Chapter 4 - Mysterious Drifter

On the long, lonely walk home the sun decided to peek out from behind stormy gray clouds, offering some warmth if only for a moment. I swear, the weather in Michigan could be so bi-polar. Thankfully it had finally stopped raining, which was a good thing because I don't own an umbrella.

The stifling summer heat of just last month – now a distant memory – had finally lifted. Birds flitted about, chirping overhead as if it were spring. The heavy smells of fall with its tangy aroma of pine trees filled the air while a steady, coldish breeze brushed my cheeks and played with my hair.

October was the heart of autumn in Michigan, and leaves on the trees had already changed from greens into yellows, oranges, and crimson reds. In a few more days the colors would be even more glorious when the leaves reached their peak. I might have enjoyed the walk if I hadn't been so preoccupied with searching the woods for Beastie, while at the same time trying to remember every tip I could think of for surviving a zombie attack.

Since my mouth had failed to protect me, I did the first smart thing I could think of. I grabbed a nice thick, sturdy tree limb and practiced swinging it. Satisfied, I ignored my mom's warnings about walking in the road and strolled right down the middle, careful to avoid the dense shrubbery and bushes along the shoulder. I didn't plan on being surprised twice in one day if I could help it. Usually, I didn't pass by a single soul on the way to my house.

With the exception of today, that is.

Far off in the distance a male figure stood beside one of the many ancient oak trees lining the humble country road. I glanced over my shoulder in case I needed to call for help, knowing full well that nobody else lived on this road but me.

As far as I could tell, I had only two options. First, I could run in the opposite direction, screaming my head off. Or second, I could trust that I was capable of swinging my trusty tree limb, and aiming for the brain. I opted for the latter.

Time to put my big girl panties on.

With each step I took, a cold knot of panic started to grow in the center of my gut. I braved a harder glance as I approached and was sure...well, I was mostly sure (hoped was more like it) that this guy wasn't Beastie.

Or what was left of him anyway.

I did the slow head turning thing just in case as I carefully made my way past him. Nope, definitely not Beastie. Besides, this guy was a tall drink of handsome with extra ice. He was simply too delicious looking to be dead. He had one of those utterly masculine faces that you always see in GQ magazine; strong square jaw, finely chiseled cheekbones, and broad forehead with heavy, dark brows that tossed deep shadows over his eyes. Confident eyes that were bold and unafraid. The way he wore his chocolaty brown hair short on the sides and longer on top, combed back in a pompadour, reminded me of a throwback to the 1950s tough look. He even managed to dress like a caricature of that bygone era. Wearing a crisp white T-shirt, black leather jacket, black biker boots, and jeans so snug they looked painted on, he could've played the lead heartthrob in the movie, Rebel Without A Cause.

Eyebrows furrowed tightly together, he stood with both hands buried in his front pant pockets, one leg bent, back pressed up and leaning...no, not leaning exactly...more like leaning with major attitude against the tree, while absolutely glowering at me.

He looked like a total bad-ass. Intimidating much?

"You don't look dangerous," he finally admitted, sounding thoughtful.

I stopped walking and made a slight U-turn to face him, careful to keep my distance. "What did you say, James Dean?"

He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "Who's James Dean?"

At first glance, it appeared as though he had on a ton of eyeliner. But, upon closer inspection, I realized that he was actually just disgustingly gifted with thick, dark lashes.

I didn't even know the guy, but he was obviously off his meds and wasting my time. Probably some kind of drifter.

"Never mind." I gave up and started walking again. Just my luck, I meet two random guys out of the blue. One of them is already dead, while the other is deluded.

Not that I was looking for a date, of course.

"Go back to the funny farm," I said with a laugh, tossing my weapon over my shoulder. He was about as threatening as a teacup Chihuahua.

I hadn't taken twenty steps before I heard a crunch of gravel. I jerked my head in the direction of the noise, only to find the same guy leaning on another tree farther up ahead.

Poor tree.

I hadn't even noticed him pass by me, let alone move that fast.

He shrugged his shoulders as I drew near again, giving me scornful eyes. "You just don't seem that dangerous to me. Why is that?"

Gee, this guy just wasn't giving up.

"How should I know? I don't speak crazy. That's your department," I said, brushing past him. "Besides, you just met me. Give it five minutes."

The drifter fell into step beside me. I couldn't help but shudder. Not because the close proximity of his body bothered me. More like because it didn't. Or maybe my stranger alert system was on the fritz again.

"I've known you a lot longer than five minutes," he broke in.

Never mind. At hearing his admission, an alarm started going off in my head. This time I stopped dead in my tracks to glare at him.

He paused to clear his throat under my intense scrutiny. "Known of you, I should say."

"Who in the hell do you think you are, and why are you following me?"

He stood up straight, puffed out his substantial chest, and replied in a deep voice, "I'm your worst nightmare!"

At first I thought he was kidding, until he reached out a hand with blinding speed and grabbed my left wrist. Consumed by panic I writhed in terror, but he refused to let go. As I jerked on my arm even harder, trying desperately to break free, his grip only tightened. Or, at least, that's what I imagined had happened. When the initial shock wore off, I realized that I couldn't actually feel his grip at all. In fact, even as I saw him holding onto my arm, the only thing I actually felt was the gentlest of vibrations. Like the delicate flutter of wings.

I just stood there...afraid to move...afraid not to. I must've been lost deep in horror because when I eventually came out of it, I found him laughing. It hadn't even occurred to me that he'd finally let me go.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said with a chuckle. "I've just always wanted to say that." I watched intently as he carefully extended his right hand, eyes still sparkling with laughter. "My name is Thomas, by the way."

"Are you crazy?" I yelled, jerking away. "First Beastie, and now you!"

He smiled, but not like he was happy. "Are you referring to the person who tried to attack you at school?"

I froze. How did he know?

Wrinkling his brow, he said, "What did you call him again?"

"Beastie," I supplied, scowling.

"Ah, yes." The drifter chuckled to himself, clearly amused. Unaffected by my hostile glare, he continued. "Beastie, as you so eloquently refer to him, has been taken care of. You have nothing to fear now, you're safe with me."

My eyes went wide. "Yeah? Well, right now I'm feeling a lot of things and, trust me, safe ain't one of them."

"Chaos," he began, trying to make his voice sound comforting. "I can assure you, I mean you no harm."

I sucked in my breath. "How do you know my name?"

"I know everything about you," he admitted softly.

My first thought was...Wow, what a creeper! But I didn't say it out loud. Thanks to Beastie, not every thought that popped into my head had to come out of my mouth. My second thought was concern. But not for myself. "What did you do to Bea...uh, I mean...what did you do to Andrew?"

He seemed to think about that for a moment. "Andrew won't be back to bother you."

At first, I just stared at him – mind unable to process the words. "You killed him?"

"Andrew was already dead, if you hadn't noticed."

He had a point.

I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Time to get some answers. "Thomas, is it?" I began, trying out his name. "You know why Andrew came to my school, don't you?"

He nodded, face unreadable. "Yes."

When he didn't expand on the explanation, I could tell I was going to have to drag it out of him. Stubbornly folding my arms over my chest, I said, "Care to enlighten me?"

"He came to recruit you," Thomas replied simply, as if that explained everything.

Both eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Recruit me? For what, exactly?"

"To join the rebellion," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"Rebellion?" I repeated. "What rebellion?"

"The Dark Ones have launched a rebellion against the Guardians for dominion over Earth."

"The Dark who, and the Guardians what?" I shrieked, voice going high. Recovering quickly, I narrowed my eyes skeptically. "And which one are you?" I still wasn't entirely sure he wasn't a whack job.

A really cute whack job who seemed to know a whole heck of a lot about me.

"I am a Guardian," Thomas responded proudly.

"So why are you here?"

"To recruit you to join my side."

"Of the rebellion?" I finished for him.

"Correct."

I let what he'd said sink in without responding. The words Daughter of Darkness echoed eerily in my mind. When I found my voice again, it came out in a whisper of disbelief. "What could you possibly need me for? I'm just a kid."

"Meet me tonight in the old barn behind your house," Thomas offered, "and I promise to explain everything." He started to walk away, and then turned back around as if he'd forgotten something. "Oh, and bring your violin too."

He was seriously starting to annoy me with all his familiarity about my life. The thought that he could know me so well when I knew nothing about him gave me the squeamies. And there was absolutely no freaking way I wanted him coming anywhere near my house.

I glanced down at my feet, trying hard to think of an intelligent excuse to get rid of him.

I finally gave up.

"I don't mean to rain all over your parade..." I began flippantly. When I raised my head to finish, Thomas had vanished.

Mercifully alone once again with only my thoughts to keep me company, I replayed the conversation over and over again in my mind forcing myself to comprehend, but I still didn't have a clue. It was all just a big, fat mystery.

If possible, the last mile to my house was the loneliest walk of my life. Somehow I knew that everything I've ever known was about to change. One thing I couldn't be certain about was whether it would be a change for the better, or for worse.