RB 01 Through Flesh & Bone

by Frederick S dela Cruz

  “Ohhh! The game’s gonna start. Where is it? I always put it there on top of the coffee table.” This scene was not unique. He regularly misplaced the remote; he didn’t “always put it there on top of the coffee table.”

  Speaking to himself was also a common behavior, especially during times of frustration. His frustration today intensified because this Sunday Night game had garnered quite a stir among football fans, and he was about to miss the opening kickoff.

  He detested missing the kickoff, because he enjoyed performing a certain ritual he had done ever since high school.

  Still standing between the couch and kitchen counter, he extended his arm and sternly pointed his forefinger at the coffee table. His eyes focused on top of the table. “It was there. It should be right there on the table, right beside where my keys and my beer are! Right there! In fact, instead of my keys, it should be the remote!”

  His eyes darted back to the kitchen, searching again.

  “Turd! Gonna miss the kickoff.”

  He put down his hand and made one final glance at the coffee table. There beside the can of beer was the TV remote.

  “Oh, no. I looked there! I was looking there. Wasn’t I looking there?”

  He ran to the table, fell to his knees, and grabbed the remote. Pointing it at the TV, he jammed his thumb down over the ON button.

  The TV turned on, and he quickly flipped through the channels until he found the Charger game. “Wooo! Hooo!” he exclaimed, as he threw his fists up in the air. He stood up, and then dropped himself down onto the couch. “Success!” he sighed, as he dropped his back and head against the couch. Then, his arms fell lifelessly but contentedly at his sides.

  But now, his keys were no longer beside the beer can. In fact, they were nowhere to be found, but in his frantic state, he hadn’t noticed.

  One of the two football announcers said with excitement in his voice, “The two teams are on the field, and we’re about to have ourselves one heck of a game, if this game lives up to the hype!”

  After a few seconds, he remembered his beer. He leaned forward to pick up the can and drank deeply from it. He set it down on the table with satisfaction and flopped back down on the couch.

  The crowd screamed as the San Diego kicker positioned himself a few yards behind the football. As customary, Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train began to play in the stadium, heralding the kick off. Once the crowd heard the song’s well-known guitar riff intro, they erupted in unbridled cheers and shouts.

  Hearing the song, he readied himself for his ritual.

  He raised his hands high above his head. Then, as the kicker jogged toward the ball, he called out in escalating effort, “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  The kicker kicked the ball, and it flew through the air and landed in the hands of a receiver of the opposing team.

  “Game on!” he yelled emphatically, as the ball was caught.

  With that, his teenage ritual was fulfilled, and he leaned back satisfied.

  The announcers began to rattle off statistics for both teams and introduce players in both offense and defense. Soon, they started with their play-by-play.

  He watched intently. Minutes passed.

  Something was crawling at the side of the couch, at his left. It made its way up and peered at him from just below the armrest. Its antennae waved slowly and rhythmically to and fro in the still air. It stayed there as the Chargers gained possession of the ball and then lost possession after four downs. Then, the bright-green praying mantis made its way directly on top of the couch’s armrest, gazing at the person whose attention was solely on the television.

  He made his opinion known about the Chargers’ lost possession. “Crap! I can’t believe we just went three-and-out!” he blurted, as he leaned forward to grab the beer can. While stretching out his right hand, he tilted his shoulders diagonally to the left, and his head turned slightly with his shoulders. The bright-green insect positioned on top of the black leather couch immediately caught his attention.

  Before his hand reached the beer can, he retracted it and he screamed, “Holy Mother of God! Oh my God!” Simultaneously, he jumped up onto the couch with both feet. He crouched down, ready to jump further away. As one hand grasped the loose leather of the backrest, his other hand tightly gripped the seat cushion under his feet. With his head jutting forward, his fearful eyes locked onto the mantis.

  “I know what you are!” he yelled, pointing at the insect. Trying to wave it away, he said emphatically, “You guys freeeeak me out! Ever since I was a kid! You…you…you! How in the world did you get in here?!”

  He was undoubtedly quite disturbed by its presence. Further distancing himself, he briskly yet cautiously backed up to move his feet on top of the armrest opposite from the insect.

  The mantis made a small movement towards him.

  Still crouching, he quickly released his hand from the backrest and waved it in front of the green bug, exclaiming, “Get away!”

  He turned his head around to look at the window. It was closed; so, the bug didn’t come in through there. He jerked his head back to face it.

  Squinting his eyes, he thought for a second. He knew what he needed to do.

  Cautiously, he stepped onto the floor. With his eyes locked onto the small six-legged subject, he tiptoed his way to the kitchen counter. A half-used roll of paper towels stood on a wooden spindle on top of the counter. With his back still hunched, he lifted the roll up, and then held one end of it tightly between both his hands.

  As the mantis’ two front legs bent up just below its head, it rotated its body clockwise to position itself in order to follow the movement of the man.

  With the roll of paper towels firmly in his hands, he made his way parallel to the back of the couch. As he reached two feet from the mantis, he slowly and softly whispered, “Here little buggy…stay right there. Me no likie that you move. Just relaxie…don’t move.”

  As he circled the armrest, he simultaneously raised the roll above his head.

  The mantis continued to follow his movements, and it lifted its head to watch the roll of paper reach its peak.

  He yelled in a high-pitched voice, “Haki-saki! Ha!” It was his best attempt at a ninja-karate attack scream. The roll swiftly and mightily came down on top of the bright-green bug. In a flash, he dropped to his knees. As one hand firmly pressed a sheet above the smashed prey, he unrolled more sheets of paper with his other hand. He could feel the flattened insect underneath. Tearing off several sheets from the roll, he quickly scooped the mantis into it, rolled the paper around it, and squished the paper into a tight ball.

  Tightly squeezing the ball between both hands, he lifted it into the air. “Success!” he pronounced. “Man over beast! And the crowd roars! Yeaaaaaaah!”

  He lifted himself from the floor, and then he made his way to the trashcan under the sink. After tossing the ball of paper into the can, he took a deep breath, and then focused once again on the game on TV. As he made his way to the site of his kill, he glanced down at the armrest. The mantis was there again staring up at him, with its head tilting up, and its eyes peering blankly.

  “Yaaahhhh!” He screamed in utter amazement. His hands flapped rapidly in the air as he high-stepped backwards. He stopped a few steps away and balanced himself. “I just killed you! You! You! You! Yes, you! Dead, dead, dead! Here!” He made his way to the trashcan and took the ball of paper out from it. “Here!” he stated emphatically as he unwound it, “…unless there are two of you little punks.”

  When he reached the end of the crumpled ball of paper, he didn’t see a trace of the smashed mantis. Amazed, he said, “…no way.”

  Exasperated, he opened his mouth wide and screamed a soundless, silent scream.

  He threw the paper back into the trash and stood in the kitchen, with his hands at his waist. A few seconds passed. He was dumbfounded. A few more seconds passed.

  But now, he was missing the game.

  He bottom-lined his options: one, pay attentio
n to the puzzling little green bug and try to figure out why he didn’t find it at room temperature, smashed dead in the trash; Or two, pay attention to the hyped-up football game featuring his home team.

  The choice was obvious. “Fine,” he said to the mantis. “You just stay there and don’t bug me while I watch the game.” He circled far away from the mantis as he headed toward the opposite end of the couch and sat down. Freezing his eyes intently on it, he sternly said, “Stay.”

  Cautiously, he turned his head and began to watch the game again. Now and again, during commercial breaks, he slyly glanced at the mantis from the corner of his eye in order to make sure it hadn’t moved. There was no movement apart from the intermittent fluttering of its wings.

  Minutes later, it was halftime.

  His attention turned to the lack of beer in his refrigerator, and he blurted, “Beer run!”

  Jumping up, he jutted his hands into the front pockets of his jeans to reach for his keys.

  No keys.

  He remembered that he had set them down beside the can of beer on the coffee table. Quickly, he glanced there. He saw the can and the TV remote, but no keys.

  Burying his face in his hands, defeated, he said, “Not again.”

  He tried to keep his emotion in check, but with each contracted breath he took, he became closer and closer to screaming profanity. Realizing that he was about to lose control, he again decided he had two choices: one, let the feeling continue and just outright explode, or two, step back and brush it off. He picked option three: brush it off and whine about his afternoon of misplacing his stuff.

  He took a deep breath, paused, and prepared himself to exhale. Half in a whining complaint, he sighed, “But it was right there…”

  Turning to the mantis, he asked, “Hey! Where are my car keys?”

  In disbelief, he plopped himself down on the couch. Then, he said, “Keys were right here on the table: beer, keys, remote.” He was convinced he was right. But he was wrong.

  He pushed himself back into the couch. As his rear hit the backrest, he felt something jab it. He reached for it with his hand. Whatever it was, it was stuck below the level of the cushion, between the cushion and the backrest. He dug his hand into the couch, grabbed the object, and withdrew it.

  It was the TV remote.

  He lifted it in front of his face, staring at it with a half-opened mouth. Then, he stared at the identical remote on the coffee table. Slowly, and word per word, he said, “Oh. My. God.”

  He leaned forward to hold the first remote from the couch next to the second remote on the table. He thought for few seconds, swapping his gaze like a metronome between each of them.

  Half joking and half meaning it, he stated to the one on the coffee table, “You, Mr. Remote, are my missing keys.”

  After a short silence, the black case of the remote began to turn into a lighter color. Then the case cracked open by itself to reveal the electronics within. The case began to transform into a shiny metallic material. As the remote started to shrink, pieces of the case and some of the hardware inside transformed into tiny particles of pure white light that radiated out, heating the surrounding air.

  Quickly, he raised his hand to briefly shield his eyes from the brightness. He could feel a slight temperature increase in the air around him. Within a second, the transformation was complete: his keys were in front of him.

  He jerked his head and body backward, blurting incredulously, “Whoa!” He didn’t know what to think. He had just witnessed his TV remote turn into his keys.

  For a moment, he sat motionless and in wonder.

  Then, an idea came to his head, and he loosened his frozen body and leaned forward again. He positioned himself at the ready and squinted his eyes. Confidently, he stated, “These keys are now a TV remote control.”

  He waited and expected nothing to happen, yet expected something to happen.

  He felt the air move like a breeze around him, drawn in towards the keys, causing strands of his hair to brush against his face. It was as if the air was being pulled from around the room into one direction, and the focal point was the set of keys on the table. Black particles began to build upon the keys, as if the air itself was the source of the material. The keys began to change shape and color, and he saw two small keys form into a battery. The electronics began to emerge. Two other keys turned black, forming the remote’s case. Soon, once again the remote sat on the table, and the air around him was cool, as though it had lost a noticeable amount of heat.

  “Whoa in reverse,” he said, grinning in amusement and surprise. He picked up the remote and checked if it still worked by changing the TV channel and lowering and raising the volume. Then, he turned off the TV. Still needing his keys, he decided to transform the remote once more. But having an idea, he paused and thought. Again, he leaned his head forward, focusing his eyes on the remote. This time instead of speaking the words out loud, he concentrated and said the words in his mind.

  He waited.

  Again, the transformation occurred.

  He thought, “Is this really happening? How is this happening? Am I doing this or is someone else?” Then he concluded, “It’s more likely that I’m in a drunken-stupor dream.” He looked at his side, and the mantis was still positioned on top of the couch’s armrest. “Did you see that? Did you do that?” he asked.

  The insect’s black eyes were indifferently staring at him as it slowly rotated its head a quarter of a turn.

  “Can I take that as a ‘no’?” he asked it. Then jumping to his feet, he exclaimed definitively, “I’ve gotta think about this, and I’ll think about it while I get some beer.” He picked up his keys.

  Looking at the mantis, he said, “Hey, freaky greenie. You stay there - don’t go anywhere.” He paced to the door, opened it, and darted outside, closing and locking the door behind him.

  * * * * * * *

  In front of the six-story condemned building, the sky began to darken with the setting sun. One dusty, yellow taxi passed in front of the decaying facade of the building, and then disappeared from sight. Except for the passing wind, nothing else and no one else moved through the street.

  As the wind picked up, it turned a corner of the building and twirled up and into the fifth floor. Through a broken window, it curved into a large vacant area within. Passing above a layer of settled dust, the wind gave particles of it temporary flight.

  Near the center of the floor, the wind slowed and stalled at the feet of the hooded man. Against his thick black coat, his arms were folded and resting on his chest. With a shadowed face, he patiently waited for a response from something in front of him. The very floor upon which the hooded man stood had many years ago supported business engaged in designs of creation and production. But this night, they ensconced beings engaged in designs of destruction and oblivion.

  The beings waited upon by the hooded man were three entities conspiring amongst each other. They were three ancient powers - creations from almost the beginning of time - with supernatural abilities that shifted and changed, determined by the universal human condition of the earth they inhabited. They were spirits who could manifest in physical form, and their forms were dictated by their innate characteristics.

  The first entity was crystalline and transparent, not completely solid but in continuous fluid motion. Having the ability to take on human form, it was the young woman named Crystal.

  The second entity, the dark entity - the one able to leap through time - was a flowing deep-black matter, formed by millions of coalescing and expanding sand-like particles.

  The third entity was a gelatinous, pale-white substance, always in flux. Its ultimate form was one goal among several that the three beings conspired to achieve.

  The three could exist separately, but they were dependent on each other and continuously sought to be in each other’s presence. When communing with one another, as they did this night, they came together and blended, transforming into the physical structure of a large fl
uid-like spinning sphere.

  With the large sphere hovering in front of him above the floor, the hooded man watched as it spun in unpredictable motions: spinning rapidly, then slowly; spinning in one direction, then in another; around one axis, then around another. Then, he saw the dark entity quickly eject itself. The hooded man thought, The dark entity has given me this command to assist Crystal with the bodies she needs. Because of my bargain with it, I will make this happen. But unknown to either of them, I seek to achieve a grand and ambitious goal of my own. And in order to accomplish it, I must deceive them both. As the entity floated in the air, he could hear its black particles collided with each other. Making the continuous sound of a hiss, it spoke to him of their next plans. Informing the dark entity of Sik’s progress - the pawn whom the hooded man directly instructed - the hooded man calmly and quietly said, “Yes, he has already completed that task and is now preparing the second body.”

  In return, the entity conveyed its hissing approval.

  Without moving his head, the hooded man slowly glanced at his side. Something on the bare wooden floor had caught his attention. A few steps away, his eyes stopped their motion. There, oozed into the wood, was a sprawling stain having no definite form or defined edges. After inspecting it carefully, he realized it was what he had expected: the remnants of a blood meal. In his thoughts, he said, The first feeding has completed. Years in the making, the plan is now being executed. Looking again into the sphere, he added, referring to the longhaired goateed man, But now, there is one factor to struggle against. His abilities are being given. Have they learned of it?

  After a moment, the dark entity seeped itself back into the sphere, and all three within were ready to speak. Their one voice was deep and hollow, soothing and sounding like deep, churning, rippling water. Finally, they said in unison, “We sense the change, as you have. It has begun. Contend with him as you need.”

  Then, I shall contend with him, the hooded man said, in his calculating thoughts. But not in a way they wish it to happen. Instead, now that something has unlocked the gate to the cage of his self-made isolation, it is I who will drag him out…because he has an essential role in a paramount objective I must accomplish.