Doc Harrison and the Prophecy of Halsparr

by Peter Telep

  He takes a deep breath and frowns. “I don’t feel that itch anymore, but I feel something else. I need to go up top.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “It’s all right.” He pushes forward, about to stand.

  “No, Tommy, come on. Just rest.”

  “But they’re calling me.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “It’s probably the Galleons. Just stay here.” I shift over to Cypress and tap her shoulder. “We might be in trouble.”

  She yawns and drags a knuckle across her eye. “We are always in trouble.”

  * * *

  While Cypress and I hurry out of the temple to see what’s calling Tommy, our personas are still on that tree branch trillions of miles away on Halsparr.

  “What’s the Library of Grren?” Steffanie asks Cypress and then catches herself. “Damn, uh, just… tell us about it.”

  Cypress growls through a sigh, and then, finally, she nods. “Halsparrans get sick and die, and there’s no one to take their immortals. And so they give them to the grren, and each grren has thousands inside. Now, after many centuries, the grren are like books, and each immortal is like a page.”

  “Wow, that’s so weird and, well, beautiful and kind of sad,” Meeka says.

  Cypress just shrugs. “Many grren come here and share immortals. Sometimes they trade them for fun or exchange them for favors.” Cypress glances at me and hardens her voice. “That’s another reason why Scully wanted Mum. Even if she couldn’t cure the Halsparrans, she’s still very valuable.”

  “So these grren use immortals like money? Like we use mirage?” Meeka asks.

  “Not all of them,” Cypress answers. “But some do. The immortals entertain them and teach them things. Also, the grren who carry Halsparran leaders have higher status. Any grren who carries the immortal of someone like Mum would be very important in their pack.”

  “So you think one of those grren up on the bridge might have Doctor Arabelle’s immortal,” I say.

  “I’m not sure, Doke, but this is the best place to look.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  She lowers her gaze. “I can’t.”

  Steffanie frowns, opens her mouth, and I can already see the question behind her lips.

  “We had some trouble with the grren,” I answer quickly. “That’s why Cypress can’t go.”

  “Oh,” Steffanie says.

  Cypress nods sadly. “They want to kill me.”

  Steffanie looks at me. “But I thought—”

  “Just because she’s friends with two grren doesn’t mean they all like her.”

  Meeka wants to add something, but I give her a stern look, and she gets the message.

  This is painful enough already for Cypress. She’s probably reliving Scully’s murder as we speak.

  “We’ll jump over there and talk to them,” I tell the girls.

  “They might kill you, too, Doke.”

  “How? If they try, we’ll just jump out.”

  “You can’t,” she says. “Once you’re there, you won’t be able to jump—unless they allow it.”

  “Whoa. How can they… I mean, I’ve never heard of—”

  “You’ll see,” Cypress answers.

  “Well, then, it doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’m going. The rest of you can wait here.”

  Cypress glances at Meeka and Steffanie, and then she puts a hand on my shoulder. “You are stupid, Doke. But you are brave. I will go with you. We will all go.”

  * * *

  Back on Flora, Cypress and I climb the sand-covered stairs and slip outside beneath the pink sky and rising moons.

  The air smells fresh and seems cleaner, with far less dust.

  As we come around an ugly pile of debris rising higher than our shoulders, Cypress thrusts out her arm and holds me back.

  And now I see why.

  “Damn…”

  Apparently, Hedera was so overwhelmed and distracted by carrying Mum’s immortal that she forgot to pick up the pot of the scholars we took from Chrysantha. She left them standing in the middle of the road.

  And now, just like that valley back in Faldareach, every mountain of debris, every piece of exposed dirt between the molten skyscrapers, and every ledge and crevice and crack and cranny for as far as the eye can see is covered in them: billions of flowers glittering like strange, golden geometry in the twilight.

  As the breeze rushes in from the north, it catches the hexagon-shaped petals, lifting them in vast waves through the endless sea.

  We stand there… hypnotized.

  “Doke, I feel something.”

  “I do, too. It’s like a sound and a feeling at the same time.”

  “They’ve come to learn,” Cypress says. “So maybe they’re learning.”

  “Learning how to breed, that’s for sure.”

  She smiles.

  Meeka and Steffanie join us. They take one look at all the scholars and gasp.

  * * *

  We jump over to the Library of Grren and stand before a tree growing in the center of the bridge. The two towers soar over us, and the gem-like eyes of every grren are locked on—

  Taking in our every move.

  I clam myself with the simple reminder that even if they tear apart my persona, there’s still a chance I won’t die. My wreath could manage to heal… or maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll survive but go insane.

  So I guess I don’t calm myself. I guess I just stand here, shaking…

  Back on Flora, I tell Tommy and Hedera what we’re doing, and Tommy says, “Don’t let ‘em see you sweat.”

  “Uh, Tommy, it’s not that hot there.”

  “You know what I mean, son. If you have to, you call their bluff. You make ‘em think you can still jump.”

  “Roger that.”

  Back on Halsparr, something flashes from the tree, and then… here he comes… soaring through the air.

  I’m talking about the biggest, oldest grren I’ve ever seen. He’s twice the size of Brave and Mama Grren, basically a gray-faced monster who’s been eating his Wheaties.

  He dives toward us and hits the vine-covered decking so hard that the stone rumbles and cracks beneath his paws.

  At once, the grren across the bridge hiss and click their teeth, a sound so loud that we cover over our ears. I feel like we’re on the fifty-yard line of the universe’s largest football stadium filled with drunk fans who have huge fangs.

  Even the air warms as they breathe heavier, hiss louder, and their eyes rotate and focus tighter.

  “His name is Roam,” Cypress shouts, taking a step back as the giant grren advances. “He’s the librarian.”

  Hovering at his shoulders are the shimmering personas of two black creatures that remind me of vultures. They flap their wings in slow motion, as if flying underwater, and as they do, the air beneath them gets blurry. Long beaks, blood-red eyes, and wrinkled talons bigger than our hands flex like they’re eager to latch on to something… us.

  “Those are jahlerrs,” Cypress explains. “They block our jump and won’t let us change shape.”

  “That name sounds familiar. I think Ms. Martha might’ve used them to protect the Palladium. Keane was saying something about that. Anyway, can they stop the masks from jumping too?”

  “No, not strong enough,” she answers, making my shoulders slump. “If you connect with the jahlerrs, they borrow your persona and join with you. It’s like they come inside and control you. And then you have to negotiate with them to get free—so if they invite you, do not connect.”

  “If they could block the masks, they’d be pretty valuable to us,” I say with a deep sigh.

  Roam turns back toward the bridge and roars.

  And while I can’t speak for the others, my heart stops.

  The crowd of grren falls silent.

  Roam nods and faces us. With a slight moan and loud cracking of his old bones, he sits up and raises his paws.

&
nbsp; And then the strangest thing happens:

  He starts making signs and symbols with his paws, and he reminds me of Victor Lewshenko, this deaf kid in middle school who tried to teach me sign language.

  “Doke, this is the grren I told you about, the one who gave me the idea to save Tommy. His wreath doesn’t work. He’s trying to talk to us.”

  “Okay, you talk to him.”

  “I don’t know how, Doke. I was hoping you would.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  I glare at Cypress. “I don’t know what he’s saying! Why would I?”

  She glares back. “Because you’re from Earth. I thought it was another way to Earth talk.”

  “Earth Talk?” I ask.

  Cypress’s lip twitches to show her teeth. “My Mum and Dad got close to him. They taught him that language a long time ago, way before they found me. They’re from Earth, so I thought you could talk to him.”

  As we’re arguing, two more grren leap down from the towers, followed by another pair. They surround me and Cypress, while another grren growls and gestures with his head for Meeka and Steffanie to move back.

  The grren begin to drool, and one them roars at Cypress, as if she knows what happened to Scully.

  “We’re all gonna die,” Steffanie groans.

  “Guys, try to connect,” I say. “Do whatever you can.” I face Cypress. “Aw, man, you should’ve told me your plan before we jumped.”

  “Always too much talk,” she snaps. “I just wish Mum and Dad taught me the language.”

  I snort. “Yeah, me, too!”

  Another grren, a female much smaller but about as old as Roam, trots up to his side, sits, and begins gesturing to him. She might be Roam’s translator.

  Maybe we can get to her.

  I try to connect—but my head whips back as she violently rejects the invitation, and I get the feeling I insulted her by even asking.

  Back on Flora, Tommy and Hedera ask what’s happening, and Steffanie breathlessly fills them in.

  “Wait!” Hedera cries. “Doc, show me some of the signs that Roam’s doing.”

  I repeat a few, although I bet I’ve messed them up…

  “Wow, I know what he’s saying! It’s pretty basic rhodo mixed with something else that’s kinda weird.”

  “What’s rhodo?” I ask.

  “Another language. My mother taught me it before I could project my persona. I’m pretty rusty, though, and Roam’s mixing it up with another language.”

  “Yeah, sign language from Earth.”

  “How does he know that?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just teach me how to say my name, and teach me like right now.”

  * * *

  After an agonizing ten minutes of trying to get Roam to understand me, he turns and has a heated discussion with his translator…

  And she finally allows me to connect.

  Because I’m terrible at sign language.

  And they’re growing as impatient as we are.

  “Hedera, you saved our lives,” I tell her back on Flora.

  “Yeah, I guess I rock starred the hell out of that.”

  “And I guess you heard that on TV,” I say with a sigh.

  “Yuppers.”

  “And that, too!”

  Back on Halsparr, I link up with Roam’s translator, who won’t tell me her name but has a lot of experience connecting with humans. She understands me way better than any grren I’ve ever met. Her voice, which I hear in my mind, comes with a hiss and growl, but the words are there. Real words.

  I get to work. I show her the Galleons’ attack and how they stole the queen robe. I remind her that while the Galleons ignored the sick Halsparrans, they could still come back here and abduct the entire library of grren.

  She argues that the Galleons believe the grren are carriers of the virus and don’t want them.

  While I’m not sure about that, I argue that no one’s safe. The Galleons always find a way to create slaves. I show her how they took Punk and Mr. Gurdy, grren from Halsparr…

  Next, I take her into my father’s lab and show her the photo on the wall. I tell her that I need to find the immortal of Dr. Strayling Arabelle. I just need to talk to him, and then we’ll be on our way.

  She confers with Roam and then comes back and says that they’ve located Dr. Arabelle’s immortal. Roam agrees to let me speak with him under one condition:

  That we turn over Cypress—so she can pay for the murder of Scully and her packmates.

  I glance up at the towers and at the hundreds of grren with their teeth bared. I look to Cypress. Her shoulders have slumped, and her brown eye is closed.

  Sure, I could turn her over because there’s no other way. If we don’t talk to Dr. Arabelle, we’re done.

  I can tell myself that too many lives depend on us learning what he has to say… the needs of the many and all that…

  But I could never live with myself.

  And I wouldn’t want to—because she saved my life. And now it’s my turn to save her. But how?

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Of course I ask for Tommy’s advice.

  I tell him the grren have already seen me sweat, and they know we can’t jump away.

  “Son, y’all can’t play dirty pool with them.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “What’d I tell you growing up?”

  “You said, ‘don’t pick your nose and wipe the boogers on my car seat.’”

  He makes a face. “What’s your malfunction now?”

  “Tommy, I’m about to die.”

  He smiles crookedly. “What I told you was to treat people like you wanted to be treated. Be kind, be thoughtful, and above all, be honest.”

  “Oorah,” I say with a groan. “But I doubt the truth will set us free. Not this time.”

  “Now hang on, son. You haven’t fought the battle yet. You telling me you’re prepared to surrender?”

  “I guess not. I guess I’ll… well, there is no try. I guess I’ll just tell her the truth.”

  “Roger that.”

  With a shiver, I focus my thoughts back in my persona, where I’m still connected to Roam’s translator. She’s waiting for my reply. I tell her we can’t turn over Cypress because she’s our friend We love her and care about her.

  I show the translator Cypress’s place and that moment when I learned about Scully.

  The translator sees how devastated Cypress felt and how she literally threw up.

  Cypress did all of that for me. I ask the translator how many of her packmates would do the same?

  How many?

  What Cypress did was horrible, but she told Scully the truth and tried to convince her to help. Scully refused and gave Cypress no choice. We couldn’t give Mum to Scully. We thought we needed Mum to get into the lab, but the masks beat us to it.

  And what we’re doing now… it’s not for us. We’re doing it for everyone, I mean every living thing here on Halsparr.

  The Galleons are too powerful now, and the grren won’t be able to stop them. The Armadis will come back and finish their work, and the grren will become their slaves.

  I tell her she can believe me or not, but that’s the truth. We won’t give up Cypress. If they won’t make a deal, then we’re prepared to die.

  And they should be, too—

  Because the Masks of Galleon will return.

  I break the connection and stand there.

  Boom. That’s all I got. It either works… or we’re dead.

  The girls look at me. I widen my eyes and shrug.

  It takes nearly five minutes of furious gestures for the two grren to finally face us.

  They’ve made a decision.

  From behind them comes a mother grren with three cubs clinging rather comically to her back. They mew like kittens with oversized fangs.

  The translator tells me this mother is a foster parent—

  And that the cubs belong to Scully.

  Aw, hell. I share th
at news with Cypress.

  “Doke, it’s okay, I know they want me. So let them have me. I did a terrible thing. I deserve to die.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen.”

  The translator tells me they will never forgive Cypress for murdering Scully and her pack. These cubs lost their mother forever.

  I insist that these cubs will lose their foster mother as well. This entire library will become part of the Armadis’s ship. I show her an image of Brave and Mama Grren hanging inside the tubes.

  What more do you want?

  You think you’re safe, but you’re not.

  And did you think Cypress would willingly come here when she knew what would happen to her? Don’t you realize what’s at stake?

  The translator says she does. She doesn’t doubt anything I’ve shown her, but it’s not her decision to make.

  She goes back to Roam and once again, the exchanges are rapid. Roam’s growing more irritated, tossing hard glances at Cypress and then at me.

  “It’s not working, Doke,” Cypress says. “Don’t worry. I’ll go with them now.”

  She starts toward Roam—

  And the grren surrounding us pull back on their hind legs and flash their claws and teeth, ready to tear us apart.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  “Stop!”

  The voice comes from behind us.

  We turn to face a glowing persona.

  Whoa, it’s him.

  Dr. Strayling Arabelle.

  He’s still wearing his lab coat. In fact, he looks exactly like he does in the photo in my father’s office. It’s as if he chose this image so it’d be familiar to us.

  The grren crouching behind him looks as old as Roam, maybe older. The tattoo-like markings on his forehead have faded, and his loose skin looks more gray than green. One of his long fangs was broken off, and the stub has turned black. He stares at me as though I’m familiar, and he even nods. As he does, I realize he’s blind in one eye on the same side he lost the fang. That must have been one hell of a fight.

  Meanwhile, Roam and his translator begin arguing behind us, and I ask the translator what’s happening.

  It seems that this old grren, the one actually carrying Dr. Arabelle’s immortal, has been watching the conversation and decided to come forward—