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“Run, Xander!” Marie Suiza screamed to me and was gone. I should have run, but I couldn’t. She’d come back. Right? She had to come back. Her and Reuben would come back up the hole, carrying a laughing but sleepy Oscar. Reuben would take the hot rifle from me with a smile and go outside. The burns on my hands—gone. The gaping hole in the floor—gone. The blood—gone.

Marie would lay Oscar and me down on the beds. She’d kiss her sleepy baby boy as he rolled over, sleep peacefully claiming him. Then Marie would come over to me with a tired smile on her beautiful brown face. That is what would happen. It had to happen that way. I wouldn’t let anything else happen. Marie would brush my clean hair out of my face. “It’s just a bad dream, Xander,” she’d say. “Everything is fine. Go back to sleep so you can wake up. Wake up, Xander. Wake up.”

“Wake up.” Not Marie Suiza’s voice. Not even a woman’s. “Xander, son, wake up. You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

Brief pain lanced my eyes. It hurt to open them. Too bright. I put my hands over my eyes. That hurt too. Everything hurt. My head most of all.

“Emese, he’s awake,” my father’s soft voice called out.

“Thank Yuan!” Mom’s voice answered.

Groaning, I let my hands fall off my face. I was in my bedroom. My parents both stood over me. At the side of my bed. Looking down at me. It was weird.

“Uh, good morning?” My voice rasped out. Ugh. Even talking hurt.

“Late morning, son.” Worry creased my father’s face—probably counting the time down to the seconds I’d wasted sleeping-in. “You’re lucky to be alive. What happened to you last night?”

Oh. That. It all slammed back into my already aching head. I should be dead. I sat up fast, instantly regretting any movement. I grimaced and lowered myself, slowly, back onto my pillow. “How did I get back here?”

“Questions can wait a few minutes.” Mom sat on my bed next to me. “Here, Xander, take a drink. It will help with the pain.”

Slowly, I sat up and took the hot cup she offered me. “Better be strong.” It tasted sweet and horrible, but my parched throat welcomed the hot liquid. “What is that?” Forcing a weak smile, I passed the cup back to my mom.

“Bark tea with honey. Would you like some more?”

“Thanks, no. Some water?”

“Sure.” Mom kissed my forehead and pursed her lips at my father. “No questions until I return.” She slipped out of the room.

My father, still standing by my bed, gave a short, small chuckle. “I’m surprised you drank it all. That tea is horrible.”

“Same stuff we give the goats when they’re kidding?”

“Yep. Just with honey.”

“Blech.”

“Have to force the goats to drink it. Works though.”

Moments passed with nothing said. A common occurrence between my father and myself. Our conversations were utilitarian at best and more often than not, awkward. Absalom Floros could lead a small colony into hell, but deep conversation with his sons—not one of his better skills. Apparently not one of mine either. I stared at the broken blaster on my wall and let the tea work. My father typed on his wrist comm while we waited for answers. We both waited for answers.

Mom returned with the water. She paused, putting a hand on my father’s arm. “I let Jamus know that Xander’s awake. He left to tell Sam and Reese.”

My father nodded. “Why did Jamus go? I already sent a comm-message to Reese. Oh well. They’ll be expecting us soon.”

Mom nodded back. “Probably, but they can wait.” She passed me the water and after I drained it, she took the cup. “Now, Xander—”

My father and I burst out our questions, tumbling words over each other and interrupting my mother.

“What happened last night?”

“How’d I get here?”

“Calm down. Both of you.” Mom took a deep breath, modeling calm. “Xander, you had us worried. But we need to know what happened to you first.”

“Why?”

“Because what little we know still doesn’t make enough sense to us,” said my father.

“Oh.” I said, scowling-which also hurt. “That’s real comforting to hear.”

“With recent events,” said my father, picking up on my sarcasm, “comfort isn’t a priority.”

Laying myself down, I huffed. “Never has been in Brunning.”

Mom pursed her lips again and rolled her eyes. My father scrunched his and looked down at me. “Son, until you learn to appreciate truly earning things for yourself, no matter how hard, you will never fully appreciate luxury.” My father rarely lectured, his was the way of example and actions speaking louder than words. He didn’t raise his voice at me. He didn’t need to. His calm, tired tone captured and demanded my attention. Even if I didn’t want to listen.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Absalom—” started Mom.

“No, Emese. Xander’s not been a child for a while. It’s time that he leave behind his childish ways. Indolence, selfishness, and entitlement have no place here.”

“You’re right,” Mom said.

I won’t lie. Hearing my father say those words cut to the heart. Hearing my mother agree was like sharp salt crystals in the wound.

“Xander,” continued my father, “you can’t rely on luck anymore.”

“Yes, sir.” I wanted to say that I didn’t feel very lucky at that moment. Then I thought about Alana and swallowed my words.

My father nodded. Maybe he noticed my restraint. “Xander, I don’t have to tell you that you are more than capable of success, you know that already. But do you believe it?”

My father’s intensity made me miss our usual awkward attempts at conversation. I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what to say. And I think my father expected that.

“A good thing to think on.” The intensity dissolved from his face, replaced by the same exhaustion that plagued him since yesterday. “Now, Xander, please. Yesterday afternoon I sent you to the Thurn’s. That’s the last anyone saw you. We need to know what happened after that.”

“Well, I made it to the Thurn’s. Deek wanted to hurt me.”

“So everything was normal at the Thurn’s?” my father asked.

“If you can call any visit to the Thurn’s normal,” said Mom.

I rolled my eyes, more out of agreement, than anything else. “Yeah, nothing weirder than usual.” But had it been? “Except…”

“Except… what?” My father motioned for more.

I didn’t know why I’d even brought it up, but details from the day before weren’t adding up now that I thought about it. Blame it on the tea, or head injuries—more than likely I was too freaked out about spiders to have paid enough attention while I was with Marigold. “Except that Marigold was acting weird.”

“How so?”

“When I told her about Alana she got really nervous, then when I told her spiders did it, she seemed almost relieved. Then she didn’t want me to pass the news to her father. She got all nervous again and wanted me to leave.”

“Okay.” My father nodded, he did that a lot when thinking. “That is odd for her, but nothing else significant happened?”

“I guess not. Well, there was the storm and all that rain. The rains should be months out still.”

“We saw that,” said my father, “strange how it died right after it crossed over the plateau.”

That surprised me. “Really?”

Both my parents nodded. “After Knox Sumat spotted the clouds over by the Thurns,” Mom said, “we opened the cisterns here to catch the rain. But the clouds dispersed right after the sun set.”

“It didn’t rain here at all?”

Mom shrugged her shoulders. “Not a drop.”

“Weird.”

“Brunning has it’s secrets. We’ve still a lot to learn,” said my father. “You left the Thurns, what happened after that?”

I told my parents the rest, about the return trip across the plateau, then about the spiders coming in the chimney after me and my failed attempt at speedy descent.

“That explains most of your cuts and scrapes,” Mom said.

“Knocked me out. Couldn’t have been for long. Only a few seconds.”

“And that explains the back of your head.”

I felt my head, wincing when I touched the large lump on the back. “Ow.”

My father slowly nodded. “So you didn’t completely see them? You’re sure they were spiders?”

“I’d know that sound anywhere.” I shuddered, recalling the chittering. “Besides when I crawled out the tunnel, I saw plenty of spiders.”

My father raised an eyebrow. “Plenty?”

“At least a dozen. They didn’t move to attack. I went to make a run for it. But…” I paused, not sure of how to say the next part since I had a hard time believing it myself.

My parents spoke in unison. “But?”

“But… then some freak spider man thing told me not to move and kicked me in the face. That’s it. Then I woke up in my bed with my parents staring at me.”

“He kicked you in the face?” asked Mom.

“He spoke to you?” followed my father.

That was not the response I’d expected. “Wait. Why are you saying he?”

“Because he brought you back to us.”

“What?” I about jumped out of bed. The fire in the back of my head made it so I moderately stood out of bed.

“Good,” said my father, “you’re up. I’ll let Reese know we are on our way over.”

“You’ll need these.” Mom quickly threw me a pair of pants. I hadn’t realized I was completely naked under my blanket. Must have been the ridiculous amount of bandages in various diverse places. I blushed and slipped on the pants. “You mean the spider man freak thing is here?”

My father nodded—again—and stepped out of my room, calling from the stairs. “I’ll meet you outside when you’re dressed. Daylight’s a burning.”

I rolled my eyes and shrugged on a shirt. “Mom, tell me that thing’s not here.”

My mother put her hands on her hips. “The unfortunate young man that saved you is not here.”

“Good.” I sighed. I didn’t know what was more relieving, that I hadn’t been hallucinating—yay for no concussions—or that there wasn’t a psychotic wild spider man in the house. Although that he existed at all didn’t really make me that happy.

“But,” continued Mom, “Reese has him contained at the meeting hall.” She tossed my boots to the bed.

“That’s why we’re going to see Reese?” I called after her.

“I’ll pack you up some food and water you to take,” she said and left.

Putting on my boots, part of me at that moment wanted to fall down on my bed. Maybe I could hit my head and wake up again in a world that made more sense. One with answers.

Because I wasn’t getting any here.