Rise of the fallen

Chapter Five

*POV MJ*

“That’s not possible. I watched him die. I held him in my arms. There wasn’t a heartbeat...” my head spins as I try to make sense of this.

Lucky, happy as ever, sitting on the couch making a loud thump with each wiggle of his massive tail.

“Well, looks like he’s fine but look!” Aaron exclaims.

I can feel the warmth radiating off the once black jewel as I roll it between my fingers. It illuminates a brilliant red against Lucky's white spotted chest.

“I’m fine,” a voice thunders.

“Did you say that, Aaron?” I whisper, knowing the truth

“No. Please tell me you’ve been training Lucky to be a ventriloquist doll.” His voice is quivering in confusion.

“No...” I reply, just as puzzled. We stare into Lucky’s brown almond eyes, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Ok, stop playing, MJ. This isn’t funny anymore.” Aaron begins searching my house for what I assume is a recorder.

The thundering voice speaks again. “Maria-Juana, you know who I am. I’m the same dog that you helped deliver. The same dog whose life you saved. The same dog who got parvo at seven months old and you nursed back to health for a week straight. The same dog you slept on the cold bathroom floor with while I recovered. I’m the same dog who noses your tears away when you’re depressed. The same dog who watches you dance in your underwear when you're- “

“Ok! That’s enough! I believe you!” I blush as I glare at the now snickering Aaron.

“So, Lucky, tell me what else she does in her underwear?” Aaron prods.

“Don’t answer that!” I scream, slapping Aaron’s arm.

“Ow! You didn’t have to hit me!” Aaron cries.

“Karma baby,”

“So, are we gonna talk about the fact that you can talk luck?” Aaron says wearily.

“The collar you gave me wasn’t poison. It’s an ancient relic, used for the protectors of the Mahamin tribe.” Lucky’s voice is still booming.

“Mahamin tribe?” My face matches the confused tone of my voice.

“An ancient tribe believed to have died over 300 years ago.” Aaron clarifies

“And how do you know this?”

“I’m a history buff.”

“Right... So how does my dad have this ‘relic’ in his possession?”

As Lucky begins to tell the story of the Mahamin, he rolls over onto his back, revealing the backward C I've always admired on his chest.

“300 years ago, the Mahamin were thought to have been wiped out by the chikwa tribe. A rivalry that’s been going on for years. The chikuwa wanted the power Mahamin had. Each member of the Mahamin tribe set out to hide, hoping to save the last of the Mahamin tribe. Each future leader is given an animal on their 15th birthday. A tradition dating back many years- “

“So, how do you know this information? ” I question.

His voice booms once again. “The collar. once you placed it around my neck, I was awoken. my mindset free of this fleabag of a body.”

“But you’re still a dog?” I ask, hopeful.

“Yes, if you’d let me finish. Each leader is given an animal on their 15th birthday as tradition requires. We are an ancient protector of the Mahamin tribe. With each generation and each protector, The information of our past is passed down through the jewel that hangs on my collar. Once placed on a selected protector, they know all that is permitted to know to help you along your journey.”

Aaron looks puzzled. “Does that make MJ- “

“A princess? Yes.” Lucky interrupts

“Does my father know about this?” I say as I cross my arms.

“Why do you think your father was going to give you the collar?” Lucky speaks matter-of-factly.

“I don’t know he was going to give it to me. I stole it from his office.” I reply.

“And yet it has clovers all over it?” Lucky sarcastically remarks.

“Good point. Why wouldn’t my father give me the collar on my 15th birthday as tradition requires?” The doubt in my voice is noticeable.

“That you would have to ask your father.” Lucky almost looks as if he shrugs.

"arent you supposed to be all-knowing?" the sass in my voice is thick.

“Not all-knowing. Not a mind reader.” Lucky rolls his eyes as he starts moving on his back.

Shocked and annoyed, I start to snark back at my sassy dog when A soft rap on my front door suddenly puts my whole body on edge. The hairs on my neck are on edge as Lucky begins to low growl at the door. Some things never change.

“Honey?” I can hear my dad's voice behind the old red door. ”I know your home, honey. I heard Lucky growl. I know you’re here. Please open the door.”

Aaron and I stand as still as possible, placing our hands over our mouths, hoping he will go away. How would I explain this to him?

The jingling of keys makes me wonder why I ever gave him an extra set of keys. Slowly the door creeps open, and I see my father peak his scruffy face inside, almost apologetic.

“Honey, look. I know I should have told you sooner. I was just so scared they would find you. I didn’t want you growing up like your mother, in constant fear. Running for your life every minute of every day scared that the chikwa would find you. I was going to give it to you on your 25th birthday, but I can see you found it anyway. Remind me why you were in my office?” My dad slowly crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

I don't want to tell him, what if my suspicions are true? But, what the hell, what's the worst that can happen. So, picking up the pictures I have lying on the coffee table, I show them to dad.

“Honey! These are great! Why did you tell me you didn’t get any pictures? I bet the magazine loved these!” Excitement dripping with every word.

I hand him the magnifying glass, “Look in the window.”

“Wha- that’s- its- this is me??” The confusion in his voice gives me some relief.

Still not convinced, I finally ask, “How is this possible, dad?!?”

“It's not! You can see me speaking at the podium. How could I be in this woman’s apartment revealing my identity before killing her and at the podium at the same time.” He says defensively.

“That’s what I was trying to figure out when I went through your office and found out you’ve been lying to me my whole life. Is that you at the podium, or do you have a weird makeup artist that makes doppelgangers for you?” My eyes squint suspiciously as I say this.

“I swear, MJ, this isn’t me! The person you see at the podium is me! I swear it!” He shrieks defensively again.

 Crossing my arms, this time, I question him. “Then who is in this window.”

Staring at the picture beside my dad, Lucky looks at me and twists his head in confusion.

-BANG-

The door is forced open, sending every loose picture and paper in my apartment flying. A flash bang blinds me, causing my ears to shrill from the explosion. I can hear grunting, and what I assume are fists hitting bodies all around means my vision slowly returns.

“Aaron?!” I scream, seeing him going toe to toe with a big man in a leather suit.

“Lucky! Action time! Get MJ to safety!” Aaron’s voice is demanding this time.

I feel Lucky tug on my sweater leading me towards the fire escape.

“No! What about Aaron and dad?!” I exclaim.

“They both can handle themselves. I need to get you to safety." Lucky insists.

“What? Aarons is just a receptionist. How is he supposed to fight this man?” I’m getting more and more confused as this night gets weirder and weirder.

“Aarons not who you think he is. I’ll explain it later! Let’s go!” Lucky yells as he pushes me forward.

He leaps through the window and onto the fire escape. Tugging at my shirt, Lucky tries to pull me to go with him, but something has me. There are three men now. Aaron is fighting one. Dad is fighting another, and the third now has ahold of my arm. Lucky springs into action and bites the man’s arm. Blood spilling out of Lucky’s mouth as he growls and holds on as long as he can tell; I force myself down the fire escape. Following me down, Lucky leaps off the final steps and onto a dumpster.

-BOOM-

Its sound thunders through the alleyway. I look up for a moment to see the 3rd man clutching his arm as he rushes down the fire escape after us. Panic quickly sets in.

“Run MJ! Don’t stop no matter what you hear. DO NOT STOP!” Lucky screams at me.

Feeling the only logical thing to do is listen to my talking dog, I try to distance myself and my assailants. But, with each pounding step, I can feel the thick fog creep closer and closer to me, sending chills up my spine. With each passing moment, the fog gets thicker and thicker. I can’t breathe. Not again. I have a panic attack. I try to slow my breathing, but I can’t stop running in fear of what is coming through that fog. With each stride, it seems to get easier. This doesn’t seem right. I should be fainting. Somethings wrong. I can feel the electricity flow into my legs. It is sending me souring through the streets. How is this possible?? I can hear the wind pick up. Is it the wind? It’s me. The faster I run, the stronger the wind is becoming. Leaping into the air, I cant believe what is happening. I’m flying. What? Reality sinks in almost as fast, and down toward the street, I fall.