by Peter Telep
A moment later, he returns. “Well, I count four, maybe five, and I don’t like that math.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I only got three rounds left.”
“So now what?” Keane asks.
“Now you and me got some work to do.”
“And them?” he asks, lifting his chin at me and Julie.
“I think we can handle this,” Tommy says.
“Oh, I get it, Doc and Julie are the special ones, so we take all the risks—because we’re expendable, right?”
“Expendable?”
“Yeah.”
“Son, I have no plans to die today. Know why? Because after we get off this rock, I’ll be famous. You’re looking at the first man on an alien planet. I’ll tweet that. I’ll be trending. I’ll be on every TV station in the whole wide world! I’ll write me a book, they’ll turn it into a movie, and they’ll turn me into a little action figure: Major Tom, Space Marine. Oorah.”
“What’re you talking about?” Keane asks.
I snort. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t even do Twitter.”
Tommy winks and softens his expression. “Keane, what I need is your experience and your persona. This has nothing to do with you being expendable.”
Keane folds his arms over his chest, still not buying it.
Tommy takes a deep breath. “All right, let me clear it up for you. See here, Doc and Julie and me? We don’t know jack about this place—which makes you the most valuable person on our team. We lose you, we’re in a world of hurt.”
Keane wrestles with that a moment. “I guess you’re right.”
So this is the part where Tommy and Keane distract the guards, take them out, and we’re on our merry way.
At least that’s what I’m thinking.
But I’m so wrong. So very, very wrong.
High above us, beyond the massive glass ceiling, comes a muted whoosh, like rockets taking off...
Followed by a breathtaking silence.
And then at least three explosions drum from outside the glass. They echo and shake the entire ceiling—
Just as a shadow passes overhead, like a cloud blocking the sun.
A black vehicle that looks like a helicopter but with wings and vertical jet engines crashes nose-first through the ceiling and erupts in a ball of flames.
“Hoverjet!” Keane screams.
Gigantic shards of glass tumble and clink against each other, cracking into smaller pieces to form a deadly shower.
Long beams from the window frame fly like boomerangs in all directions.
Fumes from burning rubber and fuel whip over us as the wounded hoverjet thing plunges toward the forest.
The nomads guarding the tunnel have rushed out for a look. One points up.
They have just enough time to gawk at the exploding mass before it crushes them with a ridiculous kaboom.
The ground quakes, and the blast wave knocks us onto our backs. Flattened like pancakes.
As I sit up and try to catch my breath, a fuel tank smashes open, sending a shower of flames across the trees.
Now it’s raining fire everywhere.
Tommy’s on his feet. He shouts. Looks ahead. So do I.
We curse together.
The tunnel entrance has caved in—
And it’s blocked by the smoking debris. A one, two punch.
“Because there are no gods!” shouts Keane. “Only death!” His persona shoots from his chest, glances around, and then winks out.
“He’s looking for another exit,” Julie says.
As the glass and beams cut like machetes through the burning trees, a croaking, barking, roaring noise comes from somewhere behind us.
That’s right, I’ve heard it before.
Definitely an animal and definitely ferocious.
Keane looks terrified. “Get out of here! It’s a grren!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
We grab our bikes and race after Keane as the thumping and growling seems to gain on us.
“Hope y’all have a plan,” Tommy hollers. “Because that thing sounds hungry!”
“What the hell?” I cry.
Keane’s leading us toward the wreckage and the collapsed tunnel. He rolls left, weaving between pieces of smoldering debris and skeletons with arms extended and clothes and goggles melted across the bones.
I swallow and shift my wheel, rolling behind the mangled cockpit, where Keane leaps off his bike, allowing it to crash behind him.
He runs forward to where the ground is caving in between the burning hoverjet and the collapsed tunnel.
“Power’s down now,” Keane says. “So we can’t get past the other doors, and even if we could, they got us cut off.”
“Then we’re screwed,” I say.
“No,” he snaps. “If the grren’s behind us, then we can go down there.”
“What is it?”
“That’s his tunnel system. I heard they keep a grren here for experiments. He’s usually locked up, but he must’ve got out. We’ll get the bikes down there.”
“What do we got?” Tommy asks, rolling up beside us.
“An exit,” Keane says.
“Then let’s ride!” Tommy bears his teeth and pedals hard. He makes a flying leap into the expanding pit—
And lands on his rear wheel about eight feet below. He skids out and spins around to face us.
Something flashes over my shoulder, a blur of movement. I turn. It’s Julie gliding through the air, arms braced as she ka-thumps on the dirt, loses control, and crashes next to Tommy.
“I’m good!” she hollers, lying on her side.
Keane and I never get our chance to jump.
Our ledge collapses, and we, along with our bikes, plunge straight down into the pit.
A wave of sand soaked in burning fuel douses us as we’re buried up to our knees, and then our waists.
What else could go wrong?
Two things.
The grren is somewhere up top, hissing and licking his chops, ready to leap down for some munchies.
At the same time, the ground is still caving in...
Meaning what’s left of the hoverjet slides off the ledge and starts rolling toward us like a NASCAR racer shedding pieces across the track.
I curse and throw myself forward, trying to free my legs from the sand.
My neck grows warm as the burning wreckage gets closer. Metal strains and ticks. The sand whistles around me.
Keane’s beside me in his persona, trying to drag himself out of the sand.
Good idea. I do the same, and I’ve got help:
Julie and Tommy grab my arms and pull me to the side, just as the hoverjet comes to a thundering stop, missing me and my persona by just inches.
We collapse in the sand, fanning dust from our faces and gulping air.
Keane’s persona appears near the base of the hoverjet. “Hey, little help!”
He drops to his hands and knees and digs frantically, trying to free himself from beneath the crumpled jet.
All three of us rush forward.
I’m scooping out big chunks of sand and clay as Keane’s persona urges us to dig faster. He can’t breathe.
A hand appears like a mummy’s from a tomb.
Then comes an arm. Then Keane’s head. He blinks hard and spits.
“Give me your hand,” Tommy orders.
Keane obeys, and, bracing himself with both legs, Tommy hauls Keane from beneath the hoverjet. Keane gets to his feet, shaken but very much alive.
Julie brushes sand from his shoulders. Even something as small as this—her touching him—would usually make me jealous, but right now it doesn’t… because I keep seeing her father’s eyes in hers.
“Everybody good to go?” Tommy asks. “Because Godzilla is still up there.”
“It’s called a grren,” Keane says.
I glance to the crumbling ledge.
There’s no monster up there—
Just three nomads with the r
ifles pointed at us.
This time Julie curses.
One fires a warning shot at our feet. “Right where you are. Hands in the air.”
As I obey, I realize we have an opportunity here—and I’m not talking about an opportunity to get killed.
Think about it:
This nomad army works for Solomon, and if they’re really looking for us, then I’m guessing they have orders to capture us alive.
Why? Because Solomon can use us to control my father, the same way he’s using Julie’s mother right now.
“Do you know who we are?” I ask the soldier.
I almost sound like a badass. Almost.
The nomads leap down onto the shattered hoverjet, and then slide off to confront us.
The tallest one approaches, rips off his goggles, and pokes me in the chest. “I know exactly who you are. That’s why the bonus is mine.” His voice sounds broken, like he has lung cancer, and the best he can do is croak like a frog.
Tommy shifts in front of me and stares down the trooper. “Doc, what the hell are these boys saying?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him.
“Shut up!” the lead nomad orders. We’ll call him Kermit. And now he talks into a watch communicator on his wrist. “Rific, I have the prize.”
I check the ledge, searching for the grren. Where is that monster when you need him?
Tommy shakes his head, as if to say, “Don’t try anything.”
But there’s something going on between Julie and Keane. She turns her head a fraction toward him.
He’s looking at her. She’s looking at him.
And then the monster does return.
Actually, two of them.
And their names are Julie and Keane.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
My Dad has an unexplainable love for that cheesy Batman TV show from the 1960s. He watches it on some oddball cable station that only plays stuff from another century.
So each week Batman and Robin fight criminals dressed in leotards more shiny and colorful than their own. Batman does a “batacular” job of overacting, while Robin says things like, “Holy hole in a donut, Batman.” There’s even a Wiki page listing all the crazy things Robin said on the show. No, I didn’t look it up. My father showed it to me. What a nerd.
Anyway, my favorite parts are the fight scenes—because every time the “dynamic duo” punches or kicks a bad guy, a comic book action bubble flashes on the screen:
Thwock! Ka-zoinks! Blammm!
So here I am, thinking about a stupid TV show, while Julie and Keane engage in some serious badassery.
Yes, they’re in their personas, but instead of attacking the bad guys head-on, they have another plan.
Oh, yeah, they do.
I’m talking about multiple short-range jumps.
It never occurred to me that you could jump behind someone, and then in front of them—
And you can do it as fast as you can think it.
So Julie appears in front of one nomad, punches him in the throat, and then vanishes before he can react.
Then she’s behind another guy, choking him, while Keane throws sand in another one’s eyes.
They appear and vanish over and over, and they do it so fast that the nomads can’t track them.
However, it’s only a matter of seconds before the bad guys jump into their own personas and the real thowking! and blamming! begins.
But seconds are all we need.
Tommy dives for his rifle. He snatches it, comes around, and takes aim.
It’s awfully convenient that he has three shots left, right?
Three bad guys, three rounds.
He shoots the first two, but the rifle goes silent.
Damn, he only had two rounds. Country boy arithmetic.
He shouts for me get down as the tallest guy, Kermit, directs his rifle at us.
I land in the dirt—
Coming face to face with one of the dead nomads.
And the second dead guy lies just behind him.
Whoa. Can I breathe now?
Not yet.
Automatic gunfire blares. Rounds ping off the hoverjet.
A glowing Julie and Keane clutch Kermit’s rifle and force it away from Tommy.
Seeing this, Tommy lunges forward, grabs another rifle, and then squeezes off a few shots, striking Kermit in the hip and stomach. Kermit staggers and then falls to his knees. Julie and Keane yank free his weapon.
Tommy sits up, keeping the rifle trained on Kermit, who coughs up blood and raises his hands.
Meanwhile, the first two nomads have jumped into their personas. They face their own bodies, and then each other, as reality takes hold. One of them glares at Tommy and hollers that they’ll get their revenge.
But then both start rambling on about how they really are gone and they just can’t believe it and they’re running out of time. Panting like dogs, they jump away, one after the other.
I wonder where they’re going.
Just then, Kermit groans, so I crawl toward him, hoping to get some answers. “You work for Solomon, right?
“Who’s Solomon?” Julie asks.
“Just a bad guy,” I snap, waving her off into silence. I face the nomad. “So do you know where he is? He’s got an engine, right? Do you know where that is?”
Gunfire sends all of us ducking and grabbing our ears.
“Hold your fire!” Tommy shouts.
After a few tense seconds, I lift my head.
Keane hovers over Kermit’s body with his smoking rifle still pointed at the man, who’s now lying on his side.
“You idiot!” I shout. “Do you know what you just did?”
His eyes widen. “I know exactly what I did!” He spits on Kermit’s body. “Now you listen to me. You see a nomad, you put a bullet in his wreath.” He scowls once more at all three dead men. “Have a nice day.”
I can’t hide my disgust, but it has no effect on Keane. He slings the rifle over his shoulder, walks past us, and picks up his bike.
We stand there for a moment, shocked. I wait for Kermit’s persona to appear, but it doesn’t. No wreath. No persona.
Finally, Tommy breaks the silence: “Well, if we can’t get any intel out of these boys, we might as well make ‘em good for something.”
* * *
Minutes later, we’re wearing the nomads’ smelly clothes, along with their boots and goggles. We took the head wraps and scarves as well, tying them around our necks.
Tommy and I shared the clothes from one guy. He gave me the armored vest, saying, “This bullet bouncer is yours, but clearly it ain’t no good at point-blank range.” We did find an extra pair of goggles for him, and he’s glad to be out of his goofy pajamas, even though the nomad’s pants barely fit.
Julie still has her flashlight and takes point. The tunnel’s barely wide enough to fit our bikes, plus we have to duck here and there as we go. The grren’s claw marks draw huge lines through the dirt. Yikes.
Other than being eaten alive, we should be okay. There’s no chance of the tunnel collapsing, since our pal the grren dug directly under our much wider tunnel, and its curving floor appears above our heads.
And yep, the bad news keeps on coming because we’ve reached a dead end.
I bite back a curse. “Nice work, Keane.”
“Shut up.”
“Maybe we can get back into the main tunnel,” Tommy suggests. “I have a few grenades. We could blow an opening. Of course that gives up our position.”
“Maybe there’s still another way out?” Julie asks. “We can jump over there and have a look. Maybe we can dig through. At least that won’t make as much noise.”
“No, this is not right,” Keane says.
“What?” I ask.
“First of all, do you think I’m stupid enough to lead us into a dead end?”
I gesture to the wall of dirt. “Uh, hello?”
“Something you want to tell us?” Tommy asks Keane.
&nb
sp; Keane snatches the flashlight from Julie’s hand. He directs the beam along the ceiling and then back around the tunnel. “Just what I thought. The grren do it all the time. This is a decoy wall.”
“A what?” I ask.
“Look, when they dig tunnels they create a maze. I just missed this section, but we’re not blocked because this wall’s not very thick.”
He returns the flashlight to Julie and digs through some looser earth, clearing a small hole about two feet deep, while Julie holds the light.
Tommy slips in for a look. “He’s right. Got us a tunnel on the other side…”
“See, I told you,” Keane says.
Now we’re digging like bosses, widening the breach until we can get our bikes through.
Dirty and exhausted, we finally finish, and one by one we cross to the other side.
Even the flashlight can’t find the end of this new tunnel as it wanders away from us, curving to the left.
Keane’s in the lead now. He makes the turn, rolling out of view for a few seconds.
As we speed into the curve, we find him stopped dead with a hand raised. “Hold up!”
“Oh, no,” I mutter.
“Oh, yes,” he says.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When Julie was about my age, she went through this Goth phase for a few months. She wore this greasy white makeup, dark eyeliner, and painted her nails jet black. She would only listen to deathrock, industrial, and punk. Her favorite phrase was, “Leave me alone.” Smiling was forbidden.
Disturbed by this, I spoke to Tommy.
He suggested I conduct a reconnaissance operation to gather human intelligence from several of Julie’s classmates.
So... wearing a pair of camouflage cargo shorts and sunglasses, I went downrange to gather my intel.
Turns out Julie’s latest crush was this senior, a guy who had been an extra on some vampire TV show that had shot an episode in Orlando.
Anyway, she ran with his Goth crowd for a while, but Mr. Vampire Extra got expelled and busted for selling pot. A few weeks later, she returned to normal.
During that time, Dad caught me in the bathroom, putting on Mom’s eyeliner.
He didn’t say a word.
But then, about a week later, he and Mom sat me down on the sofa. Dad tried to start the conversation several times, but he stalled out like our lawnmower always does.