by Jeff Elkins
The monster grunted. The force of the sound shook the house.
“Easy there, big boy,” Chris said softly, holding up both hands in front of himself. “We’re here to help.”
The beast screamed and pounded its fists on the floor. Jose flinched at the monster's hot, wet breath. His ears burned from the power of the beast's roar. He wanted to turn and run. Tears fought the dam of willpower holding them in his eyes. It was only his partner’s calm that held him in position. He whispered softly to himself, “They fear us. We don’t fear them. They fear us. We don’t fear them.”
Chris stood, unyielding. “That’s right,” he said softly. “You don’t want to be here as much as we don’t want you here.” His right hand slowly moved toward his jeans pocket while is left remained in the air between them.
The beast let loose a hopeless, sorrow filled whine that burned Jose’s ears.
Chris retrieved from his pocket a small pink coin. He held it up for the beast to see. “Time to go home, big boy,” he said. With a smooth motion, Chris threw the coin toward the monster’s head. The coin paused in midair above the beast and emitted a pink light that quickly intensified, and then grew into a glowing hole.
The monster smiled. It had to duck to get beneath the hole. It grabbed the sides of the newly formed portal and began to climb up, out of sight. As it moved, Jose thought he heard the beast humming. The monster lifted its foot into the pink port and laughed to itself as it disappeared.
The hole closed and Jose’s limbs went numb as the tension of fear left his body. He fell back on his butt. “So, um. That was an Egrat?” Jose said, still looking at where the monster had been.
Chris stretched. “Yep. That was an Egrat.”
“Are they always so, um, pleasant?”
Chris stretched. “Not always. Definitely not on the battlefield. I once watched a skirmish between platoons from Malacandra and Cocytus on the fields of Midian. Both of them had three or four of those things. Not real bright. Often they don’t know who they are punching, but their raw power is incredible.”
“I bet.”
“Come on,” Chris said, motioning with his head toward the door. The two warriors moved into the night together.
“Was that a shovel?” Jose asked.
“Yeah. They’re farmers by nature. I’ve been told in Malacandra there are giant rows of fields with thousands of those things happily tending crops and humming away.”
“Weird.”
“Weird is our life, kid. You’ll get used to it. Now, let’s go find something to eat.”
The pair walked silently south on Calhoun for a few blocks and then veered right on Franklin. Jose watched Chris as they went. As with every time they walked, Chris was poised and calm, but ever alert. His eyes took in everything, scanning left to right at all times, only turning his head slightly in either direction. Jose wondered what he was looking for. The young pre-teen tried to mimic his partner’s movements, but he didn’t feel like he was seeing anything he couldn’t see just by looking forward, and the rapid movement from left to right made his eyes hurt. He kept it up for a block and then surrendered to just walking normally.
Moose had told Jose stories about his new partner. She’d explained the legend. All the stories felt too large to be real. Jose understood why now. Chris was the type of leader others aspired to be. He seemed perfect, unbendable. He was the stuff from which myths were made.
They passed a large, abandoned, red brick warehouse and emerged in another residential neighborhood. Jose wanted to ask questions, but he was afraid to break the silence. He didn’t know how Chris would react. He figured silence was what his partner wanted. “Commandment thirteen,” he imagined Chris barking with military precision. “Never speak while searching for food.” The thought made Jose laugh.
Chris pointed to a McDonalds on their left. “Over there,” he said softly. They crossed the street together.
Jose missed eating with Moose in the woods of Pennsylvania. He thought back to hunting deer and rabbits with her. They even caught a raccoon once. Jose remembered how excited Moose was while she cooked their first doe over their campfire. She’d gone on and on about how rare fresh meat was.
They passed the restaurant, cutting between cars in the drive-through lane. Jose stared at the couple in the front seat of the car he and Chris walked in front of. There was a man with silver hair behind the wheel. A young girl that looked like his daughter sat next to him in the passenger seat. They were both focused on their iPhones.
The large green dumpster was in the back of the parking lot. The sharp, sweetly grotesque smell of it assaulted Jose’s nose as they approached. His stomach rumbled and ached at the same time, longing to be filled but dreading what was about to come. Chris pushed open the black, plastic door on the side of the metal container. He then stepped aside and banged with his fist on the side. The noise of his pounding echoed through the box. Angry squeaks followed. Jose smiled as a family of rats exited the back of the dumpster through a small hole in the corner.
“You want to dive or hold?” Chris asked.
Jose didn’t want to do either. He wanted to catch a deer, watch Moose skin it, and then cook it on a stick over an open flame in the middle of nowhere.
“You don’t help. You don’t eat,” Chris said plainly.
“I’ll hold,” Jose said.
Chris reached into the dumpster and pulled a cardboard box from inside. He flattened the box and laid it across the lip of the opening. It was a trick he’d shown Jose earlier that week when they’d eaten at a Wendy's dumpster. “When you sleep in your clothes, you should try to keep them clean.”
“Is that a commandment,” Jose asked with a grin.
“No,” Chris replied, unamused.
Making sure the cardboard was sufficiently covering the lip of the dumpster, Chris said, “Alright, get ready.” He then lifted himself up with both hands, moving into the dumpster head first, allowing his chest to rest on the cardboard shield he’d arranged. As his legs went up in the air, Jose caught his feet.
Jose sighed as he listened to Chris fumble with the trash bags in the dumpster. “You know,” Jose said. “For a guy who eats out of a dumpster, you’re really picky.”
Chris didn’t reply. Instead, he searched for another few minutes. Then finally he said, “Alright, pull me out.”
Jose pushed Chris’ feet to the ground. Standing, Chris turned to face the teen and passed him a fully filled large French fry container. “Thanks,” Jose replied, unenthusiastic. Before all of this had happened to him, he and his mom used to go to the McDonalds down from their house. She’d always get a salad. Jose would tease her about buying a salad at a burger joint.
“Come on,” Chris said. “Let’s go eat.” They moved together to the curb and took seats next to each other. Chris began eating his fries, one at a time.
Jose took a bite of one of his. It was cold and moist, but he choked it down. It had been a long day. He needed to eat. And food was food. As he chewed, he tried to remember what the fries tasted like when they were hot and fresh.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was warm but not hot, the breeze cooled but didn’t chill, and even though the air was humid after the morning’s rain, it wasn’t oppressive. Jose watched as kids ran through the playground. Three young boys climbed a plastic dragon that was sculpted to look like it was swimming through the woodchips. Five elementary aged girls played tag on a large piece of playground equipment made up of slides and platforms connected by bridges that shook when the children ran across them. Directly in front of Jose, the swings were filled with laughing kids. Groups of parents were scattered through the playground, chatting with one another, taking advantage of their kids’ distraction.
Jose soaked in the sound of children’s laughter. Only a few years ago when he would have been among their ranks. He exhaled as he thought about everything that had changed in such a short time. The moment of reflection made him sad.
“Why are we here?” Jose asked his partner.
Chris was standing next to the pre-teen, leaning against the black fence that surrounded the park. “We’re waiting our turn,” Chris said.
“Our turn for what?” Jose asked with confusion.
“Our turn to talk to Lefty,” Chris said. “He holds court here on Saturday.”
“Court?” Jose said.
Chris sighed and pointed across the playground to where two men sat on a bench next to a basketball court. The younger of the two Jose had never seen before. He held his head in his hands and, from the shaking of his head, appeared to be saying “no” over and over again. The older man on the bench was the one who had been at their battle with Bose. He wore a large white t-shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers. His left arm was in a sling. His right hand gently rubbed the back of the young man next to him. He appeared to be whispering into the young man’s ear.
“What do you think he’s telling him?” Jose asked.
“Nothing good,” Chris said.
“Do you think he did something wrong?” Jose asked as he watched the scene unfold.
“Doesn’t matter,” Chris said. “That’s not our world.”
The young man stood and yelled “No!” as he stomped his foot and motioned in anger with his hands. He did it again and again. Tears streamed down his face. Lefty didn’t flinch. Rather he looked at the young man with understanding. The basketball game behind the bench stopped and the ten players began drifting toward the bench.
“Should we do something?” Jose said.
“Like what?” Chris said. “Like I said, kid, that’s not our fight. This isn’t the world we live in.”
“Okay,” Jose said, but there was an uneasy knot in his stomach.
Five of the basketball players formed a semi-circle behind the young man. The other five formed an angry looking wall between the man and Lefty. The man screamed with rage. His tears increased in intensity.
The children on the playground stopped playing to watch in fear-filled fascination. Parents raised their cell phones: some to their ears, some to text, and others to record.
The young man looked around. With large men behind him, large men in front of him, and families all around him, he seemed to recognize there was nothing he could do. He pointed at Lefty and yelled something angry Jose couldn’t make out, then he turned and ran off.
Once he was a block away, the playground returned to normal. The children went back to playing. The basketball game started back up. The parents went back to chatting, although now they had a new topic of conversation to post on Facebook, and Lefty once again looked like a retiree enjoying a day at the park.
“Now what?” Jose asked.
“We wait until it’s our turn,” Chris said.
A few moments of normalcy passed. The laughter began to dominate the air again. Some of the families left. New families arrived. The basketball game continued without interruption. Jose grew restless. Did Lefty even know they were waiting?
“Shouldn’t we just go and say something?” Jose asked.
Chris laughed. “I’d like to see you try to get near him if he didn’t invite you to. Don’t think for a minute those guys playing basketball are the only guards here.”
Jose looked around. He didn’t see anyone else.
“Blue house across the street, on the roof,” Chris said without looking in that direction.
Jose turned to examine the other side of the street. His eyes found the blue house. He looked to its roof. To his shock, there were two men watching the park, both had rifles with scopes attached.
“Now look at the train tracks,” Chris said.
Jose looked past the bench, across two empty soccer fields, to a small hill where trains ran. Just beyond it I-95 roared with traffic. It took Jose three tries before he noticed the three men laying on top of the hill, all with riffles trained at the park.
“Wow,” Jose said.
“Lefty always comes prepared,” Chris said.
“There weren’t any snipers around when he met with Bose,” Jose said.
“Lefty knows bullets don’t help,” Chris said.
“Oh, yeah,” Jose said, feeling foolish.
“Let’s go,” Chris said. “It’s our turn.”
Jose walked behind his partner, around the playground, toward the bench. “How do you know?” he said.
“He made eye contact,” Chris said. “Didn’t you see it?”
“No,” said Jose. He wondered if Chris was pulling his leg.
“You need to pay closer attention to your surroundings,” Chris said. “When we get there, you just stand still and keep your mouth shut. Got it?”
“Got it,” Jose said.
When Chris took a seat next to Lefty on the bench, Jose stood a few feet back. Lefty smiled at him. “He’s really young,” Lefty said with a laugh. “How old are you, son?”
Jose didn’t know what to do. Should he answer? Both men were looking at him. He wondered what Lefty’s signal was for “shoot this stupid kid.”
“Doesn’t he talk?” Lefty said.
Chris raised his eyebrows at Jose.
Not knowing what else to do, Jose said, “I was told to stand still and keep my mouth shut.”
Lefty laughed. “Good advice,” he said leaning back on the bench. He put his right arm around Chris. Jose noticed for the first time that there was a small pistol inside the sling on Lefty’s left arm. “So,” Lefty said. “What can I do for the Gracanjo today?”
“I came to discuss your involvement in our business,” Chris said. He looked forward and sat forward with his elbows on his knees.
Lefty smiled again. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. My only concern is my business.”
“The monsters are our business,” Chris said.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Lefty said. “There’s monsters all around these parts.”
“Stop playing games,” Chris said. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
“Oh,” Lefty said looking into the sky. “I’ve been around a long time. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
“They’re dangerous,” Chris said. “They’ll hurt people and burn this city to the ground to get what they want.”
“I’m dangerous. You’re dangerous. Everything’s dangerous here,” Lefty said. “And we all want to get what we want.”
“What do you want?” Chris said.
“Now we’re getting down to business,” Lefty said. “Unfortunately, you aren’t capable of providing for my needs.”
“Try me,” Chris said.
Lefty laughed. “Alright,” he said. “There’s a man, my former partner.”
“Agamemnon,” Chris said.
“That’s the one,” Lefty said. “I need him gone. And I’m not talking about moved out of town. I’m talking about exterminated.”
“You’ve got plenty of fire power,” Chris said looking around.
“That I do,” Lefty said. “But so does he. And getting to him with my fire power is trickier than you think. But not for you, and not for the things you call monsters. You can just step into the middle of his bedroom with one of those fancy coins and he’d never see you coming.”
Chris sighed.
“And here is the catch,” Lefty said, leaning forward to match Chris’ position. “You’ve got rules. See, I’d much rather deal with you than with them, you being human and all. But you don’t hurt people. Number five? Right?”
“Six,” Chris said. “But there are always exceptions.”
Lefty laughed, leaned back again, and smacked Chris on the back. “You know what they say, ‘Don’t talk bullshit to a bull-shitter or you’ll get a mouth full of filth.’ I’ll give it to you though. I have no doubt you are capable. I’ve seen that kung-fu shit you do, but I also know you ain’t gonna break your rules. Tell me I’m lying.”
Chris smiled.
“Alright then,” Lefty said. He placed hi
s arm on Chris’ back. “It ain’t personal. You know I like y’all and I’ll help whenever I can, but the offer is too good this time. So if I find that stupid box, I’m gonna cash it in and get my empire back.”
Chris stood. “Thanks for the talk,” he said.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Lefty said. “Always a pleasure.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“What’d you get?” Chris asked. He sat on the edge of the stone wall that surrounded the parking garage, his feet dangling over the side. They were five stories up. The parking garage was the tallest thing for three or four blocks.
“I went back to that bakery dumpster and got muffins. I think they're pretty fresh. They must have made extra or something,” Jose said. “I found a chocolate chip one for you.” Standing next to his partner, he put his elbows on the wall.
“What did you get?” Chris said with a grin.
“Blueberry. Why?”
“What if I don’t want chocolate chip? What if I want blueberry?”
“Who doesn’t want chocolate chip?” Jose said, looking out over the city. “Everybody loves chocolate chip.”
“Well, when there is blueberry available. I mean. Come on. It’s blueberry.”
“The blueberry isn’t for you.”
Chris laughed. “Oh, I see,” he said, pretending to be offended. “And what if I decide to make it available?”
“You’d steal food from a little kid?” Jose said, shooting Chris a sad face.