“So why did you shoot me and cuff me to this bed?”
The old man made a pained smile. I think he really regretted having me locked down like that. “We are an interagency task force assigned to prepare the summoned for their appearance at the Rock. We’re here to guide you.”
“Guide me? You shot me and now I’m a prisoner.”
“You pulled a shotgun on me.” Rosales patted me again. “But don’t worry. You’ll be on a jet for Wichita in an hour or two. There are already rumbles in California and smoke coming out of some peaks in the Cascades.”
Mr. Yarrow flipped open his notebook and hovered the tip of a chewed up Bic over the paper. “What wishes are you considering?”
“Considering? I just found out I have a frickin’ wish.”
“Don’t think about it. Just rattle them off.”
I couldn’t just rattle them off. My mind was stuck in neutral. I’d been chowing on Chinese not that long ago, wishing I had a pop to help wash down a mouthful of cold noodles, baby corn, and water chestnuts.
“Quick. What do you wish for?”
“A Coke.” As soon as I said it, I felt like a tool.
Agent Rosales smiled at me. She was pretty, I decided, for an older woman. I guessed she was nearly thirty. She had curly hair and good cheek bones.
The colonel made a noise through his lips that sounded like a wet fart. He could go to hell for all I cared. What was he doing there, anyway?
Mr. Yarrow scribbled. “What else?”
“A billion dollars.”
“And?”
“A house. But I guess I could buy a thousand houses if I had a cool billion to spend.”
“True. What else might you wish for?”
“A million more wishes. Infinite wishes. I want to be invisible. I wanna fly. I want a thousand girlfriends in bikinis. Beer. I want to live in Miami or someplace it never snows and doesn’t smell like cabbage.”
“Good, good.” Mr. Yarrow was really into it, happily swaying side to side as he wrote down all my ideas. I saw him mouth the word bikinis.
Colonel Prickhead had his phone out. His lips pooched out like the butt end of a purple potato as he scrolled through something. “Doreen Lahane requested a million wishes eight years ago. The Rock denied her request and electrocuted her with lightning out of a blue sky.”
“Yes,” Mr. Yarrow said. “And once she recovered, she wished for the death of all her enemies. Which was granted.”
“And now she’s serving forty concurrent life sentences in Taycheedah Maximum Security in Wisconsin.” The colonel leaned at me. “Be careful what you wish for. Frankly, I think we should nuke that rock with you strapped to it.”
“Why is he so mean?” I asked Rosales. She just rolled her eyes as if this was his usual friendly banter.
Mr. Yarrow ignored the whole thing. He was looking at his list of my dumb wish ideas and humming to himself.
“What do you think I should wish for?” I asked him. His friendliness was starting to irritate me. “Do you have a better idea? World peace? Free buffet twenty-four seven? Endless summer?”
“No!” The old guy really seemed upset by that last idea. “Do not mess with the weather. Please.” He put the pen in his mouth and started chewing. He talked around it as he paced.
“We tried world peace last time. It didn’t take. Now there’s more fighting than ever. The time before that we ended famine, but the Rock gave us poisoned food. Killed more than we saved.”
“I never heard about that.”
“It happened when you were little. The wish went to a nun that time. Sweet lady. She died eating the food she wished for. Nasty.”
Man, that Rock alien thing in Kansas sounded like a real bastard. “Maybe I should ask for something little. A million dollars or something.”
The colonel’s purple smile flattened into a knife slash across his face. “Money wishes have been tried twice, despite our stern instructions to the contrary. Both wishes were fulfilled. Trixie Stone’s house blew up, spreading one hundred billion one dollar bills across a five county area of Indiana. A boon for the local economy until prices went up a thousand percent. Javier Martin wished for his money to appear in an account he’d prepared in advance. That worked, but computers were able to trace unauthorized financial transactions from other accounts. The money was confiscated and returned. He went to prison for embezzlement.”
“So the wish is worthless. Is that what you’re saying?”
Mr. Yarrow stuck the notepad in his pocket. “So far, all selfish and unselfish wishes have resulted in disaster for the world or the wisher.”
“What about I just don’t make a wish?”
“We tried that on wish number four. By then we knew to arrest and restrain the wishers until we had a chance to consult with them. The Rock of Kansas does not like that, hence the huge earthquakes and volcanic eruptions experienced around the world. We had to rush Wisher 4 to Kansas amidst a hail of molten rock.”
I sucked down the rest of my hot chocolate and slid the empty cup onto the stainless steel table. We all went quiet for a while. Mr. Yarrow wore a sad smile. Agent Rosales was giving me a sort of sisterly sympathetic face, and the colonel was giving off prickitude vibes galore.
“Why don’t you nuke it?” I said after a while.
Yarrow perked up. “Attempted following wish 5. Failed. The Rock is indestructible.”
“It’s testing us,” Rosales said. “It is a puzzle and it will keep backfiring until we figure out what it truly wants.”
“It is not a test. It is evil.” The colonel crossed his arms. I could tell by the look on his face his mind was closed to any opinion that didn’t match his own. Just add fifty pounds, a joint, and a bag of Jalapeno Corn Pokes and you’ve got my Uncle Don Don in a uniform.
“It might just be confused,” Mr. Yarrow said, musing to himself more than to me. “It doesn’t necessarily have a moral code. It hears the request and fulfills it. Who’s to say why?”
“It fulfills it...unless you ask for more wishes,” I said. That sounded kind of childish to me. You give a guy a wish, you need to be telling him about the rules up front, you know what I’m saying?
My heart beeps had slowed down to a sad pace that matched my mood. “All I want is to be able to live inside a house and not in a refrigerator box. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I don’t need a billion dollars. I just want to be left alone and be able to eat new food and play some damn video games.”
“Where’s your family, Marcus?” Rosales grabbed my hand. I wasn’t comfy with that because I knew I hadn’t washed it and I knew where it had recently been. I tried to pull away, but she held on tight. “Where are they?”
I told them about Dad in prison and uncle Don Don being crow-barred and probably thrown in the lake.
Mr. Yarrow looked at Rosales and I could have sworn they were about to get all teary on me.
The colonel’s phone suddenly blew up with calls and texts and crap. He swore pretty creatively and that won him a bit of my respect, but generally I still hated his guts. He eventually put the phone away. “A 7.2 quake off Japan. We’ve got to get him to Wichita. Now.”
And so that’s what happened. Private jet and all that. Pretty sweet. I got to eat a bag of hamburgers we picked up on the way.
They’d built a facility right by the Rock. Way out in some corn field a hundred miles from nowhere. The alien thing was jammed in the bottom of a crater the size of the Gophers’ stadium. Science guys and engineer guys had put up a crap-ton of antennas and sensors and wires and lights all around the rim.
The building had a suite of rooms just for the Chosen One. That was me. They didn’t call me that, but I did.
They gave me fifteen minutes to take a shower. Rosales was waiting in my room when I came out. She had fresh undies, a T-shirt, and an orange jump suit for me to put on. It was right out of some NASA video. I put it on and didn’t complain. A pair of new socks and some rubber slippers. Pretty nice. Not styling, but
clean as hell.
Can’t tell you how much I loved clean. The rooms were spotless. A beige carpet, gray bedspread, real crisp white pillow cases. “After, can I sleep here once?” I asked Rosales.
“I think so.” She was getting teary on me, so I just cleared my throat and got a handful of Cheetos out of a bag.
One wall had big windows in it. I looked out at the crater while I munched my snack. It was dark out, cloudy. Ginormous flood lights were shining from the crater rim down at the Rock.
It was shiny and black. I couldn’t tell what shape. It looked round. The bowl of the crater was carved with a road that spiraled down from the top. A flat concrete platform had been put in next to the rock. A sidewalk with railing circled the thing. It looked pretty legit.
Rosales took in the view with me. “No one can get closer than fifteen meters or they’ll be hit by lightning.”
“What about me?”
“You’ll be allowed closer.”
A weird question popped into my mind. “Are there any other of these mofos around? You know, like in Mexico or China or someplace?”
“If so, none have made their presence known.”
I felt real bad all of a sudden.
Not sick. My stomach is made of steel. I eat what rats eat, you know what I’m saying? But I felt sad. That alien thing was alone and it was making a nuisance of itself. It reminded me of a kid I knew in fifth grade.
Nobody had liked Lorne Philbin. For one thing, he was a giant ass. He’d stand too close to you and just look at you without saying anything. He was creepy and smelled like hot dogs. But by the time I was in that room looking down at that rock, I’d met a lot of creeps. Some of them were pretty decent folk.
I thought the Rock was probably kind of like Lorne Philbin.
The door opened and Mr. Yarrow and the colonel came in. Nobody knocks at the Rock place.
I was happy to see my little bow tie buddy. I said to him, “If I don’t ask for a house and some funds, will you guys let me crash here for a while? No way in hell my Kenmore box is still under the overpass.”
Agent Rosales thought that was funny, but she wiped at her eyes. She wasn’t looking at me when she answered. “If you live through this without committing a crime with your wish, we’ll help you find a place to stay.”
I wasn’t planning to commit a crime. But I sure hoped to live.
“What are you going to wish for?” Mr. Yarrow said.
That irritated me. I didn’t need the pressure. “I don’t get why you don’t just tell me what you want me to wish for.”
“The Rock knows if you mean it.”
“What the hell is it? Santa Claus? Jesus.”
Colonel Prickstick jerked his thumb at the door. “We have to go. Now. Lots of seismic activity all over.”
So that’s what happened.
They drove me down the crater in a pretty sweet van. I wanted to ride shotgun, but the colonel said I had to ride in back.
That was okay. I sat next to Rosales and she smelled good and had nice skin. I thought about kissing her a little bit, even though she was a bit oldish. Girls just don’t come back to your 24.1 Cu. Ft. BOTTOM FREEZER a second time, so I’d been a bit lonely in that department.
We piled out of the ride and I felt like I was walking to my execution. It didn’t help to see dudes with sniper rifles on platforms on the rim.
“What’re those guys doing?” I asked Rosales.
Mr. Yarrow answered. “Insurance. We’ve conceived of certain wish formulations that could result in an individual who must be put down. For everyone’s protection.”
A guy with an awesome braided goatee rushed up to me and put a little microphone on my chest and a transmitter pack in my pocket.
“Remember. We’ll hear your wish,” the colonel said.
I’ll admit I was feeling pretty horrible. My palms were all damp and my heart was doing a dance. Rosales had mentioned something about network cameras. I guessed people all over were watching me on their tablets and phones and TVs and stuff.
None of my friends were, though. They didn’t have TVs and that was too bad. They’d never believe what happened to me.
Rosales kissed my cheek, which I didn’t hate.
Mr. Yarrow shook my hand and said, “Think it through.” He never stopped smiling.
The colonel just shoved me toward a path outlined in yellow painted lines. The concrete was real smooth. You could tell these people took it serious down there.
A voice screamed out like God himself, if God’s jaws were made out of tanker ships and his lungs blasting furnaces and his tongue a wad of rusty chains. ROMEO MARCUS. I SUMMON YOU. MAKE YOUR REQUEST.
Well, damn. If that doesn’t loosen your sphincter, you’re a stone cold killer on ice skates.
I started my approach.
November wasn’t much better in Cornpone, Kansas, than it was under the overpass. At least it wasn’t raining and they’d put a nice coat on me.
I smelled dirt. A bit of diesel exhaust from the van. Mostly I tasted something bitter that had seeped up from my stomach. It was just squeezing all around in my gut like it wanted to get the hell out of there, with or without me.
ROMEO MARCUS. I SUMMON YOU. MAKE YOUR REQUEST.
The Rock.
You see pictures of something big and you’re all like, man that’s huge. But then you see it in real life and you can’t even believe it. I’d say the Rock was the size of one of those grain silos I’d seen on the drive from the airport. Hundred feet tall. Not as fat. Kind of egg shaped, but stretched up. It got kinda narrow at the top, but it was smooth as glass, and rounded.
I went toward it, feeling like I might have to puke.
ROMEO MARCUS. I SUMMON YOU. MAKE YOUR REQUEST.
The temperature went up the closer I got. That was nice. A black alien rock god screams at you, maybe it’s better it don’t get colder. You know what I’m saying?
By the time I got up next to it, I had unzipped my new coat. I was sweating like I’d just come out the shower.
I looked back at my team. You can’t imagine how lonely it was to see them so small and far away. They were a football field away from me. Tiny. I couldn’t see their faces. Rosales waved at me.
I would have held Colonel Prickin’s hand if he’d been there. I swear I would have, and I would have sucked my thumb and said “mama.” A real and true urge to pee came over me pretty hard, too.
“This is a frickin’ weird situation,” I said, forgetting the hot mic on my shirt. “I wish I—”
That was a damn close call.
I heard the words coming out and just snapped my teeth together like a bear trap. Bit my tongue, for real. Jesus.
Tasting blood and trying to keep tears from falling on live TV, I went closer to the Rock. The concrete ended where the walkway went around the thing. I remembered Rosales saying something about lightning bolts and fifteen meters.
Who the hell talks in meters? How far is that? A hundred feet? Five feet? I didn’t know.
ROMEO MARCUS. I SUMMON YOU. MAKE YOUR REQUEST.
“You can stop earthquaking and screaming shit,” I said to it. “I’m Marcus. Don’t lighting bolt my ass, okay?”
I took a few more steps. The walkway was behind me. I was on packed dirt. A few footprints were sort of frozen into it. I realized these were the suckers who had come before me.
ROMEO MARCUS. I SUMMON YOU. MAKE YOUR REQUEST.
“Okay! Jesus, you don’t need to blast me deaf. Just let me think for a second.”
Who was I kidding?
You can’t think when you’re standing there with snipers glassing your forehead and cameras broadcasting your face around the world and knowing ten billion people are all like don’t screw this up you stupid bastard.
You can’t think when heat is coming off an alien rock and it screams unholy devil commands at you every thirty seconds.
You can’t think when you know some volcano is bubbling up with all the magma and people are about to
be burnt up or buried in ash or washed away by tsunamis or crushed under falling buildings.
That’s a lot of responsibility for a sixteen-year-old kid who lives in a damn refrigerator box.
A lot of pressure on a kid who nobody gave half a crap about three hours ago, when your only possession is a drug dealer’s shotgun with Snootie carved on the stock, and you traded your Rolecks for a Starbucks gift card with only forty-nine cents on it and they told you it had twenty bucks on it, and every time the trucks storm over your roof you feel the foundations shake and you wonder if you’d be better off if it fell and crushed you because it’s going to be December soon and snow will come and you can’t live in a refrigerator box in Minneapolis in winter.
ROMEO MARCUS. I SUMMON YOU. MAKE YOUR REQUEST.
So that’s what I did.
“I wish you weren’t on this planet.”
You’ve seen the video. Everybody has. It’s like the film with the President that got shot in that sweet convertible, and that video of those buildings collapsing in New York, and the one with the Chinese guys stepping onto Mars. Or Venus. I can never remember which one they went to.
My convo with the Rock of Kansas is like that, I guess. Historical.
One second it’s there. The next it isn’t.
One second I’m standing there with my forehead pressed against it, the next I’m falling into the frickin’ hole it left behind.
But I lived. There was mud down there that broke my fall. I got to take a shower twice in one day. That was awesome.
Mr. Yarrow and Rosales were waiting for me when I got out of the shower. I tell you, they don’t know how to knock.
“You did it, boy.” Mr. Yarrow was smiling and crying at the same time. Rosales was too. That’s a weird thing to do, if you think about it.
Rosales hugged me for like the thousandth time. She still had mud on her clothes. I liked the hugging. She put her lips to my ear and said, “It’s over, Marcus.” She was crying so bad it sounded like “Is hover argus.” And I was like, “What?” and she laughed and kissed my cheek.
I still think I should have went for it with her. But the moment slipped away as it always does.
Fiction River Page 2