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“What?” I ask.
“Follow me,” he says. He doesn’t wait for us to reply, just walks out of the room.
I look at Callan and shrug. We both follow Zach.
Chapter Two
Blaze
My brothers and I step into our grandfather’s dark-paneled office and a stab of nostalgia hits as I look around the room. It hasn’t changed one bit since I was last here. In this room, more than any other, I feel the pang of his loss. I’ll never again sit across from Gramps as the old man smokes a fine cigar and we share a drink together.
The stories he told us for hours on end kept us fascinated. Gramps had a twin sister who died when they were forty. We never met her, but he loved her immensely. The two of them shared adventure after adventure together, and he fascinated us as he told tales of hunts in Africa, hiking through the rain forest, and battling the world’s seas as they fished in waters others would be too afraid to traverse.
Even after Gramps married and settled down, he still went on yearly adventures with his sister until the day she died. He never talked about that day. It was too hard on him. The loss had never become easier and there was no doubt he missed her until his last breath. Maybe they’re together now. I hope that’s thecase. It’s hard for me to comprehend an afterlife, but if anyone deserves eternal happiness it’s Gramps.
Zach moves over to the desk and picks up one of three boxes, holding it out. Callan and I stare at the packages in shock, neither of us stepping forward. As I look at the package in Zach’s hand a shudder rushes through me.
“What in the hell is this?” I ask, my voice subdued.
“We haven’t seen those in years,” Callan says, taking a step back as if he’s going to be bitten. I don’t blame him. I feel the same way.
“When I got here the packages were sitting on the desk. It took a minute for the fog to clear, then it all came rushing back to me,” Zach says.
“We’ve never talk about that night,” I say.
“It’s still foggy in my mind,” Callan admits.
“But you do remember these sitting on our porch?” Zach questions.
“Now that I’m seeing them, I do,” I admit.
“How in the hell did they get here? I don’t remember packing them up when we moved,” Callan says.
“I don’t either. But here they are. It’s clear Gramps wants us to open them. They’re sitting on his desk,” Zach says.
“That doesn’t mean we should. We didn’t open them when we got them,” I point out.
“I’m not sure why we didn’t,” Callan says. He laughs, the sound forced. “Why in the hell are we so damn scared of these?”
“We aren’t scared of anything,” I remind my brothers.
“Sure, but something’s odd about that entire night, and it feels like we’re playing with fire by having anything to do with these boxes,” Callan says.
“I can’t stop thinking about them. I think we need to open them,” Zach says. He hands me the box. Neither he nor Callan pick up their own boxes. “But, there’s a catch. It says only onebox can be opened at a time, that the challenge has to be finished before the next box is opened.” This makes is sound even more ominous. I really don’t want to open the box. Why me first? Probably because my brothers think I’m the adventurer. Well, I am, but still, this might be one adventure I don’t want to partake in.
My fingers trace the top of the box as I fight emotion I don’t understand. Once I open it, I won’t have to wonder anymore what it’s all about. I don’t want to find out, don’t want to know that something in my past might affect my present.
Zach says nothing, seeming to know I need a bit of time. I don’t want to appear a fool, so I place my hand on the weathered ribbon and tug. A small notecard flutters to the floor. We all stare at it almost expecting it to disappear.
I finally bend and pick it up. It’s the size of one of those floral bouquet cards. I tear open the seal and pull out the card. There are only a few words.
Once you open the box, you must complete your mission.
“What the hell?” I state, even more unsure about opening this box. “Who was that damn woman?”
“I have no idea, but this is ridiculous. There’s no way anyone can force us to do anything. I want to know what’s inside the damn box,” Callan grumbles.
“I don’t see you ripping your own box open,” I point out.
