Achilles

by Greg Boose

  Malix immediately starts to dig his fingers into the figures carved into the stone, but nothing clicks. Nothing happens.

  “Now, my beautiful smart birdies, I’m not going to kill anyone if Jonah Monah just tosses out that little gun of his. And if there are any other guns in there, slide them on out, too. If I come in there and find anyone else has a gun, then I’m going to shoot them right in the old mouth.”

  Jonah’s headache intensifies, and he can’t concentrate. Without thinking, he underhands the blue gun out of the opening. He needs to lie down.

  “You just killed us, Jonah,” Christina says.

  “That it, then? Blades, too. Spears, slingshots, tasers, hammers, bad jokes. Anything that can harm ol’ Tunick, you better fork them over,” Tunick calls.

  No one responds, and then Hopper says, “I think it’s clear, Tunick. You scared ’em. Get your smelly ass in here, ya freak.”

  Malix stops pawing at the wall to kick Hopper’s side. “He’ll kill you, too! Don’t you see that?”

  “Traitor,” Christina hisses.

  “Eat me, cadets,” Hopper groans.

  “Now everyone against the back, back, back wall. Don’t be shy. It’s a little cold, but I’ll start a fire soon in the back yard. We’ll feast and verve and feast some more! I can taste the chocolate now, yessiree!”

  Jonah stumbles toward the back, tripping over Portis groaning on the ground. He lands flat against the wall and plants his hands on the freezing stone. He drags his fingers lazily over the symbols, trying to make something click, but he’s too weak to grip anything. Tunick’s light sweeps over the kids slowly, and Jonah sees that covering the symbols are several different styles of handwriting, all in different colors, but he can’t concentrate long enough to read anything they say. Before his vision begins to blur, he takes another quick look at the crude drawing of the robotic bat standing at the bottom of the pit.

  Tunick scrambles inside the cave just as Jonah’s headache turns into a flashing vertigo. He can’t feel anything below his waist. He tips forward and falls to his knees. His hands slide limply off the wall and his sweaty cheek falls against the freezing stone, and it sticks there and feels good. Something warm rushes up from his stomach and coats his heart, and from there it expands and radiates to his arms, legs, and his head, blanketing his muscles, stiffening his neck, pushing on the backs of his eyes. The warmness hardens and it feels as if a pack of wolves were chewing on his bones. With his cheek still stuck to the frozen wall, Jonah vomits. His eyes close, and he can’t open them back up. Aussie and Michael call his name, Tunick yells something from the front of the cave, and a second later, he feels Tunick laughing in his ear. Then everything stops.

  • • •

  Jonah’s eyelids flicker open for a second and then close. Water slowly falls over his head, dribbling through his hair, down his forehead, down over his eyelids, nose, lips, neck. The collar of his jumpsuit absorbs the liquid, cooling his burning chest. He opens his eyes again, this time long enough to see a raging purple fire a dozen feet in front of him and a few people sitting on his left. Hopper. Tunick. Michael, maybe. When his eyes fall shut, their faces swirl together in his mind. Michael has Tunick’s dreadlocks and Hopper’s mustache. Tunick takes on the demic’s sloped nose and skinny cheeks. Hopper has long brown hair. More water splashes onto the top of his head.

  “Jonah? Hey. You awake, Jonah? Does that feel good or bad?” Aussie asks.

  “Smart boy, Jonah!” Tunick shouts. The voice booms in Jonah’s skull, crackling his brain.

  His mouth tastes acrid, and his lips seem sealed together with glue. Jonah takes his time before whispering, “Feels good. I’m…thirsty.”

  A plastic jug sloshes water against his lips, down his chin. When his mouth is full, he moves his face away. Swallowing takes effort. Jonah’s shoulders tingle, and his stomach clenches and cramps. He draws back his legs, one by one, and drops his head onto his knees.

  Someone sits next to him and leans into his ear. He can tell it’s Tunick by his smell and the sound of the crunching seeds in his mouth. “So, what’s this sickness of yours, Jonah Monah? Cancer? I heard on Thetis that cancer was making a comeback on Earth.”

  “Not cancer,” Jonah whispers into his knees. He wants to punch Tunick in the face, but he can hardly lift his arms.

  “What is it then? Maybe you’re just homesick. Wait! Lovesick? You’re lovesick! Oh, Jonah Monah!”

  He tries to picture the name of his disease, but he can’t. His fingers clench. “Starts with a ‘C,’ I think. Or an ‘S.’ I don’t remember. I need more water.”

  He hears the jug slide under his thighs, and it takes every ounce of strength to tip it to his lips. He can’t picture the word of his disease, the monster that’s killing him internally, the cells that are mutating and slowing him down, but he can picture every beautiful drop of water flowing down his throat, coating the lining of his stomach. He pictures Vespa, too. She’s running along the beach with the white sun bouncing off her hair. She’s alone and smiling.

  “Well, I hate to tell you this, but everyone got the grand tour while you were conked out,” Tunick says. Jonah smells chocolate on his breath and it instantly makes him nauseous. “You’ve been asleep for hours. Everybody’s having fun, fun, FUN!”

  Jonah opens his eyes to the fire and the tall stone wall beyond. Gold foil wrappers are strewn everywhere, and empty boxes of their ready-to-eat meals smolder and curl on the edge of the flames. So much for rationing. On the opposite side of him, past the fire and next to a tall stack of crude blankets, sit Malix, Portis, and Christina. The kids face each other cross-legged, Malix giggling at Christina, Portis whipping his hands over his head, the three of them full of energy, their jaws constantly moving up and down. To Jonah’s left, Michael and Hopper seem to be debating the mathematical possibilities of anti-matter, totally oblivious to the fact that Jonah is awake, and they seem surprisingly happy to be together. Michael playfully pushes Hopper’s shoulder, and Hopper leaps to his feet and slaps his palm to the curved wall covered with chipped and broken symbols. Jonah looks up for the first time, and he’s surprised to see the black sky, Peleus, and thousands of stars. A few tree branches also hang overhead. He’s outside, but enclosed in stone circle, or perhaps in a cave missing its ceiling. Then it hits him: he’s in one of the spheres, but its top is gone.

  “See! And this is the proof!” Hopper cries.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Let me try,” Michael says, planting his hand against the wall. “Whooooaaaa. You’re right! That’s crazy! You’re a genius!”

  They both break up laughing. Hopper slaps the wall again and then stumbles back to his seat next to the fire, wiping tears from his eyes. Michael presses his back against the wall and points limply at Portis. The cadet attempts to say something, and as he stutters to get the words out, something white falls out of his mouth. Portis scoops it back up and tosses it in his mouth without wiping it off. Hopper spits a long, floating stream of white saliva over his shoulder, both of his hands moving quickly at the side of his head, blasting themselves open and closed, open and closed.

  “They’re all on verve,” Aussie says. He cranes his head back to see her standing above a smug Tunick, her long red hair tied in a bun on the top of her head. She looks like she’s been crying for hours. He wonders if she told anyone about Garrett while he was unconscious.

  “Doctor’s orders,” Tunick declares.

  Aussie kicks a stone at the fire. “He forced them. He put a gun to your head and said he was going to kill you if they didn’t put it in their mouths.”

  “And look how happy they are, smart boy. Have you ever seen Hopper Happy this hoppy or happy? And those three over there.” Tunick points the blue handgun at Malix, Portis, and Christina. “They’ve been like that for an hour now. Big Head doesn’t feel pain anymore, and I think the other two love each other. So cute. And now that Mr. Jonah Monah is awake…” Tunick stands and digs a hand into his green hip sack, pulling out two
small white seeds. “Now it’s time for you two. We’ll start slow. They want me to start you slow. And I have to do what they say. I can’t disobey.”

  “Please, Tunick,” Aussie whispers. “Just let us go. I really feel sick.”

  Tunick stands and whips the gun into her face. He presses it softly against the tip of her freckled nose. Jonah wants to tackle him and slam him against the wall, but all he can do is drop the water jug and stare. Tunick leans into Aussie and says, “Well, you are in luck! Lucky for you, the doctor has the cure right here. Please, please, please enjoy your first verve. You have no idea how lucky you are. The first time is always the best time.”

  Tears encase her green eyes. “Please. I don’t want it.”

  Jonah tries to kick Tunick, but his right leg simply straightens out along the floor. The man looks down at Jonah and smiles, and then he pushes down on the cadet’s chin with the barrel of the gun. Jonah is too weak to resist; something small and hard lands on his tongue, and then Tunick’s dirty fingers enter his mouth and lodge it between the First Year’s gums and cheek. As soon as Tunick releases his chin, Jonah spits it out.

  Tunick immediately punches Aussie in the gut. The girl crumples to the ground next to Jonah, and laughter comes from all around the room. Tunick fishes Jonah’s white seed out of a crack in the floor and says, “You spit that out again and I’ll slash her face. I’ll take her nose right off and wear it on top of mine. Look around, boy. Do your friends look like they’re having such a terrible time?”

  Malix walks along the back wall on his hands while Christina hops around him in circles, cheering. Portis lies down, waving his arms back and over in front of his eyes, and Michael and Hopper simply stare at Tunick with wide, goofy smiles.

  “Jonah! You couldn’t be missing out more, ya freak!” Hopper yells.

  “I thought you hated me,” Jonah drones. “I thought you hated Michael.”

  “I don’t hate anyone…smart boy.”

  Michael erupts in laughter. His pupils are so wide that Jonah can’t see a sliver of his corneas.

  “See?” Tunick says, placing the seed in Jonah’s hand. With his shaking fingers, he brings it close to his eyes and examines its pebbled surface. It looks like nothing more than a bleached macadamia nut. “I’m gonna slash her, Jonah. I’m gonna slash her nose clean off if you don’t drop that verve back in that mouth of yours.”

  Jonah takes a deep breath and looks down at Aussie, remembering the look on her face in the smoking module. She blinks hard at him, and then Jonah drops the seed into his mouth.

  “Start off with it against your cheek. In the back.” Tunick sighs as he shoves a seed past Aussie’s lips. “That’s where the magic starts. It takes a minute or two, of course. Be patient, grasshopper. I hope you get to see my friends like I do. But that’s in time, in time. Don’t be scared when they arrive.”

  It doesn’t have a taste. He buries it between his gums and cheek with his tongue, clinking it along the sides of his molars. He closes his eyes and sees flashes of a tiny woman with curly red hair—his second foster mother—who sometimes forced sleeping pills in his mouth. He sees her hair and her wrinkled face and her brown teeth. He smells the chemicals on skin and feels her white vinyl belt come down on his back. Jonah prods the verve with his tongue and opens his eyes. Across the room, Malix hops along the floor on one hand, laughing, telling Christina to try it. Instead, Christina crouches down and jumps ten feet straight up. She grabs the top edge of the wall and hangs there, begging Malix to look at her.

  Aussie crawls over to Jonah and sets her head on his outstretched leg. She stares at him for a moment before closing her eyes and switching the verve from one side of her mouth to the other.

  “Who was the girl in the jungle?” Jonah asks Tunick as he sits down in front of him, the fire rising over his shoulders like purple wings.

  Smears of chocolate cake surround his mouth. He combs his dirty fingers through his long beard, removing what looks to be mashed potatoes. “What girl, exactly?”

  “She had black hair. She was short and small and really fast. The girl we saw just before we saw you.”

  Tunick crinkles his nose and spits to the side. “Just another splitter.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Must have been Hess. Little Hess and the splitters. I used to really like her. Could tell the hell out of a joke. Hess. Hess, Hess, Hess. I hate Hess. Hess lies.”

  A tingling sensation tickles Jonah’s gums. His mouth fills with saliva and he swallows it, gagging at the strong, bitter taste. No wonder Tunick spits so much. “Why did she leave? Why is she a splitter?”

  “Ohhhhh, she thinks she’s better than me. Better than the verve. Which is funny because she’s the one who got me hooked on it back on Thetis. Hess was ‘Ms. Verve 2220,’ pushing it on everyone. Irony is, it was Hess who got the adults to try it. She started that whole thing. What a mistake.”

  Over Tunick’s shoulder, Christina continues to hang by one hand, and she kicks her feet along the upper wall. The cadet soon spins all the way over, upside down, her feet thrashing in the air for a few seconds before pedaling along the wall again. She’s a human windmill. Malix jumps and tries to do the same, but he can’t stop laughing long enough to get a good grip.

  “What whole thing?” Jonah asks. His voice sounds far away, as if coming from beyond the fire. He feels both relaxed and energized at the same time.

  “Give it a few minutes. You’ll see, smart boy.”

  “Portis,” he says. It’s suddenly difficult for him to form words. “What did Hess tell you? What’d that girl say?”

  The cadet stares at Jonah for a few seconds. And then a goofy grin spreads across his face. He opens his mouth to speak but says nothing. Then he bites down on his wrist and draws blood.

  The right side of Jonah’s face goes numb and stiff. He sucks some of the flesh between his teeth and bites down, feeling nothing but the satisfaction of chewing on something. The flames rising over Tunick’s shoulders grab Jonah’s attention. Purples turn into blues, blues turn into whites and greens and then back to purples. Yellows appear and turn a hot, blinding white. The colors blend and dance and then they separate from each other in long, thin threads. Jonah wants to stand and touch the fire. But then the threads jump off the very tips of the flames, morphing into swirling fingers of smoke. A face appears in the smoke. It’s a man’s face. His dad’s face? Jonah shakes his head, ignoring Tunick’s giggles, and looks down at his own hands. The wrinkles on his knuckles and palms begin to move; they march like ants, moving in slow, constant circles. Then the wrinkles split in different directions and run vertical, disappearing over the webbing between his fingers.

  “Oooooh. It’s coming on fast for you, Jonah Monah. Don’t get sick now. Just some tiny hallucinations to start you out. Nothing your smart brain can’t handle. The good stuff will take a couple hours. Then maybe you’ll see the sources of all this beauty. And when you work your way up, you’ll see whom I see. They’re going to like you, Jonah. They tell me they already do. And that’s good.”

  Who’s ‘they’? Jonah wants to ask, but his lips won’t form the sounds. Tunick doubles in Jonah’s vision. Left Tunick strokes his beard. Right Tunick twists his dreads in his fingers. Both smile and drool. Both talk and laugh and say Jonah’s name over and over and over. And both have the little blue handgun in their laps. Jonah rubs his eyes and tries to control his thoughts that spin off in too many directions. He bites a sliver off the corner of the verve, and it’s like an explosion of happiness sweeps up his nasal cavity, electrifying his brain with a million white bolts. This is suddenly exactly where he wants to be. This is better than the sphere. He unwinds for the first time since landing on Achilles. Below him, Aussie rubs an index finger over the cracks in the stone floor. A long strand of white drool separates from her pink lips, covering his pant leg.

  “Why is the ground moving?” Aussie mumbles.

  The two Tunicks slide together into one cackling man wh
o prods a finger into Aussie’s ribs. “You can control it if you try. Try, try, try. The ground isn’t moving, girlie. Your mind is expanding, breathing, reaching for new heights. You’re verving.”

  Aussie vomits and then laughs. And then she vomits some more. Jonah knows he should jump away from the orange puddle slowly dripping off his leg, but instead he leans back and bites another sliver off the seed. A wave of nausea crashes into the sides of his stomach. Bile shoots up his throat, but he coughs and whips the jug of water up to his lips. He swallows it and imagines the water battling the bile in a massive war in the back of his throat. The water soldiers are more powerful, and they chase the retreating bile back into his stomach where the water battalion declares total victory.

  “I don’t like this,” Jonah manages to say.

  “You will,” Tunick whispers back.

  Christina hollers for everyone to watch her, and Jonah’s eyes crawl away from Tunick. The cadet stands on top of the stone before taking a running leap toward the fire. She sails horizontally across the room with her hands over her head like a superhero. She blows right through the top of the fire, separating its flames, and Hopper leaps up and shouts. Jonah sees Christina coming right at him, and he wants to move, but at the same time he wants the cadet to crash right into him. It would be so funny if he were to be bowled over by this girl. At the last second, though, just before Christina’s fists are about to plow into Jonah’s face, Tunick grabs the collar of her shirt, yanking her to the ground and flipping her onto her back. Christina doesn’t seem to mind; she lies there and waves her arms at her sides, a stupid grin on her face.

  “My turn!” Hopper yells. He climbs to the top of the wall with ease.

  “Do it!” Michael says, laughing.

  Aussie flips over and points at Tunick. “Where’s your sister, Tunick? You said you had a sister back here at your place. We’re here and I want to meet her. Where is she? Maybe we’ll be friends.”