by John Sharp
Chapter 13 – Surprise!
I am in trouble and I know it. My arms feel like ten pounds of metal are strapped to each one and the bruises I have already received make my movements sluggish and predictable. My opponent has no such issues, moving with the confidence of a lifetime warrior. I desperately want to strike at him, to pay him back for all he had wrought, but it’s useless. I am too far outclassed. Armored in white with a protective mask, he feints to the left and once again fall for it. Twirling like a tornado his sword hits my head with a resounding thwack and I fall to the floor for the second time.
“Halt,” comes a voice from the ring of onlookers around us.
“Victory to Steven,” the voice says.
Resigned, I roll over onto my back to see my opponent, Steven, extending his hand toward me. Letting out a long sigh I stretch out my own hand to clasp his. I don’t want to admit it but I am grateful for the assist.
“You’re getting better, Jerry,” he says, lifting his face mask. Round, full cheeks with dark, almost black, skin Steven has been my sparring partner in Kendo for the last four months. He’s much better than me but in all fairness Steven has been doing this his entire life. I only started after the great battle with Solarkar, finding my fighting skills to be lacking. I would have died if it weren’t for Whisper and Sarah.
“I’ll be happy if I could just stop spending so much time on the mat,” I reply as we both bow.
In another ring of spectators a cheer arises as two more combatants fight. Nothing of their features can be made out from the white padding and face masks, but the taller of the two is utterly dominating the other, raining blows with frightening efficiency.
Joining the rest of the spectators, Steven and I watch the fight to its conclusion. Just as I had suspected the taller of the two finishes things quickly. A round of polite applause from the rest of us and both of the fighters take off their masks. As I had suspected Sarah once again defeated all who opposed her. She really is better at this than I am. I am careful to avoid her eyes as she scans the area, eager for more opponents. I don’t want her to pick me to spar with. She has already beaten me soundly twice today.
“Line up,” comes the instructor’s command. We do so with me being the newest and lowest ranking at the very back with Sarah just in front of me. While our space is only one apart she was already better than many several ranks above her. At the front stands the instructor, an elderly man with a bald head and a long white beard. He has a slight shake to his hands that only seems to stop when he grips a sword. Then he becomes a mountain, unmoving against any foe. Next to him is Steven, much younger but no less able, having already achieved the rank of master.
We wind down the session with a series of stretches and exercises. I have a hard time focusing with Sarah bending right in front of me. When I awoke after the battle with Solarkar and Hivetung, Sarah had wrapped her arms around me tightly sobbing in relief. Confused, it was only then I noticed that I was in the tunnel at the shift point. I had been unconscious for nearly a day. Everyone had been nervous since I was their ticket home. Even now, months later her tight hold on me back then sends me blushing.
“Dismissed.” Comes the command and we all bow, saying ‘thank you, Sensei.’ Heading over to her duffel bag right next to mine, Sarah withdraws a large thermos containing that brown liquid that she holds so dear. I don’t see her eat much. I think she has evolved to the point where she can survive solely on coffee, deriving all essential nutrition from that one source.
“I have to swing by the station before I drive you home,” Sarah says after several large gulps. “More paper work for the tunnel fiasco.” Nodding in understanding I grab my own bag, heading off to the men’s changing room.
Fiasco is an understatement. Since I was unconscious for over a day the cleanup work in the tunnel had already begun. In a way it was convenient since this granted me more space to shift but the presence of so many made it impossible to do secretly. I’m fairly certain that doctors at Greenbroch Mental Institution are helping a few workers out with a heavy combination of mind altering medication and patronizing bullshit. Both of which they have in plenty. Sarah handled things well, not even bothering to answer questions directed at us. Using her police authority she gets me to the hospital and help for all the ferrets, convincing all those involved that it was critical to an ongoing investigation. I have no idea how the hell she convinced everyone of that. But as l have noticed time and time again that if the answer doesn’t fit people’s perceived notions of reality then they will accept ludicrous responses, anything to keep things within the limits of their understanding.
Stripping down to my shorts I examine my arms and the various bruises I had collected today. Most courtesy of Sarah. Putting on a pair of blue jeans and a cream colored shirt I walk over to the sink where Steven is busy washing his face. Looking in the mirror I promptly ignore the men using the urinal just a short distance away focusing instead on my face. I have put on weight, my face filling out which isn’t a bad thing since I was already emaciated from my youth. My copper hair is a sticky mess, stuck in clumps from sweat. Imitating Steven, I wash my face, combing my hair quickly with my fingers and feeling marginally better. Studying my reflection I am invariably drawn to my eyes, the same eyes that Solarkar had. I wonder for the millionth time since the fight if he is still alive? Did he bleed to death from Sarah’s blow or did he recover and even now plotting his revenge? When we first met he had called me an interfering gnat. Someone to be effortlessly swatted aside who posed no real threat. Somehow I doubt he still consider me to be such.
“Your girlfriend is getting really good,” Steven says, giving me a sly smile.
I feel myself blush. “She’s not my girlfriend,” I reply automatically, although we have been spending a lot of time together.
“Yet,” Steven counters.
“She might be waiting for me to finally beat her,” I say jokingly.
“Nah,” Steven says. “If that was the case it could be decades.” He laughs as I give him a scowl, knowing full well he’s right.
“Still, I’ve never seen anyone so determined before,” continues Steven. “It’s like she thinks her life may depend on it instead of that gun she carries.”
I say nothing, knowing it’s impossible to tell him that might actually be true. With Shifters Incorporated’s help, vision seems to have met its demise. While I slept Sarah had put the Bartendor clan to good work, destroying everything in the entire hive that they could reach. A few cases showed up from the dwindling street supply but nothing in the last month. Regular visits to the warehouse occupying the same place as the hivetung hive have shown that the hivetung are continuing with their lives with no trace of Solarkar to be found. I want to go back in to double check but all the underground tunnels now have sigil stones lining them. Was it Solarkar? In either case it’s over, at least for now. Fetching my black trench coat I head out of the locker room, putting it on as I go. Calling over my shoulder I say, “See you later, Steven.”
“Bye, Jerry,” he calls back.
Sarah is bundled up by the exit, looking like her mother had dressed her to survive an arctic storm. She has a thick white, fleece winter jacket that doubles her size along with a poof ball hat, thick pants, and knee high snow boots. Most important of all, at least to her, she has an extra-large coffee, fresh from the snack counter just around the corner. She is ready to travel miles on foot in subzero winter weather. Compared to her I am severely underdressed. In truth the cold has never bothered me much. I typically wear the same thing winter and summer with the occasional sweater when it got really cold.
“You will catch your death of cold out there,” she says as I approached. She has been preaching the same thing for weeks now, ever since winter set in.
“Unlikely,” I say grinning. “I think you will end up beating me to death first.”
“You were sluggish toda
y. The ferrets keeping you up at night again? Perhaps you should try coffee. It solves everything.” She takes a long pull from hers.
“Yeah, they were re-enacting the Battle of Helms Deep last night,” I say with a yawn. The fourteen surviving young of the Bartendor clan are recovering swiftly thanks to human medicine and the care of Whisper and a small number of Bartendor clan mothers. After the battle, Machadohunter left their young in my care, sending four clan mothers and two hunters to stay with me to help as best they could. It seemed overkill at the time. The first few weeks were easy. It was mostly spoon-feeding the young, with regular cleanings and bandage changing’s followed by long periods of rest. Once their muscles recovered and fur had re-grown I found six helpers to be woefully insufficient. They get into everything. If I had thought the curiosity of Whisper and the adult Bartendor clan was bad, then the young were leagues beyond them. In my foolishness I had thought getting audio books might alleviate their boredom since, like me, they can’t see the TV. Oh, how absolutely wrong I was. Now they are regularly acting out their favorite scenes, destroying nearly everything in the process. I’ve had to move apartments more than once already. Their attempts to mimic musicals are the worst, reaching into decibel levels previously unknown to man. I nearly fled the apartment along with my shadow. I have my limits.
“I got some more used books for them,” Sarah says.
The Bartendor clan’s hunger for stories is so great that Sarah and I have been giving them reading and, strangely enough, writing lessons. Books survive being shifted fairly well, suffering only minor damage in crossing realities. At their insistent requests I am gathering a large number of books for their return trip next week. Soon the works of Stephen King might become gospel in another world along with Sesame Street. I’m not sure which of the two possibilities I find more disturbing.
Their writing lessons are slower as they carve letters into wood, using their claws in preparation for returning home. Whisper, who is staying with me despite the pleas of his fellows, has an easier time learning to use my laptop with Brick. It’s an odd combination. Brick can see the screen while Whisper can use the keyboard. He briefly tried typing with his tongue. That was really creepy and left the keyboard sticky. So they work in unison. Whisper types while Brick gives instructions. It was slow going but they are gradually improving. “Thanks, I’m sure they will appreciate that,” I say.
“Are you going to miss them?” Sarah asks.
I think for a moment. “I guess so. I won’t miss the chaos they cause but I’ve never had so many…” I hesitate, searching for the right word. “Friends before.” The word sounds weird on my tongue, as if the syllables are foreign. I have friends besides Whisper and Brick now, lots of them. I feel giddy.
Opening the front door of the dojo I am assaulted by a gust of cold air that sends Sarah burrowing into the depths of her coat and which I promptly ignore. Winter has come with a vengeance, covering the landscape in several feet of compressed, wet snow. People scuttle to and fro, scraping ice off cars and waddling like penguins as strong gusts of winds blow loose snow in their faces. Stepping out into the cold I take a deep breath, enjoying the cool Chicago air as it chills my lungs. Sarah curses, keeping an iron grip on her coffee. We walk together down to her car which is hard to find buried by the ceaseless snowfall all around us. After several minutes of experiencing the joy of snow removal the car is free and we are on our way, the radio playing classical music that Sarah had introduced me to.
“Any luck getting your license yet?” Sarah asks still all bundled up even with hot air from the heater cooking the air around us. She doesn’t look at me but instead squints out the windshield through a tiny rectangle free of frost in the center of her vision. One hand on the wheel the other on her coffee.
“No. They won’t even seriously consider my application. They are afraid I would see a monster or something and crash,” I say sadly.
“Would you?” Asks Sarah.
“Possibly,” I admit. “But I’m getting better at focusing on one world at a time.”
“I’ll see if I can pull some strings for you,” Sarah says, giving me a quick smile before narrowing her eyes back at the road.
“Thanks,” I say, touched.
We pull into the police station parking lot a short time later. The sun is barely visible behind thick clouds that keep up a constant stream of snow. Turning off the car Sarah doesn’t immediately run in and fetch her paperwork.
“This will only take a minute,” she says making no move to get out. Perhaps she is colder than I thought. Taking a pull from her coffee she sets it down in the holder which I instantly take to be a sign of trouble ahead.
“Jerry, you have helped me so much with Solarkar and vision. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here,” she says with her eyes directed away from me, peering through the small clear spot in the window which is rapidly icing over.
Embarrassed, I search my brain for something deep and meaningful to say but only manage a feeble response. “Well, I had too. Without your support all the coffee brewers in the city might face bankruptcy.” It was a lame joke that doesn’t break the ice of her strange mood at all. I have no clue what’s going on.
“I’m serious. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yes, sorry. I’ve never had a human friend before I’m not sure how to act at times,” I reply, looking down at my shoes. I really like these shoes, covered with snow as they are. Perhaps I should clean them off and tie them again. They could also use a good shine.
“You’re utterly clueless about women aren’t you,” she says, a tinge of exasperation in her voice. If I had thought I was embarrassed before I now reach new and unimagined heights. I haven’t felt anything like this before, unless I count the time my shadow pulled off my pants, underwear included, while I was giving a class presentation. I think this might be worse.
“Sorry, I haven’t ever really talked with a girl since the first grade when they thought my eyes were neat. Not counting the nurses at the mental institution of course,” I add and then cursed myself. I really am bad at this. Perhaps everything will solve itself if I continue to study my shoes.
“With vision gone and me getting a lot of the credit I got a few job offers in Washington,” Sarah says, her voice low.
That startles me. Glancing up I find her staring at me with those intense blue eyes. During the time I had been scientifically examining my footwear she had moved closer to me, our bodies now only a foot apart. I don’t know what to say or do. I can feel my stomach churning. Sweat gathers in all the wrong places despite the cold and my lack of proper clothing. I have no idea what to say or do with Sarah’s revelation.
She however, has no such confusion. It’squick and wonderful. One moment I am sitting there confused, and the next our lips are pressed together.
“Well, one of us has to know what they are doing,” she says. Before the event could fully register with my brain she is out the door trudging through the blowing snow to the station.
“That was utterly disgusting. All these happy feelings you have been experiencing lately are making me nauseated,” my shadow says from the car ceiling. Ignoring him I touch my lips, unable to believe what just happened. In my entire life I had never have such affection from another human being. I feel a wolfish smile cross my face.
“It won’t last,” my shadow promises. He doesn’t say it to be cruel for a change. He says it more like prophecy.
“I don’t care,” I reply, feeling all warm inside despite my shadow’s words. “I have it now. That’s all that matters.” I try desperately to believe my own words.
The ride back to my place isn’t uncomfortable as I first feared it might be after our kiss. It’s welcome, almost pleasant, as each of us reflect on possible futures and our own personal feelings. Wordlessly we exit the car, climbing up two flights of stairs to my temporary apartment.
My thoughts blur with lighting speed as we climb up the exposed stair case to my third floor home. Should I send out the ferrets to play in the snow so we can be alone? Again the confusion of what to do is nearly overwhelming. Normally Brick would be out here watching the entrance. Confused as I am I fail to notice his absence and its significance. As a result I am taken completely by surprise when I open the door.
The interior is pitch black and utterly silent like a crypt at night. That’s not right. The Bartendor clan young should have been chasing each other, declaring victory for Robin Hood or performing a ABC sing-along with Elmo. Silence isn’t right, something is very wrong. Still numb from Sarah’s kiss I foolishly turn on the lights only to receive the biggest shock of my life.
“SURPRISE!” Comes an echoing boom from all directions. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JERRY!”
Absolutely stunned I just stand there, speechless for a second before a laughing Sarah pushes me inside, closing the door behind her. Is it my birthday? I’ve never even celebrated it once in my entire life and I didn’t think anyone even knew it. To me it’s just another day, nothing special at all. Before me are colored paper cut-outs of various decorations hanging all over the place. Balloons are everywhere with the young of the Bartendor clan trying to catching them as they slowly drift about on the floor. Brick sticks out of the far wall, blowing up more balloons. He appears to have a mouth full and can blow them up and tie them in his mouth before spitting it out and starting on another. Rather impressive. Whisper is on the kitchen counter along with the other six adults, staying safely out of the way of the rampaging younglings.
“I’ll get the cake from the car trunk. I’ll be right back,” Sarah says, grinning at me. “Oh man, Jerry, the look on your face! Yes, that one right there!” Again she laughs as she exits the room, closing me in with the excited ferrets. Not trusting my legs I sit down at the table Whisper stands on. Instantly he comes over, pressing his furry face against mine.
“How did you do this?” I ask, not really believing my eyes. I had an easier time believing in sentient shadows and talking walls than the fact I could be thrown a birthday party.
“It was all Sarah’s idea. She knew your birthday from the paperwork and made arrangements with me through my facebook page.” He gives me a reproachful look. “I never knew you humans celebrated birthdays. You should have told me, Shifter. I would have done something years ago.” Absently I stroke his soft, white fur.
“I’ve never had one. My mother didn’t even bother to tell me when it was. I didn’t find out until I was twelve or so,” I say numbly. Sarah did this…for me? I guess it was easy for her to find out the date from my rather extensive police paperwork.
Another balloon is launched by Brick to a chorus of youthful ferrets, erupting in glee as they chase the new balloon. Its blissful chaos and I smile. The door opens again and Sarah comes in carrying a large cake in both hands along with a bag trailing from her arm. Rushing to her side I grab the cake as she shuts the door. Setting the cake down on the table I look at the frosting and laugh long and hard. On it is an individual with copper hair chasing a green haired individual with a wooden paddle. Under the picture are the words ‘Happy B-day, Shifter!’ I have never been so happy in my entire life.
Setting down her bag Sarah takes out several paper plates and tubs of ice cream. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek that sends me blushing along with a bombardment of cat calls… err ferret calls from all directions. Sarah barely has time to start cutting the cake when the young ferrets swarm us, eager for sugary goodness. Laughter fills the night as frosting covered ferrets fueled by pure sugar reach new and almost nuclear levels of destruction. It’s great. Even the adult ferrets join in, not bothering the impossible task of controlling their young but instead enjoying their own sugar high. Perhaps it would be easier to move out than to clean up the mess. Let the owner keep the deposit, they would need all of it.
As with all things in life the night has to end but it will be something I will always remember. My favorite part was the game the young ferrets invented. Pin the tail on the shadow, who did not enjoy the game at all. They chased him all around the room with needles in their mouths as he spouted colorful curses at them, not deterring them in the least. Finally, having enough he left by the window, probably weakened to nearly death by all the merriment. Sarah leaves a short time after for an early morning meeting the next day and I am left to the task of controlling sugar high ferrets. A hopeless venture.
They run and play all night long but I don’t mind the sleepless night. I am just too happy. The future feels golden and pure, especially after Sarah asked if I would consider going with her to Washington if she took the job, as an advisor, of course. My skills are just too valuable to waste according to her. It all feels perfect until Brick comes by three days after the Bartendor clan returned home with three little words that ruin everything.
“Solarkar has Sarah.”