points to something along its back wall, a tiny red glowing dot. “A camera,” she says. “Looks like it could’ve caught whoever went into the tunnel.”

“Nice catch Annie,” I reply.

We lose line of sight with the camera and inch closer. Seems they opted for a single door handle lock, should make for an easy bust.

Annie bumps my fist and we walk around to the other side of the building. “Are they still open?”

“Lights are all off,” I say.

“Alright, tomorrow after school we’ll go in and ask to see the footage.”

“What if they don’t let us?” Miles asks.

Annie grins, “Then we’ll do it the fun way.”

#writing #creative writing #gay #lgbt #trans #mystery #thriller #romance

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