The Dark Duo

When I wake up my brain tricks me into thinking I'm still at the grocery store so I scream, arms flailing, crying for help but someone holds me firmly to my bed. I blink as my Dad's face comes into view. I also spot my Mom is sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Relax. You're safe now."

Looking around, I realize I'm in a hospital. By the way, my Dad is a doctor but he's not wearing his coat and stethoscope so I assume I'm not at his workplace, Blue Channels Hospital.

"What happened?", I mumble. "Last I remember, I was... ", my voice trails off as I figure out I don't really feel like reliving the whole experience. I just wanted it all to be over. But Mom replied regardless.

"Rachel knew you were still inside. She convinced the young man who owns the cafe opposite the store to get you out of there. You were unconscious when he found you."

Hex. Evan's cousin.

"When can I go home?", I ask suddenly feeling weary of the hospital smell and the white walls, white beds, white sheets... everything just seems to be white. What the hell is the beef between hospitals and color?

"Soon. The doctor says you have a slight concussion", Dad says like he's not a doctor himself. "As soon as they are done with the paperwork, you'll be discharged. As long as you're sure you feel totally fine..."

If not, I'm moving you to the general hospital, I imagine how he would have finished his sentence had someone not interrupted him by knocking on the door.

"I was heading out anyway", Mom waves Dad down and leaves to open the door.

"Honey, you haven't gone home yet?", she asks in her as-smooth-as-honey voice. The one she usually uses for my friends or when inviting neighbors over for dinner.

"No, I wanted her to wake up first before I leave", I don't see her yet but I'd recognize that voice anywhere. It's Rachel.

"That's really nice of you", Mom remarks and promptly slips out.

"I better get started on that paperwork. Go home and rest, Rachel, you look tired.", Dad shuts the door. Rachel comes over and sits beside me.

Dad was right. She looks very pale. And shaken.

"Are you okay?", I ask.

"Pretty sure I should be asking you that", she manages a laugh and I chuckle.

"Okay, fair enough. Just three broken ribs and a few fractures. Nothing much. I should be fine."

"You're kidding", her eyes widen in shock.

"Of course, I'm kidding", I laugh but her reaction to my joke wasn't quite what I expected. She didn't call me by my full name and tell me how dumb the joke was. She didn't even laugh. All she could offer was a weak smile.

"Are you sure you're okay, Rachel Gilbert?"

"I'm fine, Eve Morgan". Rachel's phone vibrates and she checks it.

"Who's that", I ask.

"My Dad. He wants to know you're okay. I should probably get going. Just wanted to make sure you're fine. Bye"

"Bye. See you tomorrow."

"You too."

Tomorrow is Tuesday and the final day of the BCHS Student Government Union presidential campaign. After that, it's the elections coming up on Wednesday.

Maybe that's why Rachel is tense or maybe I'm just trying to ignore the fact that Rachel's being upset probably has something to do with the arson.

Seven minutes later, my dad returns and tells me that we are leaving. As I follow him out of the hospital and into the car where mom is waiting, something bugs me.

The armed men that attacked Crescent Supermarket are starting to seem really familiar which is weird because I've never witnessed an arson before.

We grabbed takeout on the way home from the hospital and now we are at the dinner table, Mom asking Dad how his day went over mouthfuls of cheeseburger.

"It sounds great. Less busy than usual, I guess."

I resist the odds to shake my head. Personally, I don't want to know what could be possibly great about spending your day roaming about halls reeking of disinfectant and hanging a glorified rubber tube that you call a stethoscope around your neck.

But whatever makes you happy, I guess.

"So, like what really happened back there", my brother Mark butts in, "I saw the fire on the news. Seemed like a movie to me."

The look on my parents' faces tells me that they've also been meaning to ask me the same thing. To hear my side of the story.

I start from when I went to pee and I discovered that there were armed men in the store.

"I hid and I didn't realize what was going on. I heard shuffling of feet but I didn't realize they were sending everyone out of the store until I heard them dousing the place with gasoline. By the time I got out, the fire had spread to the entrance. I tried breaking the glass but I think I fell, hit my head, and blacked out."

Mom exchanges a look with Dad.

"The reporters are saying it's the Dark Duo", Mark says, matter-of-factly.

Something clicks in my mind. The Dark Duo. I knew it. I was sure I knew those guys.

A couple of weeks ago, two guys dressed in black from head to toe robbed a retired teacher in our town, Blue Channels. Then, they went on to do stuff like robbing stores, hijacking trucks moving goods, and all other sorts of crimes. Someone in the media dubbed them the Dark Duo because obviously they always dress completely in black and there are just two of them.

However, when a third guy showed up with them later, no one bothered to point a finger at the fault in the name, Dark Duo. The weird thing is that these guys keep changing up their M.O. - from robbery, and murder to burglary and now, arson. And yet, the police have not been able to apprehend them.

But this time why did they make sure everyone was out and safe - at least so they thought - before setting the place on fire? It's not like they haven't killed before.

Now I'm officially curious.

"David", Mom calls Dad. "I'm going to sleep early tonight", she continues, "I've got morning shift at the cafe by 7:30 tomorrow."

But taking her tone into consideration, it sounded a lot like, I won't be able to watch TV with you tonight. Our daughter almost got roasted alive and now I'm very exhausted.

Of course, she has spent her evening watching sitcoms with Dad countless times while having the morning shift the next day at either the cafe or the library.

"It's fine. I think I'll join you. Have to catch up on sleep", he yawns, and then both of them land their gazes on me. I know what they want me to say so I say it.

"I'll text Rachel to pick us up."

Dad always leaves home early for the hospital so that leaves Mom to take Mark and me to the school every day. She works as an online freelancer but also takes shifts at the nearby cafe and town library. So she's usually home most mornings.

However, whenever her shift falls in the morning and she has to leave early, I text Rachel to stop by. I won't have to do this every time though if only I hadn't gotten drunk and totaled my car. By the way, I got grounded for that for the rest of that year.

"Okay, that'd be great", Mom nods. I finish my dinner, clear the table, say goodnight and head up to my room. After cleaning my teeth and plugging my phone by the nightstand, I climb into bed with my laptop.

It boots up, rather slowly, then I go straight to the browser. Ignoring the 60+ tabs I have pulled up already, I open a new one. Then, I type "The Dark Duo Blue Channels" into the search bar. I want to know who owns Crescent supermarket - because it seems like it's him the Dark Duo have a problem with - and any information on why these guys razed the place to the ground, and why they risked getting caught by getting everyone out of there first.

Though it's all out of sheer curiosity, I hardly stop looking for answers once I get curious. It's one of Eve Morgan's bad habits, I guess.

My search brings back about two hundred thousand matches. I click on the most recent by bcgazette.com with the title, "Dark Duo Menace Spreads. Turns Crescent Supermarket To Ashes". Posted 40 minutes ago. I click through the ads and scroll down.

Just when some of us were beginning to think that the three-man gang who showed up in our town a couple of weeks ago has moved on, the Dark Duo strikes once more. Switching up their M.O. once again, they set fire to Crescent Supermarket. And even though the fire team arrived just a couple of minutes later, they were only able to prevent the fire from spreading to nearby structures. They couldn't salvage anything from the supermarket. However, there were no casualties. When asked how they were able to escape the fire, several of the shoppers who were in the area at the time told the Blue Channels Gazette that the three men in black kicked them out of the building before burning the place down. This leads us to wonder if the Dark Duo who murdered Councilman Elroy along with a couple of other good citizens of this town has suddenly developed a conscience.

It's obvious the local gazette doesn't have the answers to any of my questions. I scan through the rest of the article. There's no mention of the supermarkets and they are also as confused as I am as to why they got everyone out first.

I click out of the page and search "Crescent Supermarket" instead. I don't go too far before discovering that it is a subsidiary of Sherlock Enterprises. It feels kind of weird that I've been shopping at that place for almost 2 years now and I didn't even realize that it was owned by the richest man in Blue Channels.

Ian Sherlock. The CEO of Sherlock enterprises.

I shut down my laptop, switch off my lamp, and go to sleep.

*****

I wake up feeling a dull ache in the back of my head. It's 6:30 a.m. The first thing I do is grab my phone and text Rachel.

Hey can you grab me on your way to school? Mark's coming too.

She doesn't reply me immediately so I put my phone away and get ready for school.

By the time I get downstairs, Dad and Mom are already gone and Mark is standing at the kitchen counter.

"Hey. I'm making a sandwich. Want one?", he beckons and licks his fingers.

"Yeah, sure. Just make sure you wash those fingers first."

"Of course, I'll do that. Just gotta pick my nose first", says Mark, being his usual playful but annoying and sometimes disgusting self.

"Ew, Mark. I think I might have to rethink that sandwich."

I check my phone. Rachel hasn't texted me yet which is kinda weird because it's few minutes past seven and she'd definitely be up already.

I text her again.

You coming?

By the time I finish my sandwich, she still hasn't replied me. A thought flits across my mind. What if Rachel is pissed at me for making us go to that supermarket yesterday. After all, I was the one who insisted we were doing groceries.

But Rachel isn't one to throw tantrums or get angry. Even when her boyfriend cheated on her with me in sophomore year, she never ignored my messages. And, by the way, she didn't look angry last night at the hospital either.

But she did look really disturbed, something reminds me.

7:15 a.m.

Still no response. Then, I realize we're running late.

"Mark, can you get one of your friends to drop by and pick you up? I'll take the bus. Rachel isn't replying my texts."

"Yeah, sure", he agrees, oblivious to what's going on in my mind.

Because even though I pretend to be calm, my heart's thumping steadily and I'm wondering, "What the heck is going on".