One Last Chance

Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - Runaway Teen

The furious mess of tangled, flea infested fur with a killer dose of bad breath that was called a dog was catching up. With every leap and bound the animal was gaining on him. Daniel charged through the forest. He could hear the dog panting like some kind of monster, and he had noticed the dog's nails. Or was it called claws?

Stop thinking about that, he screamed in his mind. You're going to kill yourself if you conti-

"AAAGH!"

Daniel stumbled over a tree root, and his pursuer pounced. He lay sprawled on the ground, the hulking pit bull just centimetres away from his face. He grimaced in disgust, partly because a string of sticky, germ infested drool had just splattered onto his shirt, and also because he could breathe the dog's rancid breath.

The pit bull opened its mouth, let out a throaty growl, and bared its razor sharp teeth in an ugly snarl. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the animal to tear him apart and stain the grass red with his blood.

It never came.

Instead, he opened his eyes. He was in a vast emptiness, as light as wind. He looked down and screamed. His body was, well, see through. He could still see his clothes, but they were at the same time ghostly. Not to mention the blood soaking his clothes.

Up ahead, there was a man in front of him, drifting towards him.

"Hello, boy."

Daniel stared. "Who are you?"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Welcome to the eighteenth level."

"Of what?"

"Of hell."

Daniel woke up screaming. His hair was plastered to his forehead by sweat and he was gasping. Calm down, it was just a nightmare! He screamed in his mind.

Is that how I'm going to die? That was creepy! And why the eighteenth level of hell??

Daniel glanced at his watch. 06:49. Edward was still sleeping peacefully in the corner. And as he didn't want to go back to sleep, he rolled up his rubber mat and stashed in back onto the shelf. Yawning, he began to rummage through the food store for breakfast and found some chocolate biscuits and a bottle of apple juice.

While he sat, munching the biscuits, his mind drifted towards his recent nightmares. Actually, more like the entire catalogue of nightmares he had stored in his mind. In fact, he had so many nightmares he could probably publish a book. A hundred horror stories, by Daniel R. Daniel thought back, flipping through his nightmares as if it were a book. He'd actually gave each one a name like "Oil Tanker", "Last Man Standing", "No Way Out" and "Mr. Death".

Edward broke through his thoughts with a "Good morning" and helped himself to breakfast. While they ate, they discussed plans. Then they packed up and left the bomb shelter.

An hour later, they were back in town. To the boys' horror, Daniel's picture was on a flyer attached to every single lamppost they passed. More hung from bus-stop noticeboards. RUNAWAY TEEN, screamed the headline. His details were neatly listed below his picture and the last line read, Please call if you have any information about Daniel.

Edward led Daniel into a nearby shopping mall and into a cheap clothing store. He bought a navy blue cap and a waterproof hooded jacket and passed them to Daniel. "Put these on and no one will be able to tell it's you. Hurry up, we've got to carry out Part Two of our plan."

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Standing on the sunlit sidewalk, Daniel looked furtively up and down the street, before scaling the fence and shimmering up a broad tree. He rested against the trunk and pulled out his phone. Ignoring the messages flooding in, he dialled Edward's number. "I'm ready. Are you in position?"

"I'm opposite the house; if anyone comes I'll be able to warn you. Remember, we'll meet up at the park if you have to run."

Daniel cut the call and gave one last sweeping look before crawling along the flexible branch. Drawing alongside of the house, he slid open the window and jumped in.

Daniel took in the sights of his room. It was just the way he'd left it, two nights before, and he approached his cupboard and yanked open the door. Burrowing his hand down behind the stack of school books, he withdrew a small plastic box. Carefully opening it, he pulled out forty dollars from the stack of dollar notes that could've easily amount up to three hundred dollars. The reason for this was he'd been saving up since the beginning of the year, as things in the household got worse. The tension was unbearable, like petrol, one spark that landed on it would blow it up sky-high.

Unable to stand petty quarrels with issues relating to money and school, Daniel would often plug in his earphones and blast music all night long. It was his way of escape, his way of coping with the amount of stress he had.

Another thing that made Daniel so sensible was because his behaviour at home itself was one big lie. If his parents were asked to describe Daniel's behaviour at home, they would have said "a cheerful, helpful son" or something of that equal.It was all just a lie.

No matter how miserable his day had been at school, whether or not he'd failed that Science test, or had had someone bully him again, he'd never show it. He knew if he did, his parents would have a talk with him.

It was so unlike in the movies. On screen, when the kid gets in to trouble or has some kind of worry or problem, his parents would talk to him and the kid would immediately feel better and become an almost different person. But in real life, that was never the case. His parents, while having a talk with him, wouldn't help. It'd just make things worst, because his father would go, "Daniel, I am so disappointed with you, you should have done this...." And his mother would go, "Dan, I think you should've told me! Why didn't you?"

And Daniel's parents would've ended up arguing with each other and leave Daniel to sit in the middle of a war.

His pocket vibrated, and he snatch his phone out of his pocket.

"Daniel! Get out quick, there's a black car pulling up in front of your house!"

Daniel shoved the money into his pocket and replaced the box, before slamming the cupboard door shut and practically diving out the window. He waited, tensed. Who were these people who were now stomping up to the front door?