Fight The Peace

by S T Branton

  She realized she wasn’t in her usual uniform and I reached back for the switchblade but stopped before pulling it out. As much as I didn’t trust anything about the situation, and would happily get rid of Bentham once and for all, gutting her in front of a few hundred concert-goers would likely cause a scene I wouldn’t be able to escape from easily. We both stood there a moment, unsure of what to do next. Then Ally turned around with drinks in hand.

  “I got two for each of us because I didn’t want us to get thirsty later— Holy shit, what is she doing here?” she gasped.

  “I’d like to know the same thing,” I agreed, my voice low. Attracting the attention of the people in the area didn’t rank high on my to-do list. Especially the police.

  “Sara Slick, you need to come with me,” Bentham instructed, her usual confident voice cracking a bit. She didn’t have backup or a weapon and me coming with her either meant I went willingly, or she beat me hand-to-hand. For some reason, I didn’t think she was terribly confident in either scenario. That gave me an edge.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m innocent, and I have no reason to go anywhere with you,” I told her.

  Ally stood behind me and handed a beer over my shoulder into my hand. Then she leaned forward and offered one to Bentham, too.

  “Maybe we could not make a scene in the middle of a very large music festival I’ve wanted to go to for years, all right?” Ally pleaded.

  “It is my duty to—” Bentham began.

  “You’re at a concert. With two other people who also happen to be going to a concert. And one of them is offering you a nice, ice-cold beer. Perhaps you should take it and move on, and we will move on, and no one has to know about this exchange but the three of us.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Slick,” Bentham shot back. “I can’t shut off being a Guild Agent any more than you can shake off being the Heinous Sara Slick. Who, by the way, made a hell of a splash in West Virginia.”

  “I helped those people.” My voice dropped an octave. If she planned on making what happened there an example of my guilt, I wouldn’t worry about the people around us anymore. I would beat her senseless right here.

  “That’s what was so strange,” she replied, a hint of accusation in her voice. “By the time we got there, everything was settled. Burned all to hell, but settled. And anyone we talked to about the girl named Slick had nothing but good words. Glowing words. Really, unbelievably fantastic words. You did something good there, and I can acknowledge that. Why?”

  An Agent of the Guild admitting someone like me could be anything less than the worst thing to ever happen to existence as a whole was pretty impressive. Maybe it was the capris. They were so tight they cut off the blood flow to her brain. Still, I didn’t appreciate the tone or her questioning my motives.

  “I helped people who needed help, and the people there painted a different picture of me than you expected. Maybe that should tell you something.” It was more of a statement than a question. Bentham looked down at the beer bottle Ally held out to her. She reached up and snatched it from her, brought it to her lips, and downed a few big gulps without ever breaking eye contact.

  “It doesn’t change my job, Slick,” she told me. “I have to bring you in. I don’t get the whole Good Samaritan routine you have going, but it doesn’t absolve what you and I both know you did.”

  “What you think I did. I’m innocent. But I don’t think you can take me in without me volunteering, and that isn’t happening. And you can’t brain-wipe ten thousand people, so…” I edged a little away from her. “I think Ally and I will enjoy the show. You should, too. Way the hell over there.”

  A loud, blaring guitar, followed by feedback that made everyone clench their jaws and cover their ears, reverberated in the air. Bentham instinctively turned toward the stage where the sound came from, and I grabbed Ally’s hand and we took off into the crowd. Bentham stood there a moment, then seemed to clear her head by shaking it and came after us. If she wanted to get me, she would have to do it the hard way. A really hard way.

  I aimed for the front of the crowd and pushed my way past fans of every type until I got where I wanted. The band on stage was thankfully one I knew of, and if I timed this right, I could get us out of here. A few bars into their next song, a circle opened wide around us. The mosh pit began.

  Soon, people of all sizes were running, jumping, and shoving their way around the pit while the music blared around us. I kept my eyes on the crowd, spinning around like my head was on a swivel, looking for anything that might indicate we were trapped. I scanned the crowd but saw nothing but the usual concert-goers, mostly drunk and entirely unconcerned about two girls ducking through the pit. Off to the side, a security guard was backing almost into the pit himself while yelling at a group of kids who were climbing on top of a temporary art installation that for all the world looked like a man peeing on a fish.

  Bentham tried to get in the pit by elbowing her way past a few larger boys, but was totally out of her element and watched helplessly as Ally and I shoved our way to the other side. The security guard, now in the middle of what he must have assumed was a fistfight, started yelling over the music at the shoving, dancing kids.

  I watched over my shoulder as a wall of boys banging their heads, swallowed Bentham, then I ducked, and we disappeared into the crowd while snaking back to one of the exits and out of the park.

  “Sorry I couldn’t stick around, Ally,” I apologized as we took off on foot out of the area.

  “It’s cool. I’m used to hanging out with you ending in life-or-death situations,” she forgave.

  I knew she meant it as a joke, but it stung me. She was right. I was dragging my friend through every kind of danger imaginable, and she was trying to live a normal life. If we got out of this alive, I owed her a hundred years of tacos, concerts, and karaoke.

  Chapter Seven

  "I'm telling you, this thing needs a name," I commented.

  Ally looked at the beaten-up RV after taking a few steps back to take in all its glory. All its forty-year-old fucked-up-tuna-can Transformer glory.

  "Well," she said, "the Batmobile is taken. Ditto on the Mystery Machine. Same with Kitty."

  "Kit," Archie corrected as he opened the door and climbed into the RV.

  "What?" Ally asked.

  "KITT. The car's name is KITT. Not Kitty. From the show Knight Rider. It stood for Knight Industries Two Thousand. Then later, Knight Industries Three Thousand, but that was during the new series,” Archie clarified.

  "Why do you know that?" I asked.

  Archie shrugged. "Sometimes I get wrapped up in making runes late into the night and end up watching reruns. Humans fascinate me."

  "So you watch science fiction?" Ally asked.

  "I mean, technically it's not science fiction," Archie pointed out.

  "All right, we can continue this riveting conversation inside the mobile task force base," I told them.

  "Oooh, that should be its name," Ally suggested when we got the rest of the way into the RV and Archie closed the door behind us.

  "That's not its name, that's its title. It's what it is," I pointed out.

  "Isn't that what a name is?" Ally asked.

  Archie latched the door and triggered the switch he’d installed on the wall to open a panel toward the back of the vehicle. What used to unfold into a Murphy bed became his tiny lab space, complete with jars and bottles of various materials attached to the walls with Velcro straps.

  "No," I argued. "It's like me. My name is Sara Slick. I am an epic, legendary Near-born, Far-trained badass."

  “See? Humans are fascinating,” Archie repeated.

  Ally laughed and climbed into the front seat. She hit a few buttons to activate the customizations Archie had put in place for her. The seat adjusted to her body, forming to her and supporting her legs so she was essentially sitting in a recliner with the pedals raised to meet her feet.

  Archie said it was the cutting edge of comfort a
nd ergonomic support during long stretches of driving. I thought it was the ideal way to put Ally to sleep while she should be driving us, and the cutting edge would most likely be the windshield shards flying at me during the impact.

  But what did I know? Ally had been driving for more than ten years, and the closest thing I had to my license was memories of a pissed off behind-the-wheel instructor for my two hours of instruction before I stopped, and a souvenir ID from my sister's birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese a few months before the Philosophers snatched me.

  Archie walked over to his lab and stood in the middle of the circular panel inset into the floor. He reached down and latched his feet into place, then released the lock that kept the circle from moving. Now he could spin around freely and access all points of his lab while staying securely in place as the RV moved. Him twisting back and forth and spinning around looked like something out of an ’80s music video created by someone with a geek edge and far too much pep in their step. But so far, he hadn't toppled over while in mid-run creation, so I took that as a good thing.

  "You all locked and loaded back there?" Ally called while peering at Archie in the rearview mirror.

  He waved at her. "Light her up."

  "Not the words I want used in reference to the vehicle I'm in," I muttered.

  "Turn her ignition gently, then responsibly and in full compliance with all local laws and regulations, proceed on the intended path of travel," he amended.

  "Are you good, Slick?" Ally asked.

  I dropped to the floor and pulled my knees up, then crossed my arms over my chest. "Yep. Going to do some sit-ups on the road."

  "Nothing says leisurely road travel like lying on the floor doing a bunch of sit-ups," she replied.

  "Gotta stay strong. You never know when the next time will come that we have to beat the snot out of a Fae or save people from burning buildings.” I did several sit-ups, then added in a few twists for good measure.

  If only those were euphemisms and not direct references to things we had actually had to do in the not too distant past.

  "So, we're going to pretend you didn't almost get your ass captured by that Guild Agent with the apparent identity confusion?" Ally asked.

  "Yeah, where was her buddy? The mean one with the big fists." Archie punched the air.

  "That would be Thrash and, no, we are definitely not pretending that. That was not my favorite way ever to end a day at a festival. I didn't even get to don socially irresponsible clothing and dance like I popped my brain in an Easy-Bake Oven." Silver lining.

  "So, are we going to talk about it?" Ally asked.

  "Just because I'm not ignoring it doesn't mean I want to talk about it. That was shaving things a little too close. Splinter hasn't even come out of my pocket. I think he's still playing dead,” I guessed.

  Right on cue, Splinter squeezed himself out of my pocket and ran across the RV to the kitchenette. This was another part of the vehicle given a boost by Archie. My little rodent toilet brush had his favorite part. He used it now as he scrambled up a ramp built into the side of the counter and cabinet and through a flap that led to his favorite foods. He could have stayed in there and coated himself in cheese doodle dust to his heart's content, but that wasn't his style. He knew a person in distress when he saw one.

  His butt emerged first, and he barely made the tight turn to change direction and make his way back down to me while dragging a bag of sweet potato chips. He climbed up on my chest, pulled a chip out with his mouth, and offered it to me.

  "Is your weird rat thing feeding you because you're exercising?" Ally asked.

  "He chose sweet potato chips. At least he's trying to be healthy,” I defended my sweet Splinter.

  I was sure there was another snide remark and a potential Bubonic plague reference coming, but we didn't get to hear it. A sound from somewhere in the back of the RV made everyone fall silent. We listened and heard the sound again, something between a scrape and a knock.

  "What's that?" Archie whispered while turning his head to keep his eyes locked on me as his circle responded to a wide turn and sent him around in the other direction.

  I shook my head as I carefully set Splinter aside and stood. "It’s Bentham. I’d put money on it. I'm going to find her."

  My hand wrapped around a bat sitting on the couch. It wasn’t as elegant or impressive as some of the runes Archie created for me, or the perfect switchblade Solon had crafted, but it would do its job if the need arose. I made my way to one of the two bedrooms in the back of the RV, where I was pretty sure the sound originated. It came again, and I turned to the narrow closet. The door shook, and I tightened my grip on the bat. I reached for the handle, flung open the door, and swung the bat at the same time.

  The bat sliced right through the air and smashed through the closet door. The form that had been inside the closet ducked out of the way and ran across the room. I screamed and ran after it. As we burst into the front of the RV, Archie shouted and tried to lunge for the hooded creature. Unfortunately for him, he forgot his feet were attached to his anchor mechanism and ended up in a heap on the floor. The RV swayed back and forth as Ally tried to keep it together while still driving.

  I lifted the bat again and stepped forward to bring it down on the intruder's head when it whipped around. The hood fell back in time for me to divert the bat and smash the hell out of the corner of the table rather than the scaly green skull in front of me. I'd seen that face before. It stared back at me with wide, frantic eyes.

  "You're one of the Lizard People I rescued." She looked so young, far too young to stow away in strange RVs, although I didn't know if there was actually an appropriate age for that to happen. "What are you doing here?"

  She rushed forward the few steps to close the space between us so we were only a few inches apart.

  "I came to warn you. The world is ending!"

  Chapter Eight

  I blinked at the small green girl a few times. Her wide-eyed expression didn't change. I closed my eyes and leaned my ear toward her to improve my concentration.

  "I'm sorry. What now?" I asked.

  "The world. It's ending. I had to come warn you," she announced as earnestly as before.

  I nodded. "Yep. That's what I thought you said.” I let out a sigh and opened my eyes to look at her. "I'm sorry if we don't immediately have a huge reaction to your announcement. We've kind of been through that for real, so we take it pretty seriously."

  "This is for real," she insisted. "I heard the bad guys who kidnapped us talking about it."

  A feeling like cold water rushed down my back, and after the round of work Archie put into the big tuna can a couple of weeks back, I knew it wasn't the air conditioner leaking. She really was worried about something. I nodded toward the couch behind her.

  "Why don't we sit down and backtrack a little. Start with the basics and we'll see where we end up," I suggested. She nodded, and we sat on the couch. "I'm Sara Slick."

  "I know."

  I cringed. "Oh. Yeah." I put my hands up in the air beside my head and made a mock screaming sound. "Smooth first impression."

  "I'm sorry about that," she offered.

  "Nope. Not at all. It's fine. I have to remember you don't think the same things I do when I hear my name. I think about my father and my grandmother and Ally giving me my nickname. You think of mass murder and mayhem." I move my hands up and down at my sides like a scale. "You have to weigh all the perspectives."

  "Right." She extended one clawed hand toward me. "I'm Pip."

  My eyes widened, and I grinned as I shook it. "Pip? Like the character in that book they made me read in middle school?"

  Pip extended her arms in front of her and examined them. "I really don't know. I didn't go to middle school.”

  "Don't," I recommended. "That’s a few years out of my life I definitely wouldn’t ever want to relive. Those people can be mean."

  I shuddered, but Pip didn't smile.

  "You're doing it, too.”
Her voice sounded disappointed and faintly sad.

  I glanced around, not realizing I had done anything. "What? What did I do?"

  Pip let out a sigh. "People always think I'm younger or talk to me like I'm stupid or couldn't possibly understand anybody—even my family. I mean, they know how old I am, but they don't put a lot of value in me. Because I'm tiny even for a Lizard Person, they think I'm not good enough. They wouldn't listen to me when I told them what I heard. That's why I had to find you. I knew you would listen to me and know what to do.”

  “Okay, first, did you call yourself a Lizard Person?” She quietly nodded. I continued, “That can’t be what your kind is called.”

  The edges of Pip’s mouth turned up, almost in a smile. “Sure. We tried introducing ourselves by our proper names to what humans we had contact with for years. It’s nearly unintelligible.”

  “Fair enough.” I nodded. "And I'm sorry. I don't think you have no value. I mean, I just met you, but I see good potential."

  She smiled fully. "Thanks."

  "Speaking of which. Why were you in the closet?"

  "It was somewhere to hang out. I got stuck, though. Anyway. I don't know everything. They didn't lay it all out and hand out blueprints or anything, but I caught some of it, and what I caught definitely doesn't sound good."

  "What did you hear?"

  Splinter came and sat beside me, shoving sweet potato chips in his mouth as he readied himself for the story ahead.

  "Something is going down at the peace summit. Something involving Senator Cabot," Pip told me.

  "Senator Cabot?" I asked. “That name sounds familiar. I don’t know why, since I’m a little behind on world affairs, heh,” I joked. No one laughed. I sighed.

  “She’s a senator, and she’s been spearheading this peace accord for months,” Ally informed me. “It’s a big deal, and there will be representatives from all the major U.N. nations there. She’s on the fast track to a run at being President if this thing goes well.”