Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall

Chosen to Rise; Destined to Fall

Part One: The Awakening

Chapter Four

- The Results of Rage -

Vincent looked up towards the sharp peaked roof of the convent, trying to assess how he would climb around once he got up there. At the very top, there was a flat spot where he could glimpse a small fragment of the cage and he could faintly hear the cat yowling. This part of the convent was set far from the regular bustling area. He was standing in a small, weed choked area just north of the chapel portion of the convent. It was no wonder that the nuns hadn't seen him, or even heard the cat yet. The only reason he had found it was that he figured that Joseph would put the cat in an isolated spot.

Vincent slipped through one of the back doors of the convent, and made his way through the convent halls carefully, up stairs and through halls, avoiding anyone that might still be inside until he finally reached the door that led to the attic. He pushed the door open carefully, and started up the dark, dusty stairs.

Maybe this is a mistake, he thought to himself as he looked around the attic after reaching the top. He pushed his fear down, and made his way across the dusty attic, sneezing several times as his footsteps kicked up clouds of dust. He pushed open the window he estimated was on the right side of the convent, and peered out. He could just make out the birdcage holding the cat out of the corner of his eye.

Tom and I have climbed up onto the roof before, so I'm not completely new to this. And besides, Vincent glanced out at the darkening sky, it looks like a storm is blowing in and that cat will be terrified. I have to get Tawny down before it hits. At that moment, a few drops of rain hit the windowpane. This is not what I needed.

Ignoring the increasing fall of rain, Vincent slowly made his way out the window, gripping it and the pipe that ran alongside the outside of it tightly, watching his footing. He flinched as he felt a splinter of wood from the sill pierce the skin of his palm, but he still climbed out. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he made it to onto the roof. Now came the tricky part. Since the roof was so steep, it was very hard to climb and the only way to do so was to grab a hold of the edges of the shingles. Normally it wasn't too bad, but since it was raining, this was going to be extremely difficult.

Vincent flattened himself against the roof and found his grips, holding on until his knuckles turned white. Very slowly, he crawled further onto the roof, sprawled out. Thunder rumbled and he could hear the cat's cries becoming louder. Pushing down his fear, he forced himself on, determined to save the cat.

* * *

"VINCENT!" Tom yelled, running through the courtyards and around the convent, desperately trying to find his friend. Sister Mary and several other nuns were following him, but Tom didn't care. Once he had realized that Vincent had gone after the cat, he knew he had to get to him, regardless if it got them in trouble.

Damn you Joseph! Tom thought angrily. Your stupid prank is going to get my best friend hurt! "VINCENT!!" Tom yelled again, but all he could hear was the howling of the wind and the thunder rumbling overhead. The rain poured down, making visibility slim. Behind him, he could barely hear the nuns calling out Vincent's name as well.

Panic was rising in Tom's chest as he searched and searched to no avail. He had to find Vincent; he didn't know what he would do if anything happened to his best friend.

* * *

Vincent, having reached the flat spot on the roof, sat up on his knees and hurriedly opened the cage, taking out the shaking cat. "Shh, it's alright," Vincent soothed, hugging the drenched cat against his chest and looking around for a way down. How had Joseph gotten Tawny up here in the first place? Vincent shook his head and jumped slightly as a loud clap of thunder sounded overhead. I've got to get down. I'm like a human lightning rod up here. "It's okay," he whispered, stroking the terrified cat. Thankfully, Tawny wasn't struggling too much and Vincent, having a way with animals, was able to keep her calmer than she normally would have been.

He looked back at the path he had taken to get to the cage, but realized that all the rainwater was draining right down the center of the area he had originally crossed. It would be suicide to try to get across that stream of water, he realized. He would slide right off the roof.

Scanning the rooftop, he spotted a slightly easier route down a bit of a ways down the top of the roof. If he could make it over there, it would be a lot easier coming down, since there was another roof halfway down below the topmost roof. He could even jump, probably. Standing, he began making his way over to the spot, taking it slow as the wind howled around him and the rain beat down heavily.

Reaching the spot, he dropped onto his stomach, hugging the cat to him, and began descending the treacherous roof carefully, concentrating on getting down.

"VINCENT!" a voice broke through the wind. Vincent glanced over his shoulder to see Tom running across the muddy ground, followed by several nuns, all looking up at Vincent. "Stay there! We're coming to get you!"

Vincent shook his head. It'd be too dangerous if Tom tried to come up here. I'd only be endangering his life too. Vincent began working his way down and then, it happened.

There was an extremely loud crash of thunder overhead, and simultaneously a strong gust of wind hit Vincent. Startling Tawny, he scrabbled at Vincent and Vincent lost his grip, tumbling backwards into the blackness.

* * *

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. One minute Vincent was up on the roof and Tom was nearly to him and then there was a loud clap of thunder and Tawny panicked. Tom watched in horror as his best friend tumbled from the roof, landing hard on the lower roof below and then tumbling off. Tawny had already leapt off and had run into the shadows.

Tom ran to where his best friend had hit the ground, and stared in horror. He could already see a gash in Vincent's scalp, blood trickling from it and mixing with the rainwater that covered Vincent's face, and then dripping into the mud. Tom fell to his knees next to him, mindless of the cold mud oozing onto his trousers and into his shoes.

"Vincent!" Tom cried, holding his best friend in his arms. Vincent was unconscious; his eyes didn't even flutter as Tom shook at him. Tom looked up at the two roofs, knowing that it was at least ten feet from one roof to the next and Vincent had landed hard on the lower roof. The nuns ran up to him and Tom buried his head in Vincent's jacket. He lifted his head, tears in his eyes.

Vincent was barely breathing and Tom knew that he had to get help quick, or he wlould die. "Tom, we've called the police and they have an ambulance on its way," Sister Mary said softly, crouching down next to Tom. A siren could be heard in the distance, growing louder.

Tom, lost in his thoughts, barely heard her or the siren. He just kept staring at his best friend, anger rising in his chest. He didn't even move as he felt someone take Vincent from his arms and place him in the back of the ambulance. Sitting in the mud, the rain pouring down, Tom just stared after the ambulance as it sped away, the siren softening. Joseph . . . That one word rang through Tom's head as his anger surged upward and his hands clenched tightly in the mud. He could feel it oozing between his fingers and he wished that it was Joseph he was squeezing. His lips thinned as his face contorted in a mask of fury. You're going to pay . . . for what you did to my best friend. You will pay. His eyes blazed red as he grew angrier and angrier and then he felt a hand on his shoulder and the red vanished. He looked up to see the concerned face of Sister Mary.

"Come in, Tom. We'll go see Vincent. He's going to be fine," she said softly and helped him stand. "The Lord is with him. Don't worry."

Tom took a deep breath, calming the rage that burned within him, but not quenching it. It sat there, hidden and quiet for now, but still burning steadily, ready to leap out at a moment's notice.

He nodded and Sister Mary took a cloak and laid it on Tom's shoulders, leading him inside.

* * *

Tom entered his room, and walked mechanically to his bed. The other boys, save poor Vincent, were already in bed asleep. Sister Mary had talked the Abbess into allowing Tom to go with her to the hospital, and he had regretted it. Seeing his best friend, normally so lively, lying so still on that white sheeted bed had been horrible . . . . . . . . .

Vincent's chest had been rising and falling normally, and the nurse who had checked on him said that he would be fine. That, however, didn't push Tom's fears away. Vincent looked awful. Bruises and scrapes marred visible skin, and a white bandage was wrapped around his head, tufts of pale hair sticking out of the top.

Vincent had let out a groan of pain in his sleep as he tossed suddenly. Tom had stared, then asked, "What's all hurt?"

The nurse had said to him, "Don't worry, dear, he will be fine. Just a bump on the head and some broken bones. As long as infections don't set it, he'll be up and about in a few months."

"Months?" Tom had asked, shocked. A month was eternity! How could it take several months for his friend to mend from something that had only taken minutes to occur?

The nurse had smiled sympathetically. "It takes a while for bones to mend," she explained. "Your friend broke his ankle as well cracking a few ribs. He's lucky, though, none of the ribs pierced anything. So, it'll take a while for the bones to knit themselves back together, then to regain their strength. But, as soon as that happens, he'll be good as new."

"What's wrong with his head?" Tom asked. The white bandages looked like they were for serious injuries.

"He's got a concussion," replied the nurse as she checked Vincent's temperature, and jotted a few numbers down on a sheet of paper that she stuck into a folder at the end of the bed. "I have to finish my rounds now, but trust me. Your friend will recover." She looked at Sister Mary, and motioned for her to follow her into the hall. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course," replied Sister Mary, and followed the kindly nurse into the hall. Tom was left in the large children's room with Vincent and a dozen other beds, some occupied with sleeping children.

"I'm so sorry," he said to his unconscious friend, sitting down on the uncomfortable chair meant for parents. "But don't worry; I'll get that little rat Joseph back for this."

"Look at that boy," he heard a voice say. He glanced over to see a couple standing at the far side of the hospital room. They were looking in his direction.

"Yes, he is a fine looking child," said the woman. The man nodded in agreement, and called to Tom, "What is his name?"

Tom wondered what to do, but figured it wouldn't hurt to answer. "Vincent."

The woman smiled, and whispered something to the man. Vincent moaned in his sleep, and Tom looked down at him to make sure he was alright. When he looked back up, the couple was gone.

He was still staring at the empty spot in the room when Sister Mary spoke. "Are you ready, Tom?"

Tom jumped. He muttered, "Yes," then whispered a farewell to Vincent. Sister Mary said a brief prayer over Vincent, and then they left the hospital. . . . . . . . .

"Tom? Is that you?"

Joseph's voice startled Tom back into the present. He glared at the smaller boy, who was climbing out of bed.

"It's me," Tom confirmed.

Joseph looked at him expectantly. Tom wasn't quite sure what it was that Joseph wanted him to say, so he continued to pull his night clothes out of his small bureau, squinting in the dim light to make sure they matched.

"How's Vincent?" Joseph finally broke down and asked, realizing that Tom wasn't going to volunteer the information.

Tom slammed the bureau drawer shut. "He's in the hospital. How do you think he is?" he asked, his voice filled with anger.

Joseph stepped back as Tom stood up, and moved towards him. Tom towered over him, and he looked mad.

"Hey, I didn't mean for him to get hurt!" Joseph said, trying to defend himself. "I didn't think he would be stupid enough to go up there alone, in the rain, no less."

"Vincent's not stupid!" Tom snapped loudly.

Henry, whose bed was closest to Tom's, grumbled, "Go back to bed!" before pulling his grey blanket back over his head.

Joseph smirked at Tom, knowing that he had gotten to him. "Well, then why did he go up there after that creature, if he isn't stupid?"

"Tawny is not a creature, and Vincent is actually a good person, unlike you!"

"At least I have the sense not to go on the roof during a thunderstorm," Joseph shot back. "That fool deserved what he got!"

Tom lunged at Joseph, punching him in the nose. Joseph cried out, and Tom pulled his fist back for another hit. Just then, a knock sounded at the door of the boys' room. "Boys? Are you all in bed?" Sister Mary asked through the heavy wooden door.

"I was just about to," Tom replied, holding his fist in his hand. It hurt. He snuck a look at Joseph. A tiny trickle of blood decorated his upper lip. "You'd better not tell any of the nuns about this," he hissed at Joseph.

Joseph just glared back, and gave a barely perceptible nod.

"I'm going to bed now," Tom said angrily. "I'm not going to waste my time fighting with you."

"Fine," Joseph replied, and returned to his bed. Tom got into his night clothes, said a brief prayer mostly asking for a quick recovery for Vincent, and crawled into his bed, feeling the smooth cotton of the plain white sheets envelop him as he settled in for the night.

The roof was slippery.

Tom scurried across its wet surface anyway, heading towards where the cat sat in the songbird cage, squalling over the noise of the storm.

"Almost there," he muttered. Vincent nodded. He was crawling across the roof beside Tom, and doing a better job of it. At least, he wasn't slipping quite as much.

Tom finally reached where the cage with the cat in it was, and opened it. He pulled out the cat, and cuddled it in his arms. "You're okay, Tawny," he assured the cat. "Everything's fine, now."

"Yessss," hissed Tawny in his ear. Tom pulled away from the cat only to realize it was no longer a cat. A huge black snake was entwined around his thin arm, wrapped around his body. The snake flicked its tongue at him, and stared at him with ageless emerald eyes.

Tom tried to pull away from the snake, but couldn't. It was wrapped around him too firmly. He struggled against its embrace anyway, flinging his arms around.

He hit something solid. He looked to see Vincent plummeting off the roof from the force of his arm's contact. "NOOOO!" he yelled, and leapt after his friend. The snake held him back from leaping over the edge of the room, and he could only stare shocked at his friend's crumpled body on the ground below. Dark cloaked figures surrounded Vincent's body, and then looked up at him. They then dropped to the ground in worshipful bows, and a circle of flames licked at their robes. The dark cloaked men soon thankfully faded from view.

"Vincent!" Tom cried, and then became aware of the fact that the portion of the roof he was seated on was becoming increasingly warmer. He coughed, and realized that smoke was what was obscuring the dark cloaked men from his view.

"HELP!" he cried. Flames licked at his feet. The convent was in flames, and he could hear screaming coming from below him. "NOOOO!!"

Tom sat up in bed, panting. That dream had been awful! Snakes and Vincent falling and fire and smoke...

He took in a deep breath, and noticed something. The air tasted funny. Kind of acrid, just like smoke. He looked around the room. The air was hazy, just like in his dream...

He crept out of bed, and stood barefoot on the cold hardwood floor, surveying the room. Sleeping bodies filled two of the other beds, the nighttime peace of the room broken at moments by quiet snorts from Henry. Tom looked at the empty beds. One was neatly made, untouched because Vincent was sleeping elsewhere tonight. Tom shuddered to think of how Vincent would feel if he awoke in that awful, sterile room in the middle of the night with no one there to explain what had happened to him.

The other empty bed had its covers shoved down to the foot of the bed, and the pillow lay askew, dangling off the edge of the bed. It looked like Shawn had another nightmare. He had woken Tom and the other boys up on more than one occasion with a bone chilling scream in the dead of night.

Tom coughed, and once again noticed the air quality of the room. It was getting even hazier, and Tom began to feel the slightest bit claustrophobic as the room seemed to shrink as the room became more obscured.

Smoke, he thought. The room is filled with smoke. He hurried across the room, and tried to open the door.

The brass doorknob was not quite hot to the touch, but it was very warm.

He drew his hand away quickly, and yelled to the sleeping boys, "FIRE!"

"What?" There was a thump as Henry fell out of bed. He looked up at Tom in confusion from a rumpled heap of bedclothes on the floor, and repeated his question.

"Fire!" Tom said, panicked. "The convent is on fire!"

"That isn't funny," Joseph said in an uppity manner. "Just because you're mad at me doesn't mean you should pretend like the place is on fire."

"It really is!" cried Tom. "Don't you smell the smoke?"

A look of panic appeared on Joseph's face as he took a sniff of the air. "You're telling the truth!" he cried, startled. Henry untangled himself from the covers, and went over to the door with Tom. He too grabbed at the door handle, but drew away as he felt the heat coming off the metal.

"Get a blanket or something, so we can open the door," Tom said, holding out a hand to receive the blanket from Joseph. He used the edge of the plain grey blanket, and turned the doorknob cautiously.

No flames jumped out at them, but smoke plumed into the room, leaving the three young boys coughing violently. Tom leaned over, coughing, and realized that the air was much clearer down near the floor. He yelled at the other two boys to drop, and then said to them, "Okay, we're going to crawl for the closest exit."

Henry and Joseph nodded in agreement, and they crawled into the dark, smoky hall. The hall that had seemed short, and hardly a nuisance to run down to reach his room for his entire life, now seemed endless. They crawled in a line, with Tom leading the way, and Henry flanking Joseph.

Finally, after minutes, hours, years worth of crawling, they reached the front hall. Tom hadn't actually seen any flames in the journey from their room to here, though it was hard to see through his burning eyes and the thick layer of smoke in the air, but now the front door was in sight. Tom stood up, and ran across the smoke filled room, followed closely by Henry and Joseph. The front door was already ajar, and Tom flew past it, into the fresh night air.

The normally peaceful courtyard was in shambles.

A Dennis fire truck had pulled right into the garden, a small planter of petunias crushed under its wheels. Even in the nighttime darkness, its bright red paint gleamed, and its bug like round headlights reflected flames. Firemen were hooking a hose up to it, while others donned gear and headed towards the convent.

Tom, ignoring his burning eyes, glanced back up at the convent, even as he was swept off the steps by a large man wearing a fireman's uniform. Flames licked out the upper floor's windows, casting an eerie light over the courtyard. Tom felt himself being wrapped up in a blanket, and saw Henry and Joseph receiving the same treatment. Suddenly, he realized something. "Shawn!"

"Who?" asked the fireman who was wrapping Tom in a blanket.

"Shawn! He wasn't in his bed! I don't know where he is!" Tom cried, a bit panicked. "Where is he? Did he get out?"

The fireman called over to another fireman who speaking to a nun who looked like the Abbess, though it was hard to tell because she was in her nightgown and robe, and was writing something down in a small notebook. "Have you gotten another kid out of there?"

"There's another kid?" said that man, shocked. He turned, and began to yell out a list of orders to a few firemen who were standing idle.

Tom sat down on the ground near Henry and Joseph where the fireman had led him to wait for the ambulance to arrive, staring at the convent. His home was burning. Loud creaks and groans came from the convent, even louder than the crackling of the flames. Shawn was in there. Shawn, who wouldn't hurt a fly, was inside that smoky, burning building. Sirens sounded shrilly in the distance, but Tom barely heard them. He was too worried about poor Shawn, trapped in the flames and smoke.

After long moments of agony, where Tom prayed and hoped that his friend would escape the burning building, that he wouldn't have to go back to the hospital and see another friend unconscious on a sterile white bed, a figure emerged from the building.

It was a fireman, and he held an unconscious Shawn in his arms.