The Hollowed Land Page 7

  "It's over and done with," Kip said, his voice scratchy from disuse. He didn't want Hayden arrested. He didn't even want to seek revenge on him. He just wanted the whole incident to become a part of the past, something to shove away and forget.

  "Your poor cheek!" Luna pressed her fingers near the wound. It still hurt like hell, but he wouldn't let himself wince.

  "Is Billy around?" he asked, ignoring her fussing.

  "Sure… sure, the boys are in back, in the tree house."

  "Thank you." Kip headed over to the side of the house. Luna watched him leave; he could feel her eyes on him the whole way, and he didn't hear the door close until he turned the corner around a low flowering bush.

  A great sprawling oak tree, with a canopy nearly as wide as the backyard itself, stood tall and proud near the back property boundary. The tree dominated the fenced-in yard, so much so that the grass grew sparse under its enormous circular shadow. Kip walked up to the tree, and then started to climb the two-by-four ladder nailed to the trunk.

  "Hello?" he called out. He took a breather and looked up when he reached the third rung. A platform had been built across the tree's lowest, thickest branches some twenty feet off the ground, and at the center of the platform was an illuminated opening. Hax's boxy face and blond flattop appeared in the opening.

  "Kip! Holy crap, you look like hammered shit! Get your ass up here!"

  As he climbed higher, Kip suppressed a chuckle. He felt a crackling pain in his healing ribs and almost lost his balance.

  "Watch it! You don't want to break anything else by falling."

  "Good idea." He grunted as he reached for the next rung, and pulled himself higher.

  Kip climbed through the opening and found himself inside a room no more than eight feet on end. The walls were made of solid wooden planks covered in fading whitewash. Each of the four walls had a glassed-in porthole window. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he noticed the posters papering the walls: skateboarders with floppy hairstyles, a man with dark eyes who wore a goatee and black beret, a large green leaf that he didn't recognize. The ceiling was painted black and was dotted with glow-in-the dark shapes—stars, planets and shooting comets. He felt out of breath as he took it all in. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow and it came away sweaty.

  "Hax wasn't kidding." Billy sat on an overturned plastic milk crate. His elbows rested on his knees and his forehead was creased with concern. Hax sat on a green beanbag chair patched with duct tape. The enclosed air smelled somewhat mildewed, but everything appeared to be dry. "You look like shit."

  "Thanks. That's exactly the look I was going for."

  Hax and Billy laughed, and Kip bit his lip to prevent his own laughter.

  "Here, take my seat." Billy got up and slid the milk crate over to Kip. As he sat on it, Billy took to the floor, leaning against the far wall and crossing his legs at the ankles.

  "What is this place?" Kip asked.

  "It's our clubhouse. Hax and I built it when we were kids. Still holds up pretty well, you ask me."

  "What do you do here?"

  "Get away from our parental units, the world. Everything else disappears when you climb that ladder. This is a sovereign land, dude. A nation unto itself."

  Billy and Hax bumped fists in solidarity. Hax picked up a magazine. A man with a thick mop of hair and thick-rimmed glasses was on the cover. The man smiled broadly, holding up a tiny computer in the palm of his hand as if it weighed as much as a feather. Hax flipped the pages, stopping occasionally.

  "Dude, I still can't believe you battered Hayden Ross's fist with your face!" Billy said.

  "I know! That guy's poor hand!" Hax looked up from his magazine. "You hit him so hard with your face I bet you split the skin of his knuckles. I'm glad I wasn't there to witness it."

  "I did get a bit queasy," Billy said, "and I didn't even see the whole thing."

  "Yeah, me too," Kip said.

  "We probably shouldn't bust your balls. Silvy told us all about it. How you stuck up for her, how you tackled that inbred sonofabitch. I give you mad props, man."

  "Yeah, you made us proud, Kip. I don't know if we would've done that if we were in the same position," Hax added.

  "Hell no!" Billy said. "We would've run away, tittering like little girls, happy to not get our asses handed to us. So, how did your dad handle it? Ziggy wanted to go over and kick some ass, and he's a fucking pacifist. I'm sure your dad was righteously pissed."

  Kip's gaze fell. "I… I think he's ashamed of me. He hasn't spoken to me at all."

  "What? That's sick. What were you supposed to do? That prick is a beast, and you knocked him on his ass!"

  "I don't know. I can never do anything right. Not in his eyes."

  "Well, we all know you did right."

  "Got that right," Hax said. He exchanged another fist bump with Billy, and then both boys held their fists up to Kip. After hesitating, Hax said, "You better bump it, bro."

  Kip bumped Billy's fist with his right hand, and Hax with his left. On the one hand, he thought the gesture was silly. But on the other… he liked these guys even more. "Is Silvia okay?" Kip tried to change the subject.

  "Says the walking piece of tenderized steak?" Billy said. "Yeah, Silvy's fine. Just pissed."

  "I did what I could," Kip said in a small voice.

  "She's pissed about the whole thing. Pissed about Hayden psychotic tendencies. Pissed about you having to stick up for her. Pissed you got pummeled."

  "I… didn't know what else to do. I don't know… I just kind of snapped."

  "Kip," Billy said, pausing until he looked him in the eye. "She's pissed at you because she cares for you. That means something, especially coming from her."

  "What… what am I supposed to do? Will she even talk to me?"

  "I don't think there's any way she wouldn't," Billy said.

  "No doubt," Hax added. "You've got your hooks into Miss Rizz. I don't think there's any way of escaping her at this point. Many have tried to get her attention—myself included—and all have failed. If I knew all it took to win her heart was to look like you, I would've stepped in front of a semi-truck a long time ago." He closed the computer magazine and tossed it aside.

  "Yeah, Kip, sorry to say it, but you're stuck."

  Kip knew they were razzing him, but he also could tell they weren't making any of it up. Something fluttered in his chest, and his mind flashed to Silvia's smile. He smiled, too, and it didn't even hurt.

  "So, Kip…" Billy said. "Earth to Kip?"

  Kip saw the concern in his eyes. "Yeah?"

  "We came to the old clubhouse to discuss something without anyone overhearing. And that something we came to discuss is… you."

  "What? What do you mean?"

  "You…" Hax started, but furrowed his brow as he search for the right words. "You don't exist."

  "What? I don't understand."

  "The thing is, when things around the farm get boring… I go exploring."

  "What, like in the woods?"

  "No, he means online. Through networked systems. That's why we call him Hax. You know, a play on his name, Hackford?"

  "So… your name isn't Hax?"

  "Jesus, this guy! No, my name is Cameron."

  "Okay?" he said, not understanding even a small portion of this conversation. "So, now for some reason you think I don't exist?"

  "Yeah, after the thing with Hayden, I went exploring. And, brother, you're a ghost. There's no trace of a fingerprint, no whiff of any official documentation that you were ever born."

  "We're kind of old-fashioned. I was born at home."

  "It's true, Kip. He showed me. All of these official directories. Dozens of them. Nothing. Not a single hit in any possible search in any available database. You should at least have a social security number."

  "That doesn't mean anything—"

  "The same goes for your mom and dad," Billy cut him off.

  "You don't know what you're talking about."

&
nbsp; "The hell I don't," Hax said. "I might look like one, but I'm not some dumb redneck. I've been coding since I was nine."

  "What's that?" A headache was blooming just behind Kip's eyes. He rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of this.

  "You hear this guy?" Hax said.

  "Coding? You know, writing code?" Billy said. "Computer programming?"

  "Here, let me try: Have you ever used a computer?"

  "Uh… no."

  "I would truly just about die." Hax looked sickened by Kip's admission.

  "Why are you snooping on me, my family?"

  "I didn't mean anything by it. I just get curious. And when I go digging, sometimes I can do a favor now and then. Like, Ziggy and Luna's bankruptcy?"

  "Yeah, what bankruptcy?" Billy said, again giving Hax a fist-bump.

  "After I heard about what happened with Hayden, I thought I'd try to figure out a way to pay you back."

  "So you go on your computer, and you can just… change things?"

  "Sure, if you know what you're doing. And where to look."

  "And how to cover your tracks," Billy added.

  "The first big hack I tried was to pay off my dad's farm. That backfired. When the bank sent my old man the title and a paid-off notification, he actually went down to the bank with his own backup records to set the bank straight. So, yeah, I was checking you out. Or trying to. But, like I said, man, you don't exist. Just like your mom and dad. "

  "Weird, right?" Billy said. "And we figured out the perfect career for you."

  "What's that?" Kip said.

  "Get this… professional assassin."

  "Abso-fucking-lutely perfect!"

  After the two jabbered back and forth for a few minutes, Kip said, "So, what does this mean? I mean, if there is no record of me or my family… who are we?"

  "That's a good fucking question, Kip," Billy said.

  "Yeah, and if you ever find out the answer, let me know. I've never heard of anything like this. Not unless you're someone living in the middle of sub-Saharan Africa."

  Chapter 11

  1.

  Kip had waited as long as possible, but Silvia and Ziggy hadn't returned by the time he had to get home to face whatever his dad had in store for him. Longing pulled at him as he made his way home. He hadn't so much as wanted to see Silvia, but needed to. She made sense of the world, righted the chaos surrounding him, brought clarity to disillusion. He kept an eye on Hayden's house as he hurried by. He ignored the fear that wanted to overwhelm him; what would his dad do to him, beat him? He'd already taken a beating from Hayden Ross. If he could survive that, he could survive just about anything his dad could throw at him. Or so he hoped.

  When he reached their driveway, he noticed his father's car was gone. He breathed more easily as he went inside.

  "Where's dad?" Kip asked when he saw his mom bringing dinner plates to the kitchen table.

  She looked at him, relieved. "He got called away on an emergency. He said there's some big accident out on Route 34. They needed him right away."

  "Did he say anything to you?"

  She gave him a puzzled look. "About what?"

  "His mood? Anything, you know, about me?"

  "No, why should he?"

  "I don't know." Kip went over to the kitchen sink and pumped some liquid soap into his palms and washed his hands. When he finished at the sink, he dried his hands on a dish towel. "Mom?"

  She held a casserole with pot holders and carried it to a trivet on the table. "Yes, dear?"

  "Maybe we should…" he paused when his voice cracked. Am I really going to say it? he wondered. I can't not say it, can I? "Maybe we should leave. Right now. You and me… we could leave and not come back. Make a new start."

  She didn't look at him and went about her business like he wasn't even there. She methodically dished out the beef and rice casserole on all three plates and set the ladle aside. She brought glasses to the table, and then filled them with lemonade. The chair scraped the floor as she pulled it out. She sat down, opened her napkin and set it on her lap. She didn't lift her fork. She merely waited.

  "Mom, I'm serious. We don't need to take this any longer. It's abuse. He's a monster. He's evil."

  "Christopher, enough!" she yelled, her jaw clenching tight. She flattened her palm against the burnt orange fabric tablecloth, smoothed away a wrinkle. "He is your father, and there is a purpose for everything he does, everything he says, everything he doesn't say."

  "But Mom—"

  "But nothing, Christopher. It will all make sense. And in the end, we will all be better for it. Not another word about it."

  Kip took his spot at the table, pulled in his chair, stared at his food. He waited, feeling the familiar weight in his chest, the tightness. The palpable tension in the air.

  A lengthy silence passed, and their food got cold. Finally, his mom cleared her throat and said, "He can't fight your battles for you."

  "What does that even mean? What battles?"

  "Life is tough, and will only get tougher. You need to stop being… stop being so sensitive."

  Sensitive? his mind seethed. What am I being sensitive about?

  His mom looked down at her plate, her eyes glazed over. Her lips moved slowly, almost unnoticeably, as if she were talking to herself. Or praying. The light outside waned. The wind gusted. From his seat at the table, Kip could easily see the front door and the living room windows. He waited, almost with eager anticipation, for the door to open. There could only be some kind of final confrontation when his father finally got home. He couldn't live trapped in a web of violence and oppression.

  "I'm hungry."

  "We're waiting for your father."

  "When is he going to be home?"

  "Soon."

  He picked up his fork and toyed with his food, but he didn't lift any to his mouth. The rice and beef was now cold and drying out. Lights panning the living room windows drew Kip's attention. Sure enough, lights flared and flashed outside. And, as he stood up, he heard the wail of approaching sirens.

  His immediate thought was that he was going to be arrested for getting beaten up by Hayden Ross. Sure, it made no logical sense, but Hayden's dad was a state policemen, one who thought his son could do no wrong. Another siren merged with the first, and then a third joined the chorus. Kip's mom arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

  Kip hurried to the window and pulled back the curtain. His mom joined him, hovering over his shoulder.

  A couple of fire trucks had pulled up nearby. There were also a couple of police squad cars and an ambulance settling in, their riders disgorging into the street in a mixture of mania and complete order.

  "What's going on?" his mom asked.

  Kip went to the door and rushed outside.

  "Kip, wait!" his mom called out, chasing after him.

  He stopped midway down the driveway. Smoke, thick, billowing black smoke, and flames guttered from windows at a house down the street.

  He walked slowly, sensing the worst. But no, it wasn't the Revere's house that was on fire. It was Hayden's.

  A blue sedan pulled up the street in the opposite direction of the fire. The turn signal flashed, and the car turned into the driveway. The bumper came within inches of Kip's knees before his dad put it into park and turned off the ignition.

  His dad stepped out, and immediately, Kip's mom rushed over to embrace him. "What's going on?" he asked.

  "A fire," Kip said.

  "Obviously." It was the first time since the fight with Hayden that his dad had acknowledged him.

  "A fire at Hayden Ross's house."

  "Right, I can see that." His dad put his arm around his wife, and as a family they watched the firemen working in vain to tap the fire hydrant at the street corner. For some reason, they couldn't get it to open. Another fire truck wedged up next to the other two. More firemen filed out. Flames had shattered every visible window in the Ross's home. It seemed futile. The flames were too big, had spread too quickly.


  Kip saw Luna and Billy standing in the street in front of their house. Luna had her hands on her cheeks, shocked. Billy could be looking at Kip, but he wasn't certain with the smoke thickening. Kip raised a hand and waved, but Billy never gave any indication that he saw him.

  "Dad?" Kip said.

  His dad's eyes glimmered when he turned to him, and Kip wasn't sure if it was merely a reflection from the fire. Regardless, he looked menacing in the failing light of day. "Yes, son?"

  "How was the accident?"

  "What accident?"

  "The one out on Route 34? The emergency?"

  "Turns out it wasn't an accident after all. Two friends conspired to fake an accident. A fender-bender that would total both cars. I saw right through the whole thing."

  "Right. I'm sure you're good at that."

  "That's why they pay me."

  "Dad?"

  His dad stared into his eyes. Kip again saw reflected flames, but he also saw something else. Something he had never seen before. Was it compassion? No, not quite. Respect? "Yes, son?"

  "Who are we?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "My new friend, Hax, he knows all about computers. He says… he says I don't exist. Says neither do you and mom. He says it's like we're a bunch of ghosts."

  His dad nodded, as if he was expecting this line of questioning. He kissed the top of his wife's head. "Honey, I think it's time you packed our things."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Always."

  Without another word, Kip's mom went inside.

  "Son, I think you should come with me. I need to show you something."

  2.

  The flashing lights from the emergency vehicles were a kinetic riot that Kip could see even when he blinked his eyes closed. He followed his dad to the garage door and watched him punch in the passcode. After the door opened all the way, he waved Kip inside. He didn't say a word until the door was completely closed again. A single bare bulb lit the mostly empty space. Shadows draped the walls, the yard tools, the snow blower that they had yet to use at this new house.