It wasn’t long before it started raining, but few, if any, raindrops managed to reach him beneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches that the small patch of forest behind his house was known for. It had been planted back in the 70’s by an old poet that wanted to preserve nature, or so the rumors said, but it was now a mostly forgotten, protected patch of trees.
And it had been his and his sister’s playground for as long as he could remember.
Every time he walked among those trees, Lucas almost felt like he was walking into a different world. No car sounds reached his ears and barely any rain or wind reached the center of it.
His father had always likened it to the forest between worlds from those Narnia books he liked so much, and Lucas could see the resemblance.
And then there was “The Bunker”.
At some point in the past a mighty tall pine tree had fallen on its side after a particularly strong storm, prevented from reaching the ground only by two younger trees that, with time, had grown around and over the fallen trunk, anchoring it to the ground.
Any other tree would have died after such an event, but this one wasn’t a normal tree, even on its diagonal inclination, it had decided its roots reached enough sustenance to keep on living, and so it had done until this day.
Lucas’ father, Antonio, had then come up to the tree and decided to use it as the base of his Bunker. He had placed a large tarp over it and slowly but surely build a small nest beneath the tree trunk that he and his family could use as a resting place among the trees.
It wasn’t really a bunker, but for Lucas it was the safest place on earth. The tarp and makeshift walls gave enough protection from the elements and with a small cooking stove you could heat the whole place in a few minutes. It was a refuge far away from the routine of daily life, and at one point, that had been the same not only for him, but for the rest of his family as well.
But those times had long passed.
After his father’s death, only he had continued to come. At first it was just a way of remembering his father, but more and more, it had turned into a place where he could run away from his problems and just… unwind for a while, just like today.
He pulled aside the tarp and entered into the dark tent. Hanging from a hook next to the “door”, Lucas found the lamp they kept there to illuminate the place.
As he turned it on, warm yellow light bathed the interior of the Bunker, revealing a (considering the place it was built in) fairly large living area.
Two sets of wooden beams further anchored the tree to the ground and a table with a set of four chairs filled the middle of the tent, right under the bulk of the trunk. Each chair was different, each one belonging to a different family member.
His was red, his mother’s was green, his sister’s blue and his father’s orange.
He hung the lamp from a hook attached directly onto the tree trunk and sat on his chair. At one point there had been a radio in the tent, but his sister had taken it with her when she left, so now only the sound of the wind on the leaves and the occasional raindrop fallin on the tarp broke the silence.
Lucas sighed, he hadn’t come here to remember, he could do that anytime he wanted, he had come here to read, and so he placed his backpack on the table and took out the books he had brought.
He placed them in front of him before deciding where to being. Options? He had a few.
“I, Robot” had been one of his father’s favorites, but it was rather short, so it might do well as a late night snack. He had already watched the movie based on “The Martian”, but he had heard the book was leagues better, so he was itching to give it a shot. But he would probably begin with “Frankenstein” one of the classics he hadn’t gotten his hands on yet, yes, he would start there…
After he checked the black book that was looking at him from the interior of the backpack.
It’s strange to describe a book as “looking at you”, but that was what he felt. Even though nothing in that book’s appearance seemed remarkable, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was looking at him from within that dark cover.
He took it and quickly threw it back on the table. He hadn’t noticed it before, but something in that cover made his fingers feel all tingly and strange.
He felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked at it. Maybe it was better to just… get rid of it.
Take it, go outside and throw it as far as he could. If he did that he would never see the damned thing again, yet…
Yet…
He grabbed it once more, this time resisting the urge of throwing it away, and opened it in a random page.
“Empty.” He whispered, breaking the almost complete silence of the tent. He riffled through the pages, looking for something written anywhere, but they were almost all white pages.
All except for two.
Right in the middle of the book, drawn with an ink that Lucas felt was as black as the darkest pit of space, was an eye, an open eye that covered most of the page and was drawn to look just above his left shoulder.
Lucas felt a bit of relief at seeing the eye. Even tough it made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, he was beginning to believe it had been nothing but someone’s sketch book.
He placed the book open on the tabletop and sighed, brushing his own eyes with his hands. He seriously needed some sleep.
He opened his eyes and looked at the book. He froze in place.
The eye was still there, but it wasn’t looking just over his shoulder anymore, it was now looking directly at him.
And then it blinked.
Lucas screamed as he stood up, but his scream was silenced by a sudden burst of sound and light all around him. Lightning had hit the tree.
The bulb inside the lamp exploded and Lucas was left in the dark, and in the darkness, for a fraction of a second, Lucas saw a thousand eyes looking at him, all different, all beautiful… all equally terrifying.
And for a fraction of a second, Lucas understood. And as his brain shut down from fear, he fell to the ground.
Just before he hit his head on the corner of the table, he could only think of one thing.
“It’s raining.”
----------------------------------------
Lucas woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and toast.
He was sitting on a chair he used every morning when he had breakfast, sitting at a table he saw every day, inside a kitchen he had walked through all his life, yet everything looked cleaner, purer.
He lifted his head from the cold kitchen table and saw a cup of coffee waiting for him, filled to the brim with milk coffee. Next to it, a plate with three freshly toasted bread.
“You should drink that coffee before it gets too cold,” He heard a voice say from behind him. “It’ll wake you right up.”
Lucas jumped on his sit, startled at the voice, and it took him the best part of a minute, and the owner of the voice coming into his field of view carrying a pan full of scrambled eggs for him to realize who had talked. “D-Dad?” He asked, his voice shaky and broken. The man smiled kindly as he placed the pan in front of him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He said, nonchalantly.
“Mum…” He said, still confused, as he patted his pockets looking for something. “I’ve gotta tell mum you’re back.”
The smile on Antonio’s face turned a bit bitter as he heard those words. “Eat now, son.” He said. “We’ll see to that later.”
“And Clara too!” Said Lucas, standing up as he turned his pockets over looking for his phone. “Aunt Veronica got her a phone for christmas!” He said. “We’ve talked at least once a week since!”
Antonio pushed the pan of scrambled eggs towards his son as he lifted a slice of toast covered in eggs towards his mouth. “Lucas, eat, they’ll grow cold soon.”
“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PHONE!” He screamed, hitting the table with his fists and making some of the coffee to fall onto the surface. He looked at his father, his eyes clouded with tears. “How can you… how can you be so focused on some eggs right now… I need to tell them… I need.” He slumped to the flood, tears running down his face.
He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see him kneeling next to him on the floor. “Cold eggs taste like shit.” He said. “Let us enjoy breakfast together and then we can talk some.” He smiled a smile filled with melancholy. “We can talk about everything later.” He finished as he helped his son stand up and sit back at his chair.
Lucas looked at the pile of eggs in front of him and, with tears still streaming down his face, he brought a spoonful of eggs to his mouth. He sniffed. “Delicious.” He mustered.
His father smiled as he took a sip of his coffee.
For a few minutes, nothing but the sound of people eating could be heard as father and son shared a meal for the first time in two years.
After the last spoonful of eggs had been eaten, silence rained once more in the kitchen before being quickly broken by Antonio’s voice. “How were they?” He asked.
Lucas wiped tears from his eyes and spoke. “Amazing… as always.” He grabbed the mug and took a sip of coffee milk that was exactly at the right temperature. He closed his eyes for a second to enjoy the taste and then looked at the mmug as he placed it back in the table. “Am I… you know…” He asked, looking at his dad.
“Dead?” He answered. “I don’t think so, no.”
“Then… where am I? Is it, like, a dream or something?” His father smiled.
“It’s not exactly that either.” He said. “What gave it away?” He asked. “I mean, other than me being here with you. At first you were super sure I had come back home.”
Lucas smiled a sad smile. “The mug.” He said, looking at the mug in front of him. “It broke last year…” He looked around. “And ever since you left… well, let’s just say the house hasn’t looked this clean in a while.”
Antonio frowned. “Your mother didn’t take it too well, I guess.”
“Yeah.” He said, grabbing the mug with both hands. His father noticed he didn’t want to talk about that further, so he didn’t push it. “So… A dream?”
“Kinda…” Said Antonio. “But not yours… mine.”
Antonio looked around the room and smiled, nostalgic. “It’s not always the kitchen. Most of the time it’s the house, but sometimes I wake up in that hotel we went too in the beack back on 2012, sometimes I’m a kid at my parent’s old house in Chillán.” He looked at Lucas. “Sometimes people come to visit, sometimes it’s my mother, sometimes it’s my uncle or Matias from middle school.”
“Do you ever feel… lonely?” Asked Lucas.
“Yeah, sometimes, but when I feel like that I usually get some visits, sometimes It’s me that visits someone else. It gets quite busy this dream of mine sometimes.” He looked at his son. “I’ve never wanted your visit though.” He asked. “Not yours or your mother’s or Clara’s.”
“Why not?” Asked Lucas.
“Well…” Said his father. “Because the people that come visit are usually… well… dead.” He finished. “Hell, Matias died when we were 12. That’s why I was insanely scared when I first saw you.” He looked at Lucas’ eyes. “But, you see, you feel different to my usual visitors, you didn’t come through the door like them, you just… appeared, right there, on your chair.” He placed a book on top of the table, its cover as black as the deepest pit of hell. “Carrying this book with you.”
Lucas felt his heart begin to race. “Where did that come from.” He said.
“I don’t know… but I feel this is what makes you different from the rest…” He said. “Like you still have some things to do back home.”
The book’s darkness was beginning to spread through the table as Lucas stood up and walked backwards to a corner of the room“I don’t wanna go back, Dad.” Said Lucas. “I’m scared, that book makes me scared, the world is scary, Dad.”
His father smiled. “I know the world can be scary, son.” He said, standing up and walking up to his son. “But there is always a calm after the storm, even in the darkest nights, there are stars.”
Antonio hugged his son and, in his arms, Lucas felt small once again. “I’m so scared dad, I’ve missed you so much.” He said, tears running down his face once again. “We’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too, buddy.” Said his father. “But it’s time for you to go. Let’s meet again here in the kitchen when the time is right…”
Lucas felt his father’s heat start to fade. “But please… don’t come back any time soon.” He heard his father’s voice resonate from within the darkness that once more surrounded him. “Love you, son. Stay strong.”
Darkness surrounded him now, nothing as far as he could see, and he was falling.
He felt his face hit the ground and he felt a sharp pain in his forehead. He remembered he had hit his head on the table. “Fuck.” He mumbled as he struggled to get up. “What was that.” He asked himself.
Had it been a dream? Couldn’t be, he still felt the food in his stomach, and he was sure he hadn’t eaten anything in a while.
He tried to push himself up, but couldn’t, falling once more on his side. “Lucas!” He heard someone screaming from the entrance to the Bunker, a flashlight illuminating the room. “Holy shit, dude, I finally found you.”
Lucas rolled on his side and looked at the owner of the voice.
A blond boy was looking at him from the entrance, covered from head to toe by a transparent poncho. “What the fuck happened to you.” Said Andrés. “You look like shit… And that’s one hell of a bump, did you hit your head on something?”
Lucas brought the hand up to his forehead and winced. “Yeah… I was checking the angle on that corner… it’s a good angle…”
“You laugh now, but your mother’s pissed, you kow?. We’ve been looking for you for hours.”
Lucas looked at the watch on his wrist and winced once more. It was seven o’clock, he had been out for almost 4 hours.
“Can you help me stand up?” He asked the blond boy. “I tried before but I’m feeling a bit wobbly.”
Andres smiled as he helped his friend stand up, but Lucas didn’t.
He didn’t want to see his mother right now.