The Lost Key: Book 1 of the Locker Trilogy
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The Lost Key - Ephrem St. Livingston
© 2011 by Ephrem St. Livingston. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
First published by AuthorHouse 12/01/2011
ISBN: 978-1-4685-0754-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4685-0763-8 (ebk)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011961396
Printed in the United States of America
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,
and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.
-John 13:35
Prologue
The streets were bustling with people walking by, cars stuck in traffic, even cyclists on the street, maneuvering through the cars in the way. Street vendors tried their very best to sell candy or treats for by-passers, just to make some amount of money for the food on their table, but it was a busy, hot summer day, and no one felt like stopping to buy something under the sweltering heat.
Meanwhile, a few blocks from the busy streets, an elderly black-and-white cat with twinkling blue eyes sat on the doormat, waiting for her nest-dweller to return. He had left so early without saying good-bye, not even to give her some more food in her dish. This wasn’t the first time; her nest-dweller hardly had enough money to feed his family, less to a cat.
The cat was fuming. She paced around the carpet, thinking. It was time to take action; she had lived with him for a few years, but he never seemed to get a good amount of attention for his family, or for her. If she stayed like this for any longer she’d die. There must have been something she could do…
She taught me everything about the world, the cat recalled. I never paid much attention, but perhaps… I could give some good use.
She knew everything about the human world. With this ability, she could help her nest-dweller. Yes, she agreed to her self, settling down again on the mat. I have to find help.
Of course, the cat had thought about this numerous times, but it was now getting out of control. Her nest-dweller couldn’t pay the rent, their family would lose their house in a few weeks, and he himself was getting sick struggling to work as a vender.
The cat crouched down, and then leaped up at the door, grabbing the doorknob with her paws. She quickly jerked it to a side, and the door opened with a click.
She landed on all fours and walked out of the apartment. She turned one more time at her home. This is for you, she thought silently, and ran down the stairs to the first floor, her paws underneath moving smoothly and quietly.
She pushed through the entranced and was revealed with the buzzing city. She carefully stalked through the legs of humans, not being noticed by anyone. What she was looking for, she did not know; perhaps hope, or courage, to help her nest-dweller, but nothing specific. What she did not know was that she was going to find someone who was going to offer her more than just help…
black.jpgWhat she found was not what she wanted. It attacked her life like a snake as it wrapped its prey. She could not control herself, as she tried to uncurl herself from it. But she pushed on, for the last strand of hope in her infinite maze. What she found, was a power that was so strong for the likings of someone has small and low as a cat.
And it happened so fast for her. One second she was walking in a small alley, and the next a slam and a big beefy man in green grabs her and stuffs her in a cage. She’s then dumped in a bigger cage, with foul food and water that tasted like metal. What a horrible place to live; she didn’t know how long had passed, but she hated the cramp and cold walls that surrounded her. She didn’t fight; it was her fault she ended up here.
But, as miracles come, she was taken out one day by the same hands that caged her, and was given to another man. The cat’s first instinct would have been to flee, but something in the man’s hardened face mad her curious.
And so the cat was driven to his home, in the backseat of the man’s car in a box. Only the man knew his own plans to this with her:
You’ll make me king.
Chapter One
Sometimes the most important thing in life is forgiveness, but this idea is rarely used in the real world. And, in most cases, the most terrifying cases start with a normal day.
Carbón, a small smoky-black tom cat, started his early September day just like any other. This little kitten had lived in a neighborhood in Clifton with his nest-dweller for about two months. His nest-dweller treated Carbón with care and love, feeding him when he was hungry and grooming him with attention.
The little bundle of dark gray arose in the morning, when the sun had already been up before him. Carbón stretched and yawn as he got up from his sleeping basket. The basket Carbón slept in the kitchen was covered in warm, red felt. He padded over to his food dish and lapped up the milk left by his nest-dweller earlier in the morning.
After finishing his meal and business, Carbón walked out of the house through the cat flap. Outside the weather was nice and fresh compared to the warm, cozy basket of his. Like any other cat would do, Carbón laid on the grass in the backyard to feel the sultry heat on his underbelly. From outside he could hear the rumble of movement inside his nest-dwellers’ basket, for they too were arising.
Carbón was tired of resting. He noticed his crinkly aluminum ball on the floor. He imprecisely batted it away with is paw, then pouncing on it, throwing it to the other side of the yard. He ran to it, and then whacked it with his paw again to the other side of the yard. He imagined it was a mice, or a rat, and he was pouncing on it to its doom.
He continued this little game, until Carbón finally left his play toy and sprang on top of the fence that separated his nest-dweller’s basket with his neighbor’s. Carefully, putting one paw in front of the other, Carbón walked to the front yard from the backyard. Carbón sat at the edge of the fence when he reached the front yard. The kitten watched as the nest-dweller kit ran out of the basket, across the yard, and into the great yellow object with wheels, waiting at the edge of the sidewalk. Sequentially, the yellow-wheeled object rolled away.
Carbón quickly licked a paw before jumping to the other side of the fence. Carbón liked the neighbor’s yard. Maybe it was because it was trimmed often and felt prickly under his paws. Perhaps it was because he enjoyed the decoration of gnomes and flamingos of the garden. Whatever it was, Carbón would never be jealous of this yard compared to his. One of the things he learned from Bush was the never want something someone else has, but to be thankful and content with what you already have.
Bush was an elder, light tabby cat who lived next door to Carbón. He was one of the wisest cats Carbón ever knew. Although Bush slept through most of the daytime, Carbón visited him every morning, so Bush can give him lessons about the outside world. He taught Carbón how to count, solve human math problems, the world and its geography, and a few words/phrases in the human language. In addition to his knowledge, Bush was a very good hunter. During the night, Bush was wide awake, protecting his nest-dweller’s basket, attacking creatures that tried to get in the trash bins.
On this typical Tuesday, Carbón was going to visit Bush. He strolled from the neighbor’s front yard to their backyard. As Carbón expected, Bush was sunbathing on top of the trash bins. Bush came to life as he stretched, let out a huge yawn, and relaxed again.
With his eyes still closed, Bush greeted Carbón: Morning to you. What was our last lesson?
Carbón was used to these fast and abrupt questions. Telling time… sir,
Carbón replied hastily. Only talk when a question is asked, and refer to someone older by its proper name.
Summarize it, and make it brief,
Bush ordered. Another sudden inquiry; Bush must have not been feeling well.
Well, you said time is used to measure the length of, um, an event.
Carbón stuttered; he wasn’t sure how to define time in his own words.
Bush’s whiskers twitched with amusement as he opened his eyes. Go on, and speak up please!
Time is measured in different unit,
Carbón raised his voice a little. There are twenty-four hours in a day, um… ,
Carbón’s tale lashed back and forth as he searched through his memory. Sixty minutes in an hour, and-
Sixty seconds in a minute, yes, yes, good,
Bush interrupted. He usually did this to speed things up. I taught you about different machines that tell time; stopwatch, wrist watch, analog watch, etc., etc. OK good, let’s move on!
Bush said all this very