B.A.R.F.
Before I can say anything else, a high voice echoes down the hallway.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five…” As soon as the voice reaches ‘one’, a young boy comes running. He can’t be more than four years old. At first I freeze, because I know who that is. He looks so innocent. Hasn’t lost parents yet, hasn’t lost Ben. But I miss being that boy. Before I know it, a slight smile comes onto my face, and I say,
“It’s me.”
Mr. Stark stiffens beside me.
Little Peter looks up the stairs, a grin on his tiny face. “Mommy?” he calls. “Daddy? I’m coming to find you!”
Wind echoes behind me, and Little Peter must hear it too, because he runs through my body, which is super weird, and comes to a large window in the living room. Two feet peek from behind the curtain. “Found you, Daddy!”
He pulls back the curtain, only to jump back as a broom, carefully balanced on a pair of shoes, falls forward. I frown. “I don’t remember that,” I say.
“That’s because you don’t,” Mr. Stark says softly beside me. “It’s deep in your subconscious, these memories.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure about this? We can exit anytime you want.”
“No,” I say, swallowing thickly. “I gotta see what happened.” Even as I say this, my hands shake. I ball them into fists.
Little Peter runs past the piano, and the room around us fades into another hallway, this time with a door ajar a few feet away. Little Peter races to the door, and looks in. Mr. Stark and I do, too.
The sight makes my stomach drop.
Neither Little Peter nor I move as we watch the movement inside. Because there’s my father and mother, moving frantically about the room. It’s a beautiful room, with oak paneling and a large window, bookshelves on one wall and a large blackboard on the other. On second glance, the blackboard is covered in research, which I can barely decipher. When I realize what it is, when I see the double zero’s at the top of the board, a cold shock runs down my spine.
“They’re working on the spiders,” I whisper. A second glance around the room leads me to a small glass dome on the desk, in which lies a frozen, dead spider. Holy shit.
But then I look at my parents, and all other thoughts fly out of my head.
My father is just as I barely remember him, with the same glasses I now wear. His hair is graying, but he has a kind look to him, judging by the laughter lines on his face and crow’s feet around his eyes. My mother has the same wrinkles, but her long brown hair is loose around her shoulders, curling just as mine does. So that’s where I got my curls.
A hand on my shoulder startles me, and I look over at Mr. Stark.
“Remember what we’re here to find,” he says, reluctance lacing his tone.
“Yeah, I know.” I nod, and look back to my parents. Now that I look at them, I can see the worry plain on both their faces. No, not worry. Panic. Mom’s eyes are wide, and Dad shakes as he gathers papers, shoving them into a briefcase that I recognize.
“No, Richard,” Mom says, moving over to him. “Leave the papers. Just erase that.” She points at the blackboard.
“Right,” he agrees quickly, and goes over to the blackboard. He grabs an eraser and begins wiping it down, moving so fast he’s soon covered in chalk.
“Mommy? Daddy?” Little Peter asks.
Mom and Dad both freeze, and look slowly down at me…well, little me.
“Oh, baby, come here,” Mom says, reaching down for Little Peter and picking him up. “Mommy and Daddy are…going on a little trip, okay? Just for a little while.”
“But I thought we were playing hide and seek,” Little Peter whines.
“We were,” Mom says. “But things have, well, changed. It’ll be okay, I promise.” Her voice shakes, and she presses a kiss to my, his, forehead. “Oh, Peter.” She hugs him tight.
As I watch, my chest begins to ache, tightening with every second. My vision blurs as tears fill my eyes.
“How could I have been so stupid? They were running from someone. Why didn’t I do anything?” I mutter.
“Peter, you were four,” Mr. Stark says beside me. “There was nothing you could have done.” He sounds just as torn up as me.
“But still…”
“Come on, Pete.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s just keep watching for a little, okay? Just till we find something.”
I nod, wiping my now running nose. “Okay.”
Before I know it, the room fades again, this time materializing into the foyer of May and Ben’s apartment. I recognize the place, but it’s a little different. There are no pictures of me yet, except for one on the wall of me, Mom, and Dad. None of my toys are here yet. The couch in the center of the living room isn’t stained by the time I spilled Ben’s coffee yet.
May and Ben themselves stand in the center of the room, joined by Mom, Dad, and little me. I’m shocked by how young they look. May doesn’t have as many wrinkles as she does now, and Ben looks so…alive. Just the sight of him makes me sniffle.
“We can still go, you know,” Mr. Stark says.
“Not yet,” I say. “I have to get a clue, or something.” Whoever killed my parents, these two vibrant people in front of me, has to be found. I have to make sure they pay.
“So can you take him, just for awhile?” Mom asks May.
“Of course,” she says. She crouches down, reaching out for Little Peter. “Hey, little man,” she says. “You ready to stay with Uncle Ben and I for a little bit?”
Little Peter nods, but holds tight to Mom’s hand.
May smiles, then rises to her feet. “Okay, I’ll get his room ready. You two be careful.” She reaches out and hugs Mom and Dad. The hugs seem so short.
“She doesn’t know,” I whisper. “None of them knew.”
But looking at Mom and Dad, they probably did know what fate awaited them. Mom is on the verge of tears, bottom lip trembling, and while Dad holds himself firm, I can see his eyes watering. They knew they would never see me again.
Mom crouches down and brushes my hair back. “Remember what he likes,” she says, voice shaking. “He doesn’t like crust on his sandwiches. He likes to sleep with a little light on at night.”
One tear escapes my eye, and then I start full-on crying. The tears stream down my face, and my sobs shake my entire body. Distantly I feel Mr. Stark’s hand on my back, and I hear him say,
“Okay, let’s get out of here.”
“No,” I say, furiously wiping my cheeks. “Someone did this to my parents. I want to find out who.”
“Fine,” Mr. Stark says with a sigh. “But let’s not stay here too long.”
I turn back to Mom, Dad, and Ben just in time to see Mom lean in and whisper something to Ben. I lean in closer, but I can barely hear. This could be something important. A clue. I step closer, and finally I can hear what she’s saying.
“I wish we didn’t have to,” she says. “There’s a good chance we…well, nevermind.” She sniffles. “Just, you know how Connors gets.”
A lightning bolt of shock shoots through me. Because that can’t be right. Connors? As in Dr. Curtis Connors?
In a quick movement I remove the headpiece and toss it away. The image dissolves, leaving Mr. Stark and I back in the lab.
“That can’t be right,” I say. “It just can’t be.”
“She said Connors,” Mr. Stark sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, shit.”
“This can’t be right,” I insist. “Maybe she meant something else. But if she didn’t…” If she meant what she said, then that means Dr. Connors, the nice Dr. Connors, murdered my parents. It means that his kindness was all an act. To fool me.
A pit of anger festers in my stomach, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming. He lied to me. That has to be it.
I pull out my phone with a flourish, then dial Mr. Osborn’s number. “Give me one second,” I say, voice quivering. I step out of the room, slamming the door behind me. “Pick up, pick up,” I hiss.
Finally, he picks up. “Peter?” he says. “How can I help you?”
“It was Connors,” I say quickly. “Connors did it.”
A moment of silence. “I knew this would happen. I knew you’d figure it out.”
“So I was right?” My heartbeat quickens.
Mr. Osborn releases a breath. “I never told you this. I didn’t want to. But Curtis was always jealous of your parents. His research never matched theirs. He tried to replicate their formula back before they passed, but it didn’t work.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because I was afraid it would hurt you,” he says, resigned. “I’m afraid I was right.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine. At this point, I just need to find him.”
“And when you do? What will you do?”
I grit my teeth. “I’ll make sure he goes to prison, that’s what.”
“I see. Good luck then, Mr. Parker.”
“Thank you.” With that, I hang up. Mr. Stark steps out of the lab behind me, and asks,
“Who was that?”
“Mr. Osborn. He said Dr. Connors was always jealous of my parents. He even tried to replicate their formula. What if he killed them because of that, Mr. Stark?” My voice is strained, but I keep talking. “What if he—”
Mr. Stark holds up a hand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he says. “Why don’t we visit him?”
I nod. “Sure. Let’s go.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” he says with a shrug. “But Peter.” He looks me in the eye. “Don’t get too angry.”
“I’ll…I’ll try.”
“That’s all I can ask for.”