Chapter 3: The Charmander Card

Chapter 3: The Charmander Card

“No way,” Jason said, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “A secret club? Like with a handshake and everything?”

They were sitting on the curb outside the corner store, the wrappers of cheap ice cream sandwiches melting into a sticky puddle on the asphalt beside them. For Alex, these moments were the only reason Burberry felt remotely habitable.

“Sort of,” Alex said, trying to sound casual. He’d been wrestling with the idea all day. Part of him, the part that still felt the phantom chill of the locker’s handle, wanted to keep Jason as far away from that place as possible. But a bigger, dumber, more twelve-year-old part of him wanted to share it. The gym was the only interesting thing Alex had in this new life, and its dark mystique made it feel like his. Sharing a secret, even a scary one, was the ultimate currency of friendship.

“It’s not really a club,” Alex continued, kicking at a loose pebble. “It’s more like… an initiation. This old gym, run by this crazy huge old guy. He has this whole dare for new kids.”

Jason leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What kind of dare? Do you have to lift something super heavy?”

“Nah, something weirder.” Alex felt a thrill of pride, of being the one in the know. “There’s this locker in the back. No number on it. The legend is that it’s haunted or something. The dare is just to open it.”

He conveniently left out the part about the soul-freezing cold and the vision of a silent, devouring void. He had successfully convinced himself that his mind had played tricks on him, that Louis’s spooky story had just gotten under his skin. To admit his terror to Jason would be to admit he was still the scared new kid from the suburbs.

“Whoa,” Jason breathed, genuinely impressed. “And you did it?”

“Of course,” Alex scoffed, puffing out his chest. “It was nothing. Just an empty locker. The whole thing’s just a dumb prank Louis plays on people.”

Jason’s eyes lit up. “Can I see it? Please? I won’t touch anything, I promise. I just want to see the spooky haunted locker.”

The request was a hook, and Alex’s pride was the fish. He’d wanted to impress Jason, and it had worked. Now he had to follow through. A cold knot formed in his stomach, but he shoved it down. What was the harm? He’d be there with Jason. It was just a locker. A prank.

“Alright, fine,” Alex sighed, as if doing Jason a massive favor. “But you have to act cool. The guys in there are all serious.”

Walking toward Burberry Gym with Jason felt different. The building seemed less like a forgotten relic and more like a predator lying in wait. The peeling sign looked like a sneer. As they pushed through the heavy doors, the familiar smell of iron and old antiseptic hit them, and Alex’s carefully constructed bravado began to fray at the edges.

Jason, however, was buzzing with a nervous energy, his head swiveling as he took in the grunting men and the hulking machines. “This place is intense,” he whispered.

“Told you.”

From behind the high counter, Louis Alistair’s head appeared, a silver-bearded moon rising over the horizon. His booming voice echoed through the gym. “Alex! Back for another round with the iron gods, I see! And you’ve brought a friend!”

Louis’s wide smile was fixed in place as he rounded the counter. Alex felt a familiar unease as the man’s unnervingly bright eyes left him and settled on Jason. It was the same evaluating look he’d given Alex, but this time it seemed to linger, to probe. Louis saw Jason’s smaller frame, his glasses, his open and trusting face. For a fleeting second, the smile on Louis’s lips didn’t match the cold, calculating hunger in his eyes.

“And who is this young man?” Louis asked, his voice dripping with grandfatherly charm.

“This is my friend, Jason,” Alex said, stepping slightly in front of him.

“A pleasure, Jason. A friend of Alex’s is a friend of Burberry’s.” Louis clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder, a heavy, possessive weight. “Alex here is one of us now. Passed his initiation with flying colors. A real man of courage.”

Jason looked at Alex with renewed awe. The praise from the mountain-like owner made Alex’s story seem ten times cooler. The cold knot in Alex’s stomach tightened. This was a mistake. He could feel it. But they were already here, and Louis was smiling down at them, a benevolent king welcoming them into his court.

“I was just… showing him the locker room,” Alex mumbled.

“Of course! The heart of the gym!” Louis boomed. “Go on. Just be respectful of the space.” He turned his gaze back to Jason. “It’s always good to face your fears, young man. That’s how we get strong.”

With a final, knowing wink, Louis returned to his perch behind the counter. The permission felt less like a blessing and more like a trap being sprung. Alex led a practically vibrating Jason down the hall, catching a glimpse of Neil, the janitor, at the far end. Neil’s eyes met Alex’s, and they were wide with a fresh, frantic terror. He shook his head, a tiny, desperate gesture, before a clatter from the utility closet made him flinch and disappear inside, slamming the door shut.

“That guy is so weird,” Jason whispered as Alex pushed open the door to the locker room.

The wave of steam hit them, thick and cloying. The hissing of the pipes was louder today, more insistent. It sounded like a crowd whispering just out of sight.

“Okay, so this is it,” Alex said, his own voice sounding muffled and small. He led Jason down the aisles of drab grey lockers, his footsteps echoing on the damp concrete. The air grew colder as they approached the final row.

“There,” Alex said, pointing.

The numberless locker sat in the corner, a void in the pattern. It seemed to absorb the dim light, its featureless face exuding a quiet malevolence.

“Whoa,” Jason breathed, taking a half-step closer. “It doesn’t even have a keyhole. You really opened it?”

“Duh,” Alex said, his voice cracking slightly. “I told you. I put my hand right on the handle…” He gestured vaguely, not wanting to get too close. “Opened it up. It was totally empty. Just a dusty old metal box.”

Jason stared at it, a mixture of fear and fascination on his face. “But… what if the legend is real? What if it takes things?”

“It doesn’t take things, it’s a locker,” Alex said, more to convince himself than Jason. “It’s just a story to scare kids.”

A challenge flickered in Jason’s eyes. It was the same daredevil impulse that led them to try to jump the creek on their bikes last week. “We should test it.”

“Test it how?” Alex asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

“We put something inside,” Jason said, his excitement overriding his fear. “Something small. And we leave it for like, ten seconds. If it’s still there when we open it, then you’re right, it’s just a story. If it’s gone…” He trailed off, a spooky grin spreading across his face.

This was it. The point of no return. Alex’s mind screamed at him to grab Jason and run, to leave this steamy, whispering room and never come back. But he saw the look on Jason’s face—the trust, the admiration, the challenge. He couldn’t be a coward. Not now.

“Fine,” Alex said, his voice a strained whisper. “What are you gonna put in?”

Jason’s grin faltered for a second as he considered the stakes. Then, his face lit up with resolve. He shrugged off his well-worn backpack and carefully unzipped a side pocket. From it, he produced a hard plastic protective sleeve. And inside that sleeve was his most prized possession.

It was a holographic Charmander card from the original trading card set. It wasn’t just rare; it was pristine. The little fire lizard on the front seemed to dance as Jason tilted it, the holographic background shimmering with a rainbow of impossible colors. It was the crown jewel of his collection, the one card he’d traded half his worldly goods for.

“My Charmander,” Jason said reverently, carefully sliding the card out of its sleeve. “If it can take this, it can take anything.”

He held it out. It was a flimsy piece of cardboard, but in the dim, steamy light of the locker room, it felt like an offering. An artifact of innocence.

With a deep breath and a nervous grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Jason stepped forward. Alex watched, frozen, as his friend’s hand reached for the latch. Jason hesitated for a fraction of a second, his knuckles brushing the cold metal, but he didn’t seem to feel the soul-sucking chill that Alex had. Or maybe he just ignored it.

He pulled the handle. The door swung open with a low groan, revealing a dark, disappointingly ordinary interior that smelled of rust and cold dust.

“See? Nothing,” Alex said, his relief making him dizzy.

Jason didn’t answer. He took one last look at the shimmering card in his hand, a silent goodbye, and then leaned forward. He gently placed the holographic Charmander on the metal floor of the locker, its bright orange a stark splash of color in the monochrome gloom.

Then, with a shared, held breath, Jason pushed the door closed.

It didn’t clang shut like the other lockers. The sound was a soft, heavy thump, a sound of finality, like a coffin lid being sealed. The latch clicked into place with a definitive, hungry sound.

The whispers in the steam stopped. The room was plunged into an absolute, ringing silence.

Alex stared at the blank grey door, the grin frozen on Jason’s face now looking like a mask of terror. The cold knot in Alex’s stomach burst, flooding his entire body with ice. He had wanted to prove the locker was a joke, a silly prank. But as he looked at that silent, sealed door, he knew with sickening certainty that the prank was on them, and the locker wasn’t laughing.