Negative Film (Star Child: Places of Power Book 2)

by Leonard Petracci

“Left, a little more left,” Lola instructed. “No, not that much!”

  “I’m trying, but you’re just a little distracting,” I answered, doing my best not to look at her. Or rather, the half of her that was visible, split directly down the center. With one eye in the other side and one eye in our world, she could watch my actions in both, guiding my power to activate the machine. “And, Lucio, you’re not making this any easier.”

  Lucio pulled a face from his perch ten feet away, replacing the look of horrified fascination as he peered into Lola’s brain, watching the blood vessels on her neck pulse and half her tongue move as she talked. He’d been sitting there for several minutes as we worked, transfixed, and certainly not willing to come any closer.

  During that time, Lola guided me as I stood in the center of Peregrine’s teleportation device, where there had once been a table for the purpose of creating environmental births. The doors surrounded me, each one disappearing in static, but I was focused on only one of them now. Tilting and adjusting space to connect to the dark tubes I had seen just beyond, when we had entered Lola’s world.

  “Plus it’s rude,” she said.

  “Can’t you do something a more, well, natural?” I grumbled, and shifted my stance, my stomach rearing up in protest.

  “I can always feel the other side,” she said, squinting as she studied something invisible to me. “Tangibility is how I make sure I don’t materialize inside a wall. Lesser Transients can have the most unfortunate accidents. But no, for this, I need full visibility. It’s too complex. Alright, SC, now push just imperceptibly up, slowly, and there!”

  Within the space in front of me, I felt something click into place, and the door was replaced by blackness instead of static.

  “From what I can tell, you’re connected to the main. This entire contraption is like one massive tree branch — you’re at the base, and we’ll need to decide which path you’ll have to open.”

  “And how, exactly, do we do that?” I asked.

  “I can see which direction they go, so that’s a start. We’ll want south. How do you think Peregrine was able to do it?”

  “Considering he engineered the thing from the ground up, I don’t think he left an instruction manual lying around,” I said, closing my eyes. “To him, it was probably second nature.”

  “Well then,” she sniffed. “It’ll have to be trial and error. The scientific method. The locations will likely be grouped, so we just need to find the right region. From there, we’ll just have to keep opening doors.”

  “Great, south,” I grumbled. “That means only half the doors are left. How many locations are there anyways? I’m going to need a bucket if there are any more than ten.”

  “Can’t tell, but it’s a lot. Besides, at a decay rate of half each time, mathematically, we should arrive at an answer exponentially quick. Dividing by two each time will—”

  “No!” said Lucio, pointing a finger at her. “I’ll tolerate you living here with us with your power, and I’ll tolerate half of your brains hanging out right now. But I escaped school for a reason, and I will not tolerate you bringing math here!”

  Chapter 33

  I stumbled, the room spinning as I completed the connection through the tunnel, the force of the ends snapping into place nearly sending me sprawling. My head buzzed with static as the fabric of reality frayed apart, the hole through it unnatural, wrong. And when I opened my eyes, the doorway revealed the roof of a warehouse with a cityscape far below.

  “I need a break,” I gasped, hands on my knees. “Besides, this makes a good stopping point.”

  “Not perfect, but it’ll work,” said Lucio, peering through the doorway while Lola marked a poster board with a marker. Her drawing resembled a partially drawn tree, with each of the branch tips labelled, though there were far more unfinished strands than capped ones. Prairie, Swamp, Seaside, and Equatorial were among the few words I could see as Lola directed the slow march to the Amazon, and each brought a fit of nausea with their memory. We were heading south— or so we hoped, our inference based mainly upon temperatures and the occasional landmark that one of us recognized. The city would be much easier to mark on the map.

  “We’ll need to pass through one by one,” I stated, gesturing to the doorway. “There’s a pretty large height difference here; it’s a lot higher up than us. Jump through without my help and you’ll end up a block of frozen ice on the other side.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to get Peregrined,” Lucio said, and my ears burned as I looked away. I heard Darian slap him but pretended not to notice, instead focusing on the doorway. In school, we’d learned about locks used in canals to raise boats to different water levels— here, I would need to do the same thing, but with space.

  “Who wants to go first?” I asked and was met by empty stares.

  “How sure are you that this will work?” asked Lucio.

  “Ninety percent,” I answered. “But if something goes wrong, I’ll get you out before there’s serious damage.”

  Blank stares and silence met that statement.

  “Ya cowards,” said Slugger when no one moved forwards. “I suppose I’ll be stepping up to the plate.”

  He sauntered in front of the doorway, standing just inches away from the portal, and extended his index finger to the area where it converged. Slowly, he pushed the tip through and swiped downwards, pulling outwards to reveal a coating of frost over his nail surrounded by purple skin.

  “Just don’t let the rest of me be like this, SC,” he said, shaking the finger in a miniature flurry of snow. “I don’t mind missing a bit of skin. An arm is a different story.”

  “Then don’t move until I tell you to,” I answered, then focused through the door. I could feel the sharp distortion that created a plane between us and the city, like a wall that stretched upwards hundreds of feet, or a staircase with impossibly high intervals. With a slow breath outwards, I pressed down on the differential from the city, dropping it until there was no longer a gap.

  “Alright, walk on through, then wait. No matter what, don’t come back through the door or you’ll be charcoal.”

  “Reassuring,” stated Slugger, then he drew his finger across the gap again. But no ice formed, and it passed through without resistance. Taking a baseball from his pocket, he tossed it through the gap, watching as it bounced along the top of the warehouse roof and came to a rest five feet away. Then he paused, throwing back his shoulders with his chin raised. He approached the barrier, and the group held their breath as my hands started to shake.

  “Any time now, Slugger,” I said. “Can’t hold this forever.”

  And he strode through without flinching.

  For a moment, he was still, then he turned, raising a hand with a smile.

  “Oi, felt nothing. We good, SC?”

  “No, I’ll need to raise you up—don’t move or you’ll leave my protection. Here’s the tricky part—it might feel weird, but don’t panic.”

  “Again, real reassuring, SC. Might want to keep that to yourself in the future, I’d rather die in ignorance. Some of us have all the luck,” he said with a pointed look at Lucio.

  Slowly, I released my grip on the space around Slugger, letting him rise back to the natural state of the city warehouse. With Slugger’s added mass, keeping a grip on the space was like trying to hold on to a slicked weightlifting plate. With a minor slip, it would come crashing down, and Slugger would come down with it.

  “Feels like I’m riding an elevator,” Slugger said. “Starting to pop my ears. Hoping that’s right, SC?”

  “Never done it before, but so long as you feel like you’re going up, I’d say yes. Stopping in just a moment. Ready— now. Go on, step forwards, and keep away from the door.”

  “It makes sense,” chimed in Lola. “Pressure differential and all.”

  I held my breath as he stepped away, then released a sigh of relief when he waited on the edge of the warehouse. My mother had forbade us from using the tunnel exits�
�� and technically, we had broken no rules. But now our range of access had radically increased.

  Then I turned to Lucio, Darian, and Lola, gesturing towards the portal.

  “So, who’s next?”

  Chapter 34

  “Shopping lists!” announced Lucio, handing out a slip of paper to each of us, wrinkles creasing each page from where they had been shoved in his pocket. “Each item is essential to the plan.”

  “Essential, eh?” asked Slugger, his eyes scanning a list he shared with Lola. “A tailored suit is essential? And why the hell do you need an ascot? Plus matching luggage?”

  “You do realize,” added Lola, scrunching her nose, “that for it to be tailored, you actually have to be present. We can’t determine the proper measurements without you there.”

  We stood atop the warehouse, staring out into the city. Behind us, the portal door waited, the display of the subway grossly contrasting with the blue sky beyond. Rust and pigeon droppings covered the sheet metal top of the building, and an old chain was wrapped twice around the nearest door, locking us out on the roof. But the metal practically crumbled in Slugger’s hands, years of rain rendering it useless and allowing us into the dark passageway beyond.

  The inside was deserted—cobwebs covered the corners, and mice had chewed at the edges of the carpets. None of the light switches were operational, and both the heat and humidity had seeped from the outside walls to take residence in the corridors. We were sweating before we reached the elevator, the buttons failing to glow when we pressed them, the door remaining firmly shut after it had been turned off long ago. That left a dozen stories of the stairs, the railings dangling from where they had been ripped out of the walls, and fallen ceiling tiles broken on the steps.

  “Just do your best to find the items,” said Lucio, waving a hand as we walked downwards. “We’ll figure it out. Make it look convincing, professional. Secondhand is fine. We don’t need them for long; they just need to pass for a glance.”

  “What you’re asking for is impossible.” Lola huffed as we started downwards, her steps echoing off the walls for several floors.

  “And you can walk through walls! I used to think that was impossible! How hard can it be? SC, you’re with me— we’ve got the major item.”

  “Be back here in two hours!” I said to the others. “Stick together. This is a new city, but this landmark is pretty obvious, so it should be hard to get lost. You won’t know which streets are sketchy until you’re already on them, and everyone you meet has the advantage if a fight starts. Let’s get in and out without trouble.”

  “Aye, captain,” said Slugger with a mock salute. “Besides, where are we?”

  “By my best guess, Houston,” said Lola, squinting as she searched for clues. “But I only know from pictures. Should be pretty easy to figure out once we’re on ground level.”

  “Right,” said Lucio, then he mocked a high-pitched voice. “Excuse me, sir, I seem to have forgotten what city I’m in, I promise I’m not crazy, but can you inform me?”

  “Signs and maps do exist, if you can read,” sniffed Lola, and Darian chuckled.

  “Funny,” Lucio responded. “But this is my plan you’re following, so that makes me more intelligent than you.”

  “If that’s the case, I fear for our lives. Besides, that’s a non sequitur,” she retorted as we reached ground level, paused for a moment to catch our breath, then brushed dust off our clothes. Lucio muttered something about not having to speak Spanish to be intelligent, and I peeked out of the cracked doorway, my eyes adjusting to the bright sun overhead. The street outside was crowded, filled with lunch time traffic as local business emptied out into the drive, the warehouse an ugly mark on an otherwise trendy block.

  We left one by one, melding into the crowd to avoid notice, the creaking door doing its best to announce our departure to the world each time we slipped out. Lucio and I turned right, stopping at a nearby convenience store for directions, while Lola and the others headed left. The puzzled clerk pored over a map for a few seconds before pointing us six blocks west. We struggled through the heat, the wet backs of our shirts sticking to our skin, the asphalt threatening to melt the bottom of our sneakers. With each step, the crowds thinned and we moved closer to the outskirts, cracks in the sidewalks and litter becoming more common, along with the frequency of cracks in car windshields.

  Peering up at a blinking sign, we stopped at a glass-fronted store, the insides lit with buzzing fluorescents. A bell sounded as we entered, and Lucio placed both hands on the counter, tapping a brass chime for assistance. After a few moments, there was a rustling from the back room and a greying man emerged, his hands stained with ink and wearing a pullover sweater despite the heat. Dust sprinkled down from the ceiling as he closed the door behind him, hiding a computer that appeared to be nearly as old as myself and stacks of paperwork that wobbled perilously close to the edge of his desk.

  “Can I help you two gentlemen?” he asked, flipping a sign on the window from closed to open. Technically, the store wouldn’t open until noon, and as his first customers of the day, we were five minutes early. Judging by the paint peeling off the walls and the dented car outside, we would have been welcomed inside even if we had been an hour early.

  “Yes,” Lucio said, glancing down aisles filled with clutter. “We’re looking for a film camera. Looking to do some recording, but we only want the highest quality. The absolute best.”

  Chapter 35

  The man looked over Lucio and me, his eyes lingering on the patched clothes still streaked with cobwebs from the warehouse, and the pockets suspiciously missing thick wallets.

  “There’s a superstore down the street. I’m sure they have what you need,” he said, turning back to the office. “I’m not cheap.”

  “Neither are we,” said Lucio, dinging the chime again loud enough to make the man flinch. “And we’ll decide what’s too expensive. We’re paying customers, got plenty of jingle.”

  “And we’ll only take a moment of your time,” I added, wondering where exactly Lucio drew the line for too expensive.

  “Fine.” The man sighed and led us to the back of the shop, passing rows of tripods and a collection of old film movies to where several leather bound cases lined the shelves. We stepped over a cardboard box filled with cables and portable batteries, then leaned in for a closer look.

  “We have six models here,” he said, gesturing. “All used, but vintage. If you want quality, the real deal, this is where you look. For digital—”

  “We don’t want digital,” said Lucio, cutting him off. “We want pure, unadulterated art. Film.”

  “You would search the front of the store,” continued the man, ignoring Lucio with a scowl. “Now, each of these has its benefits and its drawbacks.”

  “We’ll need something portable,” interjected Lucio again. “Something that can handle a bit of abuse.”

  “Then I’d recommend our digital collection—”

  “No, no digital. I already said that.”

  “Fine,” sighed the man again. “That narrows us down to these three. This model is three thousand and four hundred dollars, but fantastic picture. Microphone needs some attention, however. Here, I can settle for just above four grand, but it’s bulky. And nothing less than six grand for this one, but it’s difficult to beat.”

  “And what about that one?” Lucio asked, gesturing to the top shelf, where there was the only case that had been regularly dusted.

  “Boy, spare me the time; there’s no way you could afford that one.”

  “You’re right,” said Lucio as he stood on tiptoe, his eyes squinting to read the label. “If it wasn’t broken. But good luck finding parts for it. You’d have to travel back twenty years with a rabbit’s foot to have a chance. That’s just taking up space on your shelf.”

  “If it was working, it would fetch fifteen grand. And with the right collector—”

  “Right, if you find the right collector. Or we can take it of
f your hands now. Perhaps I’m your right collector.”

  The man chewed on his lip, thinking.

  “It’s going to take an expert to repair it. I’ve tried, and though I’m not particularly strong with electromancy, I know when something is broken. You’d be better off buying something new. Chances are you’ll only break it further if you try to fix it, and that would be a tragedy in itself. I couldn’t let it go to a home that will ruin it. These are practically one of a kind.”

  “Maybe I just want it for my shelf,” Lucio pressed. “Or maybe I know a guy. But we have cash, and we have it now. Lord knows you need it.”

  The man retrieved a stool from the front of the shop, then climbed up with trembling legs to reach the recorder. Cradling it like a baby, he carried it to a small table, throwing back the cover and moving the yellowed instruction manual to give us a full view.

  “She’s gorgeous,” whispered Lucio, rubbing his hand along the one-and-a-half-foot length of the camera. “No lens scratches, no nicks, no dents. Alex Ficher’s own favorite brand, his only brand; he won’t touch anything else. Just look at it, SC.”

  “What’s it going to run us?” I asked instead as Lucio’s eyes glossed over.

  “In its condition, lowest I can go is fifteen hundred,” said the owner, and I paled.

  “There’s no way—” I started, but Lucio grabbed my wrist, pulling me to the other end of the store.

  “SC, you don’t understand,” he hissed. “If we want to pull this off, it has to look like the real deal. We can’t go halfway. And this is an absolute steal.”

  “It’s broken, Lucio. It’s probably worth nothing.”

  “We don’t even need it to work for the plan! It just has to look good!” he exclaimed. “But trust me, even broken, this is incredible. Back home, we could sell if for twice this. Think of it as an investment.”

  “I don’t know,” I started. “Besides, we’d have to go back to get the money. It’ll take two trips.”

  “Can I at least get a yes from you first?” he said, practically begging and placing a hand on my shoulder. “SC, do you want to catch Lacit or not? Nothing else will do.”