Page 23 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Now

“It broke. Fix it, please.”

I accepted the two ends of the fire truck, stunned by how childlike he sounded. He didn’t sound anything like Sparrow or Elliott and didn’t seem to realize he’d been trapped in here, or that a stranger had just walked in. His sole focus was on the damaged toy.

The truck wasn’t broken; the two plastic parts just needed to be snapped back into place. I did so, handing it back. “What’s your name?”

“Joshua.” He snatched the truck from me, smiling from ear to ear. He had Elliott’s smile, young and innocent, and my grief sharpened.

“Thank you!” He crawled over to his toy box for another action figure. He sat the caped crusader in the truck’s jump seat before starting up the sirens and giggling with excitement.

“You’re welcome,” I whispered, scanning the room for answers I couldn’t even form questions to. How did he get here? Why was he here? And how did Sparrow ensure he didn’t get out?

A combination lockbox rested on the dresser. I struggled to my feet before heading over to it. It was dented on the side, like maybe someone had tried to break into it before. I shook it, hearing the keys bang around on the inside.

I frantically tried every combination of numbers I could think of. Elliott’s birthday, my birthday, Quentin’s, and even the entry code we’d used for my stepfather’s house. Nothing worked. Why would it, though? This was Sparrow, not Elliott. The same things didn’t matter to him.

Joshua continued playing as if I weren’t even there. “Fire! Fire!”

I sucked in a sharp breath at seeing the jewelry box at the other end of the dresser. The ballerina no longer spun, and the music no longer played. I twisted the metal winding key until the twinkling notes of the lullaby it played filled the room. I gripped the dresser for support.

“She loved this the most,” I’d said to Elliott one day. “It doesn’t work, but I’ll never get rid of it.”

I’d kept it hidden from everyone, along with the secret it contained. I dug a finger into the corner, lifting the velvet padding to reveal the secret compartment. The letter, folded into a tiny square, was still inside.

I didn’t remove it, didn’t unfold it, and read it for the hundredth time. I hurried to fix the padding before hugging the ornate box to my heaving chest.

How had it ended up here? And who fixed it? I couldn’t even guess because nothing I came up with made sense.

My gaze sought Joshua, running his truck back and forth on the faded carpet. Exactly how many people did I need to go through to get to Elliott?

“I’m too much work,” Elliott once said to me and Quentin.

“You’re worth it,” I whispered, repeating my response to him. I knelt in front of Joshua. He kept playing, crashing his truck into my kneecap like he hadn’t seen it there. I winced, rubbing the spot as he swapped the action figure out for another.

A coughing fit hit me out of nowhere, taking over my whole body until my stomach and lungs burned, leaving me gasping for air. Still, Joshua played.

“My name’s Miguel,” I said once I was able to.

Joshua turned the truck over, flipping a switch that made the sirens wail louder. The red lights flashed brighter now, and he lifted the ladder before pushing the truck back and forth again.

“How old are you?”

He ignored me, mimicking the sound of the sirens now, drowning out the soft lullaby. I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I was too tired and sad to think straight. But not wanting to leave him alone, I found a police car in the toy box and moved it along the carpet too.

His hair was braided like Sparrow’s, but not as tight and neat, like maybe he’d bounced around playing and messed it up a bit.

It was hard seeing Elliott as Sparrow, but even harder seeing him like this.

From what I’d researched, each alter served a purpose, and I had a feeling Joshua’s purpose might’ve been just as heartbreaking as Sparrow’s.

“I’m four,” Joshua whispered, breaking through my thoughts.

“Four,” I breathed, wondering how long he’d been four, how long he’d been in stasis. “Why are you here?” Why does Elliott need you?

“Because I’m safe in here.”

“Safe from what?” I hadn’t expected him to answer that, hadn’t expected him to comprehend the deeper meaning. Maybe he hadn’t.

Joshua shrugged. Aside from when he asked me to fix his truck, he hadn’t met my gaze. I let him play as I watched on, amazed by his childlike mannerisms.

He pouted when a strand of hair fell across his face, then gasped when his action figure fell from the truck.

Joshua rushed to the toy box for the first-aid kit, using the plastic stethoscope to check the superhero for a heartbeat.

Seeming satisfied with what he found, he put the action figure back in the truck and continued to play.

I didn’t know how much time we had left, and I got nervous wondering if I should leave. Did I lock him back in, pretending this never happened so I’d have the opportunity to break out again? Or did I stay and keep him company, keep him safe?

Safe from what I didn’t know. Of the two of us, I seemed to be the only one afraid. I couldn’t help wanting to nurture him, though, to tell him everything would be okay.

“Can you tell me where your parents are? Maybe I can call them, so you don’t have to be here alone.”

Joshua turned off the siren and stared down at the toy but didn’t seem to be looking at it.

“Joshua?” I called softly. “Are you okay?” I wasn’t sure what a switch looked like, but my body went cold at the thought of Sparrow catching me here.

“They’re in the basement,” he whispered, still not looking at me. “I don’t like it down there.”

“You’ve been down there?”

He nodded. “One time. I said sorry. Now I stay here.”

“Do your parents know you went down there?” I didn’t know what to ask, didn’t know how much he knew, and I didn’t want to scare him away. This was all new to me. It felt like I was taking a test and failing miserably.

Joshua reached for the truck again, as though he were done talking to me. I held it in place.

We both knelt there, suspended in time as he watched the truck, and I watched him. “Can you show me the basement?”

Joshua shook his head, his braid whipping around from the force of it. “We can’t go down there.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” I said, trying to calm him.

“I’m not scared!” he exclaimed, finally meeting my eyes. His expression said otherwise.

“I know.” I swallowed. “I know you’re not. I’m the one who’s scared. Maybe you can protect me?”

He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, looking to the open door. “Why can’t we stay here? We can play with my toys.”

“We don’t have to go down there. You can just show me where it is, and then we can come right back.”

Joshua thought about it for a moment, shifting on his knees. “Will you let me play in the snow? I’m supposed to play in the snow.”

A memory of something Elliott once said came to me.

“I never got to play in the snow.”

Joshua leapt to his feet and raced to the window. “Wow! Look! Miguel, look! There’s a lot of snow now. Maybe we should wait until it’s bright outside.”

I hobbled over to him, my point of view different from his. All I saw was no escape, seclusion, and darkness that matched the one filling my soul. “I don’t think it’ll be bright any time soon.” I wasn’t sure how long the polar night lasted in this area, but I had a feeling it would be a while.

“Well… maybe we can take lights with us.”

“Sure. I’ll see if I can get us out there,” I lied, my heart shattering when he smiled at me. Maybe I should’ve searched for the basement by myself, but that would’ve meant leaving him. Regardless of the options I’d run through before, leaving him felt a lot like abandoning Elliott.

“Okay.” Joshua bounced on his toes, gazing into the snowy night again. “I’ll protect you.”

Once outside his bedroom, he stared down the long, dim hallway, then back into his room.

He lifted his arms in the air and stretched up onto his toes as if asking me to pick him up.

The action didn’t seem consistent with his age, but I knew nothing about kids or how the maturity levels worked with child alters.

Joshua’s legs were long, statuesque, but that wasn’t how he seemed to see himself. He seemed oblivious to our being the same height.

“I’m not strong enough to carry you right now. I hurt my side.” I’d carried Elliott plenty of times, and although Sparrow had more lean muscle than him, I could’ve still gotten the job done if I were in good health.

“Oh no,” he said sadly, dropping to his heels. “Did you fall?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Is that how you hurt your face too?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Joshua looked down the hall again, biting his nails.

“But I can hold your hand.” I held my hand out to him. “Would that be okay?”

Joshua slipped his hand into mine, squeezing tight, and it felt like fireworks exploded from my heart.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I wiped the corner of my eyes with my free hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

Joshua flinched at every whine and creak the old house made, but we managed to make it downstairs.

“I think it’s this way.” He made a sharp right at the bottom of the stairs, tugging me along. He didn’t seem to know his own strength either.

“I thought you went down there before.”

“Yes, but I don’t remember how I got there. But I think it’s this way.”

“What if it’s not?” I didn’t want to waste time getting lost.

“If it’s not, you still have to take me to the snow because I tried.”

We passed several barred windows on our way to the basement. Was the purpose to keep people out or to keep people in?

“Have you ever played in the snow before?” I tried to make small talk as he led me down a labyrinth of halls. His hand trembled within mine, or maybe it was my hand that shook.

“Not yet.” His voice was breathless with fear, but his eyes were full of hope. Hope that Elliott likely lost when he was his age.

What did they do to you, Elliott?

The house was cold, the chill worsening the farther we went until my fingernails turned blue.

We were on a different side of the house now. There were cobwebs in every corner, and the wall sconces that worked illuminated the dust motes in the air. It was clear no one had been on this side for a long while. Not even Sparrow.

We passed a room without furnishings, just a lone wheelchair facing a wall.

Another room contained a sheetless gurney at its center.

Shadows filled the next room, slithering along the floor and crawling up the walls.

I glanced at Joshua, but he was too busy staring straight ahead to notice.

It was likely a figment of my imagination anyway.

We turned down another hallway, and the house became eerily quiet. Not even the wind howled here. Joshua glanced over his shoulder in the direction we’d come from, prompting me to do the same.

“Do you think we’re almost there?” I whispered, too afraid the mold-stained walls had ears.

“I-I think so.” Joshua slowed his steps.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” That was a promise I would keep. I didn’t know if there was anyone in the basement, but I’d fight until my last breath to keep Joshua safe.

We eventually came to a stop at the end of the hall, right in front of a steel door. A heaviness pressed down on my chest, stealing my air. I didn’t know what I’d find down there, but I somehow knew the basement was the key to saving Elliott.

“I want to go back now,” Joshua whined. “I want to go back to my room.”

“It’s okay,” I said softly, trying to calm his rising panic. “We can go back now.” I just needed to know where it was for next time, needed to gain a better understanding of my surroundings and the workings of this house.

“I want to go back.” His tone grew louder now, and I fought to keep my own panic from rising. “I want to go back!”

“I’ll take you back to your room, Joshua, just calm down for me, okay?”

“No.” He shook his head, squeezing my hand tight enough to break a finger. “I don’t want to go down there.”

“You never have to come back, I promise. I can come back by myself, okay?”

“You gotta get the keys!” he exclaimed, his young voice frantic as he stared down at the lock on the basement door.

“What’s down there?” I whispered, heart pounding in my throat. Both lock and door were made of thick steel. My instincts told me that whatever was down there wasn’t good.

“Y-you gotta get the—” His breath hitched, his watery blue gaze darting over my shoulder. I glanced back but couldn’t see anyone down the gloomy hallway.

“Oh no…” He fisted his fire truck pajama top, the color draining from his face.

“What’s wrong?” My fear made me sound impatient. “What’s happening?”

The world around us froze when he breathed, “Someone’s coming.”