Doc Harrison and the Masks of Galleon

by Peter Telep

  If I could somehow contact her…

  In my mind’s eye, I picture her persona in that white cloak with electrified stitching. I beg for help.

  Who am I kidding? My wreath’s numb. I can’t connect with her now.

  Gunfire yanks me back to the moment.

  A few despers empty their entire magazines, but the grren and their personas are too fast.

  As the bloodbath continues, a much older grren, maybe the leader, charges around some trees and leaps directly in front of me, kicking up a wave of mud. Unfortunately, his crotch bounces into view, and he’s clearly male.

  With a hiss, he lowers his head to expose a vertical pattern of six spiral markings deeply faded by the sun. Wing-shaped lines extend from each marking and curve toward his brows while gray-and-white patches cover his cheeks and neck like artic camouflage. The few whiskers he has left have turned pale, almost see-through.

  I should say “Nice, kitty,” or tell him that he looks much younger than his 247 years… or something even more stupid to win him over, but I just stand there.

  What I’m supposed to do? If I run, he’s got me. If I reach for my pistol, he’s got me.

  Maybe doing nothing will make him wonder why I’m not afraid, but I can’t let him see me tremble.

  The grren exhales into my face, his breath hot and rancid, his fangs chipped and worn but capable of gouging a big hole in my chest.

  I lean back as the flaps over his nostrils quiver and his eyes spin, forming patterns of gems.

  He draws back his head, looking confused. He’s not used to prey just standing there, plus we don’t look like despers to him. We’re different. Maybe that has him thinking…

  Meanwhile, Meeka and Steffanie call out from beneath one of the buckets.

  Ignoring them, I hold my breath and slowly reach into my hip pocket, tugging out my smart phone.

  The grren roars in my face.

  And now I’m trembling so badly I’m unsure I can hold the phone. “Okay, okay,” I tell him. “You have my attention.”

  “Doc? I’m gonna shoot them!” Meeka shouts.

  “No! I got this!”

  “Doc, please!” Steffanie cries.

  “Just wait!” I tell them.

  I turned off the phone to conserve battery power. Fool. Now I wait while it boots up. I focus on the screen as more grren join us, their mouths ringed in blood.

  I wish Keane would connect so he could see this:

  Me, about to confront an entire pack of grren, and all I can do is, you guessed it, play on my phone. Typical teenager.

  My home screen finally appears, and I thumb to my photo album and begin scrolling through dozens of photos.

  “Where is it? Where is it?” I mutter.

  Finally, I click on a photo of me, Brave, and Mama Grren, a secret picture Julie took just before we sent them back. My father forbade us from taking pics (operational security), but too bad. We wanted memories, so we got some. I enlarge the photo and look up—

  Into the gem-filled eyes of all six grren.

  One of them stares at my forehead, as though searching for that Q with the slash mark. His sneer becomes something else, maybe a frown.

  I was right. They realize we’re not despers.

  But then all six start clicking their teeth.

  I shut my eyes and hold up the phone. I’m showing them my life, just like I would if I could jump into my persona and connect with them.

  I flinch, bracing for impact.

  The grren grunt at each other, as though arguing…

  And then the phone’s knocked from my hand—

  And I’m thrown flat onto my back.

  When I open my eyes, I’m staring into the jaws of another grren with twin rows of teeth sharper than switchblades.

  This one hisses, and his forked tongue flashes with those needle-like teeth growing from each tip. The needles scrape across my cheek.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  As I mentioned earlier, the odds were against us bumping into Brave and Mama Grren.

  And yes, I should’ve had a better plan, but without the ability to jump and connect, all I have left is this photo.

  And it seemed like an okay idea. Hey, here’s a picture of us with some of your friends. Please don’t eat us. Right?

  But these grren aren’t interested. They’re just hungry.

  I assume Meeka will start unloading. She won’t last long after she pulls the trigger.

  Steffanie still has her pistol. She’ll fight to the death, but it’s a horrific way to die.

  My heart sinks as I picture Grace and my father back in the subway, trapped and waiting for us to bring help.

  I glance to my left, where the phone hit the mud. It’s lying face up, within reach.

  Slowly, I move my arm.

  The grren straddling me clicks and hisses. The rest circle us, growling together to produce a fat bass note that literally vibrates through my entire body.

  The leader watches me reach for the phone, ambles over, sniffs it, and then has a look.

  “Doc?” Meeka calls.

  “Just wait,” I answer.

  The leader glances up from my phone, snarls at the others, and then… the one in my face backs off.

  I sigh and close my eyes.

  It’s over. They realize who we are.

  A gunshot cracks and echoes across the mountain.

  I sit up and scream, “NO!”

  “I didn’t fire!” Meeka answers.

  “Neither did I,” says Steffanie.

  “More despers?” I ask.

  I lean over, grab the phone, and point to Brave and Mama Grren.

  The leader actually nods.

  I gesture up the mountain, like I want to go see them.

  He nods again.

  I almost laugh. I love this guy. I’m calling him “Grandpa.”

  “Meeka? Steff?” I shout. “Come out. Meet us behind the buckets.”

  “Yeah, right,” says Meeka.

  I hustle to my feet, but that startles the other grren, who growl and bark at me.

  Another gunshot punches into a tree above the buckets.

  “We’re out of here!” I scream, pocketing my phone.

  I tentatively reach over and tug on Grandpa’s ear. “Please don’t bite me.”

  He lowers his head and scoots back, allowing me to swing up, grab his ears like reins, and ride him.

  “I think he knows our grren,” I say. “Come on. Have you ever been on one of these guys?”

  The girls emerge from beneath the buckets and look at me like what the hell?

  “Just grab their ears! Hurry!”

  Several more rounds punch into the buckets, and that’s enough to send them running.

  Grandpa barks at his packmates. Two of them lower their shoulders, allowing Meeka and Steffanie to climb on.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this!” cries Steffanie.

  “Beast mode!” Meeka shouts. “Hell, yeah!”

  “You better hang on!” I warn them.

  Behind us, the remaining grren leap into their personas and scatter into the forest, back on the hunt.

  Grandpa grunts, as if to ask, “Are you ready?”

  I tug on his ears, and he springs forward, nearly ripping me from his back. No, I wasn’t ready for that!

  And now we’re bounding between the trees, weaving an almost drunken and insane path. I swear we’re doing sixty miles per hour.

  I clench my teeth and tighten my grip on his ears as we veer left to catch sight of the girls behind us:

  Steffanie bounces around with a terrified look on her face, but she never loses her grip.

  Meeka wears a huge, I’m-riding-a-rollercoaster smile and relaxes into the flow of the grren’s muscles. She’s already a pro, and her grren senses that, picking up the pace.

  Grandpa charges on, and my eyes burn from the wind.

  After another minute, I can anticipate each of his jumps. It’s like my experience with Brave, only
we’re not connected. This is all physical.

  And then, just as I’m really dialing into Grandpa’s stride, we reach the mountaintop. He slows to skirt along a cliff that overlooks their valley.

  Everything’s the same: the colossal trees that could be filled with Ewoks, the trees on the opposite side flattened by the nuclear blast…

  Rain falls lightly across the river that divides the valley in two. On the north side lies that downed hoverjet where we found cartons of canned goods from Earth.

  And then, as we leave the cliff, our adventure gets real.

  Grandpa leaps onto the nearest tree and begins to scale it, his powerful claws swiping at the bark and locking on.

  I tense as I’m thrown away from his back, dangling in midair from his ears—

  Until he reaches the first limb and swings himself upright to slow down.

  I collide onto his back, sliding off to the left but catching myself before I fall.

  Now we leap from limb to limb and duck below the maze of intersecting branches. Grandpa never hesitates, relying on instincts and a lifetime of practice.

  We’re into tree after tree, scurrying along branches twice as fat as telephone poles. The old cat has incredible balance and never misses a step. His breathing grows more labored as we ascend higher and higher.

  Now we’re, I don’t know, maybe a hundred feet off the ground? The branches become less dense, so it’s easier to slip between them and keep the pace.

  Steffanie and Meeka exchange a few raspy words, and I’m relieved to hear they’re still behind us.

  And now it’s time to stow our tray tables and return our seats to their upright positions because this flight is nearly over. Grandpa begins to descend, and I’ll admit, I do not like this part. Every time he jumps down to the next branch, I think he’ll miss, and the stronger gravity tugs much harder on my shoulders.

  And so… by the time we hit the ground and come trotting up to Mama Grren’s cave, I’ve definitely had enough.

  The other grren dash up behind us and come to a clawing halt. They lower themselves, allowing Meeka and Steffanie to climb off.

  “Oh, man, what a rush!” cries Meeka.

  Steffanie stumbles forward, looking three shades paler. “Can we never do that again?”

  I’m about to answer, but Grandpa’s already pacing outside the cave.

  “So I don’t get it,” Meeka says. “Why’d they take us all the way up here?”

  “Maybe they feel more safe,” Steffanie answers. “It is the rainy season, after all…”

  Meeka nods.

  I’m unsure what that means, but I look at Grandpa. “Or maybe they want to show us something. Come on…”

  We slip into the damper air and cooler shadows of the cave.

  Grandpa leads me into the main living area, where Mama Grren built a huge nest for her cubs. The nest is still here, but the rest of the cave is empty, save for a few of our old Publix cans and cardboard boxes.

  I look at Grandpa. “Where are they?”

  He looks away.

  “Hey, Grandpa, I’m talking to you.” I pull out my phone and show him the photo again, pointing specifically to Mama Grren’s nest. He just shakes his head.

  “Something’s wrong.”

  Grandpa nudges my elbow with his nose, trying to push me back outside.

  Okay, we head back out and then gather in the clearing, where Grandpa takes a long look at the sky, as though staring into a memory, and then he gestures with his head.

  “He’s telling us something,” I say. “Like Brave and Mama Grren were taken.”

  Grandpa turns to face me. With a groan, he rears back onto his hind legs and spreads his front legs, as if to make himself appear even larger.

  Now, standing there, looking strangely human, he rolls back his eyes until they’re white, making the most horrific expression ever. Demonic.

  “Oh, no,” Meeka says.

  “Oh, yes,” I say.

  Steffanie backs away. “What’s he doing?”

  I shiver. “He’s showing us one of the masks.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  While we’re standing there, still in shock, a gust of wind nearly knocks us over. A few seconds later, the sky opens in a torrential downpour.

  We rush back into the cave, along with the grren.

  “So we’re not having a good day,” Steffanie says, tugging off her helmet. Meeka and I do likewise, and we also remove our muddy vests.

  “How long has it been?” I ask.

  “It’s getting dark,” answers Meeka. “Probably six hours, but you can check on your phone.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. So I still can’t jump. Can you?”

  They both try and sigh.

  “Well, my dad said it could take up to eight hours.”

  “Yeah, he did,” Steffanie adds.

  “But can’t wait for that,” I say. “This grren over here, the old one? I’m calling him Grandpa. We need him and this whole pack down in Verbena like right now.”

  “Good luck with that,” Steffanie says.

  I swear and glare at her. “How about some help instead of snarky remarks? My parents are back there!”

  Her expression softens. “Whoa, Doc, I’m sorry.”

  “But she’s right,” Meeka says. “Without connecting, it’s too complicated to tell him everything. There’s only so much we can do with acting it out.”

  “Acting it out? That’s a good idea.”

  “It is?” she asks.

  “I have some more photos. Maybe they can help.”

  Steffanie raises her hands, like we’re out of control. “Guys, slow down. Before we do that, can I ask something: why’d they take Brave and Mama Grren and not these guys?”

  “That’s right,” I say. “Their wreaths work.”

  “Yeah, that’s weird,” says Steffanie. “So only some people and animals were taken?”

  “Could be,” says Meeka. “But you know, I didn’t see any other grren here, did you?”

  We shake our heads.

  “You think these guys are the only ones left?” I ask.

  “Don’t know. But there has to be a reason for all this—and we should definitely find out.”

  “I just thought of something else,” Steffanie says. “With all this rain, Tommy could be stressing out back there.”

  Meeka looks worried. “Yeah, Verbena gets flooded a lot. If water gets down in that subway and starts backing up…”

  “Then my parents could drown before we get to them.” I face Steffanie. “You’re right. We’re not having a good day.”

  “But we’re not giving up,” says Meeka.

  “Hell, no,” I say.

  “Then get out your phone. It’s getting dark, so let’s try this while we can.”

  “There is no try,” Steffanie says.

  We look at her.

  She shrugs. “Keane forced me to watch it. And then he starts talking like the little green dude, Yoyo or whatever, and he’s doing the most annoying voice.”

  “There is no try,” I repeat, thanking her with my eyes for a much needed smile.

  As I’m waiting for the phone to reboot, I watch Grandpa crawl into the nest, sprawl out, and rest his head on a lip of branches. His eyes look heavy, but he’s still watching us.

  His packmates lie nearby, grooming themselves.

  I scroll to a picture of me and my father on Tenerife. We’re surrounded by laughing women dressed in glittering dresses as we all celebrate the Carnival of Santa Cruz, which is this amazing annual party and parade that lasts for days, with tons of food and people dressed in fancy costumes. They used to wear masks and carry swords and other cool props, but terrorist threats changed all that. My heart aches now because Alina took this picture.

  After a deep breath, I move carefully to Grandpa, raising the phone.

  He lifts his head. I show him the picture. He stares at me. “That’s my father,” I say.

  And then I face the girls. “This is gonn
a take forever.”

  “Just keep going,” Meeka says. “Worst case is we’re stuck here until we can jump and connect with them.”

  “Ah, this is so frustrating,” I say. “I could show them what we need in like two seconds.”

  “Let me try something,” says Steffanie. “Bring the phone over. We’ll use it for light.”

  She kneels on the dirt floor and beckons to the two grren, who rise and slink over while Grandpa remains in the nest, lording over us.

  “Okay,” Steffanie says and then draws an oblong circle in the sand and pokes dots in the center. “Here,” she tells the grren, gesturing around to the cave and beyond. “This place.”

  I can’t tell if they understand or not, but she goes on:

  “And this is the city,” she says, after drawing some squares and lines like roads moving between them. She adds the symbol of the wreath with those twelve thorns: six pointing outward, six pointing inward.

  Grandpa shifts forward, as though recognizing the area.

  Steffanie goes on to draw Verbena, adding in the dome (that used to be there), along with a few more squares, and, finally, she draws the Monkshood’s Q symbol with the slash. “So here’s the temple. We need to go there.” She motions to us three, and then points to Verbena. “Doc, show him that picture again.”

  I do.

  Steffanie rises and lifts her voice, “Okay, so look at me!” She glances up, wriggles her fingers, and starts waving them up and down, pretending that the ceiling is caving in.

  She then draws a stick figure on the floor and slaps her palm on top, crushing the person. She rolls onto the ground and pretends she’s the one being crushed and struggling to free herself from beneath the heavy rock.

  Wow, she’s good. And she does her own stunts.

  One of the grren springs into the air, landing beside her.

  She gasps.

  But he sniffs her face, wondering if she’s okay.

  “Oh, that wasn’t the reaction I was going for,” she says.

  The grren backs off, and Steffanie sit ups.

  Meeka rises and gets Grandpa’s attention.

  She points to me, Steffanie, and then herself.

  She points to Verbena.

  And then she gestures to Grandpa, pretending to hold a pair of ears and bounce like she’s on their backs.