by Farley Dunn
“How are you doing, my boy? I didn’t expect to see you here. But then, seeing you’re with Jantzen . . .” He looked Jantzen’s direction and raised his eyebrows.
“Yes, Doctor, he’s with me.”
“Ah, then I’m not surprised.”
“Don’t start, Doctor. Now’s not the time.”
“No, no, I’m sure this is a good thing, get our young man into the gritty undersides of the beast as soon as possible. Does it feel gritty to you, young man? Or are you liking what you see?”
Garik didn’t know how to answer, but he could tell there was something going on between them that they weren’t saying. He responded in a way that he had mastered with Arik, answering without answering.
“I’m meeting lots of new people.” He gave him a smile, knowing the man would expect one.
“A good answer. Now, Jantzen,” and Jimenez turned from Garik, done with him, and addressed the other man. “I’m afraid I have a situation that requires higher authority than mine to resolve. Are you free?”
“I’m supervising Garik. How important is this?” Jantzen seemed to pull himself together. When his eyes passed over Garik, he seemed to fully see him for the first time since their conversation.
“Utmost.” Jimenez glanced at Garik, paused, then said, “If you trust someone to take over, I can wait, or we can drop him off at his room.”
Garik caught Jantzen’s eye and shook his head no, not wanting that almost more than anything, and Jantzen nodded and said, “Let me think, Amy’s here, no, let me locate Devon. This is his chance for redemption. He will appreciate that. He didn’t deserve his reprimand.”
Reprimand. Garik glanced at his hand, seeing the butterfly stitches still crisscrossing the cuts from the glass. He would feel sorry for Devon, but just now he was preoccupied with not being locked up back in his room. He waited, hoping, as Jantzen reinserted his earbud, tapped his watch, and spoke.
“Devon, it’s Jantzen. I’m in the food court with Garik. Are you free to supervise?” He paused, then said, “I don’t know the situation, so I can’t answer that. Thirty minutes, an hour, maybe longer.” Another pause, then, “Thanks. Eyes on at all times, Devon. I’ll be waiting.”
Supervising. Garik narrowed his eyes at the bearded man. He acted like a friend, then he was “supervising.” Garik was his “responsibility,” to be passed on to someone else. Garik chanted in his head, Eyes on at all times, Devon. Don’t let him get out of your sight, Devon. Keep the leash tight, Devon.
And it was all true. He would escape now, if he could. He’d tried it from the other side often enough that he knew the wall was as impermeable as glass to water. He wasn’t getting through, not with the wall up, and he wouldn’t be allowed out of the basement with the wall down.
Catch-22, it was called. No matter what he did, there was no solution.
Devon showed up, finally, in full party mode, his balloon crown long gone, and his shirt untucked. He held out something shiny and called from fifty feet away, “Look what I found. Will this do?”
It turned out to be a pair of handcuffs, and Garik thought, not on my wrists!
Jantzen laughed, took the cuffs, and clasped Garik on the shoulder. “Do what Devon says. He’s helping me out, and more importantly, you’re helping him out.” He leaned in close and whispered his final words, “For the arm,” then he called to Devon, “Remember, eyes on!”
“Gotcha, Mr. Hefferly. Eyes on.” Devon tapped under his eyes with two fingers spread wide. Then he laughed. He threw an arm around Garik, gave him a harder-than-necessary squeeze, and said, “This will be fun. Right-o, kiddo?”
Garik shrugged and let himself be dragged into the melee.
GARIK FINALLY convinced Devon to let Amy take him to his room, claiming he hadn’t recovered from his “induction” enough, and he felt weak.
Devon dropped his party persona long enough to look into his eyes, put his arm over his shoulders again, and say, “I know how you feel, little man. The party scene is too much for some of us. You’ll get here someday, and that’s the truth. Go with God and be a kind person. Okay, kiddo?” He smiled, put his fingers to his lips, blew him a lighthearted kiss, and released him to Amy, before turning back to the festivities and yelling, “Hoot, hoot! Don’t be a fruit!”
Anyway, the weakness was true enough, if not exactly the picture he painted for Devon and Amy. The Dactyls were howling, the air had grown cool despite the heaters, and the real problem was that Garik couldn’t tell who was real and who wasn’t.
Of course, they were all real, but which strange and eye-bending adaptation was part of the person, and which was costuming to disguise what was underneath?
It was like the Tower. He had dreamed of standing in the mall and seeing the glittering Tower crumble around him, and once he was there, it was all a lie, and not just like Marisa’s lie. He had expected it was to hide some Tower secret, but to not be there at all once he was part of the inner circle?
Then, Jantzen, all friends, and shuffling him off to another “supervisor” the first chance he got.
Did Amy also hate him? Was she playing happy face and then saying ugly things about him?
Airman Vang was better. At least he knew the man hated him, and he could deal with that.
Inside his room, he listened to the thump-thump of the lock, and it closed him in worse than any lock he’d ever heard before. He peeled his party clothes off, wishing he’d worn something comical or outrageous. At least, people might have laughed at him, like Devon, being crazy just because he could. Devon had been having a great time.
And why wasn’t the doctor surprised Garik was at the event when he learned he was with Jantzen? What reputation did Jantzen have? Good? Bad?
And the Director? How was he messed up? And did that mean Halo Sunchaser was something other than she seemed, also?
He found his way to the shower and stood under the hot water, letting it beat at his shoulders. When he knew his skin was red, he killed the water, dried off, and pulled his pajamas from under the sink, slipped them on, and stepped to the “window.” It showed nighttime, but it wasn’t the nighttime happening just over his head. Even the window was a lie. He toggled the switch to change the view, saw stars, then rain, and finally a city scene, but none of them were of Bay City, no “event” or the Dactyls or the sky that should be above him.
Not even the Corona Tower, continually shattering into silicon glitter and reforming to reveal the finished glass skyscraper ready to be destroyed all over again.
None were of his home.
And he couldn’t turn it off, just like he couldn’t turn his head off. He balled his fist and pounded the wall one time before turning to his bed, falling inside, and hitting the light switch on his bedside table.
By the door, the power connection to the electric skateboard glowed green. It was ready to go play, and yet it had never seen the light of day. Even that was a lie, not a real skateboard, just a toy to chase up and down the corridors inside the basement, following Jantzen, and never turned loose to explore on his own.
Garik squeezed his eyes tightly in the darkness, glad no one was around to see, and he brushed his face with the backs of his hands. He pictured his aunt looking into his room and seeing nothing but an empty bed, Marisa at the flower shop, cutting a fresh arrangement to fulfill yesterday’s order, and Robbie on the stairwell, his arms around his latest girlfriend. Did Robbie wonder what had happened to him? Did Irina? Did Marisa?
Or did they all believe the lies, lies, and more lies, that he was in Russia when he was right here, right where he belonged—except where he belonged was not in the Corona Tower basement. He didn’t belong here at all. He was in too deep. How could he ever get out now?
EVEN GARIK’S churning thoughts couldn’t keep him awake all night. They could, however, form the groundwork to banish him to a nightmare world as his mind tried to make sense of the things troubling him. That night, he dreamed of the silverback again, a great, hairy beast with eyes tha
t flashed with white light. Laser beams, scorching everything they touched. Garik was more scared than he had ever been, and he knew he could never win against such a frightful opponent.
A black-clothed man appeared, and he pressed something into Garik’s hand, saying, “Use it.”
Garik held the pommel of a sword, and as he lifted and turned it, it became part of his arm, an extension of his hand, as natural as curling and uncurling his fingers.
The silverback growled, beat its chest, and lifted a boulder that turned into a car. The massive animal hefted the car, locked its eyes on Garik, and chucked the machine into the air.
In his head, Garik heard, “The sword! Now!”
He thrust the pommel into the air, and from the end leaped lightning. It wrapped around the car and held it heavenward, suspended, and doing no harm to anyone at all.
The silverback beat its chest again, howled, and danced from one foot to another. It was furious, betrayed, and intended to make someone pay.
Garik trembled, even as he held the sword that had the power to keep everyone safe. Yet, for how long?
How long could he hold on before the truth came out? He was just Garik, seventeen, weak, and not prepared for this at all. He just wanted to go home.
In that moment of longing, Garik’s arm fell, the electrified sword’s light and power went wild, and the car fell tumbling to the ground. The silverback beat its chest once more, hooted in triumph, grew ever larger, and with an open fist, ran at Garik, becoming more massive with every step. Its arms were twenty feet long, its fists as big as a house. When the fist wrapped around him and began to squeeze, Garik jerked awake, back in his room and covered in sweat.
He opened his eyes and stared into the blackness, waiting too long for his heart to settle and his chest to stop heaving.
The man in black. Someone had tried to save him. Yet, Garik saw the truth the way it really was. Only one person could save him, and that was himself. And he had failed. He had dropped the sword and let everything come undone.
― 10 ―
BREAKFAST DIDN’T have the usual appeal the next morning.
Not only was Garik’s mind awash with the residue of his dreams, Jantzen appeared preoccupied.
“What?” Garik prodded him, wanting the joking, warm mentor back. He didn’t know it until then, but he had come to depend on the dark-haired man as a friend-surrogate. He didn’t know if he could ever consider him an actual friend, but he was as close as Garik was getting in this place.
“A situation.” Jantzen diddled with his food, cutting his breakfast burrito with a fork, then pushing it back, uninterested. He looked off, scanning the other diners in the cafeteria but specifically not at Garik.
“What?” Garik hit the word hard, and he felt last night’s despair rising like bile in his throat.
“Something I have to work out.” Jantzen glanced at him, caught his eyes, and turned away.
“What happened last night? That’s it, isn’t it? What can’t you say?”
“How about,” and Jantzen let a smile spread across his face, “we give you broader opportunities today?”
“My own passkey?” The possibility sent Garik’s heart into double time.
“Not so fast, my little highballer. Passkeys require directorial approval. I am working to get your door unlocked—”
“You can do that? I thought the doors always used passkeys.” No passkey, but being able to come and go? The possibility of the unexpected freedom seemed a godsend.
“Only for newbies.” Jantzen placed his hand on Garik’s wrist, winked at him, and drew his hand away. “I have something else for you today, something you might enjoy. Are you interested?”
“I don’t know, but if it keeps me from being locked in my room, probably.”
“Hold on a moment.” Jantzen stood and walked away from the table, leaving Garik stunned. It was the first time his leash had been unclipped since arriving in this place.
What did it mean?
He watched the man choose a table with several people he recognized from the previous evening. One was the woman with the mohawk, Joanie. He leaned over, spoke with her, and at one point, turned Garik’s direction and showed her where he was sitting.
She smiled, nodded, and stood. Two other people stood with her: Paolo, the man with the claw-like nails, and a pretty woman Garik didn’t recognize. They headed his direction but, notably, Jantzen didn’t.
Again, he failed to see a pattern that made sense to him. These people looked mostly normal, well, as normal as a mohawk and claws could allow a person to be. The third person, well, he would have to wait and see.
Joanie arrived first, carrying a bit of a swagger, and she pulled out a chair roughly, dropping into it. She studied Garik’s face as the other two arrived.
“Peach fuzz.” Joanie leaned forward, her forearms on the table, and she smirked. “Baby barker.”
“Be nice, Joanie.” Paolo pulled out a chair and slipped sinuously into it, spreading his hands on the table in front of him as if to announce his differences, the transformation brought on by the mixture of his DNA with another creature. He brought with him a clean, ocean smell.
“Am. Was. Will be.” Joanie’s eyes were still fixed on Garik.
“What?” Garik spat the word. It was like she was evaluating him, deciding if he was human or not, and his anger jumped to tornado level.
“Joanie,” Paolo warned a second time.
“Too human,” Joanie said, and she broke her gaze, like she had taken in all the variables, and she had made her decision. She slipped a pack of mints from a pocket, and without looking, slipped one between her lips and made the package disappear.
“Seems like a good thing to be,” Garik hurled back. He looked to the third person, trying to place her, and when she put her hand under her chin with her elbow on the table and winked at him, he knew. “Giselle, right?” He had seen her do that to Paolo last night, giving him her rapt attention. He’d wondered if they were a thing at the time, but now she was doing it to him.
“You remember. You are a sweetie, if a bit of a boy.” She winked again, and she glanced at Paolo to see how he responded to her tease.
He didn’t seem to notice.
“So, what’s wrong with being human? I thought that was the plan, to make people who are different but can pass for human.” He thought of the scene in the gaming center. Justin’s arms and Alyna’s retractable claws. Alyna might pass, but Justin, never.
Wasn’t that why he was a failed hybrid?
“Pass, not be.” Joanie turned her head to look back at their previous table. Her mohawk shifted, flexed, and resettled itself where it belonged. Jantzen was gone, but there were others still at the table, watching them, waiting, it now seemed, on Joanie. Joanie jerked her head in a “come on over” motion, and they erratically stood like pop-up toys, gathering their food trays for disposal before heading over.
“More of you?’ Garik heard himself adopting Joanie’s clipped style of speech. It gave him a bravado he didn’t really feel, one he needed to face this overwhelming assault of the Tower’s denizens. He recognized John Carter, with his height and blond hair, and Leigh and Julia, but a gothic queen he didn’t remember from the night before was new to him.
“So,” Paolo began, “what are you?”
Garik was aware of the faces, the new people standing behind the first three, the gothic queen with one elbow resting on Giselle’s shoulder, all waiting on his answer.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to discuss it.” Last night, Jantzen had hushed him. Now, Garik wasn’t sure.
“Only at the events.” That was the tall Julia. “Down here, no secrets.”
Still, Garik thought, why did it matter?
“Okay, baby barker. Already know. For you, I’ll squeal. Jellyfish.” Joanie didn’t exactly smile, but it was likely the closest Garik would get.
Garik laughed. “What’s the point in a jellyfish? They don’t do anything.”
; “Except live forever.” That was from Julia, and she popped a square of gum in her mouth. Joanie smiled, a real one this time.
“Sea cucumber.” Giselle winked and pursed her lips in a kissy-kissy tease.
“And?” Garik wanted to hear this. He didn’t think sea cucumbers were good for anything, either.
“I’ll show you sometime.” Giselle laid a pretty hand on his arm.
“Liquefaction. She can turn to water and back again.” Paolo sighed. “It’s not a secret.”
“I wanted to show him,” she pouted. “Besides, I don’t really turn to water.”
“It looks like it,” blond John barbed.
“Tell him yours, then,” Giselle vamped, sending him one of her kissy-kissies.
“Wood frog.” He looked down as if embarrassed. “I can freeze my own blood and thrive in subzero temperatures.”
“Survive, not thrive, iceman,” Giselle tittered.
“Deal with it, Giselle,” John muttered.
“Enough,” Joanie barked. “Next?”
Garik’s head was spinning. Live forever, turn to water, freezing your own blood? It was craziness!
Still, the revelations continued.
Tall Julia was blended with a boa constrictor. She boasted a built-in infrared heat detector for locating living tissue in the dark.
The gothic queen was Laura Lassere, now half dragon millipede, giving her the ability to breathe out puffs of hydrogen cyanide from specially developed pouches in her throat.
Leigh Jose was part dolphin, though she didn’t have a blowhole or the ability to swim underwater for extended periods. She could communicate via ultrasound, however.
“You,” Garik nodded toward Paolo. He looked at the man’s hands. “What caused that?”
Paolo lifted his hands and twirled them before smiling. “The remnants of my pinchers. I’m part pistol shrimp.”
Ah, the ocean smell now made sense. But pistol shrimp? Garik must have looked puzzled, because Giselle offered a teasing explanation.