Going Through the Change

by Samantha Bryant

  It hurt. Patricia felt as though she had been stung all at once by an entire nest of wasps. Enraged, she spun, looking for Helen and not finding her. She looked back at the statue where she had taken shelter with Leonel. He was gone. More fire rained down around her, and Patricia dodged randomly, unable to pin down what direction the fire was coming from. She was feeling dizzy and getting tired. She heard voices, a lot of them, and the sound left her even more disoriented.

  Then she heard a high-pitched whistle. It was Leonel, gesturing wildly on the far side of the quad, near the busy street. He had taken shelter behind a boulder with some kind of memorial plaque on it. Zigzagging as she ran to avoid taking another hit, Patricia threw herself behind the rock. She sat down hard, resting her back against the boulder. She was wheezing from the effort. Her body was nearly indestructible when fully armored, but it was also ridiculously heavy. She was going to have to build up her endurance. If she made it through this, she’d start a new regimen at the gym.

  Leonel clamped a hand on her shoulder and knelt to look her in the face. “If you run off like that again, I’m going to let her burn your skinny white ass, Patricia.”

  Patricia nodded. She was out of ideas. Maybe Leonel had a better one. Backs against the cool stone, the two of them sat shoulder to shoulder and thought. A crowd of college students had gathered at a short distance. They were going to have to get those kids out of there before someone got hurt.

  Leonel clapped his hands and rubbed the palms together. “We need to work together here,” he said. “We have three problems: Helen, Cindy, and these kids who are standing around gawking.” Patricia nodded. Leonel pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed a message. The device lit up as a message came back. Leonel shook his head approvingly and put the phone back in his pocket. “Okay. Jessica will take care of these kids for us. You and I will see to Helen.”

  “And Cindy?”

  “Eva will stand guard over her.”

  Patricia almost protested, but realized they had little choice. Cindy was tied to a chair, after all, and wasn’t particularly strong or physically dangerous. She’d have to trust Eva could handle it.

  Leonel went on with his plan. “Helen’s in front of the building now, about three hundred yards on the other side of this boulder. She’s been throwing fire wildly for more than fifteen minutes. I figure she’s got to be getting tired. There’s no way she can take both of us at once. I’ll duck behind these trees and run at her from the left. You’ll go around from the right. Whoever makes it there first should punch her out.” Patricia pulled herself up into a crouch and peered around the right side of the boulder, poised to run. “Wait!” Leonel said, grabbing her arm yet again. “Wait for Jessica to get here.”

  She dropped from the sky just then, landing in a squat right in front of them. It was a move straight out of a Hollywood movie, and the crowd reacted with sounds of amazement. She turned and grinned at Leonel and Patricia, and Patricia could have sworn she saw a green glow through the thin, white cloth of Jessica’s blouse. The emeralds.

  Leaping into the air again, Jessica flew in a circle around the group, and the young people spun around, trying to keep her in view. She hovered for a moment in the lamplight, spreading her arms wide and throwing her head back. Then she zoomed away. The crowd of college students followed her, shouting and holding their phones and cameras. She led them out of the quad and out of danger. Patricia covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide with amazement.

  “Let’s go,” said Leonel. With one last look back at the dispersing crowd, the two women nodded at each other and ran in their assigned directions. The fireballs started flying again, but it was going well. Helen was whirling between the two of them, throwing fireballs and fire spears, but without focus and targeting. Nothing had come close to hitting either of them.

  Patricia was starting to think it must have been a lucky shot that brought the fireball down on her chest. She was also starting to think this was going to work. She maneuvered her way nearer and nearer to Helen, dodging between statues, trees, and any other kind of cover she could find.

  Then, abruptly, the fire stopped coming. Patricia stopped, too, and peered out from around the giant urn she had been using as shelter. She could see Helen, standing in the open in front of the Reed building, just as Leonel had said. The building’s lights spotlighted her. Helen was dressed all in brightly colored spandex, her shirt clinging to her rolls of fat and featuring a picture of a candle flame. One of her feet was booted and the other was clad in a red converse sneaker. Was she wearing a cape?

  Helen’s attention was not on Patricia. Nor did it seem to be on Leonel, assuming he had stuck to his planned route. She was looking toward the main drag, a few hundred yards in front of her. She seemed transfixed. She had lowered her hands to her side, the flames in her palms touching the sides of her bright red pants, but, apparently, having no effect. Patricia craned her neck to see what had Helen’s attention but couldn’t see without stepping out into the open.

  “Cindy,” the woman yelled suddenly. “Stop! Wait! Where are you going?”

  A figure on the path turned, waved, and then continued running toward the road. Patricia froze. Cindy had escaped? How? Patricia hesitated, trying to decide if she should chase her down or stick to the plan and take out Helen. She’d made enough bad decisions already today.

  Luckily, the decision was taken out of her hands before she had to make it. “Oh no, you don’t!” she heard from behind her and turned to see Eva Roark, running down the path with surprising speed. It was even more surprising when she tackled the seemingly young woman, rolling her into the grass. Patricia wondered if Eva had been a gymnast, too, and if that’s where Jessica’s skill had come from. For a moment, all three of them, Patricia, Helen, and Leonel, stood transfixed, watching the fight on the lawn of the college.

  Helen was the first to move. But it wasn’t the movement that attracted Patricia’s attention; it was Leonel’s scream. “No! Suzie! Get back!”

  Patricia whirled around just in time to see the gleam in Helen’s eye as she pulled her arm back and released a ball of fire that rolled across the ground like some kind of giant, flaming bowling ball.

  Patricia knew she couldn’t get there in time to help. She was just too slow in her armored state. “No,” she screamed, staggering from her hiding place into the open plaza.

  There was a whooshing sound, and Jessica streaked into view, flying back from where she had gone, her blonde hair blowing behind her like a flag. She flew into Suzie, knocking her backward and out of harm’s way, the food boxes the intern had been sent to fetch flying into the air.

  At almost the same time, she and Leonel ran from their hiding places, both rushing toward Helen. Helen’s head whipped from side to side, her eyes wild, and her hair blowing out around her head in a blonde corona. She hunkered down like some kind of elemental wrestler, each hand curved around a swirling ball of fire.

  Leonel reached out for Patricia’s hand. “Trust me,” he yelled. Not giving herself time to think, Patricia thrust her hand into his.

  He yanked her arm, sling-shotting her ahead of him. She closed the remaining ground between herself and Helen in what felt like a single bound, flinging out a hand and slapping the woman so hard her head snapped back. Helen crumpled to the ground.

  In the next moment, Leonel was there, grabbing Helen and holding her above his head. His face was contorted with rage and tears. He spun and flung the woman at the building’s side wall. Helen flew. Even flying through the air, the surprise was evident on her face. She seemed to have forgotten fireproof wasn’t the same thing as unbreakable. She was still vulnerable to brute force. When she collided with the brick wall, the crack of bones was sickening. Her body sank to the ground, her limbs bent at ugly angles that shouldn’t have been possible.

  Behind her, Patricia heard a strangled gasp. She turned. Jessica lay crumpled on the ground, her blackened arm pulled in to her chest. Patricia could smell the charred fl
esh from across the quad. Leonel ran to her side and scooped her into her arms, yelling for someone to get an ambulance. Patricia walked to them, calming her heart and willing her body back to its normal size. By the time she knelt beside them, she was herself again, a tall woman with short red hair, wearing stretched out yoga pants and a strangely torn up sports bra.

  “Is she…?” She didn’t finish the thought.

  Jessica drew in a ragged breath and moaned horribly. Still alive then, for what it was worth. Patricia didn’t hold out much hope for that arm. Stupid, brave girl. She should have stayed where she was safe. She brushed hair back from Jessica’s face and noticed the necklace she had been wearing was gone. The emeralds.

  Suddenly, Patricia stood. “Where’s Liu?”

  Leonel looked startled and twisted his neck to look down the lawn, where Eva and Cindy had been fighting. Eva lay in the grass, unmoving. Unmoving and alone.

  Patricia cursed, scanning the area, but saw no sign of her erstwhile friend, just the still smoking bushes and trees and three women lying on the ground. It was all her fault. She was so angry and frustrated, she shrieked aloud, the sound echoing against the buildings like some kind of animal cry.

  Then she heard the sirens of an ambulance or fire truck approaching. The least she could do was make sure the paramedics got to Jessica, Eva, and Suzie quickly. She got to the street in a matter of a few seconds.

  As she ran to wave the emergency crew over, she spotted a girl at the bus stop right in front of the campus. She was a skinny kid, all knees and elbows, Asian, maybe thirteen years old. Just for a moment, she held Patricia’s gaze. Then she smiled and waved, stepping onto the bus.

  Patricia staggered a step or two toward the bus, but it was already pulling away. As the bus left, Patricia’s mind finished processing what she had seen: the too big T-shirt and shoes, the familiarity of that smile. “Cindy?”

  At the back window of the bus, she could have sworn she saw her again, waving goodbye, the emeralds in her hand.

  She narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t over,” she promised herself. “Not by a long shot.”

  A book is both a solitary and a group endeavor. I received incredible support from family, friends, and colleagues and I am grateful to you all.

  In particular, I wish to thank my husband who helped me carve time for my words out of the other demands of our busy lives. He even lets me tell him about my stories and can hold up his end of a serious conversation about the nature of human flight or the limits of bulletproof flesh. I’m the lucky one, no matter what he says.

  I’d like to thank my mother for letting me buy and read comic books as a child, and for her openness about her own journey through The Change. I’d like to thank my father for raising me with such a strong work ethic and determination—I have needed those to finish this project.

  I’d like to thank my daughters. They make me want to be the most amazing woman I can be, so they have that example in front of them. That includes reaching for your big dreams, like writing a book and seeing it published.

  Other writers have been generous with their time and advice. I am grateful especially to James Maxey and Nathan Kotecki with whom I am fortunate to share a public library. My critique group was invaluable as I developed ideas and characters. Thanks to all the members of Works in Progress: Elizabeth Carroll, Jason A Feingold, Rebecca Leanda, Elizabeth Hein, Sarah Sugg, Kimberly Lynn Workman, and Dawn R. Taylor. Their advice was spot-on, even when it hurt.

  My online writing communities were another wonderful source of encouragement and information. Thank in particular to the Insecure Writer’s Support Group; the Write Your Novel and Magic Spreadsheet groups on Facebook; and the Writer’s Discussion, Saturday Scenes, Writers’ Coffeehouse, Writers’ Critique Group, and The Daily Grind communities on Google Plus.

  Finally, I’d like the thank the people who have worked with me at Curiosity Quills Press—from acquisitions, through editing, cover art, and marketing—the staff and the other writers among the Literary Marauders. My publishing experience has been a positive, supportive, and entertaining endeavor so far and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of us!

  Samantha Bryant believes in love, magic, and unexplainable connections between people. Her favorite things are lonely beaches, untamed cliff tops, sunlight through the leaves of trees, summer rains, and children’s laughter. She has lived in many places, including rural Alaska, Kansas, Kentucky, Vermont, England and Spain. She is fierce at heart, though she doesn’t look it.

  She’s a fan of Charlotte Brontë, William Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, Neil Gaiman, Nicole Perlman, and Joss Whedon, among many others. She would like to be Amy Tan when she grows up, but so far it doesn’t look like she’ll be growing up any time soon.

  Samantha writes blogs, poems, essays, and novels. Mostly she writes about things that scare or worry her. It’s cheaper than therapy. Someday, she hopes to make her living solely as a writer. In the meantime, she also teaches middle school Spanish, which, admittedly, is an odd choice for money-earning, especially in North Carolina.

  When she’s not writing or teaching, Samantha enjoys time with her family, watching old movies, baking, reading, and going places. Her favorite gift is tickets (to just about anything).

  Now that you have completed this book, we hope you will leave a review so that other readers may benefit from your perspective. Authors like Samantha Bryant live and die by your reviews, after all!

  Please visit http://curiosityquills.com/reader-survey/ to share your reading experience with the author of this book!

  The Keeper, by Dalia Roddy

  (http://bit.ly/1pLZ16L)

  An ancient box is found, and its mysterious occupants released. They seem benign, the small, floating creatures freed from the box… Saul, Emily, and her ten-year old twins find themselves sucked into a whirlpool of terror. For the pretty little floaters have bonded them, and are taking something from them… and giving back something even more dangerous. It is something three desperate mercenaries want, and will kill to get. Guy, Saul, Emily, and the girls find themselves fleeing for their lives. Yet, unknown to all, a deeper threat is growing: Without a Keeper, the creatures are making their move…

  The Mussorgsky Riddle, by Darin Kennedy

  (http://bit.ly/1uLF3GB)

  The Mussorgsky Riddle is Alice in Wonderland meets Law and Order. Called in to awaken an autistic boy left catatonic after witnessing a grisly murder, psychic Mira Tejedor is pulled into young Anthony’s mind and discovers the cause of his strange malady. The crime has left his fragile psyche shattered into the various movements of composer Modest Mussorgsky’s classical music suite, Pictures at an Exhibition. Mira must help heal the boy’s fractured mind and unmask the murderer before the killer can discover the secrets hidden in the boys mind and silence both of them forever.

  Please Don’t Tell my Parents I’m a Supervillain, by Richard Roberts

  (http://bit.ly/1hm3sML)

  Penelope Akk wants to be a superhero. She’s got superhero parents. She’s got the ultimate mad science power, filling her life with crazy gadgets even she doesn’t understand. She has two super-powered best friends. In middle school, the line between good and evil looks clear.

  In real life, nothing is that clear. All it takes is one hero’s sidekick picking a fight, and Penny and her friends are labeled supervillains. In the process, Penny learns a hard lesson about villainy: She’s good at it.

  The Dead Detective, by J.R. Rain & Rod Kierkegaard, Jr.

  (http://bit.ly/1twVfzr)

  Medical-school-dropout police detective Richelle Dadd is… well, dead. But that won’t stop her from trying to hold on to her house in a divorce battle with a bitter husband. Or keep her from digging into her own murder, to discover who put the bullet into her heart. And it certainly won’t stand in the way of finding out the reason she’s been reanimated as a zombie assassin, no longer in control of her life. Richelle will face off against Gypsy shamans, double-crossing g
hosts, a partner she can’t trust, and her own undead nature in a journey into the depths of the occult world and out the other side without losing her sense of humor—or humanity—along the way. It’s a good thing her deductive skills - and her aim - are still up to par.

  Appetizer:

  Book Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Main Course:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One