Doc Harrison and the Masks of Galleon

by Peter Telep

  So when my father says he’s already stopped me, the first thing I do is jump into my persona—

  But I can’t.

  “What did you do?” I ask him.

  “What I had to. Tommy told me about the violations. All of them. Not one, not two, but dozens. The rumms have been testing us since the day they got here, and it’s just too risky… for all of you. I tried, Doc. I gave you the benefit of the doubt when we were on the boat, I gave them phones to keep them connected, but I knew it’d come to this.”

  “You didn’t give us enough time! And now you drug us?”

  “Now what?” Grace asks. “You’re experimenting on our son and his friends?”

  “Mom, please, let him finish. When did you do this?”

  “At your party. The pizza and the ice cream. We have a version that’s administered orally.”

  “You didn’t trust us at all.”

  “I’m trying to keep you and your friends alive. Wait a minute.” He breaks off, thinks of something, and then rushes from the room, hollering, “Tommy?”

  “What was that about?” Grace asks.

  I exhale loudly and close my eyes.

  My plan was to project my persona and show Grace who I really am. And then Meeka and Steffanie and Keane would join us, all glowing in their personas. And then the rumms would arrive, and she could meet our little caravan here on Earth. We’d be her angels carrying her off to another world. It was going to be beautiful.

  But now we can’t do anything. My father will tell her I developed psychological problems after she left and started believing I was an alien.

  Meeka and Steffanie arrive at my door. “Doc, everything okay?”

  “Remember those drugs that turn off our wreaths?” I ask. “Well, my father put some in the pizza and ice cream. I guess they take a few hours to start working, because last night I could still jump, but now we can’t. None of us.”

  “Are you sure?” Steffanie asks. She tries and makes a face and then curses. “How much did he give us?”

  “I’m not sure, but the higher the dose, the longer the effects.”

  “Oh, this is ridiculous,” Meeka says. “And now he’s got a rebellion on his hands.” She storms away.

  Steffanie gives me a disappointed look, and then jogs off after Meeka.

  “Doc, all this talk about drugs and security. Is your father doing something illegal?” my mother asks.

  “No, but it should be.”

  She grabs me by the shoulders. “You’re my son. You know you can be honest with me.”

  I slip out of her grip and cross to my shelves. “Okay, here’s the truth. See all these Star Wars figures? Basically, I’m one of them. So are my friends. Dad’s one, too. He’s like Emperor Palpatine.”

  “Doc, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. The plan was to show you everything, but Dad turned into a control freak!”

  “So why don’t you just tell me?”

  “Because you won’t believe me. My wreath doesn’t work so I can’t project my persona.”

  “Honey, I don’t know what that means, but I’m listening to whatever you want to tell me.”

  I sigh in disgust. “You ever think there was something strange about me and Dad?”

  “That’s why I love you.”

  “No, I mean like something off. Something not human.”

  She begins to laugh. “Oh, definitely.”

  “This won’t work.” I glance at my laptop, and a thought hits me. I lift the screen.

  “What’re you doing now?”

  “I’ll show you our personas.”

  “I keep hearing that word…”

  “Just hang on.”

  I bang on the keys and pull up one of those viral videos of the nomads running wild on Earth. I show her a glowing guy scaring some girl at a shopping mall in Orlando.

  “Looks like special effects,” she says. “Just some kids having fun with a camera.”

  “It’s not a hoax,” I say. “The wreath in my chest allows me to jump into my persona, and it looks just like me. It’s really cool, and I wish I could prove it to you, but I can’t.”

  “I know you’re trying to tell me something, Doc.”

  I slam shut the computer and rub my face. “I want you to come home with me. I wasn’t born here. I was born on Flora. It’s a place like Earth, but it’s trillions of miles away. I want to show you some amazing things. You need to come. You can’t die here without us.”

  “Doc, your father has always tried to protect you, and I thought it was just because he loved you…”

  “Then you believe me?”

  “Let me finish. I was married to that man for a very long time, and I’ve had my suspicions about his work and the strange things I’ve overheard, but honestly, they’ve never led me to believe that the two of you are aliens.”

  “But we are.”

  She smiles again. “And your friends are too?”

  I start shaking my head in frustration. “Just forget about it! Forget I said anything.”

  “Doc, don’t worry. I’ll talk to your father about this.”

  “And he’ll just lie… like he always does.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Meeka wasn’t kidding when she said rebellion.

  Everyone has crowded in the living room and is screaming at the top of their lungs.

  Tommy raises his hands. “People, listen up! Y’all take it easy, and we’ll talk to you.”

  “How could you do something like that?” Meeka asks my father. “How could you violate us?”

  “Yeah, we’ll call a lawyer,” Steffanie adds. “That guy on TV? For the people?”

  “Girls, I’m trying to keep you safe,” my father answers.

  “Y’all need to pipe down!” Tommy cries.

  “Thaddeus, you tell me what these drugs are, and you tell me right now,” Grace orders.

  “Let us talk,” my father says. “And just listen—that is, if it makes any sense to you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Grace says, glancing around the room. “We’re all waiting for your explanation.” She shares a hard look with Meeka.

  My father glances to Tommy, who nods and begins:

  “Okay, so here’s what we know. Solomon showed up last night and took Julie. At the same time, clouds shaped like masks turn up over Florida and a few other locations. Landry and Boonwalla said the other nomads vanished, just like our people. So why did they vanish and we didn’t? Did they go willingly? Or did someone take them? And what do we have in common that kept us here?”

  Tommy looks to my father, who steps in: “Granted, this is just speculation, but everyone who disappeared had a wreath that we assume was healthy and not impaired by drugs. Doc, you and the rumms were on the Wrrambien. Landry and Boonwalla were despers, and they poisoned their wreaths, so they’re still here.”

  “What about you?” I ask my father. “You went after Julie’s mom last night. I guess neither of you took the drugs.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And why’s that?” Meeka asks, her tone full of suspicion.

  “Young lady, I’ve been living here for over fifteen years, and I’ve learned to exercise tremendous restraint. But when you’re young—and emotional—things happen, things that can get you killed.”

  “If you didn’t take the drugs, then why are you still here?” Steffanie asks.

  My father removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. Finally… he just shrugs.

  “So what happens now?” I ask.

  My father sighs. “We leave tonight. Zach’s been doing a great job at the safe house, and he’ll look after anyone who stays behind. He was a desper himself before I saved him, which is why we didn’t lose him.”

  “And what about all these drugs?” Steffanie asks. “I’m not taking any more, and you can’t force me.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. If you stay here, you stay on the drugs—for your own protection.”

  “But then we
can’t even talk to our immortals,” Meeka shouts. “You’re taking away a piece of our lives!”

  My father shrugs. “I can’t say it’s a perfect life. Who can? That’s the best I can offer.”

  “Wow, awesome, I’ll take this most generous offer back to the rumms,” Meeka says, winning the sarcasm of the year award. “But no one’s going back if we can’t jump.”

  “Given the first dose you’ve had, the drugs should wear off in about two weeks,” my father says.

  “Two weeks?” I shout.

  “Calm down. There’s a neutralizing agent. It takes about four-to-six hours, sometimes up to eight until you can jump, but after that, you’ll be fine.”

  Keane raises his hand. “I don’t want to sound like some troll or whatever, but you’re saying the nomads were taken and we weren’t because the drugs protected us. If we come off the drugs, won’t we wind up like them? And who took them in the first place? Solomon? Why?”

  My father glances to Tommy. “We’re not sure about any of this, but to be safe, no one gets the neutralizing agent until the portal’s open and we’re ready to go.”

  “Mr. Harrison, please talk to us,” Keane says. “You know something about these Masks of Galleon. What are they? Do they make people vanish? Do they kill them?”

  My father hesitates—

  And everyone erupts with more questions and accusations and theories until there’s a roar filling the room.

  “All right, people, listen up,” Tommy says, shutting down the commotion. “Anyone who’s coming needs to be ready to roll by eighteen hundred—that’s six p.m. Earth time, right? You can pack your fancy clothes, and whatever little stuff you want to take, but I’ll have gear for you. Good to go?”

  “Good to go,” answers Meeka.

  “Right now I’m heading to the safe house,” Tommy says. “Saddle up if you’re riding with me.”

  An arm slides across my shoulder. It’s Grace. I shrug. “I guess you’re totally confused.”

  “Actually, I’m really nervous.”

  “You know what? I am, too.”

  “Doc?” my father calls. “I need to speak to your mother.”

  “All right, I need to do something anyway.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Julie’s house is just down the street, so I ask Tommy to drop me off on his way out. I convince him to open the front door for me.

  Before I go inside, he puts a hand on my shoulder. “You didn’t forget something in there, did you?”

  I shake my head.

  “So why are you here?”

  “I don’t know… in case I never see her again.”

  He nods. “You text me when you’re ready.”

  “I can walk home.”

  “Nope. Operational security.”

  With a wink, he marches down the driveway and climbs in the van. Meeka frowns from behind the window. Steffanie stares ahead, totally bored. Keane tosses his hair back and reads something on his phone.

  Framed photos of Julie and her mom hang in the entrance foyer, and I try to avoid them, but it’s basically impossible. It dawns on me that no one lives here anymore. That sends a chill up my spine.

  I thump up the stairs and arrive in her bedroom doorway. I’m frozen, unable to cross the threshold. It’s like she’s here and holding me back, just like the first time:

  During one of our tutoring sessions, maybe six months ago, I had excused myself, but Julie said the downstairs toilet was broken. She’d show me the one upstairs. I told her I’d find it myself, but she got all paranoid. I figured I’d play a little game and turned left down the hall when she turned right. I rushed toward her bedroom—

  “Don’t go in there,” she told me.

  “Why not? You got secrets?”

  “Hello, a little privacy?” She charged in front of me and slammed shut the door. “Don’t be so nosy.”

  “Wow, sorry!”

  So I’m back and staring wide-eyed at the ridiculous boy band posters, at the gem-shaped bottles of perfume on her dresser, and at the stuffed animals piled into mountains on her bed. The Spanish book we used for tutoring sits on the floor near her dirty clothes hamper.

  Off to the left, the sides of her dresser mirror have become a collage of photos taken with her phone, printed with a color laser printer, and then cut out and taped to the glass. Sadly, I’m only in one or two photos, standing there like a dork behind her friends, a shadow, an afterthought.

  That fact hits hard. Really, really hard.

  I take a few steps inside and then freeze again. A brush sits on the dresser. It’s still clogged with her hair. I want to touch it, but that’s way too creepy.

  So why am I really here?

  I don’t know, I feel like this could be my last day on Earth. As in forever. When I close my eyes, all I can see are those masks over the ocean—

  And Julie’s eyes turning white.

  What does it all mean?

  I’m really scared, and because of that, I’m also looking for clues. Maybe there’s something here that’ll help me find her. She said she was going back to the Palladium, but what if she’s already left by now?

  She wasn’t the type to leave a note, or blog, or keep a journal. It was all about cosplay and food preparation and posting the pictures on Instagram. There are even a few cookbooks lying near the foot of her bed.

  Trying to ignore my nerves, I pull open her closet doors. To the right hang all her costumes: superheroes, witches, fairies, fantasy queens, you name it. Her normal clothes hang neatly on the left. She has a thing for wooden hangers, no cheap plastic Walmart ones like I have. I just look. I won’t touch. She keeps saying, “Hello, a little privacy?”

  Back at the dresser, near her brush, lies a small jewelry box, along with some necklaces and earrings that she wears too often to put away. I think about that charm bracelet I gave her, but I won’t open the box to check for it. It’s better to believe it’s still there.

  Okay, this is rough. I’m torturing myself. There’s nothing here that’ll help. I take a deep breath and turn to leave.

  But in the doorway stands a hooded figure in a white cloak with stitching that flickers and glows like lightning. The figure slides back the hood—

  And I lose my breath.

  It’s Julie’s persona, her eyes shimmering pure white.

  She reaches out to take my hand.

  I gasp, step back, and trip over my own feet.

  I’m on the floor, looking up—

  And now it’s my father offering his hand.

  “Dad?”

  “Tommy called me.”

  “No, wait. I just saw Julie.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “She’s trying to contact me.”

  “Or maybe you’re just thinking about her too much—”

  “I’m telling you, I saw her.”

  “It’s just me, Doc.”

  I ignore his hand and get to my feet myself. “It was her.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  I just look at him. “Just leave me alone. Please?”

  “Look, don’t worry. We’ll find her. But you need to be ready if she won’t come back.”

  “Ready how?”

  “Ready here.” He pokes me in the chest.

  “Yeah, yeah…”

  He tips his head toward the door.

  I glance again. Where is she? I know what I saw.

  “Doc, are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve been through a lot,” he says, steering me toward the hallway. “And I want you to know, Grace and I think it’s best for her to stay. I know how you feel, but we have no idea what we’ll find when we get there…”

  “So you talked her out of it?”

  “I just told her the truth—that if she comes, she could endanger us all.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “You know it is.”

  My voice cracks. “We can’t leave her alone.”

  “Sh
e’ll be with Zach. But if she comes, you’ll have to take her up to the Highlands and just leave her because we’re going after Julie and Solomon. Isn’t it better she stays here?”

  “Maybe the grren can keep her safe.”

  “You can’t count on them.”

  I’m starting to believe he’s right, but I won’t admit it.

  “Doc, you made a promise to Julie’s mother, and you’ll keep it and not make decisions based on feelings.”

  “I just wanted to do something for Grace. That’s all. And if you want to keep us safe, why don’t you tell us about the masks instead of lying about them?”

  “We’re finished here.”

  “I guess we are.” I storm past him and hustle down the stairs.

  Outside, I text Tommy for a ride to the safe house.

  My father joins me and asks if I want a ride back. I tell him to go home. He throws up his hands and leaves.

  I walk down to the curb and glance back at the house.

  Julie stares at me from her bedroom window.

  She begins to shake her head.

  I blink, and she’s gone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The safe house is just one of Tommy’s rental properties: a four-bedroom pool home in an older part of Winter Springs where oak trees draped in Spanish moss line the streets. Of course, it’s very discrete. There are no warning signs like they have outside Area 51.

  Once a nice house, it’s now a chaotic dorm for nine sloppy extraterrestrial teenagers.

  Piles of shoes line the entrance foyer like cars backed up in traffic. A coat hanger looks like some bizarre man-eating plant with purses and backpacks and shirts and pool towels sprouting off it like ugly leaves. There’s even a heavy film of sand flowing across the tile.

  It’s like the rumms are trying to make the place feel more homey and post-apocalyptic by not cleaning up.

  And worse, something smells, a combination of burned toast and old cheese and bad broccoli. Phew.

  Somehow I reach the living room without being injured. There, the rumms have plopped down on some sofas Tommy found at a thrift store. Everyone’s present except Rose, the sickest among them, and I’m worried about her. Before I can ask, the conversations fade—