Cardboard Hearts

#6: Graffiti on the walls

"I found another one," Jacob calls. When Calum comes over to look, he points to a spot, high up on the wall of the alley, where words are painted in bright white.

THERE IS NO ONE LEFT TO SAVE BUT OURSELVES, it reads in a slanted, slasher-style font. Beneath the words is a signature; a red T with blood dripping from it.

The two boys stare at it in silence for awhile. "What do you think it means?" Jacob asks. He is the older of the two, but has always turned to Calum for advice. The boy is only ten, but he's always seemed wise and otherworldly. As if the only thing keeping him from here and the stars is the huge camera he carried around everywhere he goes.

"I'm not quite sure yet," Calum says. He raises the camera and snaps a picture of the wall. It's an expensive Canon he bought after saving for years. "It feels threatening, though. I don't like it."

"I don't either," Jacob mutters.

They've found two other messages within the past week. One on the side of their school that read TENEBRIS WILL GIVE THEM MERCY. One on the old building next to the movie theater that said NO MORE NEW BEGINNINGS. Both have the same strange signature on the bottom. Their free time has been spent looking for more.

"I looked up Tenebris last night," Calum tells the boy. "It means 'dark' in Latin. Whoever this person is, they're not very creative."

"I think we should tell Rachel."

"Why? She won't believe us anyway. And what would we even say? We found some weird graffiti and Jason thinks it's some guy who wants to murder us all? That would go over well."

They sure do seem to jump to conclusions, hmm?

Rachel is their foster mom. Her husband, Gabriel, is the CEO of a small printer company no one has heard of. He spends most of his time away. And Rachel is always distant, locked up in her room mourning the loss of her former foster child Mark. He turned eighteen, packed his bags, and hasn't called them since.

"I guess you're right," Jacob says with a sigh. "What are we going to do?"

"Collect more evidence," Calum replies. He holds up his camera to demonstrate. "This could just be some vandal with an odd taste in street art. Or you could be right."

"And what do we do if I'm right?"

The silence that follows is heavy and burdened with unspoken worries. "I don't know," Calum admits."

~•~

The boys pick their way through the garbage that clutters their garage. Rachel's huge truck is obscured by large bags of trash that still need to be taken out, but the bumper sticker that reads HOME OF THE BRAVE is still visible. Ironic, Calum thinks, since she almost ran someone over just last week.

Their home is not big. There are only two bedrooms and barely enough space for the five of them. In the mornings, the rush for the bathroom can be brutal. But neither boy minds it; they are close. As close as brothers can be. They both decided a long time ago that family is more than just blood. It's who will stand and bleed with you through the darkest of days.

"We're home, Rachel," Jacob calls loudly. His voice echoes through the emptiness. No one is home.

"She's out with Cathy again," Calum says matter-of-factly. "She won't be home until late."

Jacob sighs. "I'll get dinner," he mutters. He's sixteen and old enough to know how to take care of himself, but Calum? I know the kid's smart, but he's still so young, he thinks to himself. He needs a family. Someone who will love him and take care of him and not spend every night out drinking with her friends. He shouldn't be here.