Jeremy Chikalto and the Hazy Souls

by T.S. DeBrosse

  Ms. Fritz felt self-conscious. Her shoulders hunched forward and she was warped back to elementary school. To her left sat Kendra Dondi, the most popular girl in school. Kendra was giggling incessantly, crying out, “Gorda Fritz is a dog! Gorda Fritz is an ugly, frizzy-haired dog!” The other students laughed. Petan Smitt, Gorda's elementary school crush, shot a spitball. It landed splat in Gorda's hair.

  Jeremy was staring at Ms. Fritz. “I said on with it! What was so important?”

  “Oh, oh, yes!” Ms. Fritz's sagging posture snapped back into its rigid position. “Jeremy, Cajjez, I would like to treat you to a meal on one of Failrun's moons. We're stopping to refuel. To be honest, I feel awful about what happened and want to make amends.”

  “Don’t ever insult my fizdruft again.”

  “Yes, of course. So how about it? A meal on Findle?”

  Jeremy glared. “I’ll go if Maren and Lyrna can come along.”

  Ms. Fritz's mouth was set in a grim line. There could be no witnesses. But if she let up now, she'd never get him far enough away. “Y...es. Yes, all right. I'll treat them too.” Gorda nervously scratched at the wound on her neck and a small spot of blood bled through her bandage.

  The spaceship touched ground on Findle, the largest of Failrun's three moons. It took a great deal of effort on Ms. Fritz's part to parry Gillian Nononia's request that guards accompany the party to and from the restaurant.

  “Not necessary,” said Ms. Fritz. “There’s been no crime on Findle of any kind in over one-hundred years. I believe our party to be sufficient. We'll be okay, and it'll only be a short while.”

  Jeremy nudged Maren, who looked to her mother for further intervention.

  “Hmm?” said Gillian, unconvinced. She slurped the last of her cranberry vodka cocktail through a red straw. “You're kidding, I presume? Of course the children cannot venture out onto this planet without proper supervision. I'll assemble the guards and you'll leave at once. I want to get back on course sooner rather than later.”

  Gorda knew she must stall for only a short while longer. She looked out the window at the tall trees swaying in the wind. Already the faint outline of a small moon was discernible in the sky. “Well,” she replied, “you're right, of course. But why don't you and Mateo go on outside and relax. I'll assemble the guards for our expedition. Really, I see your point. Excellent point. You go outside and I'll round up the guards.” She flinched and drummed her fingers on the window pane.

  “Very well,” Gillian said at last.

  Gillian stepped outside the spaceship's front doors. A slight chill had taken up residence on the small moon. “Mateo, isn't this just charming? Look how dark the sky is growing in the west. It's beautiful.” Mateo, who sat in one of the many docking bay pavilions beside the spaceship, only grunted.

  A small, white spaceship landed in the lot beside the Nononia's. It was a soft landing and warranted only a nod from Gillian, who was still enthralled with the darkening sky. Mateo, however, was a little more interested. He jumped to his feet.

  “Gillian! Do you see that? It's an Intergalactic Intelligence Craft! Wonder what it's doing here. I saw some members of the IIU back on Watico, but didn't have a chance to talk.” Mateo immediately entered his own spaceship, where he assembled some of his finest attendants, and then went next door for an official greeting.

  Two gentlemen and a stately lady descended from the craft's ramp. All of them wore large sunglasses, despite the encroaching darkness. Mateo attributed this to custom, although he couldn't distinctly remember this being the habit of dress. Still, their uniforms followed expectation – a crisp, white jumpsuit, with a fine red trim along the lapel and cuffs. On the breast pocket was embroidered a thick, red flame, housed in a black circle–the symbol of the Intergalactic Intelligence Unit. The lady stepped forward upon seeing Mateo and bowed.

  “Mateo Nononia, sir, what an honor to encounter your esteemed family,” she said. “And over there, is that not the great Gillian Nononia?”

  “Yes, yes. Please join us for some refreshments,” said Mateo, gesturing to his wife.

  After taking their seats across from Gillian and Mateo in the pavilion, the officers introduced themselves as Special Unit 64. The woman said her name was Jasmine Diggs. She had soft features, radiant brown skin, and wore her hair in a braided bun atop her head. The taller of the two gentlemen, a burly albino man with an aloof posture, introduced himself as Drew Meltivor. Then the man whom Gillian and Mateo had recognized from the Watican Awards Ceremony leaned forward and shook their hands. “I'm Bentley Stinger, Intergalactic Intelligence High General,” he said in a low, tense voice. Bentley's black hair and facial features were sharp and sculpted and his brow was arched menacingly low. Below his brow were two slivers for eyes.

  “Yes,” said Mateo, curiously scanning Bentley's face. “I recognize you from back on Watico.”

  Gillian kicked her husband's foot. He had spoken the truth, but Gillian felt he said it with a little too much punch. Bentley Stinger was a very peculiar looking man.

  “We'll have a drink, but then we must be going,” said Bentley abruptly. “We're here on business, and some things cannot wait, even at your ladyship's request.” Bentley made a low bow to Gillian.

  “We're heading to the Consternium Mall, just a routine patrolling.”

  Ms. Fritz burst through the spaceship door. “Wait!”

  Startled, Gillian turned towards Ms. Fritz. “What is it, Ms. Fritz?”

  Ms. Fritz leaned against the spaceship's landing gear, catching her breath. “We're heading to the Consternium Mall too. Would you be willing to accompany myself, the Cajjez and Maren?”

  Gillian's cheeks flushed. “No, that's not necessary, we have our own guards Ms. Fritz.”

  “Of course,” said Bentley quickly.

  “But you have your official business–”

  Bentley's eyes narrowed beneath his brow. “As I said, we're just doing some light patrolling. We'll gladly accompany the Cajjez, Maren, and Ms. Fritz to their destination and back.”

  Chapter 9

  The Haze

  Jeremy carried Lyrna in his arms. The soft purple sky cast an eerie light on Findle's docking bay. Findle was a forest moon, and the docking bay was located in the center of a large abstern tree forest. Large, knobby trees twisted around each other, the black bark startling behind the green, slimy moss.

  “Come along then. This way.” Ms. Fritz led them along a forest path, their feet crunching the dry abstern mulch. The Intergalactic Intelligence Unit followed close behind. Bright fluorescent signs displayed ads on either side of the path:

  “Jan's Petite Wear, mile marker 57!”

  “Consternium Mall, mile marker 59!”

  “Freeway Ground Transport, next right!”

  Jeremy stroked Lyrna while she batted at a loose curl on his forehead. “I've never been to Findle. What language do they speak here?”

  “Banstorm, mainly. But some people are fluent in English, too,” said Maren.

  “Banstorm.” Jeremy considered this for a moment and decided that it might offer some much needed amusement.

  “Let's stop at the mall and practice conversation. We'll take the freeway up ahead.” He had studied Banstorm up to the first year intermediate level, and though not fluent, Jeremy was certain his ability would surpass Maren's and comfort him with a sense of superiority. Being away from Watico unsettled him.

  Maren was eager to agree on something. If the two were to spend a great deal of time together, they had better attempt to relate. “Okay, I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind if we're gone a little longer than expected.

  Ms. Fritz dropped back and walked beside the children. “No need! No need! We're not going there.”

  “But I thought I heard my mom mention Bexin's Restaurant. Isn't that...?” Maren exchanged a puzzled look with the Cajjez.

  “Yes, well, no. See. Here.” Ms. Fritz ushered the three members of the Intergalactic Intelligence Unit forward. “I wanted to go t
o a place that was close to the Consternium Mall, but not actually at it, if you understand me.”

  A branch pricked Jeremy's shoulder and he paused to rub it. “Fine by me,” he said.

  Ms. Fritz pointed ahead and began walking at a faster pace. Her large, muscular legs rubbed together, the fabric chaffing her thighs.

  “So where exactly are we going, Ms. Fritz?” said Jeremy.

  But Ms. Fritz only waddled faster up the path. At last she paused, and looked to her left. A lonely, narrow forest path rose sharply into the brambles.

  “This way!” said Ms. Fritz as she hurried up the path.

  “Lyrna want toffee,” said Lyrna.

  Jeremy slowed and walked alongside Maren. Ms. Fritz's control of the party irked him and so he determined to counter her haste with his leisure. “I ate a small breakfast and have been working up my appetite so this better be good. I'm open-minded, you know, so if this is some local eatery with traditional Findle cooking methods, I won't protest.”

  Maren smiled, glad to be of use in trying Ms. Fritz's patience with idle chit chat. “Findalian cooking is very unique. All the seasoning is done with local herbs. Let's stop and collect some.” Maren and Jeremy stooped to grab a handful of herbs from the path.

  “Hurry along!” said Ms. Fritz, before disappearing behind a shrub.

  While Jeremy and Maren pretended to be interested in herbs, Ms. Fritz up ahead began to clear her throat over and over again. The sound was so annoying that they gave up and started walking again.

  At last, Ms. Fritz came to an abrupt halt. Nearly forty minutes had passed since they left the spaceship. Sixi, one of the other Failrun moons, was passing by the sun and so a great shadow began to spread overhead. Wind swept through the knotty trees and a dead, gnarled branch landed beside Jeremy's foot. He jumped back, alarmed. “Ms. Fritz, where have you taken us? Why has it gone dark?”

  Maren seized an opportunity to lecture Jeremy. “Jeremy, lunar eclipses happen often on Findle. It should only last a couple of minutes. All of Failrun's moons are relatively small compared to Watico's moon or even Olg's, and one will usually block out the sun. And because we're on a moon, you know, sometimes the planet Failrun even blocks out the sun and you can imagine how long the darkness lasts then! Findle is tiny compared to Failrun.” But Jeremy's attention was on Ms. Fritz, who was slumped against a tree with a strange expression on her face. Maren froze as she, too, took in Ms. Fritz's alarming countenance.

  “Jeremy, you're not meant to go to Lejjone Panil,” said Ms. Fritz.

  Maren blinked. Jeremy was smiling. Why was he smiling?

  “Go on,” said the Cajjez.

  “An angel wants to speak with you.”

  “Lyrna scared.” Lyrna pried herself from Jeremy's grasp and leapt onto Maren's chest.

  “Jeremy, the angel is behind the air and it tells me that you must go to it now. You'll hear it call to you once you're on the other side. Follow the call.” Ms. Fritz's face was sallow. Perspiration collected in drops on her cheeks and forehead.

  “I don't know how–”

  “Yes! Yes you do! The angel tells me that you do know how!” Ms. Fritz looked at Jeremy and then at Maren. She scanned the forest for the IIU in vain. The darkness from the eclipse made it impossible to see anything beyond ten feet.

  “I've never... I don't know,” said Jeremy.

  “That's impossible. Of course you know!” Ms. Fritz shook her head in frustration. Another dead, twisted branch landed between Jeremy and Maren. The wind picked up.

  “I suppose...”

  “Yes?” said Ms. Fritz.

  Maren was growing faint. Still cradling Lyrna, she groped behind her for a tree. “Jeremy?”

  Jeremy ignored Maren and took a step forward. “I suppose I've almost crossed over before, but never completely. I get,” he hesitated, “frightened. My chest –”

  “Jeremy, what are you talking about?”

  “This doesn't concern you, Miss Nononia!” said Ms. Fritz. She motioned for Jeremy to come closer. Jeremy took a step in her direction. Ms. Fritz smiled as she pulled a dark purple orb from her pocket. Holding it to eye level, she whispered, “Mantel, letum libero everto.”

  Jeremy's heart was racing.

  “You have to go behind the air to the Haze. Cajjez, try to listen to the voices,” said Ms. Fritz.

  “The Haze?” Jeremy's eyes widened. It had all happened so soon. “Can I come back? What is the Haze?”

  Maren patted down Lyrna's puffed fur and shivered. “Jeremy? I want to get out of here. I'm going to... go back to the ship now.”

  “No you're not, Maren! You stay right there!” Ms. Fritz glared at Maren and massaged the small orb, which was now emitting a high frequency hissing sound. “Jeremy, tell her to stay!”

  “Stay Maren!” yelled Jeremy. “It's okay. You'll see.” His voice wavered as he turned to face Maren and Lyrna. He was surprised to find them almost indistinguishable from the trees.

  “Cajjez Jeremy. Listen to me. I don't want you to get distracted by your friends.”

  “But they know about the angel already. Right Maren?”

  “I don’t know, I just… Jeremy, I want to go home!” yelled Maren.

  “Jeremy! Everyone will be all right, but in order for this very important thing to work...” Gorda Fritz stomped her foot three times on the ground. Her voice strained. “For this to work, I must have order!”

  The shrubs behind Ms. Fritz began to sway. Twigs snapped.

  “Maren Nononia,” said Bentley, emerging behind Ms. Fritz.

  “Yes?” Maren's eyes searched the darkness. She had forgotten about the IIU.

  “Gorda, what should we do about Maren? This wasn't part of the plan.”

  Jeremy opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Ms. Fritz.

  “Someone detain her. Get her to calm down.” Ms. Fritz held the orb to eye level. “Mantel, letum libero everto!”

  Jeremy was beginning to lose faith in this grand scheme he knew nothing about. Why had Ms. Fritz lied to him about the restaurant? What did the angel want with him? Was it so important that he cross over right at this moment? He hardly felt ready. Jeremy glanced at Maren and Lyrna. Two figures now stood behind them, the taller, albino man placing a hand on Maren's shoulder.

  “Just relax,” said Drew.

  Maren trembled under the weight of the foreign hand.

  “Cajjez Jeremy,” said Ms. Fritz, “you must cross over. You're the only one who can travel through the Haze. Never mind about your friends, we'll take good care of them for you. Seek out Mantel! He will tell you what to do next. Remember that.”

  Jeremy kept his eyes on Maren and Lyrna, both of whom were shaking. He could see them clearer now against the white uniforms of the IIU. He tried to concentrate on the subtle vibrations that were beginning to well up in his sternum. “I can feel the sensation. I think I can do this.”

  “Ms. Fritz?” said the tall albino man, his hand resting on his holster, “Just give the order.”

  “Wait!” yelled Bentley, but it was too late. Jeremy saw the gun.

  “Ms. Fritz! Why?” Jeremy instinctively moved towards Maren and Lyrna.

  “It's nothing Jeremy, you know how policemen touch their weapons out of habit.” Ms. Fritz flung the black orb onto the ground. The high pitched frequency increased in volume, the sound reverberating off the wall of trees. She rushed past Jeremy towards Maren, Lyrna, and the IIU.

  “Gun?” It was all Maren could say, her body paralyzed with fear.

  “Maren! Lyrna!” Jeremy reached out to his friends, and as he touched them the vibrations in his chest increased tenfold. His breath seemed to give way to a scream–only, the scream didn't belong to him. There was a jolt.

  Everything flashed white and then purple. Jeremy blacked out for a moment and when he came to, he found that his arms wrapped around Maren's waist. Bentley also held Maren, only he had her in a stranglehold, his right arm wound tightly around her neck. Lyrna hissed and dug her claws and
teeth into Bentley's arm. Bentley, shocked, released Maren.

  The other two IIU members rushed forward to restrain Lyrna. Ms. Fritz also grasped at the entangled children and fizdruft, attempting to wrestle Maren from Jeremy, pulling at her bony shoulders. The air around Jeremy began to twitch. When Ms. Fritz felt static emitting from Jeremy, she pulled back and yelled, “Let them all go!” Bentley and the others withdrew. “Let them go to Mantel!”

  Jeremy, his arms around Maren and Lyrna, felt a sharp tug on his sternum, and exhaled as Gorda Fritz and the Intergalactic Intelligence Unit blinked out of view.

  Jeremy opened his eyes to another place. He was now behind the air entirely and was floating up through a tunnel. Maren and Lyrna's eyes were closed, and their bodies were limp, but they didn't feel heavy. Jeremy carried them with ease as though he were swimming. At the far end of the tunnel, Jeremy could make out a bright light. Aside from the bright light, the place was a dim shade of purple. It was hazy. The tunnel pulsated with static and a magnetic force centered Jeremy in his ascent. He moved in awe towards the bright light. Have I died? Jeremy turned away from the light and felt the sting of tears on his eyes and cheeks.

  There was a scream. Then a hollow voice called out “Jeremy...”

  “It's an angel! Maren, it's an angel!” Jeremy stopped floating up towards the light and shook Maren. He wanted her to see, to believe him. Both Maren and Lyrna were asleep. Maren's face was fast losing its color, her breathing seemed labored.

  “Jer... Come this way!” said a female voice, taking the place of the first.

  ***

  Bloody heads littered the forest floor of the mountain. Twenty cloaked disciples assembled in a tight circle around an executioner, who pushed a headless corpse, still convulsing, to the ground as another disciple stepped forward. Her body was thrown on a stone slab, chin cracking on the rock. “For Mantel. Mantel, letum libero everto!” Her hood was removed. The executioner raised his ax. “Mantel says to call to him now. Gorda Fritz has sent the signal. Jeremy Chikalto has entered the Haze.”

  ***

  Jeremy pulled Maren and Lyrna from the tunnel and into the purple Haze. His body met some resistance from the force that kept him centered in the tunnel, but the real challenge came from pulling Maren and Lyrna through. Their bodies resisted the boundaries of the tunnel and fought to continue traveling up towards the bright light. Jeremy had to yank with all his might to get them through to the other side.