The Collection of Protection:
2nd Chronicle
Chapter 3
C hristmas afternoon saw Kenny and Malcolm signing in at the Dade Juvenile Detention Center, grey brick walls and iron bars surrounding them. His brother was the first to be checked in the metal detector before they called him to step through. They were led by a burly officer to a huge cafeteria with a dozen rows of rectangular plywood tables, half full of teenagers and their families. Standing by the sliver of a window was a stocky abnormally tall black male with a bald fade.
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They made their way toward him before Kenny broke off and rushed through the empty cafeteria line. He snatched a tray, pudding, and cornbread while noticing his two brothers hugging. A low hum of chatter covered the room as a smile grew on his face once he hurried to the semi-empty table they sat down at.
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“I thought you might be hungry.” Kenny sat, pushing the tray toward his younger brother. The smile quickly faded when the tray was pushed back, and Martin glared at him with disdain.
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“Why are you here?”
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“Are you kidding? It’s Christmas.”
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“Marty, we all care…”
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“Oh, screw the sympathy, Mally. I want no association with abominations who denounce Christ!”
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“And there’s mom speaking,” Kenny rested his head on his palm, “Well, Merry Christmas to you too, prick.”
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He had stood to leave but his older brother jerked him back down in his seat.
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“Sit.” Malcolm slowly inhaled before looking at Martin, “It’s Christmas and at least we are all here together.”
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“What part of I don’t want to be infected by filth don’t you understand? And to have you claiming blood with this faggot, our parents would be ashamed to call yourself a Christian.”
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Blood had boiled in Kenny to the point he was afraid a burst of energy would crack the walls, but Malcolm had responded faster than anything before. Ferociously, he punched his littlest brother and then slammed his head on the table. The entire room fell silent and Malcolm’s tone was harsh.
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“You ungrateful little shit. Look around, brother, our parents aren’t even here. They won’t even bail you out on Christmas day. They don’t care and the best thing you can do is insult the one person who thought to bring you food? Say it again and I’ll bust all your teeth out. We’re brothers. Act like it.”
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He let go of his grip when the officers began to slowly close in around them. Malcolm raised his hands in the air while standing up to leave.
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“Your gift was me bailing you out today, but you can kiss that goodbye. Merry Christmas.”
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And he strutted out in fumes as Kenny sat back and examined Martin’s bruised face.
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“Stop letting people think for you.”
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“Just go away. It’s what you’re good at.”
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After letting out a heavy sigh, he stood up and exited the room to catch up to his older brother, who was checking out. Once they got into the car, Malcolm punched the steering wheel and exhaled.
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“If that’s the type of drama you had to deal with your entire life then I see why you left.”
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Kenny didn’t comment. He stared out the window as they sped down the freeway, watching the scenery change from palm trees and lakes to colorful buildings and traffic. They had just crossed over a glistening bay when the car veered off the freeway and into a quaint shaded neighborhood. A welcome to South Beach sign greeted them as Malcolm turned another corner and stopped in front of a white sliding gate.
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It automatically began opening when Malcolm looked over.
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“You okay?”
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“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine. Just want to get home.”
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They pulled up to a black and white, two-story brick-marble house with multiple windows. Inside was open space, vaulted ceilings, and a staircase with solid platinum rods, curved around with rails of metal slabs.
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Upstairs all the doors were closed in the vast hallway except for the double doors at the end. It led into the white fuzzy master bedroom, complete with a leopard canopy Alaskan king-sized bed.
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“Big Mal? Is that you?” came a soft feminine voice.
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“Uh…no, sorry. Just his brother.” Kenny froze in place and shut his eyes tight.
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“I’m downstairs, babe!”
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“Oh, no worries. Merry Christmas.”
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“Yeah, same to you,” Kenny answered in a rush before he heard the bed rotate around into the wall. He sighed a sigh of relief and tore to the closet. Bracing for something else, he latched the door behind him.
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The closet itself was huge, with racks of military uniforms, fatigues, countless colored button-ups, and navy-blue slacks. Every single piece of clothing was neatly pressed and folded or hung up flawlessly. Shiny black shoes lined the floor, making a walkway to the back of the closet, and that is where the mirror stood.
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He placed his palm on the corner.
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“Hello, Kenneth.”
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Grunt.
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“Destination.”
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“Wonderful! Where to?”
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“Home.”
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“Oh? Not to the cabin?”
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“No.”
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“Very well.”
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He crossed through the beaded curtain that burst open and in one step, he was standing in his living room. It was abnormally quiet apart from the small hum of the fish tank. Kenny noticed a small, half decorated tree sat on the mantel of the fireplace before he made a beeline for the front door. The blaring of the alarm made him jump back into the end table.
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“Why?!” He yelled in the air, typing in the passcode, “We’re already protected, idiot.”
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The blaring stopped.
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In a huff, he rushed outside to see the house across the street was sold and a playhouse sat in the front yard. Kenny sighed and looked up to the clear blue sunny sky. Frustration simmered in his gut before he turned to reenter the house, in a blink, a rushing sensation passed through his bones. The next thing he realized was he was standing in the middle of a narrow street. It curved around colorful single-story homes with medium-sized manicured lawns.
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Small white gates boxed in most homes that overlooked a hilly view of the bay. Unsure of his location, Kenny kicked a rock into a curbside garbage can and began walking down the sidewalk.
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“This…this can’t be.” A hushed voice gasped.
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Kenny looked over at the nearest house, freshly painted to match the pink hydrangeas around the perfectly manicured lawn, a small ‘do not walk’ sign perched at the front. Clarkson stood flabbergasted against the pearly white doorframe.
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“Are you stalking me now?”
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“Wha…You’re kidding?” Kenny scoffed, turning to walk off, “I could care less about you, Clark.”
“You must be intentionally trying to make me angry then?”
Kenny stopped.
“Does my being here make up that upset?” he stepped one foot onto the luscious grass, “Then I can’t say that doesn’t bring me a bit of glee.”
“Help…” a faint whisper pierced his mind when he stepped his whole body on the lawn.
“You don’t want to do this with me.” Clark continued, strolling over to meet him.
“No matter how much you bark, I will never be scared of you, Clark.”
The dapper gentleman stood erect and superior in Kenny’s face, smoothing his checkered vest in a deep inhale.
“You will call me Clarkson. That is my name.”
Kenny stood confidently; proud he was keeping his breathing steady.
“No chance.” He winked, “And until you remove this curse you have on Christian, then I will always be your enemy.”
“Is that what this is all about? The malediction on my husband’s life?”
“You’re fucking delusional.”
“But, if it’s a curse you crave to repent,” Clark pressed down on his leather bracelet, “Then please, allow me.”
Kenny stepped back in defense noticing his rival squeezing on a random bead attached to the bracelet. Black smoke encased both in an instant and found himself on his knees, bounded by a black burning substance in front of the cabin. Clark towered over him, his eyes sunken with a black shadow with swirling sparks of blue fire snaking around his body, melting the snow around them.
“You will never win this.”
Kenny struggled to break free but with each yank, it burned. Each scream he muffled in anger, looking up at the demonic gentleman above him.
“Aren’t your friends inside sleeping? What a lovely way to die.”
Boiling over, Kenny screamed in fury, his echoes colliding with the force around the cabin. Just as Clark released sparkling bands of fire, the force irradiated in a blinding white light, creating strands to collide with the attack.
The binding substance evaporated as the Host of Chaos stood on his feet, watching Clarkson be catapulted into the trees. As the light dimmed, Kenny took off running into the shadowy woods following the distant sound of running. He tore through foliage and jumped over tree roots while Clark taunted in the air.
“Is that the power of the mightiest savior? Barely touched me.”
Kenny skidded to a halt before stretching his arms out ahead, his fingers in the shape of an L. The sound of a rushing, mighty wind pushed all the foliage ahead just as he heard Clark tumble and roll. Without hesitation, he sprinted as hard as he could just as he came to the area where a fresh indent showed dirt where a body had fallen.
Running was heard again but this time he saw Clark running toward the open cliff. When he began chasing after him again, jumping over a hollow tree stump and out the woods, he saw him run off the cliff and disappear into an invisible wormhole.
Not stopping, Kenny gained speed as he rounded to jump off the cliff, falling shortly before popping the same wormhole. Landing onto a dirty alley in Downtown Los Angeles, he saw Clark running away and tripping around the corner. Once Kenny made it onto the sidewalk, he saw Clark pushing people into the busy streets before dashing into the nearest storefront, fizzing into a dark vapor. Not a second after his rival vanished out of sight, an explosion consumed three floors and two businesses, causing Kenny to fly back into other people on the sidewalk.
“Are you okay, sir?” a child-like voice sang, with a hint of windchimes.
Dazed and confused, Kenny opened his eyes to a fuzzy silhouette of a small girl pulling him to his feet. But once he gained focus, she was gone, and he was standing on his feet helping pull another person up amid the chaos.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you!” they replied to him, before running off to help their wife. Still unsure, Kenny looked around at the smoky scene. Sirens blared in the distance, a fire burned in the building and frantic screams drowned the atmosphere.
As terrified people ran past him, a hand grabbed his shoulders and pulled.
“Let’s go,” Shawn ordered.
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