The Acolytes of Crane Updated Edition

by Tew, J. D.

  In conclusion, I had no decent pair of pants, and I somehow needed to complete the mission before I went home. Which was: to find out whether Dan was fit for our team.

  With my pants devastated by the brown contents of my butt, there was nothing left to do but try to get Lincoln’s attention. I needed a way out. I edged the semi-trailer and hung the clothed portion of my body by the hitch side of it. I yelled out to Lincoln.

  ‘What’s wrong, Ted?’ Lincoln yelled from the group. ‘C’mon guys, let’s go see what is up.’ Oh no! How many mistakes can one person make in an hour’s time? I think I was on pace to break the record. I didn’t want the entire crew to see me. Lincoln, with no clue as to the disaster lurking ahead, was leading the whole party of grungy skaters toward me while I cowered behind the trailer.

  As they quickly made their way over, Dan looked upon my face. He must have been able to decipher my bright-red complexion, because he yelled, ‘Wait, guys! I think there is something up. Lincoln, why don't you just go see what is wrong with your bro.’

  It was obvious we needed Dan for a number of reasons. His agility was remarkable. There was nothing like it out of all the people we knew. What he did effortlessly on that skateboard was magical. More importantly, when he saved me from humiliation, there was no need to test any further.

  In a relatively short time, he had revealed his character and secured our initial readings on him. I was impressed with him and felt excited about such a prize find. He was definitely an introspective and empathetic kid worth trusting with our secret.

  The rest of the kids took off to skate at this bread company’s parking ramp. Dan had some extra pants in his bag, to avoid a repeat of the dangling incident. He brought them to me, and tossed them around the trailer.

  ‘You know, you two dudes are straight. Man, you have a wicked kick-flip bro. You shit your pants though didn’t you?’ Dan asked as he covered his nose, ‘same thing happened to me at my grandparents’ house when I was five. Everyone gives me hell for it at family gatherings.’

  Dan really enjoyed swearing. He had let every swear word fly from his lips with total disregard the whole time I knew him. It didn’t bother us, because Dan was just being himself.

  He asserted that he only used swear words to accentuate his creative expression of self. At least, that was his excuse. Dan told us he was trying to quit per his parents’ request. I personally felt that swearing was a waste of breath. I stepped out from behind the trailer with Dan’s pants freshly fitted, my hands over my hips.

  ‘That was an awesome thing you did for me, man. Where is Lincoln?’ I asked.

  ‘He was making sure the other guys left. He was buying you some time, dude. That is a good friend you have there.’

  I knew from experience from long car rides that if there was a window of opportunity opening, I should spit through it. If the spit flew back at my face because the window closed too fast, then I knew I made a mistake. Either way, there was nothing to lose but time.

  ‘Dan, if I was going to show you something, would you promise to keep it secret? You cannot tell anyone, and I mean anyone.’

  ‘Okay dude, chillax, you are not going to do something weird, are you?’ he asked. He was put off slightly by my pushy demeanor.

  Lincoln walked from around the corner of the building. Now that we three were alone, my two friends would be given a premium view of a glorious futuristic technology that I, with my pulse racing, was about to unveil for the first time ever to people of this planet. I had a sinking feeling that if the demonstration did not work, I would be forever ridiculed. But I had to believe in myself.

  ‘Stand back,’ I said. In a voice quieter to myself I continued, ‘Here goes.’

  I pushed off. The wheels on my board smoked, like a spinning yo-yo on a frying pan. I hit the embankment with the force of a raging bull.

  I was ready to fly. Just as certain as the Earth rotates round the sun, the experiment worked. With no ramp at all, my board soared magically ten feet into the air, stunning Dan and Lincoln. It was much easier than I could have ever imagined. I felt euphoric, losing myself within the moment.

  Like a maverick in flight school, I performed a difficult trick, a fly-by. By the time I returned to earth, Dan and Lincoln had dropped onto their knees in shock.

  ‘Dude, what the hell was that?’ Dan said covering his eyes, as if he saw something that he should not have. He was hungry for more. Action junkies are just that, addicted to excitement.

  It gave me so much confidence to see Dan react in the same manner that Lincoln did. His words were exiting his mouth at an almost painful rate. I have never heard so many F-words before in my life, except during a heated fight between my parents. It was entertaining.

  Despite our challenges and minor defeats, we had decisively slain our mistakes and rode our blessings to success. In the end, we had strength, courage, honor, and integrity.

  “Dan easily succumbed to the wonder of our story and desired more and more details, lapping them up like a thirsty dog to a water dish. We told him everything, and he accepted it. Despite his faith in us, for the next two hours, as he strove hard to push aside all his ingrained sense of reality, he shook his head and looked at us like we were crazy. It didn’t matter. With my successful implementation of Lincoln’s plan, it seemed that a dedicated, unified and bold unit was finally taking shape. A fearless team was being assembled.”

  10 theodore: evil within

  “Position and ranking itself does not always command respect from followers. To be a leader, a person must also submit to integrity and discipline.”

  We had to do the right thing, and I knew, in order to become a great leader, I needed to stick my neck out and bring a team together.

  It was 2016, on a Sunday in October. Crisp autumn air revisited my lungs. I had a flashback, rewinding my memories to those of three years ago: sinewy, rough hands around my neck, I was only a boy, held against the wall in the hallway of a crappy apartment by a man with no conscience. Now, I was a budding teenager, tasked with the urgent quest to save Earth.

  I marveled at how much had changed in the last three years. One event the day before pounded reality into my head: I actually flew. Yup, right above the astonished faces of Lincoln and Dan. Without a skateboard. It was like magic. I performed this incredible feat in a clearing out in the woods behind my grandparents’ house, where no one could see us.

  After I took flight with my space boots, I decided to have Dan and Lincoln tag along to hang out at my house to discuss the next steps. Grandma Laverne allowed us to retreat privately in my bedroom, and for hours, I regurgitated everything that I learned about the multiverse to Lincoln and Dan. Bless my grandma. Sensing that we badly valued our private time together, she brought supper up to my room for all of us three. Dusk arrived early enough; it was fall, after all. After another hour, Dan and Lincoln had to go home.

  Before they left, I explained to them that it wasn’t about us, it was about the greater good. I told them that the Dacturons could rise out of nowhere to destroy us all on Earth if we didn’t act quickly.

  I showed them an old picture I had hidden in my closet under a floorboard. It was a picture of Jason, and Travis was in it.

  I wanted to be sure that they would be able to identify Travis.

  He was still stalking me.

  I believed he was there that night. I could not see him as I looked out my brightly lit room with my friends, but I felt him looking in on me from the darkness.

  “My amulet glowed in order to confirm that something—or someone—was out there. I could feel hatred glaring in on me. It is almost like a sixth sense, which tempted me to turn and look about frantically. I need a break. Oh yeah.”

  Now is the time. Just do it.

  I lay down this tablet and kneel, placing my hands on the floor, which disgustingly is caked with thick dust that still causes me breathing difficulties.

  I am on to something, and I wish to do a few solid push-ups to disguise my m
aneuver. My weak shoulders and twig-like wrists tremble from the weight they bear.

  Building muscle isn’t my goal, so I slow my repetitions. I search for that interesting thing, as I push my body away from the dirty floor.

  I look around frantically, losing hope. My mind has been playing tricks on me lately. I glumly conclude one thing: if I die now, I have nothing to show for it. I would die a failure; just a young man in a cell.

  Wait! I see something. What is it? A disk lies upon my cell’s floor—about an inch in diameter. The guards are watching me though, and I act as unnoticeable as I can—slyly clutching the disc, and slowly moseying over to my mats. Feeling apprehensive over getting caught, I lie down.

  What is this thing? I pretend to rub my eyes, but I conceal the disk in the palm of my hand, and take a couple of quick glances at it as I mime my fatigue. It is dull silver, and has a circular grid of tiny microscopic holes over the top surface.

  Before I insert it discreetly into my pocket, a slight sound escapes from it and barely reaches my ears. Excited, but careful not to show my panic, I pretend to scratch my scalp behind my right ear. In doing so, I hold the wafer-thin disk about one inch from my ear. The sound has faded out.

  I think I know what it is, and I think I know who left it. That shapely nurse. With a smooth move, I drop it off in my shirt pocket, as I mime stroking my shoulder.

  Exhilarated, I inhale the musty old air deeply, take a sip of stale water, and turn the tablet on.

  I see my reflection among the oily smears of my tablet’s screen: a shadowy depression under each cheekbone, and eyes sunk in deep, highlighting my cheekbones. My hair is straw-like and matted.

  Looking up at the turret, I see it is bathed in green floodlights. The floodlights switch from blue to green each evening. Between changes, there is a burst of red, signaling the transition. In the beginning, I used to count how many incidences of red illuminations I had seen, so I could count my number of days in captivity. However, I had long ago stopped counting.

  I do know I am nineteen. I am far too young to perform the despairing, excruciating dalliance with the ultimate Prince of Darkness—Death. Shuddering at yet again peering into the bottom of the abyss, I lift the tablet again, and I begin:

  “Two weeks went by. My new friends and I used the time to build our relationships. We skated, played games, and learned about each other. To describe us, I would say we were inseparable. We felt we had bonded for life.”

  We tried to bring-in a couple of people on our recruitment list, yet they gleefully shot down their chances with unintended bravado. We shook our heads. For example, we stood with mouths agape as we stood in a 7-Eleven and watched a promising candidate surreptitiously stuff a candy bar right into his pocket, without paying. There went that prospect.

  We were heading toward panic mode—we had seven days left. It was Sunday again, and it was colder than usual. We were down to the last two people on our list, and probably the most unlikely to join, Mariah Espinosa and Liam McCaffrey. Mariah was the girl I long had a long-time crush on. Liam was the guy on the farm whose mother we had already suspected of a possible act of “hanky panky.”

  It was a brisk evening as Lincoln and I hitched a ride with my grandpa, who had kindly agreed to drop us off at the Woodland Fun Haven Center, which was a cool arcade, with the latest in interactive video games, laser tag, mini bowling alley, and make-your-own soft ice cream dispensing machines. I had the window down in the car, because my grandpa was puffing away on a cigarette. The wind whipped my face, but it was better than burning my lungs with second-hand smoke.

  Our next target was Mariah. One of our sources told us the day before that she might be at Fun Haven, because her girlfriend was having a birthday party there. That was where we would try to recruit her.

  Once again, we didn’t have a plan. We had faith in all of our allies, with the Dietons on my side.

  As I sat in the back seat, I was daydreaming about Mariah. I flashed back to the conversation I had at home with grandpa this morning. I had found him reading the sports section, as usual, on his favorite armchair, which had garish-looking duct tape splayed across the upper part. My adrenalin raced, but I instinctively knew I could trust him. Standing behind him stupidly, I hesitated to speak out. He did not know I was right behind him.

  A minute passed. I cleared my throat, but he did not hear me. I urged myself to take the bull by the horns; I could hear my grandma’s shower still running.

  ‘Grandpa,’ I said.

  Marv moved his head back slightly at the sound of my voice, and turned his head back to look at me. One sight at my blushing face alerted him that something was up. He put his entire paper down on the folding table in front of him, and gently said, ‘Yes, Theodore?’

  ‘Grandpa, there’s this girl,’ I said, walking over to face him man-to-man. ‘She—she is so beautiful. I don’t know how to talk to her.’

  Grandpa chuckled. He clasped his hands on his lap.

  ‘Son, it does not matter what you do, if she is the girl for you, then all you need is to be cool and be yourself. She will be attracted to whatever she likes. You’re just the right age to start thinking about girls, but since you are, I must warn you. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. If this is the perfect girl for you, go talk to her before another guy does. The good girls always go quickly. Don’t even think about what you are going to say, just say it. If she’s right for you, she will like you for who you are.’

  ‘Thanks, grandpa.’ I wasn’t sure what to say. I still felt troubled.

  Grandpa searched for clues in my expression. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Theodore?’

  ‘Well, I mean, even if a guy and a girl love each other, and get married, there’s no way it’s forever, right?’

  Marv appeared concerned. He reached out for my hand, and gently pulled me closer. ‘I assure you, son, grandma and I are rock solid. Rock solid. Don’t you worry.’ He gave my hand a light squeeze.

  ‘It’s not you.’

  ‘Oh. Who is it, then?’

  I blurted out, ‘Grandpa, I think Liam’s mom had another man in her house.’

  ‘What, McCaffrey! Absurd, that is the preacher’s wife. Theodore Daniel Crane, you tell me exactly what you think you saw.’

  I told him what I saw, and grandpa kept on nodding, absorbing the sordid details. When I had finished, he told me to put it to rest. He said that there was any possible explanation; maybe the man was Mrs. McCaffrey’s father, staying over in the guest room? He warned me not to jump to conclusions. He didn’t want me uttering a word to anyone about what I experienced. As I listened to his wise words, I felt better that I’d told a grown-up. There is a serene feeling of relief once a scandal—bottled up inside you for so long—is shared.

  Lincoln jabbed me into my side with his elbow. ‘Wake up, dude, we’re here.’

  We had arrived at Fun Haven, There were about ten kids hanging out in front of the building, waiting for their parents. Lincoln and I stepped out of the car and waved goodbye to Marv as he pulled away.

  Whack! A light, tiny object clipped me in the face. Stunned, I turned my head at the direction from which it had come. From a distance, Jack Winters and his friends were firing tightly wadded pieces of paper at people with rubber bands.

  As Lincoln and I gaped in surprise, I saw another tiny ball of paper rotating in the air, suspended, just an inch from my cheek. Then, like a rock, it fell to the ground. Signaling to Lincoln, I started sprinting and we both ran inside to avoid the impish boys.

  Thank goodness the bullies had not even noticed that wad of paper behaving strangely. Choosing my battles carefully was a skill that I was honing. Maturing was a side effect of carrying the weight of the multiverse.

  I noticed the Dietons usually intervened only if I first had my turn to defend myself from something that wasn’t fatal. The Dietons seemed to wisely allow me to develop my skills first, before intervening. I agreed with these ground rules. I preferred to rely on m
y own actions first whenever possible.

  Lincoln and I paid the admission fee. Once inside, I marveled at the black lights and fluorescent colors everywhere. The music was shaking the walls with bass, and everyone was blasting away with laser guns and having fun. At the back, there was a small bowling alley as well as some indoor basketball hoops. We had to rent the bowling shoes if we didn’t have our own.

  One downside from renting bowling shoes is that they stink, because it seems like one thousand people wear them every week. It is disgusting if you think hard about it.

  I didn’t feel like taking my X73-21’s off, but I needed to program my kicks to look like bowling shoes. I sat down next to Lincoln when he was trying his stinky bowling shoes on, and since the dressing room was empty, I took my opportunity to program a bowling shoe image onto them. Instantly, they mirrored Lincoln’s bowling shoes. Lincoln’s eyes widened in approval.

  ‘Don’t be showing off, maverick,’ he said.

  I said, ‘Alright, let’s go rip it up, keep your eyes open for M.E.’

  Mariah was nowhere to be seen. We just carried on with our fun, and what an evening it was! Without a prospect to zero in on, we were blissfully free to do as we wished, just to goof off like teenagers again. I felt so liberated within the arcade, blasting away with laser guns; and grabbing the steering wheels and planting my butt firmly on top of fake seats of the car racing cabinets. Above us, the disco ball radiated millions of colors onto everything within sight. It was as if the disco ball was absorbing my pressing, singular mission, successfully diffusing it into a spectacle of harmony.

  Losing Lincoln, I stopped to catch a break at the soft ice cream self-help machines, and I saw him arguing with someone in a dark corner of the rink near the arcade. He was furious.

  The person he spoke to was taller and wore a dark hoodie. When the conversation appeared to be over, he slipped away into a crowd. Not letting him out of my sight, I strolled over to him. I nearly tripped due to these butt-ugly, ill-fitting bowling shoes, and a couple of girls laughed at me as I stumbled.