by J D Jacobs
“It’s the same nightmare I had last night, too,” I tell Cody. Although it was supposed to be top-secret, I told Cody about the Avvil trip as soon as I saw him. He’s thought it was an absolutely stupid idea to send his recently-rescued friend into another unknown city, and I’m glad somebody finally agrees with me. “It doesn’t have anything to do with them deciding to send me off. I’m fine, I swear.”
Cody gives an unconvincing nod. “Whatever you say. When are you supposed to fly out today?”
“Last I heard, Jenkins told me around 10 AM,” I tell him. “Three-hour flight there, then we’re supposed to come back Thursday afternoon. That is if Jenkins hasn’t changed the plans without letting me know.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it from him. He’s a snake. I don’t trust him.”
“It’ll be fine. If Jenkins did anything sketchy with me, then you, Dad, and Grant would all know about it. Jenkins isn’t that stupid.”
“If you say so.” Cody stands up and begins putting his blue jeans on. Cody usually works on Tuesdays, but Dad said he didn’t have to work if he promised to help prepare me for the trip. So far, Cody’s preparation for me has consisted of plenty of insults toward Jenkins and plenty of empty promises, such as “I swear that I’ll get with at least two nurses in your bed while you’re gone” and “I promise you, you’ll definitely get brownie points with Jenkins if you massage his mustache on the helicopter ride over there.” Both of those statements have a negative percent chance of happening.
“I still don’t know why you won’t ask your dad to let me go with you. That is, unless you want the one-on-one time with Jenkins.”
“No sense even asking, I know what he’s going to say. I don’t know why you’d wanna come with us, anyway.”
“I think it’d be fun,” he says as he throws a shirt on. “New places, new faces. I even heard that they have their own little NBA over there. I might try-out and make a living doing that.”
“Where exactly did you hear this? You literally know three people that even know this city exists.”
“A boy can dream, okay?”
Suddenly, the door flings open, and Jenkins strides in. “Jaden! What’s taking you so long? We have to get moving! We’re supposed to leave in a little under fifteen minutes!”
I look over to check the clock, and he’s right. I hop out of my bed and pack my suitcase I was given, something I forgot to do the night before. “Sorry, my alarm clock must not have gone off.”
“Who in the world needs an alarm clock for 10 AM?” Jenkins mumbles under his breath. He then turns to Cody. “Wasn’t it your job to help him get ready? Pack his bags, wake him up; you know, simple stuff?”
“Don’t blame it on me,” Cody says. “Not my fault Jaden has the self-discipline of an eight-year-old.”
“Yeah, Cody has always been such a help to little pathetic me. If it weren’t for him, I still wouldn’t be potty-trained.” I take the time to flip Cody off while I shove clothes in my suitcase.
“Too bad we don’t all have a friend like Mr. Goodwin,” Jenkins says. Even though I’m sure Jenkins was sarcastic with that comment, it gives me an idea.
“Mr. Jenkins, do you mind if Cody comes with us on the trip?” I nonchalantly ask him.
“You’re kidding, right? Why should Mr. Goodwin go along with us to Avvil?”
“Because he’s my friend and I want him to.” I can’t really think of a much better reason than that. I’m not sure how much convincing that’ll do. “There’s no harm in bringing Cody with us, is there?”
Jenkins stalls for a second, looking as though he’s actually considering the idea. “I had thought that it would’ve been a good idea to have a friend come along with you on the trip. But I’m afraid it’s a little late. If you had asked earlier, maybe.”
“But I’m already packed,” Cody says as he reaches under his couch and pulls out a duffle bag. The duffle bag serves as Cody’s dirty clothes hamper, but I guess it can double as a suitcase. It also contains all of the random things I bought Cody at the Tevoc Shop, so it looks more similar to a trash bag, at this point. “I’m ready to go right now.”
“Yeah. And you owe me,” I sternly tell Jenkins.
Jenkins closes his eyes for a second and smiles, looking forward to my explanation. “Owe you for what, exactly?”
“The other night at the Crowbar. You made me look like a fool in front of that entire bar, all because you promised me something and didn’t hold your end of the deal. The least you could do is let Cody go with us.” I purposely try to be as ambiguous as I can because I never told Cody about what happened that night. Cody doesn’t know the significance my purple eyes have, and if he found out that Jenkins knows and he doesn’t, Cody wouldn’t let me sleep until I told him.
Jenkins bites his lip, thinking it over. “Okay, you’re right. I made an educated guess that night and ended up hurting you. I suppose I was wrong, and I do owe you.” He looks down at Cody, displeasure in his eyes not from having to tolerate Cody but from having to admit he’s wrong. “I don’t see any reason against it. It shouldn’t hurt anything. Just grab your bags and be on the roof in five minutes.” Jenkins then turns and heads out the door.
Cody turns to me, his teeth gleaming in excitement. “Holy crap, he’s letting me go! I can’t believe it!”
“I’m very surprised, to be honest.”
“I still wouldn’t trust Jenkins with my left shoe, but who cares. This is huge! This could be history in the making! The first meeting between the last two surviving cities that we know of, and I’m a part of this journey.” He grabs the duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder as he waits for me at the door. “Anytime today would be nice.”
I put a shirt on, zip my suitcase closed, and follow Cody as we jog down the hall. “I told you that they wouldn’t mind me going,” Cody says to me once we get on the elevator.
“I knew Dad wouldn’t say yes. I didn’t even think about throwing the guilt card on Jenkins until then. Worked to perfection.”
“I only thought he tricked you into going on stage. The way you acted, you would think he broke up with you.”
“Damn, you’re hilarious. And just because I don’t want to torture Jenkins like you do doesn’t mean I like him.” Part of that is a lie. I do want to torture Jenkins, humiliate him, do anything I possibly can to cause him the same pain he gave my friends. I have to keep reminding myself this; I can’t forget that he’s a murderer.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” The elevator chimes and the door slides open. Cody immediately jogs across the observatory deck of the 23rd floor. “I’m sure you have to tell yourself that when you two are cuddling together. I just hope to God that he’s the little spoon. I couldn’t take you seriously if you were.”
Cody opens the door to the roof and hops up the stairs in front of me. I can hear the rumble of the helicopter blades from here, and my stomach gets nauseous as the situation begins to settle on me. I have no clue who these people in Avvil are. What if they’re complete savages? Or what if they’re like us and are looking to bring civilization back to where it was? Maybe this is the first step in finding a cure to the Cozmin. Maybe this is a big moment in history.
I walk up the stairway, the sun aggressively greeting me as I open the door. I notice Grant sitting on top of The Spot. He gives me a casual two-fingered wave and then nods his head toward the helicopter. “It looks like you convinced them to let your friend tag along,” he screams at me over the helicopter blades.
“Didn’t think it would work, but he’s coming with us.” I look over at the helicopter where Jenkins, Cody, my dad, and another man are all huddled around each other, throwing their bags in the helicopter. “Not too late for you to tag along.”
“Wish I could. You better get going before they leave without you,” Grant shouts at me. “Wouldn’t want that to happen again, would we?”
I smile and turn toward the helicopter. The conversation between the four huddled at the helicopter seems to be getti
ng heated. Once I get to the group, the man I don’t know, who has a gray goatee and looks to be in his late-fifties, throws me a white suit and a mask.
Once the mask hits my hands, I nearly drop it in fear. The screened eye-sockets that are connected together to form an angry, V-shaped glare are just as I remember them, and so is the meshed mouth that curves upward into a nefarious smile. The fear that this mask brought me in Westwood was too much for me to handle, but I suppose that now that it’s on my side, there’s nothing scary about it anymore.
“Harrison, I do not support this,” Dad yells over the blades, his arms crossed.
“C’mon, Mr. Foxx, it won’t be a big deal,” Cody pleads. “I won’t get in the way. I won’t even talk to anybody, if you don’t want me to. Promise.”
“Then why go? There’s no sense risking your life on this trip if there’s no need to,” Dad argues back.
“I thought there wasn’t going to be any risk in the first place?” I ask him. “It’s just a casual trip, right? Won’t take long, no harm should be done, right? If so, where does the risk come in?”
Dad looks at me, his patience having left long ago. “Son, not everybody is as comfortable with the Cozmin in their lungs as you are. The ride there and the ride back is very dangerous. It’s risky enough sending two of the most important people that Tryton has on this trip.”
“Anthony, your boy said he wants a friend to come along on the trip, and there is no harm in that,” Jenkins speaks up as he puts his suit on. “I believe you’re overreacting. If Mr. Goodwin keeps the suit on, he’ll be fine.” I’m very surprised to see Jenkins defending me and Cody. Against my dad, nonetheless.
Dad’s face remains disapproving of the decision, but he realizes he’s outnumbered and gives in. “Fine. Give him a suit.” The pilot reaches in a large plastic bin, pulls a suit out, and tosses it to Cody.
“Are we bringing all of these suits with us?” I ask while stepping into the one-piece bodysuit.
“Avvil said they need a way to protect their bodies from the virus if they want to leave their city’s boundaries,” says Jenkins. “We brought as many as we could fit in the bin. We’re making trades between cities; hopefully they’ll go smoothly.”
“What are we supposed to be getting in return?” Cody asks. Jenkins and Dad look at each other before Jenkins answers Cody.
“We haven’t decided on a specific item. We have a list of necessities we need to fill, but we will see what Avvil has to offer us.”
As I get fully into the suit, Dad grabs the helmet at my feet to keep me from struggling with it. “Be safe, Jaden. Don’t do anything stupid in Avvil, and don’t do anything stupid outside these walls. I want you back here on Thursday, and you better not be in a bodybag.”
“I don’t think we’re bringing any bodybags on the helicopter, anyway,” Cody jokes as he hastily slips into the suit. Dad glowers at Cody, and Cody’s laugh quickly hides as he turns his attention back to getting his suit on.
“You be safe, too, kid,” Dad says as he reaches over and rubs Cody’s head. “I mean it. Be safe.”
“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Foxx. I will!”
Jenkins hooks up all the tubes that go from his mask to the oxygen tank on his back, then drops the mask on his shoulders. “Well, Anthony,” Jenkins’s voice is now much deeper and concealed while talking into the mask, “hopefully the next time I see you, our mission will be successful and we can celebrate!” He extends his arm to shake my dad’s hand.
“Yeah,” Dad says as he grabs the clothed hand of Jenkins’s and tries to meet Jenkins’s eyes through the meshed mask. “We’ll celebrate our asses off.”
Cody and Jenkins get in the helicopter before me, and the pilot gets in the pilot’s seat of the helicopter. Before I put the mask on and step in the backseat of the helicopter, I give Dad one last hug.
“Love you, Dad. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I love you too, son.” Dad then pulls me in closer, brings his mouth to my ear, and begins to whisper, slowly and thoroughly. “Make sure you are cautious around Jenkins. I mean it, watch your own back.”
The warning is unexpected, but it’s the abrupt reminder I needed. If he’s dangerous enough for my dad to warn me like this, then Jenkins must have something planned. Something I don’t want any part of, and something my dad must know about.
I could ask Dad questions, ask him what specifically is pricking on his mind about Jenkins, ask him why he doesn’t just come along with us and watch my back for me, or ask him why he was so opposed of Cody coming if Jenkins is so dangerous. But I don’t ask him anything. I give a simple nod and let go of him.
I look back at Grant to wave goodbye, and I see him still seated on top of The Spot, with his gorgeous, brown-haired faceless wife sitting beside him. Grant returns the wave, and I get on the helicopter and close the door behind me, the helmet still in my lap.
And we instantly begin to lift off the roof.
11.
I’m filled with nerves. Anxiety. Concern, especially over what Dad just told me. It doesn’t make sense for him to warn me but not tell me exactly what’s going on, but I’m used to being the only one left out of the conversation in a room. That’s my forte. But look at Cody; he doesn’t have even the slightest clue of what’s going on. I’m sure under that mask he looks like an eight-year-old at Disneyland, eyes wide and eager for whatever’s going to be thrown at his face. Or he may look like an old pervert in a porno store. Both instances seem to fit him pretty well.
“This is so cool,” I hear Cody say in his newly conformed voice. “Woah! That is so cool! Jaden, you need to put your helmet on and talk into this thing!”
“Mr. Goodwin, please, this isn’t a field trip. This is serious,” says Jenkins, who sits across from me with his back to the copilot’s chair. “I pleaded your case for you to come along with us so please don’t make a fool of yourself while we’re here.”
Cody doesn’t respond, and the two of them remain quiet for a good ten minutes. In the midst of the awkward silence and over the shoulder of Jenkins pops the talking Grim, sitting in the copilot’s chair and turning around to look at me.
“Ahh, Jaden! Isn’t it so good to see me again? I wish I could say it’s good to see you, but your face is still kind of melted off, and that’s really gross. You’re sort of a hassle to look at.”
Nobody else in the helicopter responds, of course, because they don’t know he’s there. I want to respond to the Grim, but I know that as soon as I do, everybody else in the helicopter will wonder who I’m talking to. And when my only options for a response are that I’m talking to myself or that I’m talking to a faceless spirit, there’s not really a winning answer.
“Oh, goodie! A situation where I do all the talking and you do all the listening! We should do this more often.” The Grim adjusts his seating position so he can turn his entire body toward me. I glare at the Grim, angry because he’s right and he knows it. I finally throw the helmet over my head so he won’t get the satisfaction of admiring my impatient looks.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair in a second. I only came to tell you some important stuff. Some stuff that you want to know, some stuff that you need to know, and some stuff that I finally feel like you are capable of handling.”
I perk up at what he’s saying, but not too obvious so Cody or Jenkins won’t question me.
“Alright,” he begins. “First off, I just wanted to state that we’ve known each other for quite a while now and you’ve never even asked me my name. Am I offended by this? Not going to lie, I am a little. But don’t worry, I won’t force you to ask me what my name is, since you obviously have refused to do so already. My name is Xander. Alexander Robert Bryson, to be exact.”
Bryson… Why is that last name familiar?
“Heard that last name before?” Xander continues like he read my mind. “That’s right: I was Grant’s brother.”
Wow. I’m legitimately stunned to hear this, but now
that he mentions it, I can see it. The two share similarities with each other. Xander must be the brother that Grant mentioned earlier, the one who got him hooked on cigarettes. The one that Grant looked up to and strived to be like.
“That really isn’t too relevant right now, though,” Xander follows-up, “I just thought it’d be nice for you to know. The real reason I’m here is to talk to you about those good, old-fashioned, sepia-filtered flashbacks that seem to bite you in the rear when you least expect them. You and Grant experience them, right? Wonder why they happen to you when they do? Here’s a hint: they’re not as random as you think. I’ll give you a second to answer the question.”
He pauses for a solid ten seconds, as if I’m actually going to answer him. “Aww, sorry, time’s up,” he tells me with a convincing ding to replicate a timer going off. “The correct answer is… me! I’m the one who controls when you have flashbacks and what you see in them! Just think back to all the flashbacks you’ve had and know that I specifically handpicked them out for you to experience. No need to thank me, so you’re welcome!”
I close my eyes, trying to refrain myself from blurting out questions. How is he going to throw a bombshell like this on me at the most inconvenient moment possible!?
“You see,” Xander continues, “there’s a technique I have when I give you flashbacks, and with a little practice, you can master this technique yourself. Yes, that means you can experience any past moment anytime you want. You can have history in its entirety at your disposal, all the way to a personal level. But first you have to practice, and right now, you have zero practice experience. That also means that right now you have no control over what I’m about to show you. So have fun!”
Xander swipes where his eyebrow would be, and I lose my focus as the world around me grows black.
I then regain my focus as everything has now turned sepia.