User blog:Metool Bard/Fanfiction: Missing Linc (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: Spooky Spectator
“Alright, Roosters! This is our big game! We need everyone to give a hundred and ten percent and show those Hockers what we’re made of!”

Sigh. Inspirational bluster like that rings hollow when more important matters are on your mind. I should know; I heard speeches like that all the time when Mom and Dad forced me to take up basketball (don’t ask), and they seldom had any effect on me. And now, those words which usually stoke the fires within Lynn’s heart are nothing but meaningless sounds echoing into the void.

Lynn’s lack of energy did not go unnoticed as we made our way down the aisle of the bus. I could hear everyone whispering under their breath and pointing at her. I don’t blame them. It was indeed a curious sight to see Lynn in such low spirits before a big game. We passed by her best friend Margo, who looked on with concern.

“Hey, Lynn. What’s got you down?” she asked. “And why is Lucy here?”

Lynn sighed. “Long story short, my little brother Lincoln went missing last night. Lucy’s here for moral support.”

Margo gasped. “For real? Yeesh, that sounds rough. Are you gonna be alright?”

Lynn averted her eyes. “I’ll manage.”

That’s just like Lynn. Always trying to put on a brave face and pretend that nothing can hurt her. But she’s usually a lot better at hiding her true feelings. This time around, everyone could tell that she didn’t want to be here. Even the coach caught on as he made a beeline towards us.

“What’s going on over here?” he asked, looking directly at me. “This bus is for Royal Woods Roosters only.”

“I-I asked her to come with me, coach,” said Lynn. “I-I’ve been having trouble focusing. My little brother disappeared last night, and we’re all taking it pretty hard.”

The coach’s brow crinkled. “I wish I could spare you, Loud. But this is the most important game of the season, and you’re our star player. I’m sure the cops will find your brother. You don’t have to worry about it. Just try and keep your head in the game, okay?”

It’s just as Lynn predicted last night. Mercy was not in the cards.

“I-I’ll do my best, coach,” said Lynn, placing an arm around my shoulder. “And my little sister Lucy’s here to support me. She won’t get in the way, I promise.”

The coach gave me a long, ponderous look. I don’t know what he expected to find, but eventually, he just sighed.

“Alright. I’ll make an exception this time,” he said. “But she’s your responsibility, Loud. I’m not going to babysit her.”

“G-got it,” said Lynn meekly.

And people wonder why I don’t play sports. This is part of the reason. I may have embraced the darkness, but my black, withered soul is not without compassion. The same cannot be said for strict sports coaches who only care about victory. How Lynn can tolerate it is a mystery to me.

We took our seats on the bus, with Lynn staring out the window. I could see her anguish in her reflection. Out of all of us, she is probably hurting the most. The very thought of abandoning Lincoln to play in some football game is clearly tearing her up inside. Sigh. If I had a heart, it would be aching for her right now.

But as I said, even a tortured soul like myself knows compassion. Lynn should not have to suffer alone. I reached out and held her hand. She turned to me.

“It’ll be okay,” I told her. “Don’t think of this as abandoning Lincoln. Rather, think of it as us pursuing a different lead.”

Lynn raised an eyebrow. “A different lead? Hazeltucky’s three hours away from Royal Woods, at least. What’re we gonna find out there?”

“The spirits know,” I said.

Lynn sighed. “If you say so, Luce.”  She then smiled. “Thanks for being here with me. You didn’t have to do this.”

That’s where she’s wrong. If the spirits are correct, I do have to do this. Lincoln may be in danger right now, but so is Lynn. The two are related somehow; the spirits said as much. I’m just not sure how yet. But perhaps we can find out together…

***

Once we arrived in Hazeltucky, the coach herded all of the players into the locker room. Given that I wasn’t supposed to be there, he was at a loss as to what to do with me. In the end, he felt it was easier to make me a water girl. Though he still maintained that Lynn was going to be responsible for looking out for me. I’m not sure how that’s going to work, but it’s pointless to dwell on it.

We emerged from the locker room to the sound of loud cheers. This game must’ve been as important as the coach said it was, because all of the bleachers were packed. While the players went out onto the field, I took a seat on the bench. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been to one of Lynn’s games, but this is the first time I’ve been so up close to the action. But just like those other times, I’m not here for the game. I’m here for Lynn.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s hear it for the Hazeltucky Hockers!”

The opposing team came out of the locker rooms opposite us, and they were greeted by roaring applause. I flinched as I heard a sickly wet sound behind me. Looking up, I saw that some of the fans had spat on the ground. I… guess that’s why they’re called the Hockers. Sigh.

Wait a moment. Two of those players look familiar. One of them has his eyes shrouded behind black hair. The other is missing one of his teeth. Where have I…?

Gasp! I recognize them now! Those two nearly ruined my Halloween corn maze! Could this be what the spirits were warning me about? I have to find out.

Before I could move, the coach took a seat next to me. Dang it. I can’t get over there with him watching me. Sigh.

“Is your sister gonna be okay?” he asked me.

I just gave him a look. Does some nefarious force overtake coaches when you go to middle school? Our elementary school gym teacher, Coach Pacowski, isn’t nearly this callous or ignorant. Then again, my basketball coach wasn’t much nicer than this fellow (in fact, the less I say about her, the better).

“The spirits predict darkness to befall her in this game,” I said. “I’m here to make sure she doesn’t succumb to it.”

The coach raised an eyebrow at me. “Kid, that didn’t make any sense. Just tell me if she can play.”

Sigh. There’s just no use talking to some people. “Lynn’s a fighter,” I said. “She’s not going to just give up, but it won’t be easy for her.”

The coach nodded. “Alright. So we still have a chance.”

Hmm. Is he truly relying on Lynn to carry the team to victory? I don’t know all that much about sports, but that doesn’t sound like it would work even if Lynn was at a hundred percent. I was about to question him further when the national anthem started playing. Instinctively, I stood up along with everyone else.

I looked over at the two thugs again. While everyone else was either singing along with the anthem or remaining silent, they were whispering to one another. Already, I could sense the darkness in the air. They have some sort of scheme up their sleeve, I know it. But I can’t warn Lynn in time. Looks like I’ll just have to improvise.

The anthem ended, and both teams lined up on the field. Lynn went to the center of the field with one of the thugs. The referee took out a coin from his pocket.

“Hazeltucky will make the call,” he said, flipping the coin.

“Heads!” the thug barked.

The coin fell to the ground, and the thug scowled.

“It’s heads! The Roosters will kick off, and the Hockers will receive!” the referee announced.

Hoots and hollers erupted from the stands, and I heard more spitting from behind. This time, globs of saliva rained down on me and the coach. Sigh.

“Does this happen a lot?” I asked.

“Only with the Hockers,” said the coach. His tone was dark and dismal, reminding me of my dear Edwin. “We never won a single game against them. We came close once, but I’m sure you know how that turned out.”

He must be referring to the time Lynn took Lincoln’s place on the football team to get him out of practice. It sounds as though he still holds a grudge about that. Is that why he’s so callous to Lynn’s suffering? Is he expecting her to redeem our family by beating this hated rival? That doesn’t sound fair.

“Do you know anything else about the Hockers?” I asked.

“I know their star players, Hank and Hawk, are two of the most ruthless players in the game,” said the coach. He suddenly dipped his voice. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but there are some rumors going around that they’ll use every dirty trick in the book to win. No one’s been able to prove it, though.”

Hmm. Call it a hunch, or perhaps a vision from the spirits, but I bet anything that these Hank and Hawk characters are the same blackened souls who trashed my corn maze. Could it be…?

“Touchdown, Hockers!”

Well, that was fast. At least it felt that way; I usually don’t pay attention to these games. The Hockers wasted no time showboating, spitting at the feet of the Roosters. As much as Lynn loves to boast herself, I don’t think she’s ever been this bad.

I saw Lynn approach me, her eyes obscured by her helmet. I reached into my bucket and handed her a water bottle.

“How’re you holding up?” I asked.

Lynn gave me a dark look that would frighten the undead back to their graves. “I think the spirits are onto something, Luce,” she said hoarsely. “Something stinks here.”

“What’re you talking about, Loud?” asked the coach.

Lynn sprayed some water into her mouth before answering. “Those guys keep breaking through our defensive formations. It’s like they know what we’re gonna do before we do it.”

The coach shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he said, taking out a clipboard. “I’ve got all of our signals right here, and they’ve been under lock and key all season. There’s no way anyone could’ve gotten their hands on ‘em.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell ya,” said Lynn with a shrug. “Fact is we’re getting clobbered out there.”

The coach grunted. “It’s still early in the game, Loud. I thought you weren’t one to give up so easily.”

“I’m not. I just think something’s wrong.”

“Let me worry about that, Loud. You just keep playing.”

Sigh. Only a fool of a general would not listen to his soldiers. Then again, I don’t know what I’d do in this situation. I’m starting to understand just how… powerless Lynn feels right now. It is a darkness that even I have trouble stomaching.

After I gave out water to the rest of the Roosters, the players retook the field. The Hockers punted the ball across the field, and Lynn caught it. As she charged for the goal, I saw Hank and Hawk making a beeline right for her. Lynn tried to maneuver out of the way, but they followed her movements. One of them tackled her to the ground. After a pause, he stole the ball from her and ran off with it. While the other players tried to stop him, Lynn just lay there motionless.

“Wh-what’s going on?!” the coach bellowed. He turned to me. “Kid, go see if your sister’s alright.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I immediately rushed out to the field and knelt by Lynn’s side. Gasp. Sh-she’s crying.

“Lynn. Are you hurt?” I asked.

Lynn panted heavily as she sat up. She trembled all over, her hands balling up into fists. She then pounded her fist into the grass.

“Not as hurt as those two bozos are gonna be,” she snarled.

“Why? What happened?”

“Th-they know what happened to Lincoln.”

So the spirits predicted; so it came to pass. But I know that isn’t the full story.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

Lynn sniffled and brushed her nose. “That punk whispered something to me when he tackled me. H-he said…  H-he…  D-dang it, I-I can’t…”

Fury and sorrow dripped from her voice like fresh blood off of a vampire’s fang. It’s time for my compassion to shine through again. Without any regard for my surroundings, I pulled Lynn into a tight embrace.

“Shh. I’m right here,” I whispered. “Take your time.”

Lynn sniffled and shivered in my grasp. Finally, she took a deep breath and sighed.

“H-he said ‘I guess football isn’t your strong suit now that your brother’s gone.’”

…

Grr. Blackened souls like them never seem to learn their lesson. As Lynn would say, that was a low blow. But how did they…?

Wait. Strong suit. That sounds familiar somehow. Where have I heard that before?

“Everything okay over there? Can she still play?”

Dang it. I can’t find answers to any of these questions with that coach watching me. We need an excuse to investigate.

“Coach, Lynn’s not feeling well,” I said. “I’m going to take her somewhere so she can recover.”

The coach sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re putting us in a difficult position here, kid. I’ve got no one to sub for Loud. If I can’t play with a full team, we forfeit the match.”

“And if Lynn keeps pushing herself like this, she’ll only destroy herself,” I countered. “I don’t think you want that on your conscience.”

The coach reflected on my words for a moment before nodding.

“Alright. I can buy you ten minutes, tops. Make sure she’s ready to play by then.”  He then turned to the referee. “Time out! We’ve got a player down!”

Huh. I take back what I said before. Lynn’s coach is not as callous as I first thought. Which is more than I can say for Hank and Hawk. As I dragged Lynn off the field, constant questions weighed heavily on my mind. How much did those two thugs know about Lincoln’s disappearance? Were the rumors of their unsportsmanlike conduct true? If they were, how could we prove it? It’s so much to process.

Thankfully, I won’t have to shoulder this burden alone. It looks like Lynn will be able to contribute to the investigation after all…

Previous Chapter Next Chapter (TBA)