End Game

Charles rolled onto his side, face into the dirt. Sitting bolt upright, he blinked a couple of times, he was outside sitting in the front yard of the old house, full sized, the first few tendrils of color painting the eastern sky to announce the coming of a new day.

Blake came awake violently, immediately checking his bare legs, “Oh my god,” he muttered, running his hands up and down his perfectly normal legs. Clothing was strewn everywhere.

Charles looked over, mouth hanging open, “You’re alive!” he exclaimed wide eyed, moving toward on hands and knees toward Blake.

“I’m alive!” he said, big grin on his dirty face, “I didn’t get stepped on!”

Dustin groaned and rolled over. John was lying on his back a short distance away.

“What the hell happened?” asked John.

“Some type of dream or hallucination?” Charles replied.

Dustin pushed himself up onto hands and knees. “Whatever it was, we made it,” he mumbled, his last memory tumbling into Elizabeth’s stomach.

“I feel like a golf ball in one of those washer things,” moaned John.

The sound of tires crunching on gravel as the police cruiser rolled to a stop along the fence in front of the dilapidated house.

All four boys turned their heads to look as officer Savannah Sinclair stepped out of the white Crown Victoria with lights across the roof. Smartly dressed in her police uniform, she was tall and athletically built, long strawberry blond hair in a braid behind her head. Her hazel eyes swept the unusual scene in the yard of the old broke down farmhouse, a frown on her plump lips.

“We had a report of some mischief in this area,” she said, authority in her voice, hands on her shapely hips.

 John pushed himself up into a sitting position, Dustin sat back on his knees.

Savannah pointed to the boys’ clothes, “Can somebody tell me why you are all naked?” she asked.

The boys exchanged glances with one another but no one said anything.

“Mm-hmm,” she started, “I’m guessing we were all out at the lake last night, partying?” she asked.

“Last night? No that was a few nights ago,” said Charles.

She pulled a pad out of her pocket and flipped it open. “Is one of you John Haddonfield, owner of a 1973 Dodge Dart?”

John raised his hand.

She closed the notepad and put it back in her pocket. “Your car is parked out at the lake, judging by your current condition, I’m going to take a leap and say you all were out there, that was last night, it’s Saturday morning,” she said.

“It can’t be, days went by,” John said, looking back at the dark house, looking even more in disrepair bathed in the light of early day.

Dustin shook his head.

“At least we’re the right size,” chuckled Charles.

Officer Sinclair scowled, “I’m not following,” she said.

Charles shook his head, “It’s the house,” he said, the other boys nodding in agreement.

“Uh huh, why don’t you lot get your clothes on and I can give you a ride back to your car,” she said.

The boys began to get dressed. John paused a moment, looking at his jeans pocket and chuckling before pulling on his pants.

Walking out to the car as a group, she placed Dustin, John, and Charles in the back of the patrol car and Blake in the front.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, she closed the door and buckled up her seat belt.

“You really should check out the house,” encouraged Charles.

She looked to each of the boys and sighed, “Okay,” she said, unbuckling and getting back out of the vehicle. Walking back toward the house through the overgrown path, she shook her head.

“Nice butt,” John snickered, admiring Savannah’s sweet little bottom as she walked up to the house.

“I would have thought you had had enough of butts for the moment,” replied Dustin, frowning.

Blake frowned. “What?”

“Simone stuck John in her bum overnight,” supplied Charles.

John shrugged, “I can’t help it. The lady cop has a nice tush. What do you want me to say?” he chuckled.

“In her ass?” Blake asked. “What the hell did I miss?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Dustin said. All eyes in the car on the police officer.

The policewoman brought her flashlight up, pausing a moment at the base of the handful of stairs leading up to ramshackle home. Looking up at the rundown dwelling on the verge of imminent collapse, she frowned. Almost reluctant to step onto the decayed grey colored wood of the first stair, she put her foot on the first one and tested it, the wood creaking under her weight. Three more steps and she was on the veranda, using her flashlight, she shone it through the dusty pane into the empty house and peered inside.

Charles had his hands by his face.

She brought her flashlight down, and turned, shaking her head slowly.

The front door to the left and behind Savannah started to open, the portal darkening.

John put his open hands on the window, “Lookout!” he yelled.

She frowned, tilting her head one side.

Simone, dressed in a housecoat appeared in the open doorway, unseen by the policewoman. All the boys started yelling.

Savannah turned suddenly, hand darting the gun at her hip. Her stance softened and the two women embraced.

“What the hell?” John asked.

“Do they know each other?” Charles asked.

Dustin started to laugh. “Blake, check your door,” he instructed.

Blake tugged at the handle but the door didn’t open. Looking back at Dustin, he shook his head.

The two engaged in communication for a couple of minutes before hugging again, this time kissing one another on the cheek. Simone pointed at the car, it appeared she was indicating Blake. Savannah nodded, half smile on her pretty face, as started walking back down the steps toward the cruiser. Standing in the doorway, Simone raised a hand and waved at the boys.

Opening the driver door, Savannah got back into the car, “We’re going to need to take a little stop before we head out to your car,” she said, raising her eyebrows above her mischievous eyes, smiling with her lower lip between her teeth.