Negative Film

by Leonard Petracci

  “But they’re not looking for me anymore—” I bit down on my lip, realizing my mistake as her nostrils flared.

  “And how would you know that?” Her voice was cold, her eyes angry. “You leave the police’s business to the police. Becoming involved only puts us at risk and they have longer memories than you may think. It’s one thing for you to do the right thing, and to protect others; it’s another to go looking for trouble, to be stirring the pot when you don’t know if there’s a viper in the soup!”

  “But—”

  “No, Star Child. We’ll speak on this tomorrow. There will come a time for you to help when you are older, but that will never occur if you are killed before then. Others aren’t as arrogant as Peregrine, and they won’t hesitate. Now off to bed, all of you. And, Lucio, this kitchen better not have a trace of blue to it when lunch is served.”

  Her look was so fierce that even Lucio refrained from a quip, and blue as he was, Slugger looked more than ready to return to the warmth of his tent. I bit my lip as I entered my own living area, the lights behind me turning off, knowing that I’d have to be more careful on my excursions. That maybe I should create another path to the world above, one that only I knew about, one that wouldn’t be watched.

  I studied the nearby wall, thinking of potential routes, realizing most of them would likely go through an electrical or water line that would result in our discovery. Then I sensed someone next to me, and I heard Lucio’s voice in the near darkness as he whispered.

  “It’s not about the granola, you know.”

  He shifted, and I could see the whites of his eyes in the darkness, staring in the vague direction of the cabinet.

  “What’s not?” I asked, one of my ears towards him and the other in the direction of my mother.

  “That’s not why I set the trap. Well, I suppose the missing bars are why, but I didn’t do it to catch Slugger. I thought I would catch someone else.”

  “Down here? Lucio, do you think we’re not alone?”

  “Well, they are going missing. And Darian has been missing too, gone without a blink. He’s always wanted to be somewhere else, but I had hoped that he might be back. And now that he isn’t, without a word of his whereabouts, I’m worried, SC. Last we heard, he was with the police. And I don’t consider them great friends.”

  I sighed, adding Darian to the list of concerns that were starting to bubble over in my mind. I’d assumed that he’d cared for himself, but Lucio was right. Maybe there was reason to be worried. But like my other problems, I had no idea where to start.

  “Tell you what,” I said to myself as much as him. “We’ll see what we can do to find him. I’m not sure how yet, but there must be a way. Besides, you knew him from before the academy, and we can check his old hangouts.”

  “Thanks, SC,” he said, standing to leave. “Let’s just make sure he’s ok.”

  “Right,” I answered and realized something more pressing than Darian being missing. Darian knowing about my power and where we were staying. And that information potentially being in the hands of the police.

  Chapter 7

  By eleven the next morning, and after an hour of arguing, my mother and I reached an agreement.

  “I know where you go and when you go,” she said, unhappy at the compromise but yielding. “And you always go with someone else. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I answered, though the word came with more difficulty than I had imagined. Of course, I’d wanted my mother back—I’d spent every effort in ensuring that I would rescue her. But now, my sudden restriction since her return felt palpable, as if I’d been leashed and could no longer act of my own will. “Starting now, though, we’re going to the library so we have something to do down here. Do you want anything?”

  I waited, hoping she would take the bait, that I could bring her back a book to prove our destination.

  “Something on cooking,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, “and be back in one and a half hours. I’m heading to the grocery, and that’s when I’ll be back.”

  “Will do!” I answered and started towards the exit, Slugger and Lucio in tow. “Two hours, though; see you then!”

  We maintained a walk until we reached the upper level, and at the first glimpse of sunlight broke into a run, our hoods pulled upwards to conceal our faces. It was six blocks to the library, in the opposite direction of where we should be heading, which would cut into our already meager time allotment. We leapt up the stairs when we arrived, and I turned to Lucio and Slugger, panting as I spoke.

  “Five minutes, two books each. Something you’ve read before in case she asks about it. Go!”

  “Something we’ve read before, eh? Slugger, do you even have two of those?” smirked Lucio.

  “Oi, at least I can read. Picture book section is over there. Some of ‘em even pop out,” he retorted.

  “Enough, let’s go!” I said, pushing them in separate directions before diving into the cooking section. Managing Meals on a Budget and Crockpot Cooking were stuffed under my armpit after two minutes of search, then I headed off to the fiction section, pulling down two books in the section dealing with the characterization of Specials by state. They were general glossaries—nothing deep enough in depth to warrant them belonging to the Specials section at the back of the library, where Regulars would be forbidden. Then I headed back to the front desk, standing in line behind the other two who had beat me there.

  Slugger held The Masters Behind Grand Slams and Powers: Cheating or Advancing the Sport, while Lucio clutched Filmology and Perspective Makes the Scene. Ahead, the same Narcolept librarian who had once nearly caught me in the Specials section was checking out customers, yawning as she slowly scanned barcodes and squinted at a screen that cast a blue glow across her brow.

  “Hmm, it just doesn’t seem to be finding it,” she murmured as I shifted my weight and tapped my foot, staring over Lucio’s shoulder as she tried to scan a thick encyclopedia for the fourth time, the man in front of her checking his watch when the machine finally beeped in approval. “There we go, there we go. All set. Is there anything else we can do for you today?”

  “No, that’ll be all,” said the man, reaching for his books, but she pulled them back.

  “Would you have any interest in joining our reading group? Meetings occur every Thursday and Tuesday of the—”

  “No thank you, I do appreciate it.”

  “Would you care to donate just one dollar to our city’s Reading Revolution program? Proceeds go to—”

  “No thank you, but I wish it the best.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” she nearly scoffed, then handed the books over, the bags under her eyes lengthening as she saw us waiting, “Next!”

  But before we could move, a phone rang in the back, and she turned to look at the source of the sound.

  “Excuse me, excuse me, this will take only a moment,” she said then shuffled backwards and answered the phone as I looked towards the door, a clock ticking just above the frame.

  “Should we bolt?” asked Lucio, reading my mind. “At this rate, we’ll have no time afterwards.”

  “Five more minutes,” I answered. “We need evidence that we were here.”

  “We could just pinch ‘em,” suggested Lucio. “This being a public library, I’d hardly classify it as stealing, more as just skirting the system. Really, you couldn’t fault us for that.”

  “Five minutes,” I reasserted, “then we can make a decision. The last thing I want is for us to be on some list for running off with books we don’t even want.”

  “Sounds like good craic to me,” said Slugger, and Lucio nodded in agreement. But we waited until the librarian returned, at four and a half minutes, and began to scan us out. Ten minutes later, we were out the door and sprinting down the street.

  “Lucio, hurry up!” I shouted, turning to see him pausing at the library window, staring at a piece of paper taped to the library window. Then he ripped it clear, stuffing the sheet into his pocket
into a crumpled ball, and cleared the remainder of the steps in a single leap.

  We followed Lucio as he darted down the main street and then side alleyways, leading us to a place he hoped still existed.

  Chapter 8

  “Heh heh, look who it is. Been some time, kid. Thought you got snatched off the streets.”

  Fortunately, the door opened inward, as the alleyway was so narrow that its edge would have collided with the other side. No less than four locks were attached to the frame, and after knocking, each had voiced its own clunk as keys were turned in tumblers and chains were unhitched. Footprints covered the outside of the door from where people had tried to kick it in, but it was reinforced with iron on both the inside and outside, and likely the most expensive part of the entire apartment.

  Streaks of mold covered the walls, particularly accumulating around the vents in colonies the size of dinner plates. Wrappers covered the ground like mulch, making each step crinkle as crumbs were sowed into an already filthy carpet. I opted away from a couch that released a cloud of dust as Lucio plopped down on a ripped cushion, choosing instead to settle on the corner of a wooden chair caked in what looked like dried milk. Slugger stood, perhaps the most wise decision out of the three of us.

  “Smells, smells, so many smells you bring me, Lucio,” continued the man on the other end of the room, settled in a recliner that absorbed him like an amoeba, his face level with the fabric. “But where have you been? Must, I smell must, and concrete. Plus something familiar; can’t place that one, though. I’d say the sewer, but you don’t have the stench.”

  He sniffed, a long, drawn-out motion that took several seconds, his beady eyes traveling over us. His cheeks folded into his face to give an angular appearance, his nose extending like a hook, his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail that ended in a knot that was half grease and half hair.

  “Got nicked by the cops for a minute, Olef,” Lucio answered, brushing a dead moth off the arm of his chair, “but they couldn’t keep me for long.”

  “Heh, you’re a slippery one for sure. Made you useful, didn’t it? But what brings you back? You looking for more jobs? I’ve got a few that could use your talents.”

  I cast a sideways look at Lucio, but he shook his head, turning a slight shade of red, “Not this time, Olef. Instead, we were hoping you’d do a job for us.”

  “I don’t work for free,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair, his chin in the air. “I’m not in the business of favors.”

  “And we don’t expect you to be. We need you to find someone for us. You remember that friend of mine, Darian? Brought him around a few times. Got his smell still? Think you can track him down?”

  “Yeah, I got it. But tracking people is hard, especially in a city, and you know that. Objects are much easier, so much more distinct. Wait—” he exclaimed and drew in another long sniff before his eyes squinted at me. “You’re what the smell is. I remember you, cops came along with one of your shirts, wanted me to track you down. Lost your scent at a bus station leaving the city. Had a good amount of money on you too, but by the time I had that information, they pulled back the deal. They get you?”

  “You could say that, yes.”

  “Shame. Never did like working with them. Always bringing me the worst kinds of smells. Worse than most the calls I get in from the streets. Bloody smells. A pleasure to see you got out; it’s rare they come to me. How did you find their eye?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said, “Full of many smells.”

  Behind me, a rat squeaked in approval, darting out from under the couch in a mad rush to the kitchen. Slugger jumped, then tried to slam his heel down on it, but it was too quick, the tail evading his shoe with a sudden twitch. Olef roared in his seat, spittle spraying to cover us all.

  “Lucy! You can’t harm Lucy! That’s no way to treat a roommate, kid!”

  We stood, shocked, as he held out a hand and the rat spiraled up the arm of his chair, then perched in his palm, the eyes glaring with accusation at Slugger.

  “Apologies,” said Slugger. “I didn’t realize it had a name.”

  “Of course she does," Olef howled. "And she’s a one of a kind. How dare you insinuate—”

  “Olef, do you think you can find Darian? Pardon my friend; manners come slow to him,” Lucio interjected, cutting him off, drumming his fingers on the table. “Finding Darian is why we’re here today. We’re concerned the cops might have picked him off the streets too.”

  “There’s a chance," Olef said, still glaring at Slugger and nudging half a cracker from the floor to Lucy. "But don’t get your hopes too high. Helps that I’ve spent some time around him. But if it’s against those bastards, I’ll do it.”

  “What’ll it cost us?”

  Olef looked into the air before naming a number that made me flinch, then Lucio haggled him down to a price that still made my eyebrows raise.

  “Half now,” concluded Lucio, “and half if you actually find him. Deal?”

  “Deal,” said Olef with a crooked smile and spat into his hand. Lucio shook it then handed him a package of money that we had scraped together from selling unused construction materials in the subway, one we kept secret from my mother for emergencies.

  Chapter 9

  “So I was thinking, after we find Darian, and you know, before this whole save-the-world stuff starts, maybe we should do something to keep ourselves occupied,” Lucio said as we walked back, practically bouncing on his heels.

  “I dunno about Darian; that man seemed a right mess,” commented Slugger with a shake of his head and spitting on the ground. “Doubt he could find all the rats in his own apartment. How many more Lucys are there, you think?”

  “That’s how he likes it, surrounded by smells, so you were probably his favorite of us, Slugger.” Lucio wrinkled his nose. “But I bet you’ll be surprised. I’ve seen him pull off some surprises. It pays to underestimate your power when you live in a neighborhood like his.”

  “Couldn’t find me, though,” I responded. “Besides, what sort of business did you have with that guy, Lucio? Not the type of crowd you should mix with often.”

  “The Hunter couldn’t find you either, and that’s a whole different caliber,” Lucio said, raising a finger. “And people just come to Olef when they’re missing stuff. I just helped him find some of it.”

  “I see—” I started, but then Lucio cut me off.

  “Anyways,” he said, taking a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and flourishing it in the air. “Look what I found at the library. There’s a film festival coming up, and there’s enough time before submissions still that we could have a chance! Just think, Lucio’s debut movie, my name painted with stars—”

  “Lucio—”

  “Yes, it would sound like that! But fine, our names painted with stars!” He danced in front of us, walking backwards and pointing at our chests. “As the director, I do need actors, and you’ll do. I’ll start working on the script immediately. We’ll have this in the bag, then—”

  “Lucio, no,” I said, taking the paper from him. “We have bigger matters to worry about. We can’t go getting side-tracked on some festival.”

  “Come on, SC,” he protested, his face falling. “We spend so much time in that subway that we should at least do something productive. Hah, that’s probably the last time you’ll hear me say that! The scenery isn’t the best, but we can make do. When the Mole People Attack— Slugger, you can take lead role there. Or The Catacombs of Paris, or Dungeons of Danger. We can make it work! We can win!”

  I scanned the paper, taking it in as he pleaded, his eyes wide.

  Scolliett’s Film Festival, for amateur artists only.

  Welcome to Scolliett’s fiftieth and largest year running! With six returning teams and several new ones, purchase your tickets soon to see the highlights of this year’s indie films. Space is limited, so new teams please sign up as soon as possible using the contact information below. Due to the fift
ieth anniversary, this year to be judged by a panel led by Alex Ficher, with the promise that the top video will be optioned for Hollywood rights, in thanks for his own success in this very contest thirty years ago.

  “See that!” Lucio whispered, peering over my shoulder and voice filled with awe. “The Alex Ficher is judging! Likely won’t be at the event, of course, but still! SC, this is the real deal! Don’t you understand? My chance!”

  “Who is judging?” asked Slugger, shaking out his red curls as he cocked his head.

  “The Alex Ficher! He can’t touch a script without it becoming a blockbuster. The Midas of Hollywood, and he climbed that high as a Regular even! Who knows, we might even get to meet him if we win this, but even better, he’ll watch my movie!”

  “Lucio,” I started with a sigh as we entered the tunnel to the subway, and they fetched the flashlights in the corner, the beams cutting through the darkness, “we can’t. At least I can’t. If you want to, I won’t stop you. But after what we know, I can’t just turn a blind eye. I have to stay focused.”

  For a full two minutes, he stayed silent, until we reached the lower level where the tunnel emptied into our main room.

  “But, SC, there’s nothing to focus on,” he complained, throwing his arm up in exasperation and making the beam dance. “I’d understand if we had a lead, or if we were doing something, but right now, we’re just sitting around waiting, and waiting, and—”

  His voice cut off in a small shriek as he stopped cold, his hand extended forwards to point at the cabinet that was still open, with ink that had exploded over the countertop. And there, trailing away along the concrete floor, was a set of blue footprints.

  “I told you someone was eating them!” he exclaimed, but I clapped a hand over his mouth, my muscles tensing and my voice lowering to a whisper.

  “None of us were here; it had to be someone else. We don’t know who did it, and they could be dangerous if cornered—but even though they haven’t harmed us yet, that doesn’t make them safe. Since we now know Slugger hasn’t been behind this, they’ve been around for quite a while. And they probably don’t want to be found. We’ll need to be cautious.”