Chapter 3 Bomb Scare

That was an expose Mr. Bastille wrote on terrorism in the City of New Orleans. I have not read the paper yet, but since Mr. Bastille is now deceased and under suspicious circumstances, then this should go to the police. He got up from his desk. If you will excuse me, I will take this right now.

Can I have a copy first, I said suddenly. I would really like to know what Bruno found out.

I don’t think that would be a good idea, Mr. Macdonald. This is evidence in a criminal investigation. Mr. Bastille was poisoned and it may be related to something that was written in this expose. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to the police right now. Thank you for your help, he said nodding to me and to the others.

We left his office and met out front of the building. We have to get a hold of that term paper, I muttered. But how? Chesney seemed adamant that he take it to the police right away. Let’s wait for him, I suggested. I’ll talk to him again.

We waited for half an hour but Chesney didn’t come out of the journalism building. He’s taking his own sweet time about going to the police, Jenn said. Do you really think he’s going to do it, or was it just to get us out of his office?

Why would he even tell us about the paper if he didn’t want us to see what was in it. He said himself he didn’t read the paper yet, I pointed out.

I’m going back in to ask him again, I added. You guys can return to the hotel, I feel bad about dragging you along when you should be enjoying Mardi Gras. That’s why we came here.

I know something is going to happen tonight at St. Marcus’ church, something really bad. I need to find out. I’ve come this far and I can’t let it go now, knowing what I know. I want you guys to have fun since we’re here, but I wouldn’t enjoy myself knowing that something is going to happen.

I’m with you, Terry, Melissa offered. I would feel guilty having fun if you were off trying to help someone.

Me too, Jenn piped up. I just came to be with you guys, I don’t really care for all this party atmosphere. I’d just as soon help you with one of your mysteries.

Corey hesitated but soon relented, not wanting to be left out.

Thanks guys, I really appreciate it. I promise you, once we come to the bottom of this mystery we’ll enjoy Mardi Gras.

I went back into the building, leaving the others to watch for Chesney to leave by another entrance. I soon found his office and peeked inside. No one was around. The file with the term papers was still on his desk, with Bastille’s still on top!

He had no intention of going to the police, I muttered to myself. What’s he up to. There was silence in his office and in the hallway. I noticed a photocopier halfway down the hall. Quickly I went into the office and snatched Bastille’s term paper and went cautiously down the carpeted hallway to the copier. Thankfully it wasn’t a noisy copier but it was slow. My ears were perked up for any noise, but the only sound was the copier.

Soon the last page was copied and i shoved them into my back pocket and went back to Chesney’s office. I just laid down the paper on the pile when I heard a door slam down the hallway. Someone was coming!

I heard voices approaching, one sounded like Prof. Chesney. If he came into the office and found me, how would I explain my presence.  I noticed a door on the left wall, probably a closet. I hurried to the door, quickly opened it and ducked inside. Just in time too, as Chesney entered the office with someone else. Here it is, he mumbled. See that this term paper is completely destroyed. There was some kid around here earlier asking about Bastille. He wanted the paper but I told him I was going to the police with it. Chesney chuckled. Like I’m going to help out those bozos. Bastille’s been taken care of, now there will be no more trouble. His secret died with him on that street. He had a lot of nerve writing about this stuff. Unfortunately it cost him his life. He was warned but he wouldn’t listen.

The other person in the room did not speak. I wanted to sneak a peek to see who Prof. Chesney  was talking to, but didn’t dare make the attempt. If I were caught…

The other person grunted then left the room, probably with the term paper. Thankfully I came back and copied it!

Now if only Chesney would leave. A few minutes later he did leave the room. I waited for about a minute then let myself out of the closet. I checked the hallway but it was clear. I crept cautiously to the door and headed outside to meet the others.

We just saw Chesney leave, Jenn reported. Should we follow him?

No, I replied. I related what had happened and then pulled the termpaper out of my pocket.

You were so lucky, Terry, Melissa gasped. But you got it. Now what.

Let’s return to the hotel. We can read the paper and hopefully get a lead on what got Bruno killed.

Back at the hotel, there was no sign of Van. It was now 7 pm and darkness once again was descending on the city. Street parties were in full force and costumed revelers jostled up and down the thouroughfare looking for a good time. Me and my group had more important things to deal with.

We ate dinner at the hotel restaurant and made our way back to the room. I scanned through the paper and suddenly noticed something.

Hey, part of the paper is missing, I gasped. Look, Bruno used one of those automatic page numbering systems, and the paper goes from pg 7 to 24. Seventeen pages were missing!

Oh great, I muttered. Probably the most important 17 pages in the whole paper. Chesney must have removed them.

Now what are you going to do, Terry, Jenn asked, trying to console me. Maybe you can find something in this part of the paper.

We sat down on chairs and on the beds and I read the paper, highlighting for the others what Bastille had written. It seems that a new terrorist cell had just been discovered in New Orleans. Bastille had done meticulous research on the subject and had made a startling discovery as to the leader of the local cell.

Who is it? Corey said breathlessly. Does it give a name?

Unfortunately it does, but not in these pages, I muttered. I flipped to the end of the paper and it just wrapped up the investigation that Bastille had done and how he would take the information to the police

But he died before he could, Melissa said sadly. Ooh, I’m getting the creeps. This is some serious stuff.

But how does it tie into the church? Jenn added. Do you think Jon and Marlene are in on it?

I’m not sure, but there are a lot of questions but no answers. Somethings going down at the church tonight. We need to be there when it does. I have a feeling that it’s connected with what Bastille found. If only we had a name.

It was decided that Melissa and I would stake out the church and Jenn with Corey would find an Internet Café and search the web for any newspaper articles or any other information regarding what Bruno had found.

I put on a sweater and Melissa dressed in warmer pants and a sweater as well and we headed off. It was now 8 pm. I didn’t think anything would happen early in the evening, but to be safe we headed out before it was completely dark.

The church was in shadows as we approached. A restaurant across the street was open and a party was in full swing, revelers, many in costumes were on the patio and dancing on a small dancefloor beside the building, cajun music blaring from unseen speakers.

Melissa shivered beside me. What do you think we’ll find here, she murmured.

Bruno said the “evil ones are coming” tonight. Something is happening here tonight, I don’t know what it is, but something important, I can feel it.

I shivered too, there was a breeze coming up. The church was in total darkness, at least at the front.

Let’s check out the rear of the building, I think it backs on the next street over, I suggested. Besides, the movement will keep us from getting too chilled.

I took Melissa’s hand and we headed down the street, past the noisy restaurant to the corner and turned right and headed to the next block over.

St. Marcus’ backed onto St. Germain Blvd. A door was set into the back of the church. A single dark window was directly above the door. A small courtyard surrounded the rear of the building, a high brick wall, open facing the street. We crept up to the door and noticed that it was ajar. Should we go in? Of course we should!

The sky was dark by now and the street lights were the only illumination on the darkened building. Still holding Melissa’s hand, we crept into the dark church. It’s not really trespassing if the door is open, I whispered.

Sure, whatever you say, Melissa countered. She squeezed my hand for reassurance. I was glad Melissa wasn’t scared of these situations, I just hoped one day it wouldn’t bring her unnecessary trouble.

I fished a flashlight out of my pocket and scanned the hall we were in. It was emtpy. A flight of stairs led up into darkness, another set of stairs led down (into darkness). I decided to go up.

Frankly this church was giving me the creeps. Even in the day light it was dark and creepy. The image of the ghost I had seen earlier that morning was still fresh in my mind. I shivered involuntarily.

What is it? Melissa whispered.

Just thinking about the ghost.

Oh, great, she muttered. Now I feel much better about creeping around this old building. I tell you, if we see any sign of a ghost, I’m out of here.

I’ll be right behind you, I remarked. I have to admit I’m a little creeped out myself. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Melissa stopped. Let’s go then, she whimpered. I don’t like this either. Call it intuition, but I don’t feel right being here.

I had to agree with Melissa. We turned and headed back to the rear door. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and I had the sudden impulse to bolt. Come on, I pulled Melissa towards the door and back out into the courtyard. Suddenly a flash of lightning streaked across the sky and thunder soon followed. I glanced back at the church and as another flash of lightning came, I noticed a face peering down at us from the dark window.

Melissa, I exclaimed. Someone was watching us!

What, she blurted. Oh, let’s get out of here!

I looked back at the window and the figure was gone. Who was at the window? Jon? Marlene? Someone else?

Whoever it was knew we were in the building and I didn’t know how I felt about that. If something was going to happen here tonight, would it still happen if they knew some teenagers were snooping around?

We made our way back to the street and rounded the block back to the street at the front of the church, Rue St. Antoine.

The church was still in darkness. A siren could be heard in the distance. The party was still in full force, but suddenly a scream rent the night air.

That was from the restaurant, Melissa gasped. A commotion broke out in the restaurant and the partiers stopped dancing. A woman came out into the street.

Everyone, clear out of here, the police are coming. There’s a bomb!

What? Where?

Many voices all spoke at once, crowding around the girl who had screamed. I just heard it on the radio. There’s a bomb in the church, she cried pointing across the street. To St. Marcus’. They’re going to blow up the church!

Suddenly an explosion ripped through the air and everything went black.

Chapter Two  Saved By The Bell

The ghostly figure in the gallery vanished and we whirled around to see Sarah, now pale pointing to where the ghost had stood.

Oh, it was hideous, she bellowed. It was the ghost! I have to get out of here, she said starting down the steps and back toward the vestibule.

Jacqueline followed her. What did you see, dear, she asked soothingly.

It was the ghost! Sarah wailed as she reached the door and went through. Jacqueline followed and soon a door slammed. The two women were gone.

We saw it too, Jenn said, looking at Melissa and Corey. There was something up there, right Terry.

 I nodded, not sure what to say. What did we see? It couldn’t possibly be a ghost?

Marlene looked smug as she announced, So you’ve seen the famous St. Marcus ghost. It’s actually the ghost of St. Marcus, who this church was named after in 1709.  The rumour is that St. Marcus haunts his church because he’s upset that tourists have invaded New Orleans, the whole Mardi Gras celebration. He only haunts the church during Mardi Gras.

You don’t say, I said, skeptically. I’d seen a lot of strange things in my life but I wasn’t about to start believing in ghosts. But what was that thing that Jenn and I saw. I was determined to find out.

You aren’t scared? Marlene said, her eyes widening.The ghost might return.

I’m looking forward to it, I stated. Marlene lost her smile. Tours over, she said and led us back to the vestibule.

Wow, she really changed her tune, Melissa muttered as we went back out into the street into the bright sunshine.

Yeah, something definitely fishy is going on. I’m going back in, I announced turning back to the door.

Wait, Terry, Jenn said

No, I have to find out about that ghost. You guys don’t believe in ghosts do you?

No we don’t, Corey said. But it’s kind of dangerous going back into that creepy place.

Yes, Jenn echoed. That’s why one of us is going back in with him.

Jenn followed me back into the vestibule. It was all quiet. We waited a minute to make sure that Marlene wasn’t around then scanned the large entryway. There’s got to be a staircase to the upper gallery. I whispered to Jenn. Lets split up and look.

I went to the far end of the vestibule and looked for a door. Hidden behind a small wall jutting out in the corner was a dark staircase, leading up.

Jenn, come here, I found it, i said motioning with my hand. Follow me.

I went up the small staircase that winded around and stopped at a small door. I opened the door and Jenn followed me out into the gallery. We had a magnificent view of the church below. No one seemed to be around. Marlene and her “friend” must still be here, I whispered. Keep an eye out for them. I’m going to search for clues to our “ghost”.

Jenn walked to the edge of the gallery and leaned on the railing and scanned the main church below for any movement. I peered between the pews and particularly where we had seen the “ghost” only about 15 minutes earlier.

This is the spot. I determined getting down on my hands and knees and searching the floor. What was the ghost doing up here? Just trying to scare us? Or did it tie in with Bruno’s warning about the “evil ones”.

It was pretty dark up here and I didn’t have a flashlight. My sharp eyes scanned the whole area but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary—at first. Then my eyes caught something in the glint of the flashlight. I picked it up.

Terry, I hear voices, Jenn suddenly said in a stage whisper. Marlene’s coming back with someone.

I joined Jenn at the wall that overlooked the church and we crouched down. We heard Marlene talking to someone. The guy she was arguing with earlier?

…Yeah just some tourists, she said. That was good timing on your part, I must say, Jon,  she said with a laugh. You showed up just in time. I was getting nervous enough as it was without those kids and two old ladies showing up. I’m glad you scared them away.

Marlene and her companion, Jon were moving up towards the front of the church, their backs to us. Suddenly my cell phone rang shrilly. I grabbed it and silenced it but not before Marlene and her companion turned around and looked up to the balcony.

What was that, Marlene croaked. Was that a phone ringing?

Sounded like a cell phone, Jon replied. Maybe someone left it here on Sunday. He turned and headed back to the back of the church. I’ll get it and call the person back—let them know their phone is here.

Uh-oh, he’s coming. Where do we hide? Jenn hissed.

Here, in between the pews, I said as we scurried on our hands and knees toward the end of the pews at the edge of the balcony. If this guy looked in our direction, he might see us. Hopefully he wouldn’t.

We heard his feet pounding on the stairs and soon he emerged through the door at the back on the left, not looking in our direction(for now)

We kept perfectly still and hardly breathed. He picked up my phone and looked it over and turned to leave. Jenn and I nearly breathed a sigh of relief as the guy just headed back to the stairs but the phone rang again.

Jon answered it. Uh-oh.

Hello, he said, stopping at the doorway. What’s this, no this isn’t Terry, who is this? Hello?

He looked at the phone and turned slowly looking around the balcony. Marlene, he called out. We have a little problem, can you come up here. His eyes scanned the balcony and he headed back to the front of the balcony again. A few more feet and he would surely see us.

What is it? Marlene’s voice came from below. Who was on the phone.

Jon was silent as he made his way down the aisle. Only a few seconds more and he would reach us.

Jon? Marlene said again. What’s wrong?

Can you come up here, he said slowly and deliberately, still moving slowly.  Jenn grabbed my arm and pointed. If we crawled—very quietly—there was a small recess in the wall at the front of the balcony. If we could squeeze in there, Jon might not find us—right away at least.

Before we could make our move we heard a commotion on the stairs at the back of the balcony. Jon turned and headed back to the balcony entrance to see what was up.

Voices drifted up the stairs—Marlene’s and someone elses—someone familiar. Melissa!

We made our move. Once Jon was out of the balcony to the stairs on the left side we scurried to the right side stairway and crept down. Once at the bottom we heard the voices again.

You can give this back to your friend, Terry, Jon said and you can tell him not to go snooping around in here. I know he was up in the gallery earlier and if I catch any of you around here again, I’m calling the cops.

Anything you say, Melissa said. Thanks for the phone, sir, she added. We heard footsteps and saw Melissa appear and go out the front entrance of the church.

Silence. Did Jon still think we were here? I looked at Jenn, who was thinking the same thing. Did we dare move?

I had a hunch and motioned to Jenn to stay still. A moment later Jon and Marlene came into the main vestibule. I don’t know what those kids are up to, Jon muttered, but I think that they were up in the gallery. They probaly snuck out when we were with that girl. Keep an eye out for this Terry and any of his friends. If any of them show up again, let me know right away. I don’t want them messing up our plans.

Marlene just nodded. They headed back into the main church. We heard their voices recede and made our way to the front door.

Once back in the sunshine we caught up with Melissa and Corey. Whoa, that was close, Melissa exclaimed.

You’re telling us, if you hadn’t come when you did and cause the ruckus, Jon would have found us in the gallery snooping around, I said with a grin. We owe you one!

I had a feeling that you needed a diversion—when that guy answered the phone, Melissa went on.

Come on, I said suddenly. We have some investigating to do. Something’s happening at the church, something sinister. We can’t show our faces around there, so we’ll have to keep our snooping real quiet like.

An hour later we were in a crowded downtown restaurant. It was noon and the Mardi Gras celebrations were underway. All around us people were dressed in bright costumes. Music drifted in from the street. I pulled out a newspaper that I grabbed on the way here.

Look, it mentions Bruno Bastille and that he was a student here at Louisiana State. He studied journalism. Originally from France, he moved to the US two years ago to go to school.  Nothing out of the ordinary about him to suggest he was in any kind of trouble.

But why did he have a gun? Jenn wondered. Thankfully he didn’t use it.

What did he die of? Melissa spoke up.

It says here that he was poisoned, I said excitedly. How did he get poisoned. By someone involved in something at St. Marcus’? It’s all very strange.

Right up your alley, Terry, Corey said grinning. If anyone can solve the mystery, you can.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy, but this sure is an odd case. I don’t have a clue of what’s going on. I’d like to go over to the university and talk to his professors. Maybe they can give us a clue as to what Bastille was talking about just before he died. Who’s game?

I’ll come, Terry, Melissa said.

Me too, Jenn piped up. Corey?

Sure, I’ll go.

We took a taxi to LSU. The university was on a week break, so there were no classes, but the professors were still working. I soon located the journalism department and asked to speak to the director, a Miles Chesney, an older gentleman with a tweed jacket and a grey beard.

Can I help you? He asked distractedly as we entered his office I introduced myself and the others.

I wonder if you know anything about that young man who died last night downtown, Bruno Bastille?

Chesney’s head jerked around. Who are you? What do you want with Bruno?

Just some information. I said. My father is a private investigator in Canada and I’m somewhat of an amateur detective. I would just like to know if Bruno was in any trouble. My friend Jenn and I witnessed his little tirade in the street last night. He looked very troubled. I assure you I mean no ill will towards Mr. Bastille, we only want to help.

Chesney looked skeptical but finally relented. You look like decent young people, he said. Yes, Bruno was one of my students actually. Very promising career in journalism. He was returning home to France in the summer to work at his fathers paper in Paris.

Did you have any idea he was in any trouble, or why he was acting strangely, I asked. I mean, he was waving a gun around in a crowd of people and yelling “the evil ones are coming”.

Professor Chesney blanched when I mentioned what Bastille had said. It was not reported in the paper the exact words that Bastille had uttered. What did he say? Chesney croaked. His exact words.

I closed my eyes remembering the scene but Jenn spoke up first.

You’re all going to die, Mark my words, the whole city is in danger. They are coming, the evil ones are coming to destroy your city. They are coming to St. Marcus, I tell you. St. Marcus church. Tomorrow. You hear me, tomorrow. They’re coming! The evil ones are coming. I’m only the messenger.

Wow, I said staring at Jenn. Quite a memory.

Thanks, she said. I have a good memory for hearing words. Conversations I can recall from memory.

Chesney spoke up. I want to show you something. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file. In the file it looked like term papers.

My class had to hand in an assignment last week, he added, pulling out a paper from the middle of the stack and handing it to me. Look at the title of Mr. Bastille’s paper.

I glanced down at the page. It was titled “the Evil Ones are Coming”.

Note: This story was written about 2 years ago. This is the first chapter of what is to become the first book in a mystery/science fiction series about a teenager living on a space station orbiting the earth in the year 2455. Enjoy!

Journal

 What a day! Today was the  second worst day of my life. I can’t believe what has happened. As I’m writing this I’m on Rogue Station. I have come to live with my Uncle Nick, who runs the station.I know he doesn’t  want me to live here with him. Some days I wish I had a normal family, with a Mom and a Dad. The day they were killed…that was the worst day of my life, but I don’t remember…I was only a year old. Anyway, someone else died today. My only friend in the…well…universe. Keith was like my older brother, who always looked out for me, kept me away from Mak. I don’t have to worry about Mak anymore…just my uncle…

                “I hate this, I really hate this!”, I said, running my fingers through my mop of jet black hair. I flopped on the bright purple lounger that was next to my bed and glared at the man standing at my door.

“Brendan, we have no choice”, the man spoke up. Keith. “We just can’t keep you here any longer.”

My steel gray eyes flashed in anger. “Why not? I’d rather stay here than go with—him.” The last word I uttered between clenched teeth.

“He’s the only family you’ve got,” Keith countered.

“Family? I have no family”, I muttered. “That’s why I’m here, remember?”

“But Nicholas Starr is your uncle”.

“Uncle Nick. He’s probably a hundred years old”,

“He’s only thirty-two—.

I laughed then. “Might as well be a hundred.”

Keith smiled at that. ”You’re sixteen Brendan. He’s only double your age”.

“I know my math”, I retorted. I was silent for a moment, then continued, “he’s only thirty-two?”

Keith rolled his eyes in exasperation. “He’s younger than me. I’m thirty-six.”

“You’re an old guy”, I said, sarcastically, That was the first time I smiled that day. You’re really thirty-six, Keith?

“Thirty seven in three months”, Keith said, resignedly

I thought for a moment, then noted Keith’s attire. Orange flourescent shorts and t-shirt, two silver serpent earrings dangling from each ear, and long blond hair, pulled back in a ponytail. “I guess you’re not that old, Keith.”

“No, I’m not. And even so, your uncle’s probably cooler than me.”

“No one’s cooler than you, Keith.”

Keith chuckled. “Thanks for the compliment, kid, but you still can’t stay here at ED any longer.” ED was short for Earth District 2 Foster Care Facility.

I spent the last 15 years at ED ever since my parents had been killed in a vicious alien attack. The Lurkers were a violently savage race, who, after the vicious attack, mysteriously retreated into the far reaches of space, never to be heard from again. That had been 14 years ago. It was then that I had been brought to ED.

Then, raised by Keith Boswell at ED, I had became somewhat of a troublemaker, wreaking havoc among staff and the other orphans, playing practical jokes on them and generally being a major pain in the neck.

“And stop buttering me up, it won’t work”. Keith continued. He sighed. “I like you a lot Brendan, I’ve been here with you since you came here as a baby, and, no doubt I’m going to miss you, but you know, I could come and visit you on Rogue Station. If you wanted me to, that is.”

“Rogue Station? Is that where…?”

”Your uncle lives? Yes, he’s the Overseer of Rogue Station.” Keith explained..

“He’s runs Rogue Station?” I said in awe.

“For four years now. Doing a pretty good job, too. Runs the place like a well oiled–orphanage.” Keith chuckled at his joke.

“Great”, I muttered, not amused. “Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Anyway, I still don’t want to go. Please, can you talk to Mak for me? Put in a good word?”

“It was Mak’s idea”, Keith said. “He wants you out of here. All he needed was a reason to kick you out.”

“If it’s because of what happened with Fluffy, I’ll apologize to her, I said, sobering. I didn’t mean to put her in there. She had it coming, though. “

Fluffy was a glarg. At most times a relatively docile beast from the arctic plains of the Earth Alliance planet of Mentosa, when provoked she was nasty tempered and could be downright spiteful. Earlier that morning I had lured her into the facility recycler with promise of a small and tasty kluykk—a small Denesian rodent—I then locked the metal door with Fluffy inside. Her howls could be heard all through the facility, until Mak Bjensyn rescued her. Makl was the facility administrator. He was not docile, neither was he amused by this latest prank of mine. But then again, he was hardly ever amused especially when it came to my antics.

“I don’t care”, I shot back. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll apologize to Fluffy—and then Mak will change his mind.”

“You locked her in the recycler. I wouldn’t go near her for about a year. And Mak won’t change his mind. I just had a meeting with him. I’m telling you, he was madder than—a glarg stuck in a recycler.”

“Is she still in the infirmary?” I smiled at the memory of Fluffy, stuck in the facility recycler. She’ll be pulling metal filings out of her fur for weeks.

Yes, Miss Stackpole cleaned her up. She’s as good as new. Except for her temper, of course, Keith replied.

“Do you think Fluffy will forgive me?” Brendan said hopefully.

“You’d better talk to her—then start packing your bags”, Keith said, turning to leave. “Your shuttle leaves in 2 hours.”

I just stared open mouthed at Keith for a moment and Keith hesitated, hand on the door knob. “Two hours?” I asked hoarsely. I sat down on my small bed and became silent.

“Yes”, Keith replied. “Two hours.”

*                                 *                                 *                                   *

The good-byes were short. Though most of ED’s residents were glad to see me go, the other orphans would miss me. I had brought a bit of excitement to a place that could be at most times downright dull.

Even Fluffy managed a handshake, well, paw shake, but only after I apologized profusely and had gotten down on my hands and knees. Fluffy grunted her appeasement. She thought it an amusing human custom—grovelling.

Then I came to Keith. “I’ll come and visit you on the Station ”, he promised.

No one else made the offer to visit me on Rogue Station. The other orphans couldn’t leave and the staff. well, the staff wouldn’t waste their measly vacation time to visit a juvenile delinquent on a space station orbiting the Earth. Even if it was to Rogue Station. They all stood around awkwardly looking at each other. I looked at each one in turn but saw no friends, only people who could’t wait to see my back. It was not a comforting thought.

I looked once more at Keith. Only Keith I considered a friend. I would definitely miss Keith. A lot.

And with that I was out the door, my scuffed and brown duffel bag holding all of his worldly belongings. Which weren’t much. A couple of shirts, a tattered pair of denim shorts, a clean pair of socks and some underclothes. Also in the bag were a tattered journal and a pencil, sharpened so many times it was almost too small for his hand. I wouldn’t go anywhere without my journal.

I had also managed to swipe some pecuckell  from Mrs. Reynold’s kitchen for the shuttle trip. It was wrapped up in some foil wrap and stuffed into the front pocket of the duffel.

Before saying my final goodbye, Keith had pressed a half dozen Earth credits into my hand along with a shuttle ticket. Sorry I can’t do more, Keith had muttered under his breath.

I fingered them now as I approached the commercial district and wondered if I had time to browse the many shops lining the street. It was noon and smells coming from the kitchen of the small restaurant now situated to my left were overwhelming my sense of smell. I could buy some food for the trip, or swipe some food and keep the money for something more fun.

Aircars hummed overhead as I debated. There weren’t too many pedestrians in the city of New London, most preferring public transportation. Since the Lurker war, many these days could not afford their own vehicle. Public transportation in New London was crowded but relatively cheap.

But the moon shuttle depot where I was headed, was in the middle of the commercial district, another two blocks farther along. It had been built where there was available land and enough room for a Customs Department. Customs departments at Shuttle Stations on Earth were a necessity these days. You could never be too careful who you let onto Earth. Earth was very selective.

Anyone with enough credits and a smile could disembark on the moon, though. Thus the customs desks at the shuttle station.

I decided then against the food. I would save my money for something fun.

He peered into the window of the nearest store. Closed for inventory, a sign on the door announced. A bright red poster caught my eyes as I peered into the darkened shop. It wasn’t the colour of the poster that caught my attention. It was the mechanical man, whose frame adorned the poster. Words along the bottom read:

YOURS FOR ONLY §1000 CREDITS

Androids can do anything humans can do—even better!

I stared, transfixed, at the poster. Way cool, I murmered. If only I had one of those…

A footfall behind him caught him unawares. I turned around. It was Keith.

“Miss me already?”, I managed to say, eyes travelling between Keith and the poster inside the store.

Keith smiled, but didn’t answer. Instead he said, “Spending your money, already? Come on, your shuttle leaves in 15 minutes.”

“Afraid I’d run away?”, I said, sullenly.

“As a matter of fact, yes”, Keith said quickly, grinning at me. “Not that we don’t trust you or anything—we just don’t trust you.”

I reddened. I turned and headed up the thoroughfare without speaking and entered the shuttle station a few minutes later followed closely by my shadow.

“Look”, Keith said, when I turned to face him, “I do trust you, I’m sorry for saying what I did back there. It’s just—I wanted to tell you—I.”

“What?”

“I didn’t really want you to go. The others—Mak thought that…”

“Mak wanted me out and that episode with Fluffy was the last straw. You told me that already. I don’t care anymore. I’m glad I’m out of there.

Why the sudden change of heart?, Keith wondered aloud. You didn’t want to leave earlier. Now you can’t wait to go. What’s up?

Brendan just shrugged. I’m looking at this as an adventure. Now I’m glad Mak kicked me out. Yeah, I’m scared, but—well I’m just glad, that’s all.

You will be better off on Rogue Station, Keith remarked. There’s something I need to tell you, though. I didn’t want to tell you back at ED. That’s why I slipped out just now.

What is it?

Mak spoke to your uncle this morning. Your uncle doesn’t think he can handle your coming to live with him.

What? I don’t believe this. You’re telling me Uncle Nick doesn’t want me to live with him. But I’m on my way, now. I don’t understand.

He’s real busy, being Overseer of the Station and everything. He does care about you, but he told Mak he couldn’t take you. Mak said he had no choice but to take you. That’s why I’m taking you to Rogue Station myself. Convince him that you’re a super nephew. Do you think you could put on your “super nephew” face?

I just looked at Keith like he had two heads with long green tentacles coming out of his ears. Huhn? What do you mean?

We’re going to Rogue Station and we’re going to convince that uncle of yours that you will brighten his otherwise pathetic, boring life. You can do that, can’t you. Aren’t you glad I’m coming with you?

How did you get away from Mak? Brendan asked, smiling. He looked at Keith in the eye and the smile turned to a frown. What happened? You’re not–?

No, I quit, was Keith’s reply.

Why? I asked, frowning. Just because of me? I don’t understand why you would do that?

No not just because of you. Anyway, it’s a long story, Keith replied. Come on Super Nephew. Let’s get a good seat on the Shuttle. If we hurry we may even get a window seat. Earth looks really cool from space.

Chapter One Ghost in the Gallery

Terry, that man has a gun!

My friend Jenn grabbed my arm and motioned to the guy directly ahead of us in the crowd. We were in New Orleans and Mardi Gras was underway. The sun was waning  in the early February sky and thousands of people were crowded the downtown streets of the city, many in brightly coloured costumes and masks.

Jenn let go of my arm and grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911. I can’t hear the operator, she called out a few seoonds later. It’s too noisy.

Come on! I said and we ducked into a nearby restaurant where it was relatively quiet. I grabbed the phone from Jenn and spoke to the operator, giving our location and the fact that the swarthy stranger was carrying a gun in his hand, right out in the open!

A scream out in the street overpowered the noise of the crowd. Suddenly people dashed past the restaurant back up the street the way we had come.

I peered out into the street and saw that the man was now standing in the middle of the square, alone, just ahead of where we ducked into the restaurant. He was branishing his gun menacingly at the crowd. You’re all in danger, he yelled to the fleeing crowd.

Yeah, from you! I muttered to myself.  The guy put the gun back in the pocket of his jacket and stood there, arms at his side. A grin spread across his face. You’re all going to die, he laughed hysterically. Mark my words, the whole city is in danger. They are coming, the evil ones are coming to destroy your city. They are coming to St. Marcus, I tell you. St. Marcus church. Tomorrow. You hear me, tomorrow. They’re coming! The evil ones are coming.

I’m only the messenger. He was quieter now. Only the messenger, he repeated quieter still

Just then a swarm of uniformed officers descended on the man and threw him to the ground. He man convulsed suddently and then lay quiet his eyes staring up into the darkening sky. Then his body went rigid and lay still.

Terry! He’s dead, Jenn whispered in my ear. What happened?

I—don’t—know, I said not believing what I was seeing. I watched transfixed as the officers tried to revive the man, but to no avail.

By now a crowd was gathering around the victim, Keep back! One of the police officer’s barked to the crowd.

Was he shot? Someone called out from the gathering crowd. Is he dead? Another voice called out. Who is this guy? Still another.

Stay back! The policeman bellowed again. A minute later an ambulance came and took the man away.

We returned to the street and slowly the crowd dispersed. The police were questioning witnesses and we gave our report and stated that we were the ones who called 911. We also reported what the man had said or rather yelled before he collapsed.

Thanks for your help, the officer said officiously, taking notes, then turned away to talk to some other people.

What do you make of what the guy was saying about St. Marcus church? Jenn asked as we continued on our way to our hotel. We were meeting our other friends there. Along with Jenn, my friends Van Gilman, Corey Cross and my girlfriend Melissa Mulhall had joined me in New Orleans. It was most likely the last time we would be able to do the trip as we were all off to university next year.

I don’t know, but he sounded serious. Let’s go back to the hotel and tell the others. I don’t know whether the police believe us or not. But I have a feeling something bad is going to happen tomorrow night.

Isn’t that St. Marcus Church?, Jenn said pointing when we were about a block from our hotel.

Looks like it. I remarked. Let’s take a look.

We approached the church which looked a couple of hundred years old. It was more like a cathedral and the sign out front noted it was the oldest in New Orleans. The local tourist company was conducting tours every hour. The last one had started 20 minutes before. The next one was the following morning at 10 am.

Let’s take the tour tomorrow, maybe we’ll see what that guy was talking about, I remarked taking note of the time.

Jenn nodded then we moved off.

Back at the hotel St. Antoine,  we met the others in the lobby and decided to go out for dinner at a restaurant next door to the hotel, which was named Louis’ Bistro.

We were greeted by a waiter dressed in a black vest and red tie. Bonjour Mesdames et Messieurs, he greeted us. Vood you like to have ee tabell? He said in a strong French accent, which I suspected was put on for the tourists.

Ah bon soir,  monsieur. Comment ca va? Jenn stated in perfect French. The waiter’s face fell. Pardon? He asked.

Oh, you don’t speak zee French? Jenn said with a slight grin.

The waiter just looked at her and shook his head. We all laughed.

The waiter whose nametag said Raoul led us to a table in the back, the only one in the place that held 5 people. The restaurant was smaller than it looked from the oustside. Once we were seated Jenn spoke up, We had some excitement before we met you guys. Terry, tell them about the strange man in the street.

We were walking down Rue St. Germain when Jenn spotted a guy ahead of us with a gun.

Oh, Melissa gasped. Really?

Yeah, we called the police from our cell and before they got there the guy pulls out the gun, starts ranting about the evil ones are coming to destroy the city. They’re coming to St. Marcus Church tomorrow night.

Oh, wow! Corey exclaimed. What happened then?

The guy was ambushed by some cops but he collapsed then died right there in the strreet! I announced. The others stared dumbfounded. Holy crow! Van muttered. You can’t go anywhere for a relaxing vacation, can you? Not in New Orleans 6 hours and already you run into some kook. I suppose you’re investigating this church to see what the guy was talking about?

Yeah, we’re going tomorrow at 10 for a tour of the church. See if we can pick up any clues.

Van snorted. I ain’t going to no church unless it’s Sunday. I’m going to party. I met some guys from Toronto who are staying at the hotel. We’re going cruising tomorrow. Now what would you rather do, cruise the exciting city during mardi Gras for some excitement or visit some old church.

I’ll go with you, Melissa spoke up. I came here to relax and to sightsee, I don’t care about finding the nearest party.

Van just rolled his eyes. What about you, Core=ster? He said to Corey who didn’t know how to answer. I could tell he wanted to come with us but wanted to hang out with Van and the “guys” and be cool, and look for a party.

Come on Corey, come with us, Jenn said. Let Van do his party thing with his OTHER friends, the rest of us will go to the church. It’ll be fun. And there’ll be a mystery.

How do you know that? Corey asked.

Jenn took this one. Because Terry’s here and wherever he goes there’s sure to be a mystery.

The next morning at 10, Van having gone off with his new friends to “check out” the local “wild” life, Corey, Melissa Jenn and I made out way down the cobblestone streets back to St. Marcus’s church.

This is beautiful, Melissa remarked in awe. How old is this church?

It says here it was built in 1709, Jenn announced.

We climbed stone step and arrived at the huge door at the front. A large handle was on the side. I pulled it and we went into the dark interior.

Creepsville, was the first word I thought of. Not to be disrespectful of the church, but this place was creepy. Melissa gave a slight shiver when the door crashed shut behind us and we were in the gloomy vestibule.

You would think they could have lights on in here, Jenn remarked looking around cautiously. Where do we buy tickets for this tour.

I thought it was odd that no one seemed to be around. Let’s take a look, I suggested. Someone has to be here.

Suddenly raised voices could be heard from the main part of the church. I followed the sound with the others following. We went through a large archway into the cavernous main room. A man and woman were standing up near the pulpit arguing. It struck me as harsh that these two were arguing in such a sacred sanctuary. I couldn’t make out what they were saying but they spied us and stopped immediately. The woman approached us and the man turned and went back through a doorway into darkness.

Can I help you? She asked annoyed.

We’re here for the tour, I said. You are open for tours.

Oh—ah yes, of course. She came up to our group and smiled apologetically. Sorry about that, you didn’t need to hear that.

She motioned for us to go back out in the vestibule where she turned on the lights. The place still looked creepy.

Just then the main door opened again and two older ladies came in. Is this the tour, one of them asked.

Yes, the woman, whose namebadge said “Marlene” answered. Come join the group. We’ll get started in a minute. Just wait right here and I’ll be back in a minute.

Marlene left and we introduced ourselves to the two woman whose names were Jacqueline and Sarah from Los Angeles.

Oh, how nice to have Canadians here, Jacqueline said smiling grandmotherly at us. How nice!

Yes, yes, Sarah echoed. Very nice.

Marlene returned and had a small notebook in her hand and had donned a blue blazer.

Welcome to St. Marcus Church. It is the oldest church in New Orleans and was built in 1709 by French monks who lived next door in St Marcus Hall. You may have noticed it as you walked in…

The tour droned on for another half an hour. Marlene led us back into the main chapel where pews were on a curve and a slant down to the main pulpit and choir areas. Two doors one on the right and one on the left at the back of the choir pews led into darkness. It was into one of these doors that Marlene’s companion had disappeared into earlier. My eyes scanned the church but could find nothing out of the ordinary.

The evil ones are coming to destroy your city…the evil ones are coming to St. Marcus Church.

These word reverberated in my head. The man who uttered them in the street the previous evening was a student at the local university and had died right before our eyes. The local papers had said his name was Bruno Bastille and would not speculate on a cause of death.

The evil ones are coming…

Terry, Jenn broke me out of my reverie. Terry, what’s the matter? She whispered. Do you see anything.

No, nothing. What was that guy talking about.

Don’t know but Marlene just told us that this church is haunted. I don’t know, this place is even too creepy for a ghost, she said with a shudder.

I know what you mean. Let’s ditch this tour as soon as we can. I’m looking forward to some sunshine after this dungeon. I feel claustrophobic in here.

The vaulted ceiling raised metres above our head but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something evil was already here.

We followed Marlene up to one of the doors that was behind the raised part at the front of the chapel behind the choir pews. I turned to have a look back at the church and noticed something in the upper part of the seating, the gallery.

What was that? I murmured grabbing Jenn’s arm and pointing with the other.

A figure could be seen lurking around the upper pews. I couldn’t make out any features. It was almost formless, but that wasn’t possible. What was I seeing?  Suddenly the figure came out from between the pews to stand in the aisle looking down at us. It was then that I realized I could see through the figure. Was this the ghost?

Suddenly a scream pierced the church!