I Am the Storm

by Trisha Lynn Halaas

  “Okay,” Xane says, standing up. “Man, I feel like I was punched by The Pazmanian Devil.” He’s referring to a one Vinny Pazienza, a classic boxer from back in the day. This is not a line we rehearsed. I sneak a look at Dagan. He shrugs.

  “Hey, did you guys find him?” Xane asks, intelligently changing the subject.

  “No, man, nothing. Nobody got any word from anybody ‘bout it,” the first voice replies. We see the three walk up the path. Bouncing spotlights dot the trees.

  “What now?” I whisper to Dagan.

  “Hey, Miss ‘My-Accessories-Turn-Into-Holy-Relics’—you tell me!” he exclaims.

  “Well, Vinny,” I say, arching an eyebrow. “We gotta get to the Coliseum. The train will take too long.”

  He stands up and starts walking. I rush to catch up.

  “I’ve got a Camocar not far from here,” he says nonchalantly. A Camocar is a vehicle designed to act as a chameleon. It’s made of glass and works as a two-way mirror, although transparent, not reflective. The inhabitants are concealed completely. There are not many in existence. In fact, I thought they were all gone a long time ago. Who is this guy?

  I follow in the moonlight. It’s bright enough to see fairly clearly. We come to a tiny clearing that appears empty. ‘Ironman’ pulls out his kist key and the vehicle turns opaque. It’s shiny black now and resembles an old-world Porsche.

  “Wow. Tony Stark, you are just full of surprises,” I say.

  He looks at me sardonically. “Really. You’re the one traipsing around with her very own female Jarvis,” he says.

  “Touché.”

  The vehicle is so small I can see that it will easily make its way through the trees. He opens the door for me, and I step into another location that is much bigger than it appears on the outside. It must be a Crystal thing.

  He maneuvers around the trees with ease—his direction rote. We emerge from the forest twenty miles from the path I took. We turn onto a concrete bridge over the same brook which nearly claimed my life by way of dental floss. Yes, a concrete bridge.

  “Okay, so what’s the plan?” I ask.

  “Well, we each take a nail, right?” Dagan says.

  “Yep,” Persephone’s muffled voice replies.

  I pull gold, strappy shoes from my bag to switch out of my current warrior sandals. I slip on the new heels and tie their gold ribbons into bows behind my ankles.

  Holding the sandals in my hands, I ask, “Are they going to transform into nails?”

  “Not sure,” she says. “But it doesn’t matter what form they’re in.”

  “Okay. So, we have to get through the gates… I can’t go in the front.”

  “How come?” he asks.

  “I just can’t.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can you?”

  “No.”

  “How come?”

  “I just can’t,” he says seriously.

  Okay. More mystery. I won’t pry, because there is no way in hell I’m divulging why I can’t go in there. “So, the hard way,” I say, speculatively.

  “The hard way,” he echoes.

  We still have a while left in the drive. Crystal and Gold are on opposite ends of the vertical and slightly ovular Realm. Gold on the north end, Crystal on the south. It’s a couple hours’ drive even in a Camocar. I rifle around in my bag for suitable attire. I feel a familiar loose flowy dress, very pale champagne gold. It’s short and resembles a slip. I find my nude trench coat as well, same length. This bag is bottomless. I’m Mary Poppins with a sling-back, as opposed to a carpet-bag. Who knew?

  I remember the hidden entrance to the Coliseum. One I frequented back in the day. It’s an underground tunnel—usually manned though. I can probably stall whoever’s on duty long enough to get Seph in there for a quick scan. I pull a chin-length angular crimson wig out of my bag.

  “You sure this is your first time?” Dagan asks with a sideway look.

  “Yes, this is just for my day-job,” I say, adjusting the red bob in the mirror. I hate this one.

  “I like the blonde better,” Dagan muses, watching the road.

  “My thoughts exactly,” I reply, donning nonprescription cat-eye rimmed glasses, reminiscent of Miss Monroe in Some Like It Hot. I walk into the back of the car. Yes, walk. It’s massive inside. I press a button and a screen appears between Dagan and I.

  “This mean you got us a plan?” he asks.

  “A dash of a plan,” I say, flicking my fingers over an imaginary culinary dish.

  “Would you like to share it with the team?”

  “Of course,” I answer, changing out of my Crystal wear and into that of Gold.

  “I know a secret entrance. I’m going to go up there and distract whoever’s on duty. While I stall whoever is there, Persephone can do a quick scan,” I tell him, moving to the front of the vehicle.

  “What do you need from me?”

  “I need you to get Seph up there.”

  “I can’t get near there, Lyvia,” he says.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll have them occupied. You’ll run up the tunnel and get twenty feet from the building. She does her thing. Silently, I might add.”

  “Copy that,” Seph’s voice, garbled by fabric.

  “Then you get back to the car and wait for me. Twenty minutes, no more. Longer than twenty, you leave. Trust me on that.”

  “I’m not gonna just leave you. It’d be such a waste after saving your life and all.”

  “I won’t die. Trust me. I’ll be able to handle it. Just leave after twenty.”

  “Okay,” he reluctantly agrees.

  “When I get the guard away from the entrance, I’m going to signal you,” I pull out the walkie and hit a button. His walkie beeps once. Short. Quiet.

  “Then I get twenty feet from the building and open your Slab.”

  “Yep. Just flip her open and Seph can do the rest,” I reply, applying red lipstick. It’s not easy. The Camocar does not boast the smoothest ride. Still, if I’m going to Gold, I need my armor.

  The roads through Emerald and Ruby are curvy and disjointed. Rugged terrain marks the area. Vegetation and hills require loopy paved pathways.

  “Welp, hopefully your dash of a plan pans out.”

  “Hopefully.”

  We transcend into downtown Ruby. This is where the landscape morphs into city. Ruby’s sky-high garnet-encrusted buildings stretch to the clouds. The streets are paved in varying shades of deep red stones, same as the buildings. What isn’t gemstone is black marble. There’s no traffic. It’s late, but the city is alive as usual.

  Teenagers loiter beneath a streetlamp on a corner, looking for customers. Probably peddling blulix, short for blue elixir, a modern drug. It affects everyone differently: enhances humans, tweaks brain activity to amplify your greatest abilities, turns you into a genius, artist, star athlete—nearly superhuman. The side effects are nasty, though. I’ve seen it firsthand.

  A bench homes a body for the night, a breathing pile of dirty mismatched clothes. Ruby Tower stretches in front of us. As we pass by the massive structure, I can’t help but think of Dorothy’s red slippers.

  Soon rubies start to get replaced by various shades of stonework—Granite. Granite is urban, same as downtown Ruby, although, everything is constructed with rock. What isn’t built from granite is glass. All the stonework in the city is sculpted. It’s one gigantic mural. Pictures swirl on the sides of buildings and flow into statues. The rock is sanded and smoothed. They gleam in the night’s glow.

  We continue north and my stomping grounds descend. Since it’s already night, there is no visual cue to alert: “You are now entering the Lunar Shire.” I don’t need that though. I know this place. It’s in my bones. The road is paved in shiny black onyx. The sky is filled with stars; they loom so close you think you can catch one. It’s more rural here, as is Crystal, just flatter. We pass by lake after lake. The rivers flow through the land and create tranquil pools making the Lunar Shire a woodsy paradise.
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  We roll the windows down and humidity envelops the car. The hot sticky air tastes of home. It’s delicious. Scent of bonfire. Resonance of gentle lapping waves. Popping fireworks in the distance. Taste gooey chocolatey marshmallow with a crunch.

  “Okay. We need codenames,” Dagan breaks the silence.

  “Why? It’s only me and you. I think we can recognize each other’s voices, and it’s a secure line,” I say, tasting the sticky night air. Sweet. Cherry ChapStick. I rub imaginary balm across my lips, nearly tasting its saccharine fruity flavor.

  “Listen, listen. It’ll be cool. Umm… I’ll be Stark.”

  “Ah, so you liked that Ironman reference, Tony? Okay, Stark it is.”

  His laugh is contagious.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, giggles subsiding. “I’m Harley.”

  “As in, the motorcycles? Those were cool.”

  “No. As in Harley Quinn.”

  “The Joker’s girlfriend?”

  “Yep.”

  Moment of silence.

  “She’s pretty nuts.”

  I laugh, saying, “I’m known to be a little nuts.”

  The trees begin to thin, causing my stomach to clench. We pass the tree line. The natural border between Heaven and Hell. Lush green grass is covered in flowers. The slightly hilly terrain gradually turns from onyx to gold brick. Gold Shire is both rural and urban, like Ruby. The Coliseum is located in the downtown area. Gold is where you go for shows, celebrity sightings, gambling, shopping, you name it. It’s the Las Vegas and Hollywood of present. It’s all about the Gold. The buildings condense and the giant Coliseum comes into sight. I start to get nervous.

  “Okay, so I’m going to go in and…”

  “Distract…”

  “Right, distract. I’m going to go in and distract. You’re going to sneak up with Seph.” I rub my hands on my bare thighs.

  “Hey, we don’t have to do this,” Dagan says with a tone of worry.

  “No, no, it’s fine. We do. I just don’t know which one I’m dealing with.”

  “Which one what? Or who?”

  “Who. It’s a who. Who I’ll be dealing with.”

  “Levi?”

  “No, he’s still hiding.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I told you no matter what, I’ll be fine. You just need to leave after—”

  “Twenty minutes.” He cuts me off.

  “Yeah,” I say, with a deep exhale.

  I direct him around the curvy hidden passageway. It twists around the building then dips below ground level. About forty feet he turns the car back around and parks.

  “You got this?” he asks. Concerned.

  “Yeah, I got this,” I sigh, stepping onto the gold-pebbled walkway. It’s not just gold in the city. It’s lined with canary diamonds and other yellow gemstones—only the best, though.

  “I’ll push this when I’m in,” I say, touching the walkie-talkie I have snug in my bra underneath my arm. Flattened warrior sandal snug on the other side. I really hope I don’t have to take my coat off. I hand Dagan my other shoe.

  “Perfect,” Dagan replies, patting his pocket where my right shoe now rests.

  “Okay, see ya in twenty,” I say, spinning on my toes and strolling down the yellow brick road.

  The structure is massive. Also made of gold. It’s tall and shaped as an amphitheater. Of course. When I reach the spot where the tunnel dips below ground, I lose sight of the architecture. The tunnel gets dark. I know the turns by heart. I see a glow around the last corner. I stop and take a breath. Please don’t be Gustav. Please don’t be Gustav.

  I round the corner. Chad. Huge breath of relief. I can handle Chad with my eyes shut. My heels echo their click-clack around the bend; it opens into a huge gold lobby. Extravagant.

  Chad is slouched in a large gilded couch. He looks up from his Slab. Long dirty blonde curly hair. Twenty-five. Cute. Untrustworthy but for the most part harmless. Please just be him.

  “Hey Chad,” I call with a wave, click-clacking my way over.

  “Lyvia, is that you?” he asks, standing up.

  “That it is,” I say with a little spin—gotta grease the wheels. “How are you doing, Chadry?”

  “Not too bad, Lyvia. Not too bad,” he drawls. “You lookin’ for Levi? He’s not here.”

  “Really? That sucks,” I reply, clearing my throat. “I need a drink.”

  “You want me to get ya somethin’, Lyvia? Here, stay right here and I’ll get you a Tab? Or Earl Grey?”

  “Let me come with you. I wanna see what’s stocked.”

  “Where’s your bag? I gotta check it for Persephone. You know this,” he says.

  “Didn’t bring it for that very reason, Chadry.”

  “Okay. Lemme check your pockets.”

  I splay my arms wide and he pats them quickly, just as tired of the antic. As I hoped. The others would be a lot more thorough, an uncomfortable amount. Defiling.

  Inside we find the eatery. Baked goods, sandwiches, eggs, midnight bacon—anything you want. There’s a staff on duty 24/7. I take a seat at the bar. It loops around the center of the room. The kitchen resides in its middle. I order a fresh squeezed orange juice in a martini glass. It’s ice cold. Garnished with a twist. Chad orders a beer. I press the button pinned to my side.

  “You can drink on the job now?” I say, glancing at the clock. I need to stall for fifteen minutes.

  “We can do pretty much whatever we want soon,” he replies with his lips around the beer bottle. “Just getting a taste of what’s to come.” Takes a slug.

  “And what’s to come, Chad?” I ask, taking a sip of ripe liquefied oranges. Succulent.

  “Levi was looking for you. Night of the reveal…” He trails off, preoccupied. I follow his glance. His Slab displays a picture of the front entrance. The lane branches out to the tunnel. My chest clenches in fear.

  A golden vehicle the size and shape of a Bentley passes the front and continues toward the tunnel. The shot changes and follows the car into the shaft. It enters eventless. Sigh of relief.

  “Kkkssshshhh,” sizzles from my side.

  I bolt out the door before Chad has a chance to react. I sprint the pathway only pausing briefly in a dark crevice to remove my shoes. They swing by straps in my hand. I run the rest of the way up. My bare feet leave a trail of echoing slaps. When I reach ground level where the tunnel opens up, I see no movement.

  Suddenly, I hear boots thud the ground. More than one set descends. Leisurely pace. I scan the area in front of me. Still nothing. On instinct, I dart left at the fork taking a narrow golden sidewalk to the surrounding road. Two voices emerge from the tunnel.

  “So, you just let her go?” Sam.

  Chad and Sam, couldn’t have asked for a better duo.

  I slip behind the glittery marble wall. It’s about five feet tall and surrounds the Coliseum. The Lighters reach my fork and turn right. Phew.

  I peek over the wall and see nothing has changed. If he abandoned me here… So, help me, God… Then I hear the almost imperceptible sound of rubber rolling on pavement.

  I hitch the wall and sprint to the sound. An invisible door opens, and I slip in next to Dagan closing the door as quietly as possible. Unnecessary. The Lighters are nowhere to be found.

  “What happened?” I ask, settling into my seat.

  “I was just about close enough and pulled Seph out, but then a Goldster rounded the corner. Two guys. They were driving right up at me. I dove for cover and that’s when the button depressed.”

  “Did you get any information?”

  “No,” he replies, dejected. “Couldn’t get close enough.”

  “Well, that’s okay.” The tree line to Onyx creeps closer. “We still have Xane in the lion’s den. We can do some of our own research, then check back in with him when we get something.”

  “How will we check in? That didn’t go very smoothly.”

  “Lesson learned. Honestly, we can tackle that when it
gets closer. We need to hit some books.”

  The ride is quiet for the most part. Each of us processing the last few hours—exploring our own personal labyrinths.

  “Ya think we’ll find anything at ye ole’ Palace of Books?” I ask, breaking the silence.

  “Sure, but I don’t even know where to start,” he says. I find that hard to believe for someone who practically lives there, but I let it go.

  “Well, History of Technology seems as good as any.” I sneak a look at his profile for a reaction.

  “Yeah, that’s what Xane said he had to read, right?” he asks, eyes never leaving the road.

  “Yeah, the same one you dropped today…” I say leadingly.

  “I’m not sure why I pulled that one out to be honest,” he replies thoughtfully. “It just kind of happened.” He offers no further explanation. I decide to let that go, too. I figure if I’m not divulging my secrets, why should he?

  The drive back seems much quicker. Onyx flies by, a blur of nightscape. We pass through Granite, then Ruby, and finally Emerald. It’s still night when we reach Regina’s.

  “Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock?” he asks as I climb out the car.

  “Sounds good. See ya then,” I reply, shutting the door.

  He drives off. I assume. It’s silent, and I couldn’t see the vehicle once I closed the door.

  11

  I walk up the stony pathway to Regina’s. Solar lamps create a trail of stars that illuminate the path. Flowers adorn the walk. I see dew glitter in the moonlight on delicate petals of silk. The canopy of trees touches to create a tunnel of vegetation. I can only catch glimpses of the stars through tiny openings. I spot Orion.

  Coming in the front door, the renovated farmhouse creaks. I plan on going right up to bed. I’m exhausted. Ahead on the steps, I see a note:

  Dear Lyvia,

  I set aside a plate of lasagna and bread in the oven. I’m sure it will still be warm. There’s parmesan cheese in the fridge, along with drinks. Tiramisu with homemade whipped cream too. You just come and go as you please, dear. There will always be food available in the kitchen. I’ll see ya when I see ya.