Cloak (YA Fantasy)

by James Gough

  Will closed his eyes and put his hands over his head. The Builder slid him into the vent like a torpedo. The tube wasn’t wide enough for Will to move his arms or legs, but the Builder pushed his feet, sliding him deeper into the darkness. As they picked up speed an angry, frustrated howl sounded behind them. They’d left the wolf empty-handed.

  Will’s relief at escaping was fleeting, as the terror of speeding through a mountain in a black tube took hold. The Builder pushed faster and the stone duct sloped downward like a long slide. Little shafts of light from vents lit the tube as Will sped along. They came to a fork in the tube and Will slowed to a stop while the Builder appeared next to him, his mandibles lifting into a smile. He pointed to Will, then to the fork on the left, then to himself and the fork on the right.

  “Split up?” Will shook his head, but it was too late. The Builder had already pushed him into the plummeting tube.

  Will twisted and looped, hurtling wildly in every direction. Just as the tube leveled out, the Builder appeared in front of him. Apparently, he had taken the other route so he could be in the lead. He waited until Will had a hold of his vest, then pulled him forward. After ten minutes of tunnels, the Builder slid Will into a shaft tall enough for him to stand crouched over. Ducts lined the walls, and the floor was covered in pipes. The Builder moved down the tunnel, motioning for Will to follow.

  “Where are we? Is this the way out?” Will whispered, stopping to look around.

  The Builder scurried back and grabbed his wrist, tugging him along like a child leading a parent.

  After a while, they came to a junction where five tunnels intersected. The Builder stopped and twitched his antennae down each tunnel.

  “Oh, great. We’re lost.”

  The Builder smiled, then shook his head. No. Jumping to the ceiling, the enchant slid back a large slab of stone to reveal a softly lit hole. He helped Will climb up, then followed, closing the door in the floor behind him.

  Will was in a small, stone room, a lot like the one he’d seen on the history tour. He had to crawl to avoid hitting his head. Christmas lights hung from the ceiling. The walls were decorated with old paintings of Builders that must have been salvaged from the hidden room in the Gathering Hall museum. A table sagged under the weight of hundreds of books. Books were everywhere, stacked in every empty space. There was a mattress and a reading light against one wall, next to a box with two neatly folded vests identical to the one the Builder wore.

  “Do you live here?” Will asked.

  The Builder’s eyes widened, and he put a finger over his mouth.

  Oh sorry, Will thought, concentrating on the words. Is this your home?

  The Builder lifted his mandibles into a smile and nodded, offering Will a tiny cup of a drink that smelled like honey and mushrooms. Will tried to say, “no thank you,” but the dejected look of his little host made him accept the cup. Thank you. The flavor reminded Will of his days of boiled lettuce, but he pretended to enjoy it. Delicious, he thought.

  The little enchant beamed.

  In the cramped room, Will finally had a good view of the Builder. Not counting his beach ball-sized thorax and segmented legs, he was about the size of a young child. His immovable, mask-like face was rounded and smooth with large, expressive eyes. Unlike the Builders Will had seen in the Gathering Hall, this one didn’t seem menacing at all. He was much more like the cute cartoon Builder from the children’s book. Yet, Will knew from experience that in those tiny segmented fingers, this Builder still had the strength of ten men.

  An intoxicating smell caused Will to turn around. A bed of roses. Grow lights had been strung above boxes that held beautiful red roses—hundreds of them. Will leaned closer and sniffed, then noticed the Builder watching him.

  Did you grow these?

  The enchant beamed and nodded.

  They’re beautiful, thought Will.

  The little Builder shrugged and kicked the ground.

  Thank you for saving me again, thought Will. I don’t even know your name.

  The Builder pointed to the thick band of red that ran down his chin.

  Line?

  He shook his head no and let his mandibles droop into a frown.

  Oh sorry. Um…Bar?

  No.

  Mark?

  No.

  Stripe?

  The Builder nodded vigorously.

  Stripe it is. I’m Will Tuttle.

  The Builder nodded once.

  You know my name? How?

  Stripe walked over to a wall near the bed and pointed. It was completely covered with pages torn from magazines and clipped from newspapers. Stripe tapped the picture from The New Wik Times, then scurried over to a pile of books and picked one out. He lifted the book under the picture so that the title lined up under Will’s name. The book was called, The Last Immune; a Biography of Dr. Josef W. Grimm. Stripe covered the rest of the title so that the caption and the book together read: Wilhelm Tuttle—The Last Immune.

  Will stared. His secret was out.

  Stripe brought his fingers to his mouth, pretending to lock it.

  Will breathed easier. Thanks. But, Will looked around, why did you bring me here?

  Stripe moved forward excitedly and waved his hands at the articles on the wall.

  You want me to read these?

  The enchant nodded.

  Which ones?

  Stripe motioned to the entire wall.

  All of them?

  The enchant bounced up and down nodding.

  Okay. Okay. Will crouched down and started reading. Most of the articles were about the Builder Uprising—reports of the brutality, details of the attack in the Chambers of Wik, Dr. Noctua, and tales of the Silent Siege. Several stories contained in-depth accounts of what he had read earlier. The articles were organized into groups. Small squares of paper were labeled in a child-like script: Reported enchant deaths, Immune deaths, Kidnappings and Targets. In the center of the collage was a crudely drawn picture of St. Grimm’s with the words, “This is not truthful. Do not be deceived.”

  Will turned around and saw that several of the books in Stripe’s collection had the word BANNED stamped on them. You put those books in my room, didn’t you?

  The Builder nodded and urged him to keep reading.

  The articles around the St. Grimm’s drawing talked about the death of Josef Grimm. Several called Thaddeus Bump a hero, giving a detailed account of how he helped fend off attacking Builders for days. “Liar,” was written across a picture of Dr. Bump in a cast with his head bandaged.

  There were more stories about the “Agents Rizzuto.” Will had been right, Dean and Rizz were cousins. The articles said they were the greatest team Special Branch had ever seen. One story called Rizz the gutsiest agent in ISPA, another said Dean was a communication prodigy, speaking six languages. Together, they held every record at the ISPA Academy.

  There were two pictures, one of Rizz with a buzz cut and a uniform—both horns intact. The other photo could have been his twin. Dean was thinner in the face and his horns weren’t quite as large as Rizz’s, but the only obvious difference in their appearance was that Dean had ice blue eyes.

  Will kept reading. After the explosion that killed Dr. Grimm, the cousins were found unconscious among the debris. One of Rizz’s horns had been blown off and Dean was in a coma. One article was titled, “The Rizzuttos’ Great Blunder.” Another, “Agents of Shame,” said that by failing to protect the world’s last Immune, the Rizzutos had let down all enchants everywhere. They had survived while Dr. Grimm died. And with Dean in a coma, all the blame fell on Rizz.

  There had been a hearing in front of the Council of Wik. Rizz had been demoted, replaced as the head of Special Branch. One of the most scathing testimonies was from a former member of Special Branch, Yvonne Liska, who blamed the deaths of the Special Branch agents and Immunes on the incompetent leadership of Rizz and Dean.

  Yet Liska had not even been in St. Grimm’s during the siege. Rizz had suspe
nded her from duty for using “excessive force” in an interrogation of a witness. The thought of Liska made Will grit his teeth. No wonder Rizz hated her.

  The next articles were about Josef Grimm—his charity work, his contributions to orphanages around the world, and his work creating prosthetics for disabled enchants. His advances in pheromone communication were praised and his special programs to help reach out to Builders were called groundbreaking. It had been his suggestion to the Council of Wik that all the Immunes seek refuge in St. Grimm’s, stating that Special Branch would never allow them to be harmed.

  Will studied the next clipping about Josef Grimm’s funeral service. There was a photo of Dr. Noctua next to the casket with Dr. Bump at his side, wearing a sling on one of his arms, a cast on his leg, a bandage on half his face. Behind him lurked De la Vega.

  A photograph of Josef W. Grimm accompanied one of the stories. He was a tall, lean man with an angular face and dark hair. The picture was circled and Stripe had given Grimm a monster face and fangs.

  Not a fan of the late Dr. Grimm? Will faced the Builder.

  Stripe snapped his mandibles together angrily and laid his antennae back flat.

  I’ll take that as a no.

  Strings started at Josef Grimm’s picture and stretched to articles all over the wall, linking the doctor to Thaddeus Bump, Councilman De la Vega, Rizz, and Dean.

  Will followed one string to a story about the attack on the Chambers of Wik. There was a photo of Dr. Noctua being helped to an ambulance. A string led from his name to an article about the nursery massacre. The story told of Councilwoman Annabel Noctua, a former, decorated Special Branch Agent who volunteered to help relocate Immunes to St. Grimm’s. She had been helping Immune children and the children of the Special Branch agents stationed at St. Grimm’s when the nursery was attacked.

  They found Annabel Noctua, her wings wrapped around a wounded child that she had protected from the Builders. The little girl’s parents, Agents Diego and Isabel Carmona had been killed trying to save their assigned Immune. There was a photo of Dr. Noctua cradling baby Margarit Carmona in his arms. One more string led from the clipping to a faded picture, identical to the one Will had seen on Dr. Noctua’s desk of young Dr. Noctua and his wife.

  Will’s eyes followed more strings emanating from the nursery massacre. Hans C. Grimm, Dr. Grimm’s brother had been killed with his wife Lucy. Their toddler had been in the nursery. Rudolf Grimm, Jonathan Grimm, Judith Grimm, Martha Grimm—fifty-two Grimms had been wiped out by Builders. Every member of the Grimm family dynasty had been killed in the attacks. Josef Grimm was the last, ending the Grimm family and, until Will, Immunes forever.

  Will stepped back and looked at the wall of tragedy. He had read every article, looked at every picture, and still didn’t understand what Stripe wanted him to gain from it, or what it had to do with him. He took a moment to look at the strings. Grimm to Bump, Bump to Dean and Rizz. Then he noticed the label carefully placed next to Dean’s picture—‘Guardian.’

  Guardian? wondered Will.

  Stripe began to nod and tug Will’s elbow toward the door in the floor.

  Wait. Stripe, where are we going? I don’t understand all this yet. Will motioned to the wall.

  The Builder ignored his comment and led him out of the hidden room, through the tunnel and back into a smaller tube. Will wasn’t happy about going into the hole again, but Stripe seemed desperate.

  After several minutes of sliding through tubes, they arrived at a vent that overlooked a dim hospital room with a single bed in the center.

  Will moved forward and looked down at the bed’s occupant. It was Rizz! Or at least it looked just like him. Stripe removed the grate. Will could see that the pale enchant in the white hospital gown was skinnier than Rizz, and his features were a bit less angular. He had two full unbroken horns that didn’t have any engravings, and his hair was cropped tight to his head, nothing like Rizz’s ponytail.

  Dean? thought Will.

  Stripe looked back and nodded. Will was half-way out the vent when Stripe twitched his antennae wildly and shoved Will back into the hole, closing the grate in his face. The little Builder sprinted down the wall and disappeared under Dean’s bed just as the door opened and light flooded the room.

  The door closed. Someone knelt beside the bed.

  “Hey there, cuz,” said a somber voice.

  Will leaned his head to get a better look.

  It was Rizz. How would Will explain this? He had promised to avoid Builders. Best to just stay quiet.

  “Happy birthday.” Rizz produced a small box. Inside was a little cake with lime-green frosting. Rizz lit a single candle with an old lighter. He held it in front of Dean’s face and blew out the flame.

  “I miss you, man. I’m sorry it turned out this way. I really am.” Rizz dropped his head. “But I’m trying to make it up to you. Soon, I promise.”

  As the small wisps of smoke dissipated, Will saw that Dean had opened his eyes. He stared at Rizz, who had turned away and was sitting on the edge of the bed, eating the cake. Dean’s eyes followed as Rizz took a bite. Then his gaze shifted to the vent where Will was hiding. He stared through the grate and opened his eyes wide.

  Rizz finished the cake in four mouthfuls. “Wish you could have had some, man. It was good this year.” When Rizz turned to look at his cousin, Dean closed his eyes again. Every time Rizz looked away, Dean opened them and stared at Will. It was like an eerie version of peek-a-boo.

  “Rizz, are you there?” Manning’s voice sounded through his dental floss communicator.

  Rizz squeezed Dean’s hoof. “Duty calls, cuz.” He lifted the floss and pressed the button. “Rizz here. What’s up?”

  “It’s Tuttle. He’s gone.”

  “What?” Rizz stood.

  “I just went to relieve Flores. He’s out cold, hit from behind. And the kid’s room is a disaster—window shattered, doors broken. You’d better get here, now.”

  “On my way.” As Rizz sprinted out the room, Dean’s eyes opened and followed him until the door closed, then they refocused on Will.

  Moments later, Stripe removed the grate and lowered Will to the floor, Dean watching his every move.

  Next to the bed was one of Stripe’s perfect red roses. Stripe extended his hand and placed it on top of Dean’s listless hoof.

  Will thought of the word under Dean’s picture. Guardian.

  The Builder nodded, pointing to himself and then Dean.

  You are his guardian?

  A nod. He motioned to Dean, then himself.

  And he’s your guardian?

  Stripe pointed to Dean’s eyes then to his own.

  You are his eyes?

  Stripe nodded and pointed to his ears.

  And his ears?

  The Builder picked up a book from the nightstand and opened it. He motioned to Dean, to the book, then to himself.

  Dean taught you to read? But how?

  Stripe wafted his segmented hand in front of Dean’s nose.

  He can scent-speak?

  Stripe nodded vigorously.

  “Can you talk?” Will asked Dean in a whisper.

  Dean blinked two times.

  Will thought it was usually two for no and one for yes.

  Dean blinked once.

  You can scent-speak like Stripe?

  One blink.

  Wow. Does Rizz know?

  Two hard, fast blinks.

  No? You don’t want him to know?

  Two blinks. Dean squeezed his eyes shut with force.

  Okay. I won’t say anything.

  Dean’s eyes relaxed and he blinked once.

  What about your doctor? Does he know?

  Dean blinked twice, more violently than before.

  Strange. Will picked up Dean’s chart and checked the doctor—Thaddeus Bump.

  Oh, I don’t blame you for not wanting to communicate with him. There was obviously a reason Stripe wanted him to meet Dean. It had to have something to
do with Will’s weird scent-speaking thing. Maybe there was something Dean wanted to tell him—something that Will could tell somebody else?

  One blink.

  You want to tell me something?

  One blink.

  How? It would take forever to find a way to understand Dean with this yes/no guessing game. Maybe Will could communicate better with the smell enhancer. Maybe he could find a way to get it from Rizz and come back.

  Dean blinked one tight squeeze.

  Okay. I can try, if you think it will work.

  One blink.

  Will stood. I don’t know how long I’ll be. He turned to Stripe. Can you take me back to my room?

  The Builder smiled and nodded, lifting Will back toward the vent.

  Will looked back just in time to see Dean close his eyes peacefully.

  You’re welcome, thought Will as he entered the dark, round tube.

  Stripe lowered Will into a janitorial closet around the corner from his room.

  Thanks.

  Stripe pulled his mandibles into a smile and disappeared back into the vent.

  When Will snuck around the corner, the hallway was packed. A crowd of rubbernecking patients pressed against the yellow tape that had been strung across the door to his room. He spotted Berko at the head of the line. He was patting Mars on the back. Tears streamed from her eyes.

  Will felt a surge of guilt and pushed his way through the group.

  “I heard the gerbilchant got eaten by a wolf,” whispered a llama enchant to his feathered friend.

  “Doris Butler, across the atrium, swears she saw him kidnapped by a Builder,” gossiped a lemur enchant in curlers.

  “Such a waste,” cried Nurse Starr next to Mars and Berko.

  “Excuse me.” Will squeezed between a pair of buffalo enchants in bathrobes.

  “It’s him,” someone whispered.

  “Hey, that’s the kid.”

  Soon the murmur spread through the group.

  “He’s alive.”

  “Well, will you look at that?”

  There were gasps of surprise. Someone whispered, “That’s one tough gerbil.”

  When he shoved through the crowd to the front of the line, he was instantly swallowed in a giant hug between Berko and Mars.