by Baron Sord
“Please. You totally can’t ride.”
“Can too!”
Kristy sighed and shook her head.
Once again, more Brock drama.
He was such a pain.
She walked back to her apartment, got her phone from her bag where she’d dropped it by her front door, and went back to the street where Brock was still sitting on the hood of the car next to his Harley and trying to collect himself.
“I’m ordering an Uber for you,” Kristy said, thumbing the screen.
“I don’t need a fucking Uber,” Brock said sleepily. “I came here to see you. I thought I brought flowers. They’re around here somewhere.”
“No, that was for your other girlfriend. Paige or whoever.” Girlfriend was too nice a word for Paige. Slut side-piece was more like it.
“No, I brought ’em for you.”
“You must’ve forgot,” Kristy lied. The bouquet was still sitting on the ground on the balcony where Brock’d thrown them. She’d throw them away later. In the sewer.
“No, I remember. I went to Vons and bought you flowers.” Vons was a local grocery store chain.
“You think of everything, don’t you?” Kristy said sarcastically.
“I’ll do anything to get you back, Kristy.”
She shook her head, “No, Brock. We’re done.” She looked up and down the street. This late, it was empty. She stepped up to Brock and said quietly, “Listen to me, Brock.”
“Yeah?” He was rubbing the top of his head with a big hand, causing his muscled arm to flex.
“If you come back here, it will be very, very bad for you.”
“Why? What’re you talking about?”
“Stay away, Brock. Don’t ever bother me again.”
“Why? What’d I do?”
She allowed that Brock might not remember the last five minutes, but she was confident he remembered hitting her yesterday. Or cheating on her with Paige and lying about it for a month before Kristy found out and dumped him.
Kristy sighed, “Don’t come back, Brock.”
A car turned onto the street.
Kristy saw the Uber light on the car’s dash. “Your Uber’s here.” She stepped out to the street and waved at the car.
It pulled up and stopped beside Brock’s Harley.
He glared at the car, “I don’t need a fucking Uber.”
“I don’t think you should be riding right now,” Kristy warned.
“I SAID I DON’T NEED A FUCKING UBER!”
“Suit yourself,” Kristy said. She walked between the Uber and the car where Brock was sitting and went back to her apartment building. When she got to the steps, she heard Brock’s Harley fire up.
VROOM!
VROOM!
VROOM!
“Move!” Brock shouted at the Uber, which was blocking in his Harley. “I SAID FUCKING MOVE!”
The Uber rolled forward.
VROOM!
Brock cranked the throttle and the Harley farted away.
Kristy sighed, went back to the Uber and apologized to the driver. “Sorry about him. He’s mentally deficient.” She paid for the cancellation on her phone and tipped the driver in cash. Then she went back to her building and went inside to eat her pizza while she washed her costume.
If Brock wanted to get himself killed riding around in his condition, that was his problem. Let side-piece Paige cry over his coffin at the funeral.
Good effing riddance.
—: Chapter 7 :—
Shortly after the sugar kicked in from all the cake I had eaten, I started sensing faint distress calls. I suspected it was the sugar fueling my super Suga-chlorians, but that was an untested theory.
Arnold and I put on our black outfits and jumped in his Prius. When we hit the freeway, the bizarre details of the first distress call started filtering in.
…a bear!…
…No, it’s a walrus!…
…That’s not a walrus! That’s a bear!…
…I’m telling you, it’s a walrus!…
…Just run! It’s going to eat us!…
I must have heard it wrong but I told Arnold anyway.
“A walrus?” he smirked. “In San Diego?”
“If the distress call is at Sea World, the zoo, or on the coast, maybe. But we’re heading inland. It might be a bear, but they’re extremely rare here in San Diego. More likely a coyote.”
He chuckled, “I hope it’s a walrus.”
“In the middle of dry land?” I said skeptically.
“So it’s a land walrus. A big giant one.”
I chuckled, “If it’s giant, I’ll let you fight it.”
He patted his Glock under his black shirt and said, “I hope he likes the taste of lead.”
We exited the freeway a short time later and ended up on Mission Gorge Road.
“I think this is it,” I said when I saw the sign for Mission Trails Regional Park.
“The park?” Arnold asked. “Isn’t it closed?”
“Probably, but there’s a car in the parking lot. Maybe someone is lost out on the trails somewhere. There’s always a slight chance they’ll get attacked by a mountain lion.”
“Or a giant land walrus,” he snorted.
“Or that,” I grinned.
At my direction, Arnold drove into the neighborhood directly across Mission Gorge Road from the trails. I had him park on a side street where his Prius wouldn’t stand out if the cops happened to drive by. We climbed out of the car, both of us dressed in black from head to toe. Once again, we looked like criminals.
I pulled my ninja mask down and ran ahead at a fast jog.
Behind me, Arnold hissed, “Slow down! I can’t run that fast! Not without more cake!”
I chuckled and slowed to a medium jog. When I looked back, he was lumbering along somewhat like a blubbery land walrus.
He hissed, “Can you slow down already? I’m dying!”
“No!” I hissed back. “I have to find them. You heard. They’re going to get attacked.”
“By a land walrus! They’re slow on land! We have time! Just slow down!”
“I can’t wait, Arnold. If there’s even a slight chance it’s a mountain lion, they could be in serious danger.”
“I’ll never find you in the park! It’s dark!”
“Fine. But you’re running.” I got behind him and put my hands on his lower back.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to push you.”
“That won’t work.”
“It will. Trust me.”
We started running and got up to a reasonable jogging speed, which I knew was fast for out-of-shape Arnold.
“Wow!” Arnold laughed. “This really works!”
When we got to the trailhead and started running uphill, it only took a minute until Arnold was huffing and puffing. “Wait! I have to walk. Pushing doesn’t work uphill.”
“Do you want me to carry you?”
“No,” he scowled.
“Then I’m running ahead.”
“Fine. Carry me.”
I picked him up like I was cradling a baby.
“No way! You are not carrying me like this! I feel like a dweeb! No baby cradling!”
“Your choice.” I hoisted him over my shoulder like a sack of cement and started running up the trail.
“What are you doing?! I’m upside down!”
I grunted, “You didn’t want to be cradled, so deal.”
“Ugh! Fine!”
I didn’t know Arnold’s exact weight, but he had to be at least 250 pounds. As short as he was, that gave him a BMI (Body Mass Index) of officially obese. That said, I had no trouble carrying him while running uphill and cutting sharply at every switchback. Running had never been so easy. It was exhilarating. Even with the extra weight, I was jogging uphill at 15mph like it was nothing. Before getting my powers, I could barely sprint that fast on level ground. Super-powers were the bomb.
At one switchback, I had to hop over an unexp
ected wooden step in the trail. Did it easily. When I landed, Arnold bounced heavily on my shoulder and grunted, “Wait! My glasses fell off!”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I stopped and turned around. Saw them and squatted to pick them up off the dusty trail before handing them to him. “Hold on to them until we get there.”
“No, wait! Put me down. Let me piggyback.”
“Good idea.”
I set him down and he hopped on my back. I hooked my arms under his thick thighs, and continued running up the dark trail.
“Much better,” Arnold said. “Now I can see.”
“Be quiet. I’m getting more distress messages.”
…it’s a three headed wolf!…
…no, it’s Cerberus!…
I told Arnold.
He laughed, “The hound of Hades? What happened to the giant land walrus?”
I chuckled and kept running, trying to keep the bouncing to a minimum. A few minutes later, when I saw movement in the night shadows up ahead, I stopped and set Arnold down.
Three raccoons exploded from the darkness and stumbled toward us on the trail like they were drunk, wobbling and staggering from side to side in the moonlight.
Arnold said, “Are those raccoons drunk?”
“Maybe. I’ve never seen them run like that.”
When they saw me and Arnold, they cut off the trail and tumbled down the hillside in somersaults before disappearing into the shadows of the desert scrub.
Arnold said, “Wait, was that Cerberus? Three raccoons?”
“Maybe,” I said.
Up ahead, five shadowy people appeared on the trail.
“Where’s Cerberus?” a shadowy young man asked.
“He went this way,” a shadowy young woman answered.
“Oh my God, you guys! Look! It’s ninjas!” a second young woman pointed at us.
Arnold whispered to me, “They got that part right.”
“Killer ninjas!” a third female shrieked. “They’re going to assassinate us! Run, you guys! Run!”
The five shadowy people turned around on the trail and stumbled into the darkness, their shoes crunching across the gritty trail.
“Go, go! The ninjas are coming! The ninjas are coming?”
Arnold smirked at me, “Are they high?”
“Sounds like it,” I said.
“Is this the distress call?”
“I guess. Let’s go investigate.”
Arnold and I followed at a fast walking pace. It took us all of a minute to catch up because the five of them could barely stumble in a straight line.
I hollered, “Are you guys okay?”
They slowed and turned around. The two guys held their hands up in surrender.
One of the women gasped, “Don’t kill me, Mr. Ninja! Please! I’m too young to die!”
I sighed, “We’re not ninjas. Are you guys okay? You seem lost.”
The woman hissed, “Don’t believe him! He’s a lying ninja!”
One of the men said seriously, “I think he’s Zeus.”
“No, Hades,” the other man said confidently.
They sure knew their Greek mythology.
Arnold said flatly, “They’re high.”
I hollered, “Are you guys high?”
Their eyes got big and flickered guiltily in the moonlight. Several of them shook their heads in denial.
One of the women, a cute blonde wearing an SDSU T-shirt (San Diego State University), said uncertainly, “Noooooo.”
Arnold snickered to himself. “Probably shrooms. Hey! Did you guys eat a bunch of mushrooms?”
The cute blonde shook her head seriously, “No. Uh uh.”
One of the guys said, “I have a medical condition.”
The other guy hissed, “Shut up, Blake!”
Blake said, “We all have medical conditions.”
One of the girls — a brunette wearing an Aztecs T-shirt (the SDSU football team mascot) — said, “It was just brownies, officer.”
I chuckled to myself and said, “We’re not cops.”
“I told you guys! They’re ninjas!” hissed Miss Ninja from where she stood in the back of the pack.
I rolled my eyes, “How many brownies did you people eat?”
Blake shrugged, “A lot?”
Arnold smirked, “How much is a lot?”
The cute blonde took a step forward.
Behind her, Miss Ninja hissed, “Don’t, Caitlin! They’re ninjas! They’ll totally kill you!”
Caitlin the cute blonde said, “I don’t think they’re ninjas, you guys. I think they’re angels from heaven.”
Arnold laughed to himself.
Miss Ninja pleaded, “Don’t, Caitlin! They’re black and shadowy! Angels are white and light! You’ll go to hell if you touch them!”
“Be quiet, Becca,” Caitlin said. She walked toward me and Arnold. “You guys want some brownies? They’re really good.” She opened her knapsack and started handing me large Ziploc bags, all of which were empty, save a few crumbs. The sixth bag was nearly bursting with brownies.
“Holy shit!” Arnold laughed. “How many brownies did you guys eat?”
“I don’t know,” Caitlin shrugged. “But they’re really good.”
Blake said, “Cerberus likes them. He was eating our brownie breadcrumb trail.”
“Your what?!” I chuckled.
Caitlin said proudly, “It was my idea to leave a breadcrumb trail on our way to the Old Mission Dam. So we could find our way back to our car.”
Blake glared at her, “Cerberus ate all the crumbs. We couldn’t find our way back.”
Caitlin frowned, “How was I supposed to know he’d follow us? Anyway, we followed him to you guys.”
Miss Ninja whimpered, “I told you guys he would take us to hell!”
Caitlin said dismissively, “They don’t have ninjas in hell, Caitlin.”
“Then who’re these two?!” Miss Ninja motioned at me and Arnold. “Cerber-whoever took us straight to them!”
I said, “Are you sure it wasn’t those three raccoons?”
“No,” Blake said seriously, “It was Cerberus. He had three heads. I saw it with my own two eyes.”
“It’s the truth,” the other guy said.
Arnold and I shared a hilarious smile and started laughing.
Caitlin joined in and soon the other four college kids did too. When the laughter subsided, Caitlin said, “See? I told you guys they’re angels.”
I said, “Do you want us to help you find your car?”
“It’s not in heaven, is it?” Becca the brunette asked hopefully. “I really want to go to heaven. But only if I can come back after.”
“No,” I said. “Your car is in the parking lot. We can take you there.”
“Could you?”
We led them slowly back down the long and winding trail. Along the way, they spotted an endless parade of dancing elves, floating fairies, and other desert gremlins, all of which were nothing more than shadowy shrubs. At one point, Blake insisted Becca had turned into Medusa and refused to look at her, lest he turn to stone.
I didn’t know what to say, but Arnold took it in stride. He did a terrific job of keeping everyone calm.
Once in the parking lot, we made them get in their car and promise to stay there until the brownies wore off. We couldn’t wait with them for long because I felt more distress calls coming in almost immediately.
Hopefully they got home safe, and hopefully those three raccoons did too.
—: o o o :—
The next distress call was an easy one. An older couple had run out of gas on the 8 freeway heading west. When we pulled up behind them and stopped, they were standing by the gas tank arguing with each other. It wasn’t yet midnight, and there were enough cars rushing by at 70 or 80mph making plenty of gusting wind noise that they didn’t notice our arrival.
I got out of Arnold’s Prius.
The wife shouted at the husband, “I told you to get gas before we drove out to
El Cajon!”
The husband grunted, “I told you to charge the damn cell phone for emergencies!”
“Hey, guys?” I said in a mellow voice. They didn’t hear me over the rush of cars. I said more loudly, “Guys!”
They gasped when they saw me.
Because of the distress call, I knew the situation in advance, so I had left my mask in the car with Arnold.
“Who are you?” the husband asked.
I held up the gallon gas can I had just bought at a Mobil station on our way here. Being able to predict the future was always useful. I said, “Do you guys need some gas?”
They were both mystified.
Since their gas tank hatch was open already, I walked up, twisted the cap off, and poured in gas.
They stared at me in silence the whole time.
When I capped the tank and closed the hatch, I said, “That’s only a gallon. If you take the 15 North and exit on Friars, there’s an ARCO about a mile east. It’s behind the Autozone. You can’t miss it. Just stay on Friars.” I had checked iSearch Maps on our way here. It was the closest station and I had given them the direct route.
“Wait a minute,” the husband shook his head in confusion. “Where again? Our phone ran out of power and—”
“I know,” I smiled. I showed him the map on my Robot phone. “Can you find that?”
The wife grumbled, “Harvey can’t find anything.”
Harvey growled at her, “You were the one who didn’t charge the damn phone!”
I said, “Don’t you guys have a car charger?”
The wife smirked with superiority, “Yeah, Harvey. Where’d you put the car charger?”
Harvey scowled, “It’s in my car where it always is! You were the one who made us take your car! Don’t blame me!”
“Guys, guys,” I said calmly, making the universal “settle down” motion with my hands. “Relax. Just follow us to the ARCO. We’ll show you the way.”
—: o o o :—
Next, Arnold drove us to Miramar where a vicious bar fight would explode any minute at Off Base Bar, which was obviously near MCAS (Marine Corps Air Station). According to the distress calls I received prior, the fight would erupt between a bunch of drunk Marines and bikers. If we didn’t stop it in time, there would be a fatal stabbing.
