The Eternal Menace

by Robert Gill

  4

  BLUE

  An excerpt from Professor Shalmer’s journal …

  I visited the shaman who created the bracelet. He didn’t hesitate to tell me where the first piece was, but he wouldn’t tell me where he had hidden the other pieces. He said that there was no need. He also said that I wouldn’t stand a chance at retrieving even the first piece. So I went to find the first piece of the bracelet. I remember the shaman telling me about the mighty colossi. Anyone who’s done their research knows that the colossi are bound to protect certain lands—a curse that was given to them after they tried to destroy the lands that they belonged to. In the beginning there were twelve but only four remain. The shaman’s advice led me to a village in Scotland called Plockton …

  Bohr entered a quiet inn. It was small and spotless with a dining room to the left and a lounge room to the right, with an unlit fireplace and expensive-looking furniture. Straight ahead sat a sandy-blonde-haired girl, about age twenty-two, behind a check-in counter. Her eyes were glued to a laptop notebook computer, typing a bit then rubbing the scroll pad with her middle finger. Typing and scrolling. Typing and scrolling. Behind her was a door with a metal sign that read BEWARE OF OLD DOG in red letters on a black background, and to the right of that room were the stairs leading to the second floor.

  He approached the counter. “Hello.”

  The girl stood up, displaying a pretty smile. “Hi. Nice outfit. Did you make it yourself?”

  He looked at his outfit as if he had just noticed that he was wearing unusual attire. “Oh, uh, no, no, it was a gift. You don’t think it’s weird?”

  “Not at all. I’ve seen my uncle wear worse things than that. So what can I do for you?”

  Bohr relaxed his hands on the counter, looked around to make sure no one could hear him, leaned in and said in a whisper, “Look, this may sound a bit strange, but I’m looking for a really big creature and not just normal big, I’m talkin’ bigger than you’ve ever seen.”

  “Oh, yeah. I know exactly what you’re talking about,” she said, nodding. “Hold on a second.” She went to the door with the sign and opened it. Inside was an office with stacks of paper all over the place, a twenty-seven inch flat screen television hanging on the wall, and an old desk. An old man lied on top of the desk wearing a kilt with his legs hanging off the side. “Uncle!” she called to him, drowned out by his snoring. A near-empty fifth of whisky rested on his shirtless chest. His beard and head hair was like a thick, gray mane stained with brown spots around his chin. “Uncle!” she shouted as loud as she could.

  He woke up startled. “What? What?” His eyes opened as he returned to the real world.

  “We have another visitor looking for ‘you know what’.” As she said that she gave Bohr a cold look.

  “Ah, crap, another one?” His mood switched to grumpy. “Gimme a second to put my clothes on.” As he strained to sit up, the bottle of whiskey rolled off his side and smashed on the floor. “Dammit,” he shouted.

  She shut the door and went back to the counter. “I’m guessing you get a lot of visitors asking that question?” Bohr asked.

  The girl nodded. “More than you think. We get them from all over the world, trying to take on that thing. Some want to capture it, others want to kill it. I really hoped that you weren’t like the rest, because it’s just so dumb. I don’t get it. They all just end up the same.”

  “Running for their lives, huh?” he joked.

  With a grave expression on her face she said, “You’ll find out.”

  Her uncle came out of his office wearing thick, black boots to go with his red, black-striped kilt. He was a bag of bones, short in stature, and had on a white wife-beater tank top and a cheap imitation gorilla-skinned hooded sweatshirt. The hood doubled as a gorilla mask with open holes for the eyes and gorilla hands as gloves. Still groggy and grumpy, he stated, “I dreamt that I had a roll in the sack with four gorgeous women. None of them were my ex-wives. Y’know, I hate it when you interrupt my wet dreams. I never got a chance to add cream to the corn, if ya know what I mean?”

  His niece grimaced. “That’s disgusting, uncle. Why do you say things like that around me?”

  “Hey,” the old Scotsman started, “I’m seventy-eight years old. When I can get it up I enjoy it while it lasts.” His eyes locked onto Bohr. Without saying a word, he approached the counter, lifted himself up with the tips of his toes, resting his hands on the counter, and looked Bohr over from top to bottom a couple of times, then relaxed his feet. “That outfit’s a bit much, don’t ya think?”

  “Yeah, look who’s talkin’,” Bohr said. “Who threatened to kill you if you didn’t wear that?”

  The old man pulled the gorilla mask over his face. The mouth formed a roar and the eye holes were cut too big. “Probably the same person that threatened you, lad.”

  Bohr laughed a bit. “Maybe so.”

  “C’mon, let me show ya to your grave.”

  “Wait.” He stopped the old man before he could come around the counter. “Do you have any knives I can use? I usually make my own, but I’ve been busy lately.”

  “Sure, whatever. Follow me.” He led the way to the dining room.

  Before Bohr followed him, he waved goodbye to the girl. She shook her head, with an eye roll, and went back to her computer. Bohr’s brows scrunched.

  After going through the empty dining room they reached the cramped kitchen. It was clean and organized with top notch equipment.

  “I don’t think your niece likes me that much.”

  “What makes ya think I like ya, lad?” They stopped in front of one of the counters. The old man let out a sigh as he took off the mask. “Ah, don’t be offended. She’s just tired of it all. So is everyone else in town. Every time some fella provokes that thing it destroys everything in sight. Protect us, my ass. That damn thing’s a liability.” With his eyes locked on Bohr’s, he motioned with his index finger to the other room and said, “My niece has seen what that creature can do to a man.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it anymore. I’m destroying it today.”

  “That’s what they all said, lad. If you go chasing glory in the wrong places you’ll find out quickly how tiny your existence is. What makes you think you’re any different from the rest of them?”

  “For one,” Bohr said, “I’m not chasing glory. I’m just here to destroy it.”

  “We’ll see about that.” The old man opened two drawers filled with butcher’s knives, steak knives, paring knives, and others with sharp and serrated edges. “This is all I’ve got, son.”

  Bohr examined the inside of both drawers. “Do you have any rope I can tie these with?”

  “None handy. But …” He grabbed a roll of cotton butcher’s twine from the counter. “We do have this.”

  “That’ll do.” Bohr started grabbing only the knives with the holes on the bottom for hanging. Then he took the thread and placed all of the items on top of the counter. “Thanks. These’ll come in handy.”

  “Those aren’t free, ya know?” the old man said.

  “Ah, c’mon, I’m about to save your town. The least you could do is spare these.”

  “What kind of business is that, lad? You’re going to die. I’ve gotta get something out of you before that happens.”

  Seeing that the old man would not change his mind, Bohr pondered a bit. “Alright,” he said. “I’ve got something for you.” He pulled a chocolate nugget from his pouch and held it up for the old man to see.

  He just stared at it, unimpressed. “What’s next, flowers and a kiss?”

  “No, old man, this ain’t no ordinary piece of chocolate. One of these will turn your limp noodle into a brick. And I have a bunch of ‘em.”

  “That thing?” the old man asked. Following Bohr’s nod, he added, “How’s that?”

  “This chocolate nugget is specially made to instantly restore vitality. Take me for instance. Just a few days ago—”

  The old man snatched th
e nugget from Bohr and popped it in his mouth. “Save the crappy sales pitch. I’d rather see for myself. Do what you have to do, lad. If I don’t feel the effects by the time you’re done then the deal’s off.”

  The old Scottish man went and sat at one of the tables in the dining room while Bohr began putting string through the holes of the knives.

  Fourteen minutes later, they exited the hotel. The old man chewed on another piece of chocolate while he handed a handful of nuggets to his niece at the door and told her to put them in his office. He was now as giddy as a child, running around with his gorilla hoodie in full costume mode. He jumped on top of people’s cars and boats while beating his chest like a gorilla and shouting, “Look at my brick!” as he lifted his kilt. The people around just shook their heads as if it were nothing new.

  Bohr laughed at him. In his hand, he held a bunch of butcher’s twine inter-twisted like a rope. A variety of knives were sectioned off by knots on each side of the handles, so he could tear them off one by one. It went like that all the way around and connected with one big knot.

  They made their way through the quiet village nestled away in the Highlands. It was surrounded by green-covered hills and mountains and kissed a massive loch. And there were boats everywhere, filling driveways like cars.

  The old man took him to a bell tower by the shore. Bohr waited outside while the old man climbed the spiral staircase. When he reached the top, he rocked the chain from side to side. Thunderous chimes echoed across the village. “Get to a safe place,” he shouted. “Get your butts to a safe place now!” The old man rang the bell for about six minutes. People out on their boats, trying to get a morning catch, began to make their way to land. The citizens moved to several buildings on the far tip of the village—the old man’s hotel being one of them—with no complaints.

  The old man came down from the tower and then led Bohr in the opposite direction of where the citizens were moving. He took him right to the edge of town and stopped. Chunks of asphalt, where the road had been destroyed, lied in the grass. The old man pointed toward a mountain that had some dark red streaks on its rocks, not too far away. “Right there’s where your creature is.”

  “It’s inside of that mountain?” Bohr asked.

  “No, you’re just like the rest of ‘em. You don’t even know what you’re up against. The damn thing is the mountain.”

  Surprised, Bohr responded, “Really?” The old man nodded. “So what do I do? How do I wake it up once I get there? Should I start blowing up the village or something?”

  “Don’t bother doing that. The entire village can blow up right now and that thing wouldn’t wake up. If it did it would crush everything, anyway. That’s why it sucks! You’ll have to provoke it some other way. The other fellas just messed with it ‘til they pissed it off.” He placed his hand on Bohr’s shoulder. “Look, lad, I don’t find you annoying, so I’ll give you two pieces of advice. Before one poor guy got stepped on like a fresh pile of dog poop, he yelled out something about soft spots.”

  “Soft spots?” Bohr asked.

  “Yes. The next piece of advice, keep the colossus away from the village. If ya kill the thing I’ll give ya all the ale you can drink for a month.” The old man started running back into town. Then he shouted, “I don’t expect you to survive, by the way.”

  Bohr waved to him. “Yeah, thanks for the support.” He made his way through the high grass across a big field. After climbing a few steep hills he made it to the highest mountain in the area. It stretched farther than Bohr could calculate. He thought he had been imagining things on the way up, but as he drew closer, he noticed that the mountain was moving up and down. A smooth whisper came from the mountain every time it went down.

  He put two fingers against the rock. Then he shot a small javelin blow that exploded in his face. It only chipped the surface, which didn’t make sense since the javelin blow could cut a hole through any element except thick metal. Of course, this irritated Bohr a bit, especially since it didn’t even disturb the creature.

  He flew high into the sky, way above the peak of the mountain. On the other side of the mountain were just more hills going down to open fields. Bohr pointed his right palm toward the mountain peak. A wild light flickered in his hand until it formed a spherical mass. It grew to be the size of his chest and then he shot a large javelin blow, with a thick beam, at the mountain. The sharp beam obliterated the peak upon impact, sending large chunks of rock exploding everywhere.

  A loud rumble came from the mountain. The earth began to tremble. Then came a powerful groan, followed by the mountain breaking off from the ground. Bohr flew away from the colossus’s emerging space. From the bottom to the top, the creature started to show its true form. Dirt slid down its rocky body as its two front limbs broke from the body and began to unfold and stretch out.

  Then more of the mountain cracked and broke as its legs stretched out to stand the body up. The head emerged like a turtle coming out of its shell. Its mouth opened wide to reveal thick, jagged teeth and let out a long breath.

  With more observation, the rocky exterior was only the back of its body, stopping a little past the shoulders and thighs. The thing had dark-green flesh with a gray patch of fur lining its torso. It had hands with three fingers on each, along with opposable thumbs. It stood on flat, tortoise-like feet, and its legs were shaped to allow it to curl up like a bear. When it stood up straight like a human, Bohr looked puny. If he was food he’d be a pea hovering in front of a large refrigerator. The creature’s shadow covered the town from its distance.

  The old Scottish man entered his hotel. Many of the villagers were inside with worry on their faces. “I hope everyone’s inside, ‘cause that thing’s awake,” he said. He started to make his way upstairs.

  “Where are you going, uncle?” his niece asked.

  “To the roof to see what happens.” On the second floor, down at the end of the hallway, a door led to some more stairs. They went straight to the roof—perfect for tourists wanting a good view of the lake. The old man reached the top just in time to see Bohr throw a few energy bombs at the colossus’s face and then fly away from the village. Of course, the blasts didn’t do any damage. “That young boy can fly? Now I think I’ve seen enough craziness in my life to die a happy man … after I finish brunch.” The old man went to a hollowed-out block in the roof and pulled it out, revealing a stash of four bottles of whiskey.

  The creature didn’t fall for Bohr’s lure. It swung at him with slow, but hard-to-dodge movements, blocking off Bohr’s path every time he tried to fly away. With one of the swings, Bohr swooped down and flew close to the ground in order to escape the massive hands. The creature scooped up a handful of the earth with its left hand and slung it at Bohr. He dodged it and kept flying around, escaping the creature’s swings.

  The chunk of earth darted toward the village. Just as the old man cracked open the bottle and puckered his lips close to the brim to turn it upside down, he saw the chunk of earth rapidly approaching the village. His heart started pounding when he noticed a teenage straggler standing in the road, swaying back and forth. The chunk of rock and dirt barreled over a few homes not far from where the teen was standing, obliterating the homes and sending the pieces flying into the loch. “You don’t scare me,” the teen slurred, shouting at the colossus.

  “What the heck’s his problem? Hey,” he started shouting. “Get out of the way, boy, before ya get killed.” The teenager didn’t hear him. He just stood there swaying, trying to keep his balance. The old man realized that he had to go do something about it, so he went back down to the ground floor. “I’ll be back. Some loony boy is about to die out there. Everyone stay put,” he told the people as he ran out of the inn.

  Bohr pulled a butcher’s knife off of the thread. He flew to the colossus’s chest and held onto the fur. He stabbed it, but the knife broke upon impact. The colossus tried to smash Bohr with its hand, but he swooped toward the ground, through its legs, and then flew up to t
he back of its head. He didn’t see any obvious soft spots, just rock and tough skin. Using knives would be ridiculous on this creature.

  He went lower and landed on the middle of its back. The creature tried to grab him, but it couldn’t reach him. Bohr wanted to take the opportunity to figure something out. The colossus became impatient, trying to shake Bohr off as he gripped the space between the rocks.

  Like a rag doll, his body flung from side to side, but he held on. That is until the creature’s even more forceful shake made Bohr slip and fall toward the ground. Bohr managed to grab onto the lower right side of its back. Just as he placed his feet on its back, the colossus reached back and, with a sweeping motion, flicked Bohr toward the village. Spiraling out of control, he stabilized to an upright position in the air. He tried to slow down but could only decrease his speed a bit; it was too much, causing him to skip across the lake like a flat rock as he missed the town. He sunk underwater.

  As that happened, the old man reached the teenager near the middle of the village. Now the boy was on his knees crying and shouting. “Why? Why did you cheat on me, Samantha? Why?”

  “What the hell are you doing out here, lad? Do you wanna die?”

  “Yes, I wanna diiiiiiieee,” the teen cried louder.

  “Get up! We have to get to safety.” The old man grabbed the teenager’s arm, but he tried to pull away. Then he looked up. The colossus’s attention focused on the town.

  Bohr emerged from the water angry, with his helmet in his hand. The knives on the thread were lost in the lake. He spotted the old man and flew over to him, dripping wet. “What’re you still doing out here, old man?”

  “This fool has a death wish,” the old man said as he tugged on the teenager’s arm. The colossus took six humongous steps to reach the village. “Here it comes,” the old man shouted.

  Bohr put his helmet on. “This thing’s pissing me off.” He ran and flew at full speed at the colossus. Putting all of his might into one fist, he punched the creature in one of its eyes. Its head jerked backwards. Simultaneously, as its chin lifted, Bohr and the old man saw a slight-glowing, purple, pulsating bubble of flesh underneath the chin. They both became curious.

  Feeling no pain, the colossus lowered its head, hiding the bottom of its chin again. It butted Bohr with its forehead. He shot backwards, crashed into the hillside behind the buildings, slid about ninety yards, with dirt clouds spreading from the ground, crossing into the safe area; then he tumbled across the ground until he smacked into an old, broken boat and knocked it over. Somewhere in the path, when he began tumbling, his helmet came off. But he couldn’t see it while he lifted his head with pain on his face.

  The colossus set in motion to kill Bohr. It took a huge step.

  The old man slapped the crap out of the back of the boy’s head. He hollered and then held it, looking at the old man with a perplexed expression. The old man shouted, “I would’ve cheated on you too, ya dumb oaf. Now let’s get to the safe zone!”

  The teen got up. They tried to run to the safe part of the village, but when the footsteps got closer the shockwave made them fall to the ground. The old man looked up in time to see the colossus step over them. His eyes lit up with surprise. Then he looked and noticed that Bohr was struggling to get up near the inn. If the colossus made it over there his niece and everyone inside would get crushed, and it was getting close. He had to make a move fast.

  The old Scotsman got up and went to a long, sharp piece of wood, about three times his height, from where the houses were destroyed. He stood it up. “Hey,” he yelled to the teenager. “Do me a favor and throw something at that thing to get its attention.”

  “Why would I wanna do that? I don’t feel like dying anymore.”

  “Just do it!”

  The boy searched the ground until he found a rock the size of his hand. He rose to his feet, still staggering, and threw the rock at the creature. It bore off to the far right, coming nowhere close to the colossus.

  “How could you miss that thing?” the old man asked.

  “I’m drunk!” The boy started looking for another rock.

  Bohr staggered to his feet, holding his back. The boy found another good rock and threw it, with all of his strength, at the colossus. The rock hit its hand, but it wasn’t enough to turn its attention away from Bohr. “What are they doing?” Bohr said out loud. He looked around and realized where he was. “Oh.” He got a running start and took off flying through the colossus’s legs.

  The creature turned around as Bohr tried to lure it away from the village, looking back to see if it was working. Then, as the colossus stepped toward Bohr’s direction, the old man ran under the colossus’s left foot with the wood in his arms.

  The creature’s foot was about to crush the old man, so Bohr turned around and darted toward that direction. “Get out of the way!” he shouted.

  The old Scottish man stood the piece of wood up right before the colossus’s foot came down on top of him. The teenager gasped. Bohr wondered why the old man would do something so stupid. Then the colossus let out a long, painful breath. Bohr came to a sudden halt.

  The colossus raised its foot. The old man lied motionless in the dirt. The distance was too far for Bohr to see if the old man’s eyes were open, plus he still had the mask pulled over his face. The teen ran out of the way as the creature scraped the bottom of its foot on the ground until the piece of wood came out.

  Bohr noticed dark streaks in the dirt where the creature scraped its foot, also, whenever the creature would place its foot on the ground it would lift it back up fast as if its foot was super sensitive. Bohr swooped in. The colossus tried to grab him. He picked up the teenager, who shouted in terror as Bohr lifted him higher.

  Bohr tossed the teenager on the middle of the colossus’s back. The teen hung on for dear life, cringing from the sight of the ground in that sobering moment. The colossus reached around its back with one hand to wipe the pest away. Then, since the boy was in a hard-to-reach area, the colossus reached around with its other hand, trying so hard to get rid of that itch while also trying to shake him off.

  With this opportunity, the wild light flickered in Bohr’s hand as he flew around to the front. He stopped in front of the colossus’s face and then shot a big javelin blow to the middle of its forehead. The force caused the creature’s forehead to snap back, exposing the purple bubble.

  Bohr started flying toward the exposed area under the chin. A problem arose when he noticed that he was slowing down and descending as he progressed forward. Bohr realized he had used up too much energy in the last javelin blow, plus all of the flying around didn’t help. Weakness was not an option at this point. Either he’ll defeat the colossus or he’ll die a failure. So he pulled two knives from his belt, took a deep breath, mustered up what drop of strength he had left, and charged at the colossus. He latched onto the bubble with one of the knives and then started stabbing it with violent thrusts.

  Dark-purple slime squirted out as the colossus let out a great moan. The slime covered Bohr. Almost passing out, he fell to the ground, tumbling down the colossus’s body a bit as it held its soft spot and fell over onto its right side, crashing into the hillside. The colossus’s eyes shut halfway with its mouth open, exhaling a long final breath.

  Bohr hit the ground and then rolled a few feet onto his back, panting. With the knives still gripped tight, he placed them in their sheaths, then began getting up grunting.

  The teenager still held on tight when the colossus began to break and then crumble into itty bitty pieces. Those pieces then turned to dust, forming a mound for the teenager to slide down. Seconds after that, the gentle breeze carried fur and clouds of dust floating over the loch.

  Bohr used his hands to dig through the mound until he reached the prize. He shook the dust off and looked at it. The first piece: a thick, dark, blue, metallic band with two fine blue gemstones. The piece looked brand new and each end showed where it had been broken.

  Then he
went to check on the old Scottish man, whom the boy was now leaning over, examining the body. Bohr approached them. “He doesn’t look crushed. Is he dead?”

  “No, he’s still breathing. Payback!” The teenage boy gave the old man a good hard smack across his face.

  The old man woke up. After coming to reality, he sat up, looked around, and said, “You did it.” He pulled the mask off to reveal his unrestrained excitement as he started laughing. “You did it! You did it!”

  As the teen helped the old man up, Bohr asked, “What happened? I thought you were dead for sure.”

  “I spotted what the other fella did. The bottom of its feet were just like under its chin. I figured, it might weaken it somehow. So I hoped that the thing would have that kind of reaction ya have, you know, the kind ya have when you step on something sharp and ya try not to step any further. But I thought it backfired and I ended up passin’ out from sheer terror.”

  “Look, old man, I’m going to go find my helmet. Is there anyone around here who might be able to add a chin strap?”

  The old man answered, “Sure, there’s a few.”

  “And,” Bohr added, “you also owe me beer and lots of it.”

  The old man cuffed the back of his ear with his hand. “Huh? I can’t hear ya, lad. I think my hearing is slipping away.”

  “Oh, yeah, I bet it is,” Bohr said.

  “Forget that for now, lad. It’s time to rejoice. Hey, younger lad, go to the tower and ring the bell.” The teenager did so and everyone came out to see the results. They thanked Bohr and welcomed him in on their celebration.

  In the desert, Kwon took slow, short steps with his mouth hanging open. Each breath felt like it could be his last. A million things went through his mind—which was normal for Kwon. One of those things had to do with the fact that NO ONE told him he’d have to escape death multiple times from huge insects and animals he’d never seen before. Now the sun bullied him, beating every liter of hope out, weakening his body more and more each hour of the afternoon.

  Jasmine hooked Kwon up with some helpful information in the note she gave him. The tips she included for desert traveling:

  1.Keep your head covered or wrapped to keep from getting direct sunlight. (She provided Kwon with a shirt to wrap around his head, which he had on).

  2.Find shade. Immediate need for temporary shade can be found around small shrubs or cactuses, or seek shelter in a ravine or on the north side of a rock cropping during the worst parts of the day.

  3.Take small sips from your canteen. Don’t drink it all at once like an idiot. Also, be very cautious of drinking water you find in the desert. If it’s contaminated you’ll waste what water you have in your body as soon as you vomit or have horrible diarrhea.

  4.Try not to eat. The more you eat the thirstier you get. You’ll survive longer without food than you will without water.

  5.Don’t panic! You might head off in the wrong direction.

  6.Mark your location in case you get lost or keep your focus on a landmark.

  7.Watch out for snakes and scorpions and bigger creatures that will eat you, like hyenas and stuff.

  8.Keep your mouth shut! It slows down dehydration caused by breathing, and move slow so you won’t sweat more.

  9.And for my last tip, be careful at night. The temperatures can get ridiculously cold. I’ll provide three of my special eggs for you. Just crack them on the ground and you’ll have a controlled campfire that won’t go out for ten hours. Stay safe out there, Kwon.

  Since the night before, Kwon had lost the note informing the dos and don’ts of the desert. Since reaching the desert, just hours ago, he’d already panicked and ended up running in the wrong direction as soon as a cobra crossed his path. Not only that, he also ate all of his food as soon as he got hungry.

  The water didn’t last long either. He drank it all as soon as he began to sweat. Now, maybe it was the fact that he had forgotten everything that Jasmine told him or the heat was confusing his brain, but for some reason he remembered a way to rehydrate his body for a short amount of time and keep the sun from burning his head.

  He stopped, took the shirt off of his head and dropped it on the ground. Then he pulled out his winky and watered the laundry. After he finished draining himself, he held the shirt up over his head, with his mouth wide open, and then squeezed some of the golden liquid down his throat. He bent over, coughing and gagging, fighting the urge to vomit. Then, with the taste still bothering him, he wrapped the shirt around his head again. “Oh, God,” he cried out, “that made it even warmer.”

  Kwon continued inching his way through the desert. He reached the top of a red sand hill and looked out into the distance to see nothing but more of the deceptive desert, with its vegetation in most parts but no moisture to go with it. But wait. Was this some sort of illusion? A large submarine floated over the sand far away with a bunch of solar panels sticking out from the sides.

  “Over here,” he puffed, waving his arms around. Illusion or not, that ship was the only hope for getting out of this desert. His knees buckled and his legs went numb, sending him tumbling down the long hill as soon as he took a step forward.

  Two eggs remained from the night before. Kwon didn’t realize that the little pocket that held the eggs was unzipped. So when he tumbled down the hill, the eggs slipped out of the backpack, and when they tumbled down the hill, they cracked open, leaving streaks of blazing fire.

  Kwon tried to lift himself up, but his body didn’t like that idea. He stared at the sky, pulling for every breath. I’m going to die. I’m going to die here. He slipped away … away … away …

  Kizm and Nebin exited LaGuardia International Airport in New York, New York, in the late morning. With them were two Caucasian men in their early twenties. None of them had any luggage, and the two young men were wearing skinny jeans with DC t-shirts and sneakers.

  Kizm handed one of the boys a folded piece of paper. “I’ve picked out a few locations,” he said. “Only choose one. When you get there blend in. You have enough money to get yourselves a place to stay and anything else you need. Remember, don’t do anything until you see the signal. After that, head back to the castle right away. Is that clear?” The two young men nodded their heads. “Prove yourselves to me. Let’s go, Nebin.” Kizm and Nebin went in one direction while the boys went in another. Kizm pushed a guy with a briefcase to the ground with one hand while he was trying to get in a taxi. Then, while they got in the taxi, the guy spewed curse words at Kizm and tried to overpower him but failed several times by being pushed to the ground.

  About an hour and a half passed by. The taxi driver and everyone else Kizm met overlooked his appearance, thinking he might’ve been an actor in costume or some random nerd.

  Across the East River, along the edge, the Secretariat Building of the United Nations headquarters towered over the General Assembly Building and the Dag Hammarskjold Library. One hundred and ninety-three flags stood side-by-side out front, representing its members. Inside of the General Assembly Building, the president of the assembly—appointed at that time—sat with two other men in front of the giant, round, silver and bronze emblem of the map of the world embraced by two olive branches. The Ukrainian fellow went on and on about the UN budget. Security guards stood in both corners beside the platform. The representatives of the nations looked bored in the mostly-filled seats in the vast room. Each nation had a table with their name plate on the front.

  All of a sudden, the cameras recording from every angle in the room shut off. The two giant monitors above each side of the emblem went blank. The camera men checked the cameras to see what went wrong—they didn’t know that Nebin seized the control room.

  Kizm entered the room, walking down the steps to the front like he belonged there, whispering a spell under his breath. All of the attention turned to his direction. The assembly president stopped speaking and gawked at Kizm. “Excuse me, who are you?” he said to Kizm. The guards started moving toward Kizm with their hands
on their holstered guns.

  “It’s funny how easy hypnosis is,” Kizm stated. He pulled a baseball-sized silver ball from his pocket and held it up about face height. “All you need is an object to get someone’s attention.” He tossed the silver ball on the ground near the guards. It rolled into the platform wall. They gave it a cautious glance, pulled their guns on Kizm, and sidestepped away from the ball.

  The assembly president began to duck in his seat behind the big, gray, marble block while the other men stayed calm, but he kept his head up to see what would happen.

  Before the guards could double take to the ball and back to Kizm, their eyes became too heavy to hold. They fell to the ground asleep, along with a quarter of the room of representatives—everyone who laid eyes on the ball.

  “Who are you?” the assembly president asked again, growing startled. “How did you get in here?”

  “Your security is laughable,” Kizm replied while walking up the steps on the side of the platform, “and you should be sleep like your other two colleagues up there.” Instead of going to the podium below the gray block, Kizm went up more stairs to the president.

  The president stood up and approached him with his raised forward. “Stop right there.”

  “You’re in my space.” Kizm pushed the president away with one hand, making him slide on his butt a few feet across the smooth carpet, almost tumbling down the stairs on the other side, and rise back up, giving Kizm an embarrassed look while he kept his distance. The nations murmured to each other.

  “That was uncalled for,” the assembly president shouted.

  Kizm smirked, then he sat in the president’s seat in the middle. He leaned into the mic. “How is everyone doing this afternoon?” His question directed at the representatives had no response. “Fine then. Who cares about what’s on your minds? I’ll tell you what’s on mine, though. What is it that this world needs that it doesn’t have? Can anyone tell me? No? Aw, you people are worthless. Translators, do your jobs! What is it that this planet needs?”

  The president answered from behind, “Peace?”

  Kizm looked back at him. “No, that’s an idiotic answer. You’ve spoken too much already.” He turned to the audience. “It’s not peace that this world needs, it’s something new. That’s why I’m here … to introduce my new idea. An idea that involves a new nation, one that rules over all nations.”

  The assembly president started rubbing his chin, his eyes wandered in thought.

  Kizm continued, “The most powerful nation known to man. A nation with a military none can compare to. A nation that doesn’t count on politics but is ruled by one person and no one else.”

  “I think I read that in a book somewhere,” the president blurted out.

  “Who cares where you read it. I intend to create that nation. The only reason I’m here is to offer my allegiance to any other nation who decides to join me and, of course, I’ll be the leader. But the nations that oppose me will become my enemies and my enemies will fall by my hands. So what do you say we get those votes up on the board, and let’s forget about the delegates who’ve fallen asleep. They were going to pass out from the budget talk, anyway. Now, how does this voting thing happen? Nebin, get the board ready.” Kizm stood with confidence, crossing his hands behind his back. “Will you be my allies and let the world accept a nation that it needs?” he said aloud.

  The room turned silent. Every one of the representatives looked at each other and at Kizm as if this was some weird joke. Then Kizm heard rapid, broken breathing behind him turn to uncontrollable cackling. A wave of reality moved throughout the room as all of the conscious representatives began laughing at Kizm.

  “What makes, oh, oh, oh my goodness,” the assembly president breathed out with every burst of laughter, holding his stomach. Kizm swung his head toward him. “What makes you think you can come in here and demand to start a new nation? We—”

  “I didn’t demand. I asked nicely,” Kizm interrupted.

  The president and the representatives laughed harder and then he continued, “We don’t even know who you are.”

  “My name is Kizm. You should know that name very well by now.” Kizm was becoming irritated.

  The president pretended to recognize Kizm. “Ohhh, yeah, Kizm. You’re that guy … that no one’s ever heard of.” He waved his hand in a shooing motion a few times. “Save yourself the humiliation and leave.”

  Kizm bent down to the microphone. “Let’s go, Nebin.” He started his shameful walk toward the way he came in, with his head held high to mask his feelings. He exited the room with the assembly still laughing.

  As night began to fall on Africa, Zembok noticed a campsite in the distance of an open plain. He made his way in that direction.

  When he got there he stayed out of sight, ducking behind a bunch of tents that surrounded a large campfire. Six covered wagons and two uncovered wagons were parked in their own area of the camp. A tribe of men played drums with their hands and danced around the fire with such wild joy that he could’ve sworn they were possessed by demons. They passed around a large pipe with smoke surging from its bowl, inhaling the smoke and then giving it to whoever’s nearest.

  Smoke also seeped from the slits in some of the tents where laughter could be heard. A long cloth was spread out on the ground beside one of the farther tents. It had various fruits and vegetables in neat stacks on top of it. He snuck his way to the unattended food, ducking behind tents to avoid being spotted by the people exiting them.

  Zembok snatched an apple from the cloth and then sat on the ground behind one of the tents. He smiled as his mouth filled with saliva. He took a big bite and savored its sweet, juicy insides. Then he lifted the apple to take another bite. Someone clenched his wrist from behind. The person yanked his arm, making him drop the apple, and pulled him around to the front of the tent.

  The tribe member dragged Zembok at first, but he got to his feet only to be thrown down in the middle of the celebration. All four drummers stopped beating. The sixteen smoking dancers stopped. All of them zeroed in on Zembok. The man that grabbed him howled with great strength, “Woooooooo-aaaaahhh! Woooooooo-aaaaahhh!”

  About a dozen or more men emerged from the smoking tents. As if it were a normal routine, they howled and formed a circle around the troll. They glared with blood thirst in their eyes as Zembok tried to escape but couldn’t even pull away from the strong grip. Then everything got quiet.

  From young teenagers to men well over fifty, they all saw Zembok as their worst enemy. They wore different types of garments, but the ones with exposed torsos had something in common: they all had fine-cut scars on their chests forming a giant, three-rowed W design.

  The tribe member holding Zembok shouted, “We have an intruder who tried to steal our food. What shall we do? Should we deal with this ourselves or … should we summon Teepoch?”

  The tribe agreed with each other, exchanging sinister smiles. Then, all together, they answered, “Teepoch.” The drummers started beating to their chant. “Teepoch … Teepoch, Teepoch, Teepoch … Teepoch, Teepoch, Teepoch … Teepoch, Teepoch, Teepoch.” They continued the chant until a tall, ripped, brown-skinned man, in his early twenties, came out of a tent of his own. He had brown hair braided into a ponytail that hung all the way down his back. He wore a bluish-silver, very low-cut V-neck robe with brown pants underneath. Just like the others, a carved-in W peeked out of his V cut, and he had strange symbols tattooed on his arms and torso.

  “What do you want?” he griped, approaching the other tribe members.

  The other member let Zembok’s wrist go. “This boy was trying to steal our food.”

  “No I wasn’t,” Zembok blurted out.

  “Yes he was. I caught him in the act. What shall we do with him, Teepoch?”

  Teepoch squinted, examining every inch of Zembok. “What sort of creature are you exactly?” he asked as he made his suave approach to Zembok.

  “I’m a troll. You probably don’t belie
ve in trolls, but that’s what I am and I wasn’t tryin’ to steal your food. I’m just hungry.”

  “I thought that’s what you were,” Teepoch said. “Tell me something, troll.” He reached into his robe through the V-cut and slid out a big, sharp machete. “Do you know what happens to a thief?” Zembok’s eyes grew wide when Teepoch started taunting him, waving the terrifying machete just inches away from his face. “Usually,” he swung the machete and stuck it in the grass beside Zembok’s hand, which made him flinch, “a thief is supposed to get one of their hands chopped off. Eye for an eye stuff, you know how that goes. But whenever someone is bold enough to steal from the Woo’ah …” he moved the machete up Zembok’s arm, brushing the side of it against his skin, and then he rested the sharp edge on Zembok’s shoulder, “… we cut your whole arm off.”

  “B-B-But I’m telling you the truth. I promise I wasn’t tryin’ to steal from you, I just wanted somethin’ to eat.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just ask?” Teepoch said. “We’re pretty friendly people.”

  Zembok replied, “Really?” Teepoch nodded. “Well I didn’t know who you were. And after meeting one psycho already, I didn’t wanna take a chance. But I am very sorry, so can I please have somethin’ to eat?”

  Teepoch put the machete back in its hidden sheath. “Rise to your feet, troll,” he ordered. Zembok stood up. “I will allow you to eat as much as you want.”

  Zembok sighed with relief and then smiled. “Thank you.”

  The other tribesmen murmured.

  “After I take you to our leader so he can turn your brains to mush.” Teepoch started laughing like a mad man. The other members cheered. “You won’t even know that you’re eating. It’s going to be soooo entertaining, especially since I’ve been bored for the past few hours. Then, after that, we’re going to throw you over the fire and have roasted troll tonight. How does that sound, men?”

  They cheered even louder, then chanted, “Leader, leader, leader, leader!” They started dancing around like a bunch of whack jobs as Teepoch grabbed Zembok by the arm and took him over to a big tent separated from the rest.

  Zembok’s nerves shook him. “Look, if you just … If you just let me go I promise not to bother you ever again.” Teepoch didn’t say anything. He lifted the opening to the tent. “Please, just let me go. I have …” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the diamonds. “I have these five diamonds if you want ‘em? Just please, let me walk away without anything bad happening.” Still, no response came from Teepoch, only a quick glance at the diamonds in Zembok’s palm as they entered the tent.

  An old, brown-skinned man floated two feet off of the ground, meditating with his eyes closed and legs crossed. His gray hair flowed past his shoulders. He wore shorts with no shirt, revealing a W on his chest and more strange symbols covering his leathery body like clothing.

  “Chief, we have a problem,” Teepoch whispered, showing the leader respect.

  “Can’t you see that I’m busy?” the leader said without breaking his concentration.

  “Yes, master, but this intruder tried to steal from us. Should I cut his arm off or is it okay to ask you for a brain musher spell? ‘Cause I was sort of hoping for the brain mush. I mean, I think he might be a little terrified and I looked forward to seeing him pee his pants in front of everyone, so please say yes to the brain mush?” Teepoch crossed his eager fingers, expecting the answer he wanted.

  “Look, I was just hungry. What’s the big deal?” Zembok started getting irritated. “I was gonna give you five diamonds. Ain’t that enough?”

  Teepoch punched Zembok in his side, right below his ribs. “Ow!” he shouted, holding his side.

  “Shut up, thief. Bow down to our chief, the great shaman, Damali.”

  “Forget you. I’m not bowing to anybody,” Zembok responded.

  “What?” Teepoch took offense. He moved Zembok’s hand and then punched him in the side again. That angered Zembok. They wrestled with each other as Teepoch pushed him to the ground and tried to push his head down, forcing Zembok to bow. “Bow … bow … to him.”

  Damali sighed. He opened his eyes. “Teepoch!” he shouted with power. Teepoch and Zembok froze. “Weren’t you aware that this is a troll?”

  “Yeah, I already know that,” Teepoch replied.

  “Leave the tent now,” Damali ordered.

  Teepoch’s pride took a blow. He wanted to say something but remained silent. He shook his head, got up, snatched the diamonds from Zembok’s hand, and then left the tent.

  “Hey,” Zembok cried out, frustrated. He got to his feet. Being alone with the shaman made him uncomfortable. Damali peered into the troll’s soul with his wise, green eyes. The silence lasted only a few seconds, but for Zembok the wrong choice of words would cause his brain to go uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

  Not adding comfort, Damali said, “So you’ve finally made it? I’ve been waiting patiently.”

  Zembok wondered why he had to meet every single nut job on the way to Mt. Embor. “What’re you talkin’ about, man?”

  Damali continued, “I’ve dreamt about you lately. The green-haired troll that comes from far away. My instincts led me to this spot where I would wait for you to come.”

  Zembok had a confused expression. “If you’re goin’ to do that brain thing just do it, ‘cause you’re crazy.”

  “You don’t believe me. That pole case on your back, may I see it?” Zembok hesitated to give him the pole, but those green eyes could not be denied. As soon as the shaman opened the case and held the pole, he spun it, turned it, and examined every inch of it. Then he pointed the ends toward the sides of the tent, away from them both. “Double Extension!” The spear chain ripped through both sides of the tent. He commanded, “Retract!” The chain and spear went back into the pole.

  “How’d you do that?” Zembok asked with wonder, wanting to know the secret to this magnificent weapon. “The only person I’d seen use the pole that way was my grandpa.”

  “Of course, he should’ve known. I created it for him.”

  Zembok’s wonder turned to confusion. “Huh?”

  “Yes,” the shaman added, “after most of your race was wiped out. It holds a spirit inside that follows your every command.”

  “You don’t even know who I am.”

  “No, you don’t know who I am. I held you in my arms when you were a baby. When your race was destroyed by a man named Kizm, the only survivors were your granddaddy and your parents. Your granddaddy wanted to get stronger, so he asked me for help. I made the pole to help polish his skills. Twelve years ago, your parents had you. Soon after that, they got sick and passed away. I should know, because I tried to help them get better. A few days ago, my body began to tremble with cold chills that seemed like they wouldn’t stop. After that, I had a dream that I met you. While my tribe and I traveled, the chills stopped in this very spot. So I began to wait, and now you’re here. It was no coincidence that we met.”

  “Okay. If you know me so well then what’s my grandfather’s name?” Zembok asked.

  “That’s easy. His name is Belthar.”

  Zembok frowned. “Huh? No. Who the heck is Belthar?”

  “His name’s not Belthar?” Damali asked. Zembok shook his head. The shaman looked up, pondering. “Ummm, okay, I guess I got the wrong troll.” The shaman placed the pole on his lap, closed his eyes, and continued meditating.

  An awkward silence overtook the tent. After a few seconds, Zembok asked, “Can I have my pole back, please?”

  “Nope.”

  “What?” Zembok’s frustration built, making him grit his teeth with his fists balled. “You’re really startin’ to piss me off right now. Give me back my pole!” he yelled.

  “Do you want your brain turned to mush?” Damali threatened.

  “I don’t care anymore. Do what you want. I’m sick and tired of you and your people. Forget you! Forget your stupid tent! Give me back my pole or else I’ll …” Zembok let out a roar with a punch to t
he air. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t even know who I am.”

  Damali rose higher in the air. He opened his eyes, staring a hole through Zembok. He placed his feet on the ground, standing taller than Zembok had realized him to be. The troll’s courage dispersed, causing him to freeze up as Damali approached him with a fierce look on his face. The shaman raised his free hand to Zembok’s head. Zembok’s eyes grew wide.

  He placed his hand on the troll’s head. “Of course, I know who you are.” He smiled. “You’re Zion’s boy … Zembok.” Zembok relaxed. “Come meet my tribe,” the shaman said, opening the tent for Zembok.

  As they left the tent Zembok asked, “Do you mess with everybody like that?”

  “Why not? I’m eighty-two years old. I can do what I want.”

  “You don’t look that old.”

  “I take good care of my body.”

  As they walked toward the tribe, Zembok became saddened. “I guess since you and my grandfather were friends, I should tell you about him.”

  “You don’t have to. I felt him leave.”

  Teepoch danced around with the others, but once the shaman approached them they all stopped everything. “Is it time to turn him into a brain-dead slobber monkey?” Teepoch asked. “Because we all voted that it would be ridiculously funny to watch him sing and dance for us while he’s dumber than bird guano.”

  “Teepoch, you imbecile, this is the boy from my dream.” Teepoch gasped and smiled with exaggerated excitement. Damali continued, “I want everyone to meet Zembok. Zembok, meet my tribe, the Woo’ah Tribe.”

  Teepoch gave Zembok a suffocating hug. “I knew you were a special person. I could feel it deep down inside.” He sunk his teeth into Zembok’s forehead and then made a disgusted face after Zembok hollered in pain. “You would’ve been nasty, anyway.”

  While rubbing his forehead, Zembok demanded, “Give me my diamonds back.”

  “What diamonds?” Teepoch asked.

  “Teepoch, give him the diamonds,” said Damali.

  As Teepoch lifted his robe to reach in his pants pocket, Damali flashed two fingers away from Zembok’s sight. Teepoch pulled the diamonds out after fumbling around in there and looked in his palm. “I’m sorry. I can only seem to find two of them. I must’ve lost the other ones somewhere.” He gave the diamonds to Zembok.

  Zembok shook his head with disappointment. “I have to find those other diamonds.”

  “Don’t worry about it right now,” Damali said. “You can have all of the food you can eat and look for them later. Go ahead, eat up.” He gave Zembok a nudge. Zembok went over to the food, searching the ground for the diamonds on the way. Damali threw his hands up and shouted, “Break out the loopy juice.” The tribe cheered and continued playing the drums and dancing. Two of the members went over to one of the wagons and grabbed four big ceramic jugs. Damali turned to Teepoch. “He did say he had five diamonds, right?”

  “Sure, you heard him right. But what will we tell him when he starts looking for the others?”

  “Nothing. We’ll get him drunk and make fun of him while we watch him repeatedly forget what he was looking for.” They both burst out laughing.

  “That’s why I love you, Master Damali.” They went to join the rest of the tribe.

  The next day, Kwon woke up in a cold chamber. He lied on his back on the bottom mattress of a bunk bed, in a tight space with a door a few feet away. He was so weak that his arms were as heavy as lead. The first thing that came to his mind was, “I’m dying!” He let out a long grunt as he threw himself over the side of the mattress with all of his might onto the floor. Rubbing the floor with his hands, he thought, Metal? That’s weird.

  Kwon got up, looked at the door, and slid it open. Into a hallway, he stepped. It was long with many doors on each side leading to a steel door with a valve handle at one end of the hallway. Going to his left, there was a flight of stairs at the end. The muffled sound of rhythmic buzzing came from that direction.

  Kwon followed the sound. At the top of the metal stairs was another door with a valve handle. He heard a beating sound, along with a tapping sound, joining the buzzing. He turned the valve and went into the next room.

  Loud grunge rock blasted Kwon’s ear drums. He walked further to see that he stood on a balcony. A long room lied on the lower level. A Caucasian teenage boy played the air guitar, banging his head up and down while jumping around to the music.

  Kwon made his way down some more stairs. Right below the balcony, rows of metal folding chairs went all the way to the back of the room. Small, circular windows went from the back of the room to the front, but at the very front, a giant window peered out to a golden view of the desert.

  Four water coolers sat on one side of the room with two big metal boxes beside them. Soda cans, potato chip bags, candy wrappers, and comic books were scattered all over the floor. Radar screens and bright lights, on machinery with tons of switches and buttons, took up most of the space toward the front of the room.

  Kwon shouted at the top of his lungs to get the scrawny boy’s attention, but the music drowned him out. So he went and tapped on the boy’s shoulder. The boy jumped. He slipped on some soda cans and fell to the ground while trying to run away. He noticed Kwon, then turned the music off with a remote control.

  “Are you alright?” Kwon asked.

  “Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” the boy responded while picking himself up. He looked like a normal suburban kid, not much older than Kwon, with hair down to his shoulders and skinny jeans with a collar t-shirt. “I forgot you were in here."

  “Where am I?” Kwon asked.

  “Well, um, you’re in my science project. I rescued you yesterday.” He made his way over to one of the metal containers and opened it. Smoke from frost rose from the box. He pulled out two sodas. “You want one?” Kwon nodded. He tossed him one of the sodas and closed the box. Kwon popped the top and chugged it. “Y’know, you were almost dead when I found ya, man. If it weren’t for that fire I would’ve never even known you were out there.”

  Kwon finished the drink, let out a crucial burp, and tossed the can with the rest of the trash. “So, is this the ship that I saw?”

  “Yeah, the only submarine you’ll see moving in the desert. Oh, my name’s Victor, by the way. Victor Dawson. I should’ve introduced myself sooner.”

  “My name’s Kwon.” He started freaking out. “Aw, man, do you know what happened to my backpack?”

  “Relax, bro. I put your stuff in one of the guest rooms.” Victor sat in an adjustable computer chair. He grabbed a pill bottle from off one of the complex-looking control consoles, opened it, shook one in his hand, closed the bottle of Citalopram, and put it back. Victor opened the soda and drank a gulp with the pill.

  Kwon walked toward the big window, staring through it with awe. “Are we flying?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Well actually, it’s more like hovering. I wanted it to fly real high, but I only had two and a half months to build it.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t get anyone else to help me. No one really understood what I was trying to do.” Victor got up and went to the front with Kwon. “See, what I wanted to do was create a safe and reliable way to transport people through the desert and blah, blah, blah. More crap. More crap. Blah, blah. The truth is, I had to do something big for a scholarship program for what some people call ‘gifted teenies’, the dumbest name I’ve ever heard in my life, by the way. So I found an old, gutted-out submarine and used one of my old invention plans to win the scholarship. Of course, I aced it with no problem.” Victor slammed his fist against the air in a celebratory fashion. “Boom!”

  “Oh, okay. So you got the scholarship, right?” Kwon asked.

  “Yeah, man, weren’t you listening?”

  “Sure, I heard some of what you said,” Kwon answered. “I think something’s wrong with my brain ‘cause I started hearing blah, blah, blah.” His reply made Victor sigh with disappointment
. “So how does this ship work?”

  “Well it has a lot to do with harnessing the heat from the sun and using that to lift and propel the ship. Of course, the weight of the sub was a big problem. Not only that, I had to deal with the heated metal making the inside super-hot, what to do about sand storms getting dirt in bad places, dealing with my custom-made engine, and uh, other nerve-racking stuff. As you can see, everything’s not perfect yet, but what I did to get things working was …”

  Kwon went deaf as he stared at Victor Dawson babble on about some science stuff that he knew nothing about. The nerd waved his hands around as he explained things. Victor’s head moved everywhere as he talked, but his brown hair didn’t move at all, kinda like a cheap wig or something. This guy wouldn’t shut up about his boring science project. It’s boring because not everybody knows anything about the laws of physics. In fact, it’s boring when people explain how things work in physics like Victor kept doing. Only small sips of soda interrupted his random rambling. It makes a person want to look at shiny lights on a control panel thingy. So shiiiiny.

  Kwon started pressing random buttons on the front console. Victor freaked out, grabbing and pushing him away as the ship lost power and hit the ground, sliding across the sand. He tapped many buttons to start it back up and get it hovering again.

  “What the heck is wrong with you, man?” he yelled at Kwon.

  “I wanted to see what the buttons do.”

  “Well, you don’t know it, but if this thing would’ve shut down completely, it would’ve taken over an hour to start up again. Oh, yeah, and trust me, it would’ve been stupid hot.”

  “I’m sorry. My brain kinda trails off sometimes. Hey, you know what bothers me, why are you out in the desert by yourself, anyway? It’s kinda weird, even to me.”

  “Are you serious? I just told you why.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Yes I did, right before you started pushing buttons for no reason. It’s my dad, man.” Victor went back to his chair and sat down. He had a heavy burden on his mind once he mentioned his father. “He’s getting on my freakin’ nerves. Everyone is. He keeps pushing me more and more to go to college. Schools from all over the world want me, and with this so-called ‘rare’ scholarship they want me to make a decision now. I mean, I do wanna change the world somehow someday, but I’m only fifteen. I just wanna play video games, read comic books, and date hot chicks, or at least masturbate to ‘em. I don’t care about going to college early. I just want my own life.”

  “Where are you from?” Kwon asked.

  “I’m from Dickinson, North Dakota. I came out here so no one would find me. They’re probably looking all over for me right now, not even realizing I’m in Africa. But who cares, anyway.” Victor began to pout.

  Kwon approached Victor. “I’m not as smart as you, but I can see the great things in your life that you can’t.” He grabbed Victor’s attention. “Your father wants you to go to college at an early age, but you don’t wanna go.”

  “I forgot to mention that I could’ve went when I was eleven, but I tried to make myself seem dumb until I got a little older.”

  “Yeah, either way your dad wants you to go. You should respect his wishes. If my grandpa was still alive and he taught me enough to get a college scholarship, I’d go just to make him happy. Heck, if I was as smart as you I’d go to the best school, tick everybody off in class with my brain power, and do what I have to do to get out as soon as possible. If you don’t wanna do that you can stay in the desert forever.” Kwon formed a devilish smile as he leaned closer to Victor. “Besides, I hear college girls love smart guys. Just think about all of those pretty girls who will do anything, an-y-thing, to get you to help them with their homework.”

  Victor hopped up, wide-eyed. “Let’s get it! I need to get back home, now.” Victor went to the front control console and started pressing buttons everywhere. “Those college girls will make a man outta me for sure. You coming with me?”

  “No thanks. I need to get to Mt. Embor. Do you know where it is?”

  “Nope, but my navigational system will find it. I’ll drop you off as close as possible. Let’s get this baby moving!” They moved at an excruciating max out of twenty-five miles per hour, but at least they were on their way.

  In the castle, Kizm sat at his desk in deep thought. Adalla came into the room with a cat and a brown-and-white papillon, with Mimic in her arms.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” she shouted with excitement. “She did it.”

  “Did what?” he asked.

  “Just look.” She placed Mimic on the ground in between the cat and the dog. Mimic poked the cat with its sharp tail, making the cat scream and jump away. The creature’s skin changed from scaly to furry-and-gray with black tiger stripes. Its body molded into an identical form of the cat. So identical that if no one was looking neither of them would be able to tell them apart. Then the needle tip emerged from the Mimic-cat and it poked the dog. The papillon turned aggressive and tried to bite Mimic. As the creature slipped away from the attack, it took the identity of the dog.

  Kizm raised his eyebrows. “That’s impressive.” Nebin entered the room. “Adalla, take these animals outside. I’ll be out there in a few minutes.”

  “Alright,” she replied. She scooped up all three animals and left the room.

  Nebin approached the desk. “Are you okay, sir? You haven’t said much since we left New York.”

  Kizm leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Yeah, I know. I just can’t get the laughter out of my head. That’s something I cannot tolerate, Nebin. I mean, to be honest, I actually expected them not to take me seriously, but the fact that they haven’t heard of me is bothersome. They don’t even know who I am.”

  “With all due respect, sir, despite your appearance, you never really stood out much. I mean, I’ve heard stories about you for a long time, but I never knew what you looked like until you came here. It’s easy to forget someone’s name if it’s not consistently traveling from ear to ear. And without a face to picture, why believe any of the stories?”

  “You’re right, Nebin. I’ve been doing so much over the past few decades and no one even knows I was behind it all.” Kizm sat forward with his forearms placed on the desk. “Do me a favor and get in touch with the base.”

  “Your army base? But what for?” Nebin asked.

  “There’s a couple of people I need you to get for me. I want to make sure that by the time this is all over the entire world will have a hard time forgetting my name.” He smirked.

  Zembok woke up in one of the uncovered wagons, surrounded by barrels and wooden crates. He moaned as he held his head and sat upright on the moving wagon. Peeking over the side, he saw grass stand at least ten feet high. Teepoch walked side-by-side with Damali beside the front of the wagon Zembok was on. Two men pulled each wagon by ropes, showing their lasting strength by barely straining to pull these large wagons that seemingly needed horses to do the job. The rest of the tribe cut away the grass with machetes to open a path for the wagons while they, and a few tribesmen following the wagons, looked out for snakes and wild animals.

  Zembok climbed over the side of the wagon and jumped off. He held his head again, almost falling over in pain once his feet hit the ground. Zembok approached Teepoch and Damali saying, “It feels like my brain is havin’ a heart attack.” He looked at Damali. “Why are you still wearin’ my grandpa’s pole on your back, Damali?”

  “You should only refer to him as chief, master or great shaman, Damali,” Teepoch scolded him.

  “What for? He’s none of those things to me,” Zembok said.

  “You dare to disrespect our tribe, troll?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Teepoch,” Damali said. “Remember, Zembok, it was mine way before you were even able to touch it.”

  “Whatever. So what do y’all have all of this stuff for, and where are you guys goin’, anyway?” Zembok asked.

  “Each year we take two trips,” Damali started.
“Our home village is too dry to grow any crops, so we travel far and wide to gather all the food, herbs, and spices that we can to help our village until we run out. Then we go on the second trip to do the same. Any extra food needed is hunted for.”

  “But how can you make that stuff last half a year? Won’t it go bad in a few weeks?”

  “Some things are canned items, while we have certain ways to keep everything else fresh.”

  “Okay, so I guess you have a lot of deep freezers or somethin’. Why don’t you just move?”

  “That will never happen,” Damali bellowed. “My daddy told me several times that ‘your life means nothing if you’re easily forgotten’. So I founded the village when I was thirty-four as a promise to myself and to my daddy. No matter how poor the condition of our land is, I will not leave it. Because hundreds of years from now I want the world to know where to find the greatest clans to ever walk this Earth and remember the name Damali Woo’ah. One day we’ll find a spell powerful enough to cure our land. I know we will.”

  “What’s the name of your village?”

  Damali lifted his chin as if his heart filled with great pride. “Its name is … still undetermined.”

  “Huh?” Zembok said, surprised. “You’re that old and you haven’t named your village yet? What if you die from old age or get Alzheimer’s and forget what your whole purpose was in the first place?”

  “Then Teepoch will come up with a name. He will be my successor after all.”

  Teepoch smiled. “I’ll name it Terdland or, better yet, Fartsville, in honor of all of the wind broken on a daily basis in our village.”

  Damali gave Teepoch a stern look. “Don’t start the poop jokes today."

  Zembok looked around. “Hey, which way are we goin’, anyway? ‘Cause I gotta get to a place called Mt. Embor.”

  “I know. You told us last night, literally minutes before you passed out. Do you know who lives there?” the shaman asked.

  “Some guy named Goopa,” Zembok replied. “A friend of mine is goin’ to the same place. I’m tryin’ to catch up with him. His grandpa was killed too.”

  Damali sighed. “I hate that Zion was murdered. He was a good friend. Did you see who did it?”

  “Yeah, he wore a stupid outfit and …” Zembok reached into his pocket, pulled out the medallion, and then gave it to the shaman, “… he left this behind.”

  “This belongs to Kizm’s henchman, Bohr. He’s a fowl human being. I’d hoped that my sensing his spirit was a mistake.”

  “He was talking on his watch. The person he was talkin’ to mentioned a blue gemstone bracelet. He said they needed someone named, Ditan.”

  Some of the members of the tribe heard the name Ditan and froze. They looked all over the sky, their bodies shaking with their guards up. One member fell to the ground crying. Their actions confused Zembok.

  Damali sighed with a grunt this time. “We should take a break, anyway. Teepoch.” He nodded to Teepoch, then he became devastated.

  Teepoch left the shaman’s side shouting, “Okay, okay, let’s take a break, men.” He approached the crying man. “Why are you crying? Don’t be a baby! Why are you crying?”

  Everyone stopped. Damali signaled Zembok to sit on the ground. They both sat down. “Ditan is not a man, it’s a monster. One year while we were on our regular journey some bandits infiltrated our village. Since most of the highly skilled warriors were far away on the journey, the bandits killed a handful of our villagers before getting away.”

  “Why did they do that?”

  “They were after many of my secrets. When we returned to the village, I saw the aftermath, so I knew I had to protect my people. I went and gathered sample pieces from four colossi and returned home. I cut and polished six blue gemstones and then had my wife create a bracelet to hold them. With the bracelet finished I needed to use the colossi pieces to create a living being. I combined them with the flesh and bones from hundreds of dead animals that we killed for food, spent months using an ancient spell to form a creature with the DNA of all four colossi, then inserted the souls of the dead villagers into the monster, creating Ditan. He’s also known as the Blue Serpent because of his appearance. I made it to where whoever wore the bracelet controlled the monster, so I gave it to my wife.

  “When we went out for our next trip I thought everything would be okay, but the bandits attacked again. This time Ditan was there to protect the village, but his power was too much, and instead, he ended up killing the bandits and a bunch of villagers. Some of the men you see here were children in the village at the time.”

  Now, Teepoch and the distressed tribesmen sat in a circle lending a sympathetic ear to the crying man. Teepoch nodded as the crying man said, “I was only six years old and I … I feel like … like I’ve been robbed of a normal life. You know? My brain is not normal anymore. When I close my eyes I see demons.” Teepoch stopped nodding and gave him a strange look. “Sometimes they ask me how my day is and I say, ‘It’s okay’. And then sometimes I’ll go off in the woods to pee and I’ll believe I’m in a fancy restroom, but when I go to wash my hands I’ll realize that I’m really in the woods and it makes me cry because my sense of reality is all screwed up. Then recently, whenever I talk to someone their face will start to melt. Like right now, Teepoch, you look like brown melting cheese.”

  “No more loopy juice for you,” Teepoch insisted.

  On the other side, Zembok asked, “But if the monster had the villagers’ souls why couldn’t they control it?”

  “Like I said, his power was too much. They were more lost than anything else. A monster is destructive no matter how you try to change it. One of the bandits escaped. After we returned, I decided to banish Ditan to the bottom of a lake, extracting the souls first, and then hid the bracelet in a ruined tomb. The bandit told people about the monster and the bracelet my wife used to command it.

  “Not too long afterward, someone saw the bracelet, then mentioned it while drunk in a pub one night. Word started to get around about the powerful creature. People with evil intentions grew curious. I was concerned that the bracelet would fall into the wrong hands, so I knew I had to go get the bracelet before anyone else found it. But it was time for my tribe’s next trip, so I sent my friends Goopa and Otem to retrieve it for me.”

  “You know Goopa?” Zembok asked.

  “Yeah, very well.”

  “And Otem, was his name Otem Kiwambe?”

  “Yeah, do you know him?”

  “My friend that I’m tryin’ to catch up with, that was his grandpa. Otem was killed too.”

  Damali shook his head, pausing for a bit. “Otem’s been masking his energy for a long time, so I didn’t feel him leave. He’ll be missed also.”

  “So Otem and Goopa went to get the bracelet for you.”

  “Yes, well, they failed at first. An onslaught of bad men went after the bracelet, and a couple of scientists were after it too. The scientists wanted to study Ditan to figure out its powers. The other men, though, wanted to control it for evil purposes. In the end, the scientists got away with the bracelet.

  “It was fortunate that Goopa and Otem tracked down the scientists, but they didn’t have it anymore. One of them had even been killed over it. Somehow, Kizm gained possession of it, so Goopa and Otem stole it from him before he could summon the monster.”

  “So what happened to the bracelet?”

  “I felt guilty over the deaths of my fellow tribe members and it caused me to break the bracelet into four pieces and put the pieces back into the colossi that they belonged to. That way they would be safe. The only way to get the pieces is to destroy the colossi. I even felt so confident about the security of the pieces that I told a curious traveler where one of the pieces were located and the lake where Ditan lies slumber.”

  “Why didn’t you just destroy Ditan instead of lettin’ all of this mess happen?” Zembok asked.

  “Playing God comes with many prices. One sticks out the most. Once you s
pend months creating a living, breathing being it’s hard to just destroy it, Zembok.”

  “Aren’t you worried about somebody finding the pieces and bringing Ditan back?”

  Kizm is strong, and so is Bohr, but even one colossus is difficult to deal with. Kizm could probably defeat them all, but he makes other people do his dirty work. Bohr’s been gone for a long time, so I’m sure he’s not powerful enough to defeat just one.”

  Little did Damali know, Bohr was working on getting the second piece. On a rocky terrain, he ran, panting and clutching his ribs. A stream of blood flowed from the top of his forehead down the center of his face, dripping off of his new white, leather chin strap. His outfit had tears all over and his helmet had a small dent in the front, just above where the horns met. He tried to fly but only lifted a few feet in the air before falling to the ground, exhausted.

  A long, giant serpent creature burst from the hard ground and flew high into the air. It didn’t have wings, but it flew as fast as an airborne locomotive. This colossus was nowhere near as big as the first one, but it was still colossal. It looked like a snake with a long, pointy, crocodile-looking snout. It even let out a loud hiss like a snake as it twisted its body and then fell to the ground like a drill. Bohr ran out of the way.

  The colossus bore into the ground. Bohr tried to fly again, but he struggled to get off the ground. He clenched his teeth because of his failure. The creature’s head broke through the ground and snapped its mouth shut, trying to eat Bohr, but he rolled out of reach.

  The tail burst from the ground behind him and smacked him, sending him hitting the ground face first. Then the colossus’s whole body broke through the surface. It went high in the air again, spinning to shake off the dirt. Once it got high enough it twisted its body and went crashing into the ground, with Bohr evading the drill by using continuous sideways rolls.

  Bohr started to pick himself up. As the creature sounded as if it were deep underground, he stayed on his knees and elbows, trying to catch his rapid breath. The metallic taste of his own blood awoken the urge to kill Kizm for sending him on this suicide mission. No matter what he tried, the monster was either too fast to hit or its rough, scaly skin was too hard to penetrate. Plus, getting trashed with those people in Scotland didn’t help his conditioning. This colossus didn’t have any visible weak spots, so Bohr had to kill it some other way.

  Whatever he could do he had to do soon, because the colossus burst from the ground right under him with its mouth open. He struggled to hold his stretched position in the creature’s mouth, trying not to get eaten.

  Hot monster breath made Bohr want to vomit. His body scrunched from the pressure of the mouth closing. Then his foot slipped, causing him to fall into the monster’s throat. Bohr shouted as the colossus closed its mouth and went back underground.

  Silence captured the area. A gentle breeze whistled across the wide-open land.

  That afternoon, Kwon—

  Half of the creature’s body burst out of the ground with Bohr pulling on its slender tongue. He pulled and pulled until it ripped out. He fell to the ground. Dark-purple slime spewed out of the creature’s mouth. Its upper half flopped around, slapping the ground. After the flopping slowed down and the creature fell over dead, its body turned to ashes.

  Bohr crawled over to the ash pile and then started digging. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to go into the hole to find the bracelet piece, but luck favored him that day since he found it on the surface. He pulled the other piece out. They both connected like a magnetic attraction.

  Bohr looked at his watch. Through all of the action, he neglected to notice the watch being wrecked beyond repair. “Well, if he has anything important to tell me … too bad.” He relaxed to collect himself.