The Children of Light Episode 1

Footsteps pounded the forest floor as Thomas vaulted a fallen tree, dodging a branch that would have left a nasty scrape. The mixture of adrenaline rushing through his veins and the wind whipping his hair felt good. Normally, he would have lost all trackers behind, but this guy was good. Maybe even as good as me.

“You can’t run forever!” a voice called from behind, and Thomas used the opportunity to dart to the side and down a ravine. He didn’t waste the breath to answer. That was all the tracker needed to take a shot at him.

Up ahead, a tree had fallen across the ravine, creating a nice bridge when the creek flooded, or in this case, a beam to pull himself up. Grabbing a branch, he used his momentum to swing him out over the creek, then hoisted himself onto the tree. Without pausing he dashed along the trunk and hopped off onto the bank. He had spent years making a name for himself—becoming a legend—and he was not about to let a new kid take that away. He was unbeatable.

Dropping to the ground, he wiped the sweat from his eyes, forcing himself to take shallow breaths, even though his lungs burned for air.  As the sound of dry leaves crunching came closer, Thomas held his breath. He couldn’t look in the direction of the tracker, for risk of giving away his location. He just prayed that his army jacket made him blend in well enough. He waited for what seemed like minutes as the footsteps wandered around his hiding spot. Through the roots of the tree, he saw an abnormally large boot emerge, then the red pants. No no no…

“I know you’re here, Thomas. We can do this the hard way, or we can do this the harder way. Your choice.”

Thomas steadied his breath, counting in his head as he pressed himself into the roots behind him. Finally, just when he had almost lost count of seconds, the guy stepped away, and he heard footsteps recede into the forest. Taking a deep breath, Thomas stood up, and his chest exploded into pain. He reflexively grabbed at it as the deep red, sticky liquid soaked into his jacket.

“The unbeatable Thomas Wolfe, beaten.” The tracker stepped out of the bush holding the paintball gun, his red pants and black tactical vest swishing with the branches. “Looks like I caught you red handed.”

Thomas was too stunned to respond, or even to be mad at him. No one was supposed to be able to beat him. Not anymore. The fact that this boy, whatever his name was, had caught him meant he wasn’t good enough. He needed to be better.

“Come on. Let’s head back. The rest of your team was eliminated a while ago.” The new guy prodded Thomas in the back, then took the lead, and Thomas reluctantly followed.

“So why did only you come after me alone? Shouldn’t you have the rest of the team with you?” Thomas asked, finally finding his voice.

The kid shrugged. “I’m a lone wolf, like you. Plus, they wouldn’t even try.” He started off through the woods, and Thomas was forced to follow. “Dude, you just left your teammates for dead.”

“If people don’t look out for themselves, they die.”

“Wouldn’t want to be on your team,” he mumbled, ducking under a branch. “Name’s Jack, by the way.”

“Thomas.”

“Real or alias?”

Thomas stopped to stare at Jack. “What?”

“Real or alias.”

“Alias, of course. My real name’s Fred. And you?”

“Fake.” He turned to smirk at Thomas and in return got a branch in his face. “Only my friends know my real name.”

“What about your family?”

Jack shrugged under his black vest, then turned, brushing another branch out of his way.

“So, where’d you learn to do that?” Thomas asked.

“Do what?” Jack didn’t look back as he replied.

“What you did in the woods.”

“Look, I’m the one with the gun. I ask the questions.”

“Oh, really?”

Thomas didn’t even have time to react as Jack spun the gun backwards and fired. A sharp pain erupted on Thomas’ leg, and he staggered, red paint oozing from his pant leg. “All right, all right.” 

The two of them walked the rest of the way in stiff silence as frogs and birds chirped mockingly. Finally, they emerged into the clearing where the five brick buildings stood like sentinels over the huge empty lawn. Oh no.

“What is it? Afraid to—”

Thomas didn’t wait for him to finish as he burst into a sprint. The sound of fifty paintball guns firing filled the air. Paint splattered the ground all around them as they made a break for the only safe zone: the cover of the buildings.

“And what’s stopping me from shooting you?” Jack asked, keeping pace with him.

“You do that and it’s over for you,” he hissed. He had enough bruises for today.

A pain shot down his arm, and he whirled on Jack.

“Wasn’t me! They’re on the roof.”

Thomas whirled back just in time to dodge a paintball aimed at his chest. Using all of his remaining energy, he made a mad dash for the building to his right, the girl’s building. He couldn’t get inside, but at least he could use it as cover. Just as he thought he was in the green, the door opened and three girls stepped out, each armed and aiming at him.

Thomas slid to the ground as three balls whizzed over his head. Gaining his footing, he launched himself from the ground, turning to face a U of trackers, each pointing a gun at him. Blood rushed to his head, pounding in his ears. He was trapped.

“Well well, Thomas,” a slightly round boy in a paint splattered jacket said, stepping out of the line. Greg.

“Never thought I would see this day. Guess deserting your teammates doesn’t always pay off.” He raised his gun, pointing it at Thomas. “Now you have to die.”

Thomas waited, tuning all his attention on the guns and letting everything else fade away. 3… 2… Thomas hit the ground just as paintballs exploded around him. He heard the shrieks of the girls behind him, and he used the opportunity to propel himself to his feet, and sprint for the main building. He fixed his gaze on the ornate walls, with its two towers casting shadows over the path. Paint exploded by his feet as he bolted toward the overhang leading inside. 30 feet… 20 feet… 10… 5… Wham! A paintball exploded on his chest, exactly where the first one had hit.

He gasped, hitting the ground and rolling to a stop just feet away from Jack, who was smirking like he’d just felled a bear. Thomas barely registered the paintballs pummeling his back.

“Guess that makes the second time in one day. Looks like you met your match.”

Thomas glared at him as Jack turned and walked inside, slinging his gun onto his back. He was going to pay.

“Hey, anyone sitting here?” The voice mixed with the buzz of voices and clanging dishes of the cafeteria.

Thomas looked up from his tray to see one of the boys from his small group— Carlos was it?—standing above him with a few boys behind him. He shrugged, praying they would get the hint and move to another table.

“Great.”

One of the chairs screeched backward, followed by a couple more as the guys sat down across from him. Yeah, Great.

“So, how have you been?” Carlos asked, taking a bite of burrito. Silence filled the air between them, and he realized he was expected to talk.

“Fine.”

Carlos’s eyes bored into him, like maybe he could pull the secrets out of Thomas’ mind. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

“I lost the paintball game.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, grinning. “That was fun. ”

“Yeah, fun,” Thomas replied dryly, turning to his food. An awkward pause followed, and he wished Carlos would just get up and move to another table. He was a lone wolf. Plus, this was just awkward.

“So, you’ve been studying the passage this week?” Carlos prodded, apparently not giving up so easily.

Thomas gave a noncommittal shrug. Finally, after he couldn’t take the silence, he answered. “Yeah.”

“So, what do you think?”

“Why are you here? I’m sure you don’t just want to hang-out with me. No one does. I need to head to the bathroom.” Scooching out of his chair, and stood and stalked off without another word.

“Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?” Said a new voice. 

Thomas spun around to see Jack leaning on a table, grinning at him. Anger flared up inside him, and he turned back to the door so he wouldn’t punch the guy in the face. Rushing out of the room, he hurried down the hallway, not sure where he was going as tears blurred his vision. After five years, he thought he would be over this. Why couldn’t he let anyone in? Why couldn’t he break down whatever wall was blocking everyone out?

Footsteps came from around the corner, and his heart started racing. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. Without thinking, he reached for the nearest door, ducking inside, then closed it behind him. For a moment, he just stood there in the dark as a group of giggling girls passed his hiding place. Only after the last foot step faded, then did the tears flow freely, and for the first time in weeks, he let them. All the loneliness and hurt longing for his family hit him with a force that took his breath away.

His heart ached to be back with his family. When had he seen his sister last? Four years ago? So why did the homesickness still feel fresh?

He reached up to wipe the tears off his face, and he froze as his arm bumped something which clattered to the floor. Choking back his tears, he stood up, feeling around the room for a lightswitch. He felt a string dangling from the ceiling and pulled it. Instantly, the small room illuminated. Pathetic. He had been crying in a cleaning closet. Taking a shaky breath, he reached for the door, then stopped as more footsteps approached.

“Hey, Jan, did you leave the lights in the closet on again?” A man’s voice called.

Someone answered, but Thomas didn’t care to listen as heat spread up his face and his heart went into overdrive. Stupid! Why had he turned the light on?! Frantically, he searched the walls of the cramped room for a hiding place. Except for a small vacuum cleaner, nothing was big enough to cover him even a little. He felt along the walls as the footsteps approached, his hand brushing something just as the sound stopped. A latch! Hoping against hope, he pulled, but it didn’t budge. Spinning around, he found a lock on the door and quickly clicked it into place just as the knob started rattling.

“Who’s idea of a joke is this?” the man growled.

Thomas gave a sigh of relief, but already he could hear the sound of keys jingling. Turning back to the latch, he saw that a wire was twisted around it. Unraveling it, he lifted the latch, and a small panel swung inward. Ignoring all the spiders and roaches, he shimmied through the opening and shut it just as the door opened. He caught a glimpse of the man as the door closed, and he almost gasped. He was staring straight at the panel.

“Ah, I should have known.” He heard the man get down on his knees and he shuffled backwards, surprised that he didn’t feel anything behind him.

“Don’t worry little guy. I won’t hurt you.”

Little guy? The man thought he was an animal? Slowly, he scooched back into the shadows. Suddenly, he was no longer crawling on wood, but on something soft and cold. Glancing around him, he could vaguely make out a door that he must have crawled through. Cautiously, he got to his feet, shutting the door just enough so it didn’t latch. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in… Wherever he was. 

“Yeah, must have been a squirrel. Got away, though,” he heard the man say, and a second later, he heard the panel close and latch. He breathed a sigh of relief, then caught himself. The panel was latched. Panic started to grip him. He was trapped in here. Taking a deep breath, he looked around, wishing now that he had thought to bring a flashlight. Okay, don’t panic yet. There could be another way out. Opening his eyes, he tried to focus on something in the pitch darkness, and he noticed something he hadn’t before. Ever so faintly, he could see a light. Carefully , he made his way toward it, making sure he didn’t bang against something. He had no idea where he was, but judging by the smell, it had to be somewhere with trash. Really, really old trash.

Finally, he found the source of the light: a light switch sized rectangle that seemed to have a small light behind it. He felt a switch, and after a brief hesitation, he flicked it up. For a moment, nothing happened, then the room was flooded with light.

He shielded his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the brightness. He gasped as the room grew into focus. The whole place was carpeted, with a short table in the middle of the room, surrounded by beanbags. Bookcases lined the walls on three sides of the room, and a mini-fridge sat in a small gap between them. However, all of that paled in comparison to the wall.

Checking to make sure he was alone, he cautiously walked over to a spotlight illuminating at least twenty newspaper articles pinned onto a map of a city. Each one had a string leading to a specific area, street, or building. However, something in the middle caught his eye. A lone small photograph of a group, thier arms around each other in front of the academy’s main building was pinned neatly in the center. Under it in scrawled handwriting was a simple note:

The Children of Light / Ephesians 5:8

Thomas turned away from the picture, and he had to bite his lip to stop the tears that threatened to flow again. They looked so happy together, and for a moment, he wondered what it would be like to be part of that group, or any group for that matter.

Shaking his head, he turned to the articles skimming them for some clue about what had happened. One headline caught his eye. “Widow receives mysterious package after a tragic accident.” He didn’t know why, but he found himself getting caught up in the article. “Yesterday was supposed to be a restful day for Widow Susan, as she unwound from the week’s work making quilts for the local nursing home. However, the day became a nightmare when she left her iron on a quilt. Within minutes, the house was aflame. Luckily, Widow Susuan was not hurt, though many objects of great importance had been destroyed in the fire, or so she thought. One day after the accident, a mysterious package appeared at her friend’s house where she had been staying, including a few possessions she had thought were destroyed in the fire. Experts believe that the famous Children of Light might have had something to do with this recent miracle.”

The articles went on like that. He noticed that every week, a new story would come out about a way this group showed someone love or helped the city, like cleaning garbage off the streets or giving food to homeless people. Some of them he noticed were only a week apart. The last date was March 20th, 2011. Weird. The room seemed like it had just recently been inhabited. The beanbags still had dents where people had sat, though as he knelt by one, he noticed the layer of dust that had accumulated. Suddenly, he remembered the smell, and he instinctively turned toward the refrigerator. If the group had left this room five years ago… He didn’t even want to think about what must be in that fridge.

A beep from his phone startled him, and he took it out, his heart freezing. The flashing white alarm read, “Spanish, 1:00”. Retracing his steps, he opened the door into what he could now see was a half-finished hallway. Quickly, he crossed over to the panel and pushed on it. Nothing happened. He pushed harder, and the only response was the jingle of the latch. There had to be another way out. Whoever had used this room had to be able to escape without coming out of a cleaning closet, right?

He retraced his steps back inside the room and started searching the bookcases, noticing for the first time that only a fraction of the items on the shelf were books. Other knick-knacks, like water bottles, stale snacks, and various tools and gadgets lined the shelves. Still, there was no sign of a secret exit.

Frantically, he started searching the books, running his hand behind them in hopes of finding a string or something. Nothing. As he searched the books, his hand brushed a Bible lying open on the shelf, sticky notes sticking out at all angles. Carefully, he picked it up. A verse highlighted in yellow caught his eye. “For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord, walk as children of light.” He didn’t exactly know why he did it, but he found himself flipping open to a random marked spot. “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

Something inside him stirred, like a spark had been lit deep inside him. He had no idea why he did it, but he found himself kneeling on the carpet. It was almost like he could feel something in this room. Something greater than him. Something that radiated love. Something that whispered to him, “go.”

This is crazy. He was crazy. He started to stand up, but something held him down, the same thing that now pulled on his heart. He had only felt like this one time before, when he had accepted Jesus, but this time it was different, a call to go.

Thomas took a deep breath. “Alright, Lord. Perhaps I’m crazy, but if you want me to go, I’ll go. But… where exactly do you want me to go?”

Again, the feeling came, only this time it was saying “Go and be a light.” Alright, so now he was listening to voices in his head. No, not his head; in his heart.

“Alright. I’ll go. But first, please get me out of here. I’m kind of late for class.”

He looked around, hoping that maybe a spotlight would illuminate the wall or an angel would appear. Anything was possible at this point. But nothing happened. Sighing, he turned back to close the Bible, noticing a lone fish on a sticky note. And he opened up to the back cover. Scrawled out in barely legible writing were the words, “If you ever get lost, follow the lamp. -George”

Weird. Why would they have a bad quote in the back of the Bible? Unless it’s a code? It didn’t seem very likely, but it wasn’t like he had any better leads. Putting the Bible back, he scanned the room for anything that resembled a lamp. After five minutes of  searching, he was about to give up when he spotted a small clay dish on a  bookcase. It almost looked like one of those lamps the academy used on the prayer table. No, it looked exactly like one. He walked over to the bookcase, and holding his breath, he lifted it up. A soft click came from somewhere inside and the next moment, the whole thing swung inward as sunlight poured into the room. Of course. The answer had been in the Bible the whole time.

He probably would have been awed at the movie-like secret door, but his fear for what Mrs. Sanchez would do when he entered the class fifteen minutes late blocked out everything else. Everything except the spark that now glowed in his chest, the spark of a new adventure.