The Curious Case of Benjamin Braeden

Chapter 2

Ben woke up abruptly to the sound of his alarm, the classic Asia song, "Heat of the Moment." It was Tuesday. Ben sat up, got out of bed, and got dressed. He looked at the clock, it read 7:27. He was already going to be late. Ben ran down the stairs, grabbed his keys, and flew out the door.

Ben threw his backpack into the Mustang and drove away in such a rush that he didn't even have time to appreciate how well the car drove. He got to school at 7:31, one minute earlier and he would have been on time. Ben ran to his first period class, calculus, hoping that his teacher would be forgiving for once. He was wrong. The teacher sent Ben to the attendance office to "excuse his tardiness" but Ben had no reason for being late. He begrudgingly walked into the office and received his tardy slip. Ben folded the yellow piece of paper in half and shoved it into his pocket. Well, there's really no point in staying now, Ben thought to himself. His only other classes for the day were English, which he didn't mind, and European history. Ben casually walked out of the building and drove over to Bob's Auto Shop.

"Hey, Bob. Need any help?" Ben asked as he stepped out of the car.

"Oh, I always need help, kid." Bob responded, Ben could hear the ever-present southern twang in his voice. "Say, aren't you supposed to be at school right now?"

"Yeah, but I got there late and there was no point in staying." Ben said while grinning slightly. Bob didn't seem as pleased as Ben was with himself, but he let Ben stay anyway.

"Here she is." Ben said proudly as he gestured toward the black Mustang.

"Nice job, kid. This is fantastic. How does she drive?"

"Like a dream." Ben said quietly, still amazed at the piece of machinery before him. He had created this. He had made something that worked, that had a real purpose. Ben stayed at Bob's until closing, trying to avoid going home. He knew his mom would be mad at him for leaving school. He knew she would rant to him about how he should care more and how he should try harder. It wasn't that Ben didn't care or didn't try, it was that it didn't matter at all to him. None of this mattered. Ben felt like he had something more important to do with his life, and this wasn't it. He was never going to be a lawyer or a doctor, nor did he want to. His life was supposed to go in a different direction, Ben just didn't know what that direction was yet.

Ben tentatively opened the door to his house and slowly walked in. His mom was standing in the kitchen, her face red from what Ben could only assume was crying.

"Hi," Ben said.

"Hi." She responded, sadness in her voice. She sniffled a little and tears started to swell up in her eyes. Ben realized this wasn't about him not showing up to school, this was about something entirely different. This was about her past, the things she had suffered years ago. Ben stepped closer to his mother and pulled her into an embrace. He held her there as she released soft sobs. After a minute, she stepped out of the embrace, gave Ben a shy smile, and walked upstairs.

Ben sat in the kitchen for a moment before getting up to eat. He heated up some leftovers and ate them quickly. He cleaned his dishes, put them away, and then walked out to the garage. Ben decided to help his mom by unpacking a few more boxes, trying to gain a little more space in the garage to work. He cleared out a few boxes before finding some more beat-up ones sitting in a far corner.

Ben brought the boxes out to the middle of the garage and opened one of them up. It was a bunch of old records. ACDC, Led Zeppelin, and Metallica were just a few of the many bands. Ben reached over to the next box and opened it. This box had several stacks of papers with notes written all over them. Ben picked up a few of the papers. One was titled "Vanir" and another "Shapeshifters." Ben skimmed the pages, reading what seemed to be a guide to killing monsters. He thought it was absolutely ridiculous, and must have just been someone's random notes and doodles or the works of someone who had gone around the bend. Still, Ben kept reading. He took out all the papers, finding ones labeled "Vampires" and others labeled "Trickster." Ben reached the bottom of the box and found a note.

The note read,
"If you're ever in trouble, or something happens that shouldn't, call me. I'm always here.
-Dean"

A phone number was written on the bottom of the page, but it was smudged so Ben had a hard time reading it. Ben didn't think much of the note, and figured this box had been left by the people who lived here before they did. He put the papers back in the box and placed the note on top. Ben turned off the light in the garage and closed the door.

As Ben walked to his room, he overheard his mom talk in her sleep. She did that sometimes, but it was usually nonsense. She said, "Dean. Please don't go." in a desperate voice. Ben paused for a moment, wondering if this was the same Dean who wrote the letter. He decided not to mention it to his mom, it could bring back painful memories. Questions filled Ben's mind as he fell asleep that night.

The next day Ben went about his daily routine, not mentioning anything he had read the night before. He wanted to read more. He wanted to know who Dean was. He wanted to know what it all meant.

Days went by, and Ben read more of the papers that were in the box. He wasn't sure what to think about any of it, but he enjoyed reading the information. It was as equally terrifying as it was thrilling.

One night, as Ben was putting away the papers in the garage, he heard a noise outside. Ben took a knife and cautiously stepped through the door. He walked into the alley behind the houses and looked around. He heard something rustle behind him and he turned as quickly as he could. Out of nowhere, a man threw himself at Ben. His teeth were showing, and Ben noticed their odd shape. Ben pulled out his knife and slashed it across the man's arm. The man shrieked in pain and ran off into the night.

Ben sat there for a moment, processing what had just happened. He wasn't sure if it had all been real or if everything he was reading had made him imagine the whole thing. He walked back into the garage, still breathing heavily. Ben searched for the note from the box, pulled it out, and held it for a few seconds. What the hell, Ben thought, might as well call the number. He dialed the number and waited as it rang. It was ringing for a couple seconds, and there was still no answer. Finally, Ben heard a click on the other end.

A gruff voice said, "Hello?"

"Dean? I think I need your help."

"Who's asking?"

"Uh, Ben. Ben Braeden." Ben spoke softly.

"Son of a bitch..."