The Serophim Breach (The Serophim Breach Series)

by Tracy Serpa

  “Well, it sounds like they might diagnose Alzheimer’s, but they’re not sure. So don’t say anything to her yet, okay?”

  “Cool!” she said, moving the mouthpiece away from her face and smiling at Lani. She mouthed, “You’re staying another night” and put on an excited grin. Lani smiled back weakly and began picking at her barely dry nail polish.

  A garbled announcement from the airport terminal buzzed in Sarah’s ear, and her dad listened for a moment before saying, “All right, kiddo. I’ll see you Sunday. Keep an eye on your brothers.”

  Sarah laughed and said good-bye. As soon as she hung up the phone, Lani crossed her arms over her stomach.

  “I’m starving,” she said, widening her eyes to indicate she had just realized her predicament.

  Sarah jumped up and headed for the bookshelf, where she lifted a paperweight off a small stack of bills. Gathering them up, she spread them in a fan and turned to face her friend. She grinned mischievously, narrowing her eyes.

  “My dad left all the food money with me. Want to order in?”

  Lani’s smile was real this time. Her eyes brightened as she said, “Jeremy works at that Chinese place. I’m pretty sure he does the deliveries.”

  Scooping up the phone, Sarah offered it to Lani with a lift of her eyebrow.

  “You want to call?”

  ~

  As they pulled up to the beach, Paul let out a whoop at the sight of cresting whitecaps and a half-empty shoreline. Their favorite surf spot had recently gotten the attention of some local water-sports schools, and more often than not, Paul and his friends spent half their time on the water avoiding tourists trying to balance atop monstrous longboards. But today the beach was relatively empty; Paul thought maybe the size of the breakers was keeping the mainlanders closer in to Waikiki for the time being.

  Despite the angry-looking surf, it was a particularly languid afternoon. The sky was mottled with benign white clouds that sent shadows drifting over the sunbathers. Behind them, darker clouds were beginning to form around the mountain, but a few good hours remained before they would get near the beach.

  Ten minutes after they parked, Greg was standing at the showers filling a bucket with water. Jones and Derrick pulled on their rash guards while Paul waxed his board. Boomer had stumbled over to a patch of nearby grass and sat with his back against a palm tree. He threw his arm across his face again, his mouth hanging open limply. Greg lugged the bucket back to his truck and started washing bits of barf off his seat and into the gutter.

  “You got it everywhere,” he said over his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I feel like shit,” Boomer mumbled.

  “You’re going to get it detailed.”

  Boomer didn’t answer. Paul glanced over at him, pulling his rash guard over his head. He was wondering whether he should sit with Boomer for a while when he heard Jones behind him.

  “Hey, Paul?” Jones said. His voice sounded urgent. Paul turned to find his friend standing with a bottle of sunscreen between his thighs. He made a squealing noise, screwed up his face, and squeezed his legs together. A stream of sunscreen hit Paul on the chest, and Derrick leaped up and slapped the glob, sending spatters of SPF 30 all over the pavement.

  Jones was still laughing uncontrollably when Derrick pulled the bucket of chicken from the back of the truck. He rifled through the pieces briefly before he pulled a face.

  “Hey, man, shouldn’t there be twelve pieces in here? There’s like . . . three thighs.”

  Paul sighed. “Fat Lani’s at the house. She dug in this morning.”

  “Lani’s at the house, huh?” Jones chimed in.

  “All the time. She’s Sarah’s best friend,” Paul answered meaningfully. He glanced up and did his best to give a threatening look.

  Derrick chuckled as he pulled his board from the truck. “That’s not going to stop Jonesy.”

  Jones shrugged. “It might. Not.” He grinned and swiveled his hips.

  Paul grimaced. “Sick, dude. She’s sixteen.”

  “That’s only five years. My dad is, like, fifteen years older than my mom.” Jones squatted and attached his ankle strap.

  “By that logic, toddlers are fair game,” said Greg. He dumped the last of the water on his floorboards and tossed the bucket in the backseat.

  “I’m sick of bickering with you bitches.” Jones hefted his board onto his hip. “Pull up your skirts and let’s surf.”

  Paul picked up his board, following his friends. He stopped next to Boomer, who still lay against the tree with his forearm across his eyes. His lips were almost the same color as his skin, and his teeth were beginning to chatter.

  “You gonna make it, Boom?” Paul asked.

  Boomer swallowed hard and nodded weakly. “I’ll be out in a sec. Probably just need some water.”

  “Lame!” Jones shouted over his shoulder.

  Greg fished his wax and a PowerBar out from under his seat. He tossed the snack at Boomer and motioned for Paul to head to the water. “I’ll get him some water before I head out,” he said. From the beach they heard Jones yell, “Man up!” Greg grinned, crouching over his board.

  Paul caught up just as Jones was saying, “Is it just me, or is everyone on their periods right now?” He surveyed the water with an exaggerated expression of concern. “Hope there aren’t any sharks out today. They’ll smell the blood for sure.” A huge smile broke across his face, and he threw a fist into the air victoriously. “Zing!”

  ~

  The street was quiet and still as Kai pulled the truck up alongside the curb in front of Trent’s house. A small shiver ran down his back; he always got the feeling of being watched in this neighborhood.

  “You want me to leave the engine on?” he asked Brandon. “It’ll only take a second.”

  Brandon was staring straight out the front window, mouth drawn tight. He shook his head tersely. Fighting down the feeling of resentment, Kai snatched the keys out of the ignition and opened his door just as Brandon said, “I don’t get this. What are you doing?”

  Kai put his hands back on the steering wheel and squeezed, hoping to vent some of his frustration. Under his breath, he repeated, “You don’t get this.”

  They were both silent for one brief second as Kai tried to control his breathing. Then he spoke, saying, “I don’t get it either, man. Dad tells me you’ve convinced him to expand. He’s going to buy that land the Kaapulis put up for sale. We can’t even plant our own plot!”

  Shifting to face him, Brandon’s tone was defensive. “I told Gary about this technology that Purdue—”

  “Technology costs money, Brandon. Land costs money. Seed, water . . . Sarah’s still in high school—she has dances and sports. She’s going to be sixteen soon, and Dad’s talking about trying to get her a car.”

  His brother lifted his hands as if he was displaying the obvious and said, “It’s a one-year investment that will end up paying for itself!”

  Something in Kai snapped, and the well of resentment that he had harbored longer than he cared to admit boiled over. His voice raised, he pointed an accusing finger at his brother, and he said, “Did you know Dad pays you more? Because you’re paying for your student loans.”

  The blank look on Brandon’s face only infuriated him more. He scoffed and moved to get out of the car. Brandon swallowed hard, then said, “The three of us—”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” Kai cut him off and slammed the door. There was no answer from Brandon as he stalked away toward the house. He did his best to compose himself before knocking, not wanting to be faced with any questions from the ever-increasingly paranoid Trent. He rapped on the shabby front door three times, but received no answer. The doorbell had been broken for months, so he tried the handle and found it unlocked.

  Stepping into Trent’s house always set Kai’s nerves on edge. It reminded him of the only time he had gone swimming in the ocean before the sun rose over the island, and the normally clear water was murky beneath his feet. Tod
ay, Trent’s house was darker than usual. The desk lamp was off, and the television was partially obscured by a couch cushion leaning against the screen. Kai glanced around before stepping farther in. From the hallway he could see the living room and kitchen, both cluttered with food wrappers and beer cans.

  “Trent!” he called halfheartedly. He stepped around a folding chair in the hallway and began picking his way through the debris that littered the floor. The house normally stank of cigarettes and unwashed bodies, but today there was another stronger, sour odor that made it hard to breathe. Kai tried sucking shallow breaths through his mouth to avoid experiencing the stench, but it was so thick in the air, he found he could taste it with every inhalation. He headed toward the kitchen, breathing gingerly.

  “Trent, you here man?” he called again. Except for the murmur of the television, the house was quiet. Stepping over a box of old cans, beer bottles, and newspapers that blocked the way into the kitchen, he opened the first cabinet on his left and pulled the Cap’n Crunch box out from a tightly packed row of sugary cereals. Inside, there was an envelope and five rubber-band- wrapped stacks of tickets. A familiar feeling of repugnance crept up from Kai’s stomach and sat bitterly in the back of his throat.

  He and Trent had been great friends from an early age, attending the same elementary and middle schools. Once they started high school, however, their paths had split, and before long they occupied diametrically opposed levels of the social strata. Kai’s baseball prowess made him a jock, but he was also successful in the classroom; everyone liked him, including his teachers. Trent became one of the kids who wore black and ate lunch near the planters in the parking lot. He had been suspended more than once for getting caught with drug paraphernalia.

  They had run into each other three years after graduation, and Trent had offered Kai “a fix for his money problems” if he ever wanted one. Things hadn’t gotten desperate enough for Kai to consider the offer seriously until Sarah got invited to prom in April. His father hadn’t expected her to go her sophomore year, and so had not budgeted enough money for a gown. When she asked, Kai told her he had some emergency funds saved up, and prom qualified as an expense. That night, he had called Trent, saying, “Just not drugs, man. You got something else for me to do?”

  He had ended up scalping tickets to sporting events, theater shows, and hiking tours, and day passes to snorkeling coves, anything that Trent got for cheap that could be sold to tourists for a profit. Kai did his best to ignore the fact that the money all went to the same place. He had managed to get Sarah the $275 dress she had found online, and chipped in for a limo as well.

  He closed the cereal box top again, and then left a sticky note that read:

  “Picked up for next week. —K”

  Tucking the box under his arm, he started back toward the front door. As he passed the kitchen table, the stench of regurgitated alcohol and food thickened, and he caught sight of a pile of vomit on the floor. Letting his breath out in a slow hiss, Kai tried to control the urge to retch as he moved carefully toward the front door. His eyes were now better adjusted to the dim interior, and he noticed dark spots in the vomit and spattered on the wall. The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he realized it was blood. There were a lot of possible explanations, and none of them were good: an overdose, a robbery, a murder . . . everything Kai could think of involved the authorities.

  He took two long strides to the front door, yanked it open, and rushed out onto the front lawn. In the truck, Brandon was sitting up and leaning slightly out of his window to look down the street. Following his gaze, Kai saw that the clouds had moved down from the hilltop quickly, diffusing the sunlight with the first tendrils of gray mist. The front door to the house slammed shut behind him, and they both jumped. Brandon swung around and squinted at Kai.

  He held up the cereal box for his brother to see. “Got it,” he said flatly.

  Brandon nodded. “Good. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he called back, looking down at the rearview mirror. Kai was still a few feet from the truck when an eerie cry lifted into the air, echoing from the next street over. The sound stopped Kai in his tracks, and Brandon swung around to look behind them, his eyes wide.

  “You hear that?” Brandon said quietly. “Someone keeps screaming. Then it gets quiet. It’s making my skin crawl.” He put his hand on the back of his neck to demonstrate, chuckling nervously. Kai watched his brother and listened for a long moment with his breath held. After a few seconds, he realized that it was almost completely silent in the neighborhood. The approaching storm was tangible in the atmosphere, making it feel heavy, pressurized; the only sound came from bits of trash scratching down the sidewalk, pushed by a temperamental breeze.

  When the scream came from behind Trent’s house, Kai felt as though an electric current passed through his body. One moment everything around them was quiet, almost anticipatory, and then the same shrill cry ripped through the air. It was as though the sound knocked the wind out of him, the sound of an animal caught in a trap—a wail of confusion, fear, panic, and wild pain. Kai turned to face the house just as Trent appeared at the side gate.

  His old friend’s eyes rolled in his head, and his shirt was covered in dark filth. He shivered like he had just stepped out of an ice bath, and the right side of his head, neck, and chest were covered in dark red blood; his right eyebrow and the skin around it had been ripped violently away, exposing the bone.

  Kai’s mind was empty for a moment. Dimly, he heard himself yell, “Trent?” but he neither felt the vibration of his voice in his throat nor understood why he had called his friend’s name. He took a few lurching steps away from the truck, putting his hands to his head. Something in his head told him he should call an ambulance just as the wounded man issued another howl of pain, but he was finding it difficult to move. Then Trent charged.

  He came sprinting across the lawn, face contorted in pain and rage, eyes locked on Kai. Kai retreated with faltering steps, and a quiet voice in his head wondered why he was reacting so slowly. As the distance between them closed, he saw that Trent’s left eye bulged out more than his right, and a gaping wound ran from the right corner of his mouth to his nostril. Several teeth were missing from bloodied gums, as if he had been in some horrible fight. Kai was frozen in horror, unable to react to the tiny part of his brain that screamed at him to run. In his peripheral vision, he saw Brandon come scrambling around the back of the truck and lunge toward him as well.

  Trent was only a few feet away when Brandon grabbed Kai by his shirt and hurled him back against the driver’s side door. Searing pain exploded in Kai’s rib cage where he struck the mirror, sending him crumbling to his knees, his lungs contracting savagely against the pain. Above him, Trent tackled Brandon, grabbing him by the neck and arm and slamming him into the side of the truck. The dealer was taller and heavier than Brandon, and pinned him in place easily. His brother swung his free arm at his attacker trying to break his hold, but Trent absorbed the blows as if they came from a child. One blow landed squarely on the bigger man’s nose, and Trent screamed in Brandon’s face, his eyes lolling in his head; then he sank his teeth into Brandon’s cheek. Kai heard his brother’s cry of pain mingle with Trent’s growls as he scraped his teeth across Brandon’s forehead and a strip of flesh came away, allowing a thick stream of blood to pulse out over his brother’s eyes. Brandon’s struggling turned to panic, and he thrashed against his attacker blindly, screaming for help. Kai watched from his knees, paralyzed, his own body screaming for oxygen.

  Finally, the first gulp of air reached his lungs, and he flopped forward onto his stomach. Brandon’s screams were getting louder, desperate; they nearly drowned out the sound of the metal truck caving to the weight of their bodies, Trent’s guttural howls, and his own gasping breath. Kai focused on the cries, shoving aside the searing pain in his chest as he reached out for the dealer’s leg; he wrapped his hands around Trent’s ankle and yanked with all his strength. A huge weight collapsed on top of
him, and Trent’s skull cracked sickeningly against the curb.

  The air coming more steadily now, Kai heaved Trent’s body off him and scrambled to his brother, who was sinking to the ground against the truck. Blood covered his face, droplets hanging on his lips, quivering as he sobbed. Kai wiped some of the blood from Brandon’s eyes, trying not to panic at the sight of the horrific wounds.

  He tried to reassure his brother, but his mind was empty of words. All he could do was gape back as Brandon watched him with wild eyes, hyperventilating. His hands were shaking, clutching for Kai’s shirt, his mouth working as he let out tiny, terrified moans.

  “It’s okay,” was all Kai could manage to croak hoarsely.

  He didn’t hear Trent get back up, but suddenly the weight of another body crashed into him, pinning him against Brandon and Brandon against the truck. The sound of the dealer’s mouth next to his ear was terrifying; he snapped his teeth and growled like a rabid animal, flecks of saliva and blood spattering along Kai’s cheek. His brother screamed into his face as he screwed his eyes shut, and a fresh welling of blood oozed down his cheek. Trent latched onto Brandon’s neck as Kai set his hands against the truck and shoved, throwing Trent back onto the sidewalk. His brother screamed again as a piece of skin on his neck tore away in Trent’s jaws.

  Kai scrambled up to see Trent in convulsions on the ground, a choking sound coming from his chest. Whimpering, Brandon’s eyes rolled back, and he slumped to the ground as well, curling into a ball. Suddenly, another voice lifted in a howl of rage, and Kai fell to his knees next to Trent’s convulsing body, clasping his hands into one fist and slamming them against the dealer’s skull. The impact sent a jolt of electricity through his hands, rocketing up into his wrists and elbows, but the part of his mind that felt pain had separated away from the rest, and suddenly he was lifting his clenching fists again.

  When his vision cleared, he was kneeling between two growing pools of blood. To his right, Trent’s body lay still, the left side of his skull caved in. To his left, Brandon was shivering on the ground, his face pressed into his arms.