by J. T. Stoll
Oh, Pieter. He made life light, bearable. Even the hard parts. Though sometimes, Vero wondered how he really felt under all the humor. She scooted over and laid her head in the comfort of his lap.
“I…” The words caught.
“It’s okay,” he said.
Where to start? Frustration at their ignorance, anger at the guys who were ruining the life she was building here in SLO, including James for starting this whole thing. And, constantly in the background, fear and stress. “A lot’s happened. I just want to know what we do.”
Pieter turned toward Neil and nodded. “Neil, why don’t you tell them your scenarios?”
Vero rested against Pieter and looked up as the first stars emerged from the darkness.
“All right, scenario one—”
“And keep it brief,” Pieter said.
“Right,” Neil said. “Well, we don’t know much. We don’t know if Rolland is an evil overlord or a benevolent monarch. We don’t know if Terian is coming to conquer Earth or protect us from his father. Plus, despite James seeming so convinced, who says they even have a big enough population or advanced enough weapons to do any damage? He was dying when he came to us, and it sounds like nobody from his world has ever been here. How they know anything about our society is just another one of those big questions.”
Neil tossed another log on the fire, sending up sparks, and continued. “Knowing that little, I, for one, don’t want to join James’s little guerilla army just yet.”
“Really, dumping all this on us was a pretty douche move,” Pieter said. “We don’t owe it to him.”
“Douche or desperate,” Neil said. “Anyways, do any of you actually want to try and harry the movements of EP’s army?”
“EP?” Gloria asked.
“Sorry, Evil Prince. Terian, that is.”
“Though he might not be evil,” Pieter said.
“Well, cool name either way,” Neil said.
“I don’t wanna fight,” Vero said. “I’ve got enough problems at the moment.”
“Agreed,” Gloria added.
“Good,” Neil said. “In that case, we’ve just got one barrier.”
“Jed,” Pieter said. “And that other guy with him…”
“Dek, the wildian,” Neil said. “That’s what James called him. Whether that’s a race or ethnicity, who knows? Anyways, if they’re here when the main army arrives, we’re identified. We don’t want to end up in that situation. If they’re not here, we’re just ordinary high schoolers. I’ll get back to WoW, Vero and Pieter get back to kissing…”
Vero groaned.
“…And Gloria, you get back to your life.”
Fighting in the fury of that first night had been one thing. But actually hunting someone down and killing them? “What do you mean by ‘gone?’” Vero asked. “Like… dead?”
“Preferably not,” Neil said. “Because whether he’s from another dimension or not, we might end up in jail. I’d rather just get rid of his soul armor and take him to the police. He and Dek are currently wanted for armed robbery. We’ve got a justice system; let them handle the Ruachites… Ruachers…”
“Ruachians,” Pieter said. “Like Asians. Europeans. Ruachians.”
Neil tapped the keyboard. “Ruachians. Check. Anyways, I suggest getting them to the police. Jed wants to find us and kill us? We get him first then get on with our lives.”
“And if it’s not that clean? If it comes to killing or being killed?” Pieter asked.
The fire crackled.
“It won’t,” Neil said.
“Why don’t we just tell the police right now?” Gloria asked. “That sounds easier.”
Neil shook his head. “Bad idea. For starters, if they find out about our weapons, they might suspect us of James’s murder. Plus, the army or CIA or whoever would take our soul armors. And I don’t want to give up our protection with those Ruach…ians still out there.”
“What do you mean?” Vero asked. “The cops would protect us, right?”
Pieter scoffed. “Did you see what Jed did that first night? I don’t think the SLO-po is ready for something like that. I don’t know if anyone is.”
“So, witness protection or something,” Vero said.
“You want to leave SLO for witness protection?” Neil asked. “And give up your soul armor? Do you?”
Vero paused and rubbed a finger over the band on her arm. Her sisters and mom loved this place. And, truth be told, Vero did, too. She didn’t say anything.
Neil gazed into the fire. “We take care of Jed. Then, if we want, we hand everything to the authorities. Or not. Personally, I say we keep the whole thing a secret. If nobody knows who we are, we get our lives back.”
“You make it sound so easy to keep it secret,” Vero said.
“Well, at some point, I wanted to talk about disguises. You know, take a hint from the Justice League and protect ourselves and our loved ones. We’ll… we’ll work on getting some masks or something. But regardless, I don’t think we’re ready to face them down. We need to train, to figure out how to use these armors. Then, when we feel strong enough, we go after him. If we’re really lucky, the cops catch him before we even have to do anything.”
“And if we’re unlucky, somebody else comes through the portal to help them out,” Pieter said.
“Right. Which is why we can’t wait too long.”
“What about the invasion? What if it’s real?” Vero asked.
“You don’t think the authorities will notice when Ruachians start coming through en masse in the middle of SLO? The army doesn’t need a pro tip from us about defending the country,” Neil said.
Vero wanted to argue. Something about Neil just made her want to argue. But he’d thought this out pretty well. It seemed like the best way to get rid of the problem. “I’m down to train. Jed, well…” She still didn’t like the idea of fighting again. “Either way, it’s better if we know what we’re doing.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Gloria said.
A log collapsed on the fire. Everyone stared at her.
Neil raised his voice a little. “You have a better idea? A better way out of this?”
“Well, we could… just keep our heads low.”
“Gloria, he threatened to hunt us down and kill us. Not to mention holding up a bunch of stores downtown. Do you really want someone like that wandering around SLO? The best way to protect ourselves is to fight him. We can’t just run and hide.”
“I just… yeah, that makes sense,” Gloria said, frowning slightly.
Vero sat up and brushed some sand off her back. “Hey, Glori, you mind walking to the bathroom with me?”
“Um… sure,” Gloria said.
Vero pulled the girl up by the arm. Gloria’s face spasmed in pain and her arm tensed. Weird. Vero hadn’t pulled that hard. She shrugged it off, and the two walked toward the restrooms at the beach entrance.
“Glori… You mind if I call you Glori?” Vero asked.
“I’ve had worse nicknames.”
“You doin’ okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Well, all things considered. But this is all pretty scary.”
“Yeah, it is,” Vero said. “But you know, with that thing on your chest, you’re the strongest woman ever alive. Have you tried it out since a week ago?”
A car passed, headlights white against the sand.
“Just a little,” Gloria said.
“Glori, you’re braver and stronger than you let on, aren’t you? There’s something like steel in you.”
Gloria looked at her feet.
“Look, I know this is all crazy, but we can’t just sit and do nothing,” Vero said.
“No, probably not. I’d like to, but I think you’re all right. Eventually, they’ll find us.”
“Right. Don’t you want to at least figure out how that thing works? Don’t you want to be able to do something, rather than be helpless?”
A li
ght just above Gloria’s breasts lit up. Thanks to Neil, Vero couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t light their path. “That’s in a pretty awkward spot,” Vero said.
“Yeah, it shows up under my clothing, depending on what I wear. But like James said, it has to be against my skin to work right.”
“Mine also shows under most of my clothing. I keep it in my purse mostly.”
Gloria shook her head. “Wish I could do that. I have to basically undress to get mine on.”
“What’s it feel like when you use it?” Vero asked.
“Peaceful. It beats in tune with my heart.”
“Sounds like the opposite of mine. I feel like I’m burning up.”
They walked in silence for a moment.
“We need you, Glori. And not just to fight with us. Don’t just zone out when we talk. Don’t let Neil steamroll you. He acts smart, but he’s an idiot.”
They arrived at a small, freestanding building made of cinderblocks. Four unisex bathrooms exuded the faint smell of raw sewage.
“Thanks,” Gloria said.
“No problem. Let’s go back.”
“Didn’t have to pee?”
“Nah, you just needed someone to talk to. No way I’m stepping into one of those.”
9. Tortilla Chips
Pieter blankly gazed into 42,000,000 Google results on American civil war cause. Somewhere in there was a passing grade on his history report. He leaned back in his desk chair. Lengthy papers worked against his strategy to pass classes while expending minimal effort.
Vero had a group project; his sporty friends had sporty practices; even Neil had homework. So he’d come to Dad’s house, which should have been a distraction-free place to complete his paper. But there were no distraction-free places for writing a research paper. He at least hoped for some takeout Chinese, an old favorite for his busy, culinarily incompetent father.
At the bonfire, they’d agreed to train with their weapons. Sunday, they’d met at a trail just north of town, bushwhacked back off the trail, then created a clearing by downing trees with their soul armors. Neil stopped them, saying that deforestation would attract too much attention. They spent about an hour running, jumping, and fighting each other, somehow managing to avoid serious injury.
After that hour, one by one, their soul armors went dark, and they couldn’t reactive them for the rest of the day. Pieter went to bed early that night and still missed algebra the next morning. He spent the entire day groggy. Soul armor exhaustion went deeper than physical soreness: He had trouble thinking, trouble feeling. Croga stretched him in every way, like it was shaping some deep part of him: his soul, whatever that was. The following Saturday, they trained again; he lasted longer and slept less. Now it was Wednesday.
Pieter tabbed to Facebook and scrolled through a puppy in a soup bowl, commentary on the Middle East, and his friend Mike ranting, “I don’t care who caused the Civil War. America won. Please let me get back to my life.” Boredom permeated the air; the entire city seemed to breathe it. A link caught his eye: Medieval Burglars Spotted at SLO High. He clicked.
Someone saw the Medieval Burglars on the roof of SLO High, the older high school across town. The cops rushed to the scene, but the Medieval Burglars had vanished at the sound of sirens. A few students claimed to have seen them jump off the roof; police were skeptical of that claim.
Pieter stared at the ending period of the article and shivered. He had no clue what Jed and Dek had been up to for the last couple weeks, but apparently they had figured out that here in America, kids the age of Pieter and the others went to things called high schools. It wouldn’t take them long to find the right one.
One training session a week suddenly didn’t seem like much.
The click of the front door opening pulled him out of his thoughts. It seemed like his dad was home. However, a couple minutes later, something foul assaulted his nostrils. Rancid body odor? Unwashed clothes? Pieter feared the worst, shut his laptop, and stomped downstairs.
“Hey, Bro,” said a figure pulling a bag of nacho cheese Doritos from the pantry.
“Hey,” Pieter said.
A grimy hoodie covered Steve’s torso, and equally stained jeans covered his legs. He stood about an inch taller than Pieter, and matted hair hung down to his shoulders. A rough beard covered his face, and a tall camping backpack, its original color impossible to determine, rested on the linoleum floor. The stench nearly bowled Pieter over.
Steve tossed the Doritos bag on the tiled kitchen island and removed some chips with his blackened fingers.
“I thought we changed the locks.”
Steve laughed as he chewed. “Only helps if you bother to use them.”
“Point taken.”
Pieter gazed into his eyes. Normal, not dilated. No wonder Steve was hungry.
“So what’d you come here for?”
“Snacks. To say hi, see if I could stay a couple days. Cops raided our camp.”
Pieter could deal with this Steve. He could talk to this Steve. Despite the grime and the body odor tsunami, somewhere inside was the Steve he grew up with, the one some part of him still loved.
“You know Dad won’t let you.”
Steve shrugged. “Worth a try.”
“Where you been?”
“Here and there. Santa Cruz was nice. Went to San Fran awhile; the place is cold.”
It was good to see his brother. No, that was stupid. This was Steve! Sure, he was sober, now. Sure, they could have a conversation, now. But tomorrow? Hadn’t he learned anything about trusting this wreck?
“I hear the place is great when you’re not homeless.”
Crumbs fell out of Steve’s mouth as he spoke. “Aww, little Brother, still pampered by Mommy and Daddy. Better free like me than a slave like Dad.”
“Not sure I want either.”
“Keep your mind open.”
“That a code phrase for ‘smoke meth’? Doesn’t seem to have done wonders for your aroma.”
Steve shrugged, sending a little avalanche of chip crumbs onto the kitchen floor. “Don’t worry, your time’ll come, little Bro. Let’s share a camp someday.”
A whoosh of air signaled someone else coming in through the front door.
“What’s that smell?” shouted their dad.
He rounded the corner into the kitchen. Dad was tall like his sons, but older and heavier and with more lines on his face.
“Why am I not surprised?” Ice infused his voice. He threw a stack of school papers onto one of the counters. “Get out. Now.”
Steve opened his hands to his dad. “I don’t have a place to sleep. Can’t I just stay one night?”
The ice turned to fire. “Get out! Stay at the shelter if you can get sober for long enough!”
Steve looked at the ground. If he were high, he would have screamed and fought. But now? Hungry and weak? He picked up his pack and tracked a trail of dirt across the carpet toward the front door.
Steve stood in the doorway, facing them. “Bye, Dad.”
A long, shaking finger pointed outside. “Get out.”
His footsteps descended the walkway. Dad picked up the bag of chips. “He was eating these?”
“Yeah.”
The sound of crushing chips followed the bag into the trash can. “Why’d you let him in? You know better.”
“I didn’t,” Pieter replied. “He just walked in.”
“Next time, don’t forget to lock the door. And call the cops if he shows again.”
It was better this way. Pieter shook off that moment of weakness, the moment where he wanted Steve to stay the night.
“So, Dad, you… uh… craving orange chicken?”
His dad’s face softened. “Why not? I have a bunch of papers to grade. Maybe we can pick up some air freshener on the way.”
“No ‘maybe’ about the air freshener,” Pieter laughed. However, after it escaped his mouth, the joke tasted bitter.
10. Practice
Vero tore ope
n a box bearing an Amazon smile and pulled out a clamshell package.
“Oh, this,” she said.
“You sound surprised,” Neil said.
The label read celebrity mask; inside was a plastic mask shaped like Britney Spears’s face. Vero leaned against a nearby tree and turned it over a few times in her hands. “I ordered this?”
“Yes, you ordered that.”
She barely remembered it. Neil had been breathing down her neck to pick something for a disguise so that he could place the order. She had searched for masks, picked out something funny, then emailed it to him. Britney Spears? How had she ended up as Britney Spears?
A light breeze rushed through the leaves overhead. They were at their practice spot, a clearing near a trail just north of town. Pieter and Vero had created the small clearing by downing a few trees with their soul armors during their first training session three weeks ago. They stopped when Neil pointed out that they needed to train in secret and not get arrested for illegal deforestation.
Pieter slipped his mask on. The off white of a demented clown face—complete with angry eyes, slightly bloody lips, and rotting teeth—smiled at them. A little bit of fluffy red hair stuck off the bald head. “Now this is a disguise.”
“I am the Neil-man,” Neil said, facing them while wearing a Batman mask. He spoke in a raspy, throaty voice. “Gloria, how’s yours?”
She slipped on a white bunny head, slightly cartoony, complete with ears stuck straight up like an antique TV antenna. Whiskers pointed off the cheeks. “Well, it covers my face.”
“You look really cute,” Vero said.
“We’re not going for cute,” Neil yelled. “These are battle masks. I can’t believe I let you pick those out. Britney Spears? Bunny rabbit?”
“Ditch the ears,” Pieter said. “They’re a little overkill. Makes you hard to take seriously.”
“Neil gets to have ears,” Gloria said.
“That’s because I’m the Batman,” Neil said in his deep voice.
Gloria slipped off the mask and stared at it.
“They’d probably get torn off in a real battle anyways,” Vero said. She held out her axe, and Gloria sliced off the ears and whiskers.