The Shadow Boys
Chapter 02
Zacky looked at the buttons on the pannel beside him, he produced the room key from his pocket and selected floor number 3. The elevator gave a slight jerk as it began its slow ascent. The lift gave another jerk upon reaching its final destination. The doors slid open and Zacky was faced with a long, narrow hallway. The walls were painted a cream colour and the doors wore elegant, gold-plated numbers. Various works of art lined the walls and a lush, burgandy carpet covered the floor. Zacky looked at the room number on the card, his room was at the end of the hall. He looked around at the last three doors at the end of the hall, noticing that they were much larger and had more detail than the others he'd passed by. He let himself into the room, closing the door behind him. The room was magnificent, complete with an ocean view and four bedrooms. Zacky dropped his bags on the floor by the entrance. He wandered around the room, running his fingers over the furniture.
A slight knock at the door shook Zacky from his state of amazement. The boy ran over to the door, opening it carefully, sticking his head out the crack inbetween the chain-lock and the door frame. Zacky's facial features distorted into a confused expression. The character whom he'd come face-to-face with while waiting for the elevator was now standing in front of his door. Zacky was confused however he chalked the visit up to the fact that the boy must work for the hotel, even though that explanation sounded curious to him.
"Um... Hello?"
The boy standing before him cocked an eyebrow, "Mr. Baker?"
Zacky, slightly intimidated, took a step back and cleared his throat, "my father is Mr. Baker, is there some sort of problem?"
"No. No problem. I'm just here to welcome you to the Haner Hotel and Suites. Have a lovely stay, if there's anything you need just call the service desk and ask for Brian Jr."
"Okay... Thanks?"
The boy nodded and then walked away, leaving Zacky feeling very confused. Zacky walked over to the balcony, opening the veranda doors. He stepped outside and the warm ocean breeze enveloped him in its scent. Just below the balcony, Zacky could see the parking lot full of cars. He noted that the parking lot was relatively empty for a Saturday afternoon. Zacky peered down in an atempt to find his family's car. The teen furrowed his brow when he couldn't find it. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the cell phone his parents had given him for emergencies, only. Zacky scrolled through his phonebook of numbers (which really, only consisted of three numbers, not only did his family dislike him, so did the kids at school), easily locating his father's number, he hit send and quietly waited for his father to answer the call. However, to Zacky's surprise he never heard a dial tone, simply a lifeless recording informing him that his phone's service had been terminated.
Zacky walked back into the hotel sweet, noticing that there was indeed a phone resting atop an end table in the far corner of the room. The slightly over-weight boy picked up the phone and dialed his father's number a second time. This time the call did indeed go through. Zacky waited patiently, tapping his fingertips o n the table which held the phone. He was about to give up when, on the eigth ring a masculine voice was heard.
"Hello?"
"Dad? It's Zacky, where are you guys?"
"Sorry, I don't know anyone by the name of Zacky anymore."
"What? Dad, this isn't funny."
"I don't know who you think you're speaking too, or if this is some sick joke but my son Zacky has been missing for 3 years. He was abducted on his 10th birthday."
"Are you even serious? Dad, it's me, Zacky. You know, your son. I am not missing, I'm alive. Alive god dammit."
"Goodbye." The man hung up in Zacky's ear, leaving him with nothing but the sound of a dial tone.
Zacky placed the phone back down onto the receiver, placing his shaking hands, palm down onto his thighs. This couldn't be happening to him, he must still be asleep in the car. Zacky pinched himself over and over. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged harshly at it, the tears silently began to pour from his eyes, leaving saltine traces in their wake. He continued to sob until he felt as though he just couldn't cry anymore. What was he to do? He was only a 13 year-old boy, he didn't have any money, a place to live, a family, he was alone.
Zacky fell backward onto the sofa and curled himself into a tight ball. He began to rock himself back and forth, staring into the large television, even though all it had to offer was a black screen. He continued to stare into the darkness, into the eyes of the person who was reflected back at him. He couldn't make out the facial features, all he could see was a shadow of himself, a nameless entity. Eventually the boy passed out on the sofa, his sleep filled with every unpleasantry possible.
A slight knock at the door shook Zacky from his state of amazement. The boy ran over to the door, opening it carefully, sticking his head out the crack inbetween the chain-lock and the door frame. Zacky's facial features distorted into a confused expression. The character whom he'd come face-to-face with while waiting for the elevator was now standing in front of his door. Zacky was confused however he chalked the visit up to the fact that the boy must work for the hotel, even though that explanation sounded curious to him.
"Um... Hello?"
The boy standing before him cocked an eyebrow, "Mr. Baker?"
Zacky, slightly intimidated, took a step back and cleared his throat, "my father is Mr. Baker, is there some sort of problem?"
"No. No problem. I'm just here to welcome you to the Haner Hotel and Suites. Have a lovely stay, if there's anything you need just call the service desk and ask for Brian Jr."
"Okay... Thanks?"
The boy nodded and then walked away, leaving Zacky feeling very confused. Zacky walked over to the balcony, opening the veranda doors. He stepped outside and the warm ocean breeze enveloped him in its scent. Just below the balcony, Zacky could see the parking lot full of cars. He noted that the parking lot was relatively empty for a Saturday afternoon. Zacky peered down in an atempt to find his family's car. The teen furrowed his brow when he couldn't find it. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the cell phone his parents had given him for emergencies, only. Zacky scrolled through his phonebook of numbers (which really, only consisted of three numbers, not only did his family dislike him, so did the kids at school), easily locating his father's number, he hit send and quietly waited for his father to answer the call. However, to Zacky's surprise he never heard a dial tone, simply a lifeless recording informing him that his phone's service had been terminated.
Zacky walked back into the hotel sweet, noticing that there was indeed a phone resting atop an end table in the far corner of the room. The slightly over-weight boy picked up the phone and dialed his father's number a second time. This time the call did indeed go through. Zacky waited patiently, tapping his fingertips o n the table which held the phone. He was about to give up when, on the eigth ring a masculine voice was heard.
"Hello?"
"Dad? It's Zacky, where are you guys?"
"Sorry, I don't know anyone by the name of Zacky anymore."
"What? Dad, this isn't funny."
"I don't know who you think you're speaking too, or if this is some sick joke but my son Zacky has been missing for 3 years. He was abducted on his 10th birthday."
"Are you even serious? Dad, it's me, Zacky. You know, your son. I am not missing, I'm alive. Alive god dammit."
"Goodbye." The man hung up in Zacky's ear, leaving him with nothing but the sound of a dial tone.
Zacky placed the phone back down onto the receiver, placing his shaking hands, palm down onto his thighs. This couldn't be happening to him, he must still be asleep in the car. Zacky pinched himself over and over. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged harshly at it, the tears silently began to pour from his eyes, leaving saltine traces in their wake. He continued to sob until he felt as though he just couldn't cry anymore. What was he to do? He was only a 13 year-old boy, he didn't have any money, a place to live, a family, he was alone.
Zacky fell backward onto the sofa and curled himself into a tight ball. He began to rock himself back and forth, staring into the large television, even though all it had to offer was a black screen. He continued to stare into the darkness, into the eyes of the person who was reflected back at him. He couldn't make out the facial features, all he could see was a shadow of himself, a nameless entity. Eventually the boy passed out on the sofa, his sleep filled with every unpleasantry possible.