King of Locusts | ✔

Chapter 3

The paramedics rushed Lunan to the hospital. They were surprised to note that beyond smoke inhalation, that the boy sustained no injuries. Despite that, they still carted Lunan around in a sickbed followed by a wheelchair upon arriving at the hospital. He didn't understand the purpose of such theatrics, but that was the least of his concerns.

When emergency services arrived at the remnants of Lunan's home, they placed him on a stretcher and put him in the back of an ambulance. As they loaded his parents' corpses onto a separate truck, besides noting how unusual their bodies looked, they were brushed aside as casualties.

When one of the paramedics said, "What kind of domestic dispute was this?" while holding his father's head, Lunan wanted to scream at his callousness.

But screaming wouldn't bring them back. Because his voice was damaged from the smoke, he glared at him hatefully instead.

The doctors held the same bewilderment about his condition, but Lunan didn't share their excitement. They called him a miracle child in a cheap attempt to lift his spirits. Torn between anger and despair, Lunan found it easier to settle on the latter. He was passive and compliant, saying nothing when hospital staff from other departments gawked and gossiped about his miraculous survival. Lunan knew it was no miracle. He was a freak, only having survived because he managed to petition the King of Darkness to save him.

Although Lunan reached stable condition within a week, he had to stay in the hospital a while longer per the doctor's orders. On top of that, given the circumstances of his parents' deaths, the police wanted to question him. Following that, the state would see to his living arrangements.

Lunan slumped in one of the hospital chairs. He was told earlier in the day that an investigator would speak to him, but he was not given a specific time. Eager to leave the stifling hospital, he woke up early and waited in the chair all day. As it neared midafternoon, his excitement sharply waned. He was tired of staring at the room's pale yellow walls and grew bored of watching foot traffic from his window. Lunan began dozing off when two firm knocks were placed on his door. Startled awake, he sat up straighter. He could almost hear his father's soft reprimand.

In entered one of the tallest men Lunan had ever seen, easily surpassing his father's stature. The man had a thick, brown mustache that matched equally dark eyes. He strode purposefully towards Lunan and met his mismatched eyes before spotting the other chair in the room.

"I'll take it you're Lunan Frost?" he asked in a gruff voice as he pulled the chair closer to the boy.

"Yes," Lunan answered.

"Strange names parents are giving their kids these days," he muttered offhandedly while fishing for a pen and notepad in his briefcase.

Lunan's fists clenched. Michelle told Lunan that on the day of his conception, that she saw an unusual sight in the sky. A moon was visible during the midday. In typical New England fashion, it looked as if caught between two weather systems: a placid sky and a brewing storm. She named him after that moon, and it was something that he held dearly.

"My name is George Boone," the officer introduced, oblivious to Lunan's irritation. "I'm an investigator for the Ridgeway Police Department." He cleared his throat before adding, "I'm sorry for the loss of your parents. But hopefully, by the end of today, we'll have a better idea about what caused this fire."

Lunan stared at the investigator blankly. He couldn't tell Boone about the vengeful angel that disrupted his parents summoning a Hell Gate. Nor would he clarify that it was her heavenly sword that so cleanly detached his father's head from his body, nor how his mother was crushed to death. He certainly couldn't confess that the only reason he was still alive was due to possibly Satan himself answering his plea. No, Lunan could not say any of those things if he wanted to avoid being admitted to a mental health facility following questioning.