by Hayes Farley
“Yes sir. Top row, center, and on the far right, about five rows down.”
“Exactly right. Do you need my help popping the caps?”
“No sir, we should be okay.”
“Well then, the floor is yours.” Mills stepped aside and clasped his hands just above his stomach, assuming the role of interested bystander.
“Brady, Kesha, why don’t you two go first,” Lachlan said.
They walked side-by-side to the center of the wall, stopping just beyond the reach of its shadow. The ground was covered in a mess of bark and woodchips and stringy bits of rind. Brady turned and said something to Kesha and she shook her head.
“Probably asked her on a date,” Kim said.
“Be nice,” Alex said.
Brady stepped forward and raised his hand and curled his fingers and started rotating his wrist as if he was trying to crack some invisible safe. Back and forth, back and forth, his fingers becoming more rigid by the second. A minute of this and the cap began to wriggle, red-flaked dust drifting downward and settling on Brady’s forehead. A few more seconds and now it was twisting. Brady pulled back and the cap popped off like the cork on a champagne bottle.
“Look at him spinning it on his finger. He’s just showing off for her.”
“Well, it’s working.” Alex could see the big grin on Kesha’s face. She said something to Brady and then turned and faced the log and balled her hands. A grape-sized diamond tumbled out of the opening and hovered above her head. Another. And another. Soon, a hundred of the gems floated above her like some blinged-out thought bubble. She started walking slowly and carefully toward the SUV. Her eyes were closed.
Brady made sure she wasn’t going to trip or lose focus and then he turned back to the hollow log and with his palms to the sky he whisked out the remaining diamonds, thousands of them. He kept the gems in a tight sheet and sent the whole thing hovering like a magic carpet into the open suitcase in the back of the SUV. He stood there admiring his work and then made his way back to the others, looking especially pleased with himself. He noticed they were staring at something overhead.
Diamonds jetted out of the other log like it was a fire hydrant. It was empty in a matter of seconds. Now every diamond big and small hung there twinkling in the space beyond like stars in a model galaxy. Before anyone had a chance to snap a picture, the system collapsed onto itself and the diamonds bunched together to form a long, snake-like stream, twisting in the air before springing forth and rushing headlong into the second suitcase.
Mills raised his eyebrows and looked at Sonnier. They both looked at Kim.
“Pfff. Don’t look at me. That was all Alex.”
Alex shrugged and turned away from their stares. “I—I thought it’d be faster to do it from here.”
The adults smiled. Sonnier popped a fresh piece of gum. “It’s a young man’s game,” Mills said, still looking at Alex. He faced Sonnier. “It just makes you feel old sometimes, doesn’t it?”
Sonnier seemed to laugh under his breath. “I wish you would come back to the States. Chris could find something for you here.”
“Oh, he pesters me about that every time we speak,” Mills said. He removed a handkerchief and wiped his brow. “And I’ll tell you the same thing I tell Chris: When I retire, I’m staying in Africa.”
“That’s a hard country.”
“Yes, but it’s home. I’ve been there so long that I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I was living over here again.”
Sonnier took a deep breath and thought about that. “Chris will keep asking you.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” Mills extended his hand. “It was good seeing you again. Come visit sometime. We can relive the glory days.”
“Will do.”
Mills said his goodbyes and began the long waddle back to the ship.
Kim could hardly wait to hop in the front seat. She buckled up and started adjusting the steering wheel and mirrors. Lachlan didn’t say anything. He watched Mills pick up the red cap Brady had left on the ground. He guided it up to the open log and drove it home with a flick of his wrist. He dusted off his hands even though he didn’t touch anything and looked at Sonnier. “I almost forgot!” he called. “When you see Chris, tell him I—”
There was no time to yell and no time to move. Mills simply vanished, replaced by a log that had rifled through the sky with such speed that it cratered the concrete and kept on driving, some ungodly force shoving it so deep into the ground that only a stump remained. Whatever was left of Mills was muddled into an unrecognizable paste far below.
They stood there shell-shocked and sickened, their legs unresponsive even in the face of another log slowly lifting from the ship deck. Sonnier was the only one clearheaded enough to move. He grabbed Kesha and Brady and pushed them behind the nearest shipping container. He did the same with Lachlan and Alex. Only one left. He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened at the sight of the inevitable.
The log crashed lengthwise down the center of the SUV with a sound as sudden and as violent as a head-on collision, the roof caving and the tires exploding and the windows shattering, the liftgate an eruption of glass and diamonds that went bouncing and sparkling along the ground in an extended chorus of tink tink tinks.
Silence. Somewhere, a bird went flapping. The four students inched into view and stared open-mouthed at the carnage.
A moan.
“KIM!” Sonnier ran forward and clamped his hands around the buckled door and pulled with all his might, veins bulging from his arms and neck. The door shifted a few inches. He regrouped and gritted his teeth and pulled again, sweat dripping down his forehead, his whole body shaking as he leaned back. “Help me, goddamnit!” The boys rushed to his side and grabbed hold, and together the four of them ripped the door from its hinges. Sonnier was the only one to keep his footing, and in one athletic motion he was back at the wreckage. He went to his knees and eased into the gnarled metal and extracted Kim’s broken body, her appendages draped limp and lifeless over his arms. Sonnier lowered his head as if in prayer. He edged away from the SUV and slowly stood, careful not to jostle her body. He looked at the ship and his features hardened into an expression of pure rage.
“Over here, Professor,” Lachlan called.
Sonnier joined Lachlan and the others between the shipping containers. He waited for them to brush away the debris before lowering Kim to the ground. He laid her down with all the tenderness of a parent handling a newborn. Alex and Brady and Kesha watched in silence.
Kim’s body was ruined, the whole thing contorted weirdly to the right. There was a growing patch of blood near her right knee, and both feet were turned inward at unnatural angles. Sonnier brushed aside a tangle of her bloodied hair and leaned in and listened. Each breath was marked by a strange popping sound at the back of her throat.
Lachlan pointed at the sky. “Incoming!”
A dozen logs fell from above like a barrage of arrows, driving side by side into the ground in the open space between the shipping containers. Sonnier and the students were now fenced in on either side.
“No!” The professor bull-rushed the skinniest tree. It didn’t budge. He leaned back and kicked the thing and still it didn’t move. He let out a terrifying, primal scream and pulled his weapon: a massive Desert Eagle. “Show yourself!” The pistol flew from his grip and went arcing end over end toward the water.
Sonnier’s eyes darted wildly in their sockets. He backed up half a step when the three middle logs lifted like the opening of some magical gate, the SUV lying smashed and dead in the background. A man stepped into the entryway, waif-like in his tailored suit. He had long black hair pulled into a ponytail and his face was all angles. Sonnier charged forward and froze mid-stride.
“Still an oaf.” The man spoke lightly, just loud enough to be heard. He turned and looked at the wreckage and there was a metallic creak as the back bumper broke free. It flew up and over the fence and then ho
rseshoed around Sonnier’s midsection, pinning his arms to his sides. Now a pipe of some sort flew from the undercarriage and twisted around Sonnier’s legs. The man released his hold and the professor fell to the ground, squirming in place like a hooked worm. The man smiled something sinister. “That’s better.”
Sonnier growled. “Roka!”
“My boss would like a word with you.” Three men with rifles slung across their backs filed past Roka and stood against the shipping container opposite the students. Each wore a hand-painted ski mask, one made to look like a skull, another some demonic clown, and the third simply two red lines, one straight and one curved: a frowny face with a slit throat. The clown and the skull squatted down on either side of Sonnier and lifted the professor to his feet. “Be gentle, now. We don’t want him having a heart attack on us,” Roka said.
They dragged Sonnier toward the doorway. Lachlan sprang forward with heroic intentions and was promptly punched in the gut. Sonnier twisted round and saw that Alex and Brady were about to try the same.
“Stand down, both of you!” Sonnier said. He looked at Lachlan crouched on the ground gasping for air and shook his head. “They’re just kids, for God’s sake.” He faced Roka and did his best to bow up. “You’ll pay for this…you’ll pay for what you’ve done tonight.”
“If you’re referring to that fool friend of yours, I did him a favor. As for the girl,” he looked at Kim, not a trace of emotion on his face, “that was…regrettable. An innocent bystander in the war that your leader created. Joyce sealed her fate—sealed all of your fates—the moment he sent you on this little errand.”
“Lies!”
Roka winced. “Not so loud.” The man with the red frown decked the professor across the jaw. His eyes rolled back and his head drooped.
“Take him away.” Roka stepped aside so the men could pass. He took one last look at the students, his gaze lingering on Kim. “Such a shame. She was beautiful.”
Brady tried to chase after him but the three logs slammed home and he was left standing there helpless. “Shit!” He banged on the log. “Kesha, you better call…” He saw that she was already on the phone. He turned back to the fence. He took a deep breath and placed his hand flush against the wood. His arm started trembling. He held it there for close to a minute and the log moved maybe an inch. Brady fell back, panting. “Alex, help me.”
“No,” Lachlan said. “There’s no time.” He was slow to his feet.
“Well how else do we get outta here?”
Lachlan pointed to the top of the shipping container. “You think you could pull yourself up there?”
Brady eyed the metal edge. “I can get close.”
“Good enough. Start by boosting us up there,” Lachlan said. Brady understood. He half-squatted and locked his fingers together and helped first Lachlan and then Alex, pushing each of them high enough that they could use their elbows to clamber over the top. They stayed on their bellies and hung their arms over the side and grabbed Brady at the peak of his jump and pulled him to the roof.
“What about Kesha?” Brady said.
Lachlan peered over the edge. Kesha was now kneeling next to Kim. She kept checking her pulse. “Somebody needs to stay with Kim.”
Kesha looked up and nodded. “He’s right. You guys go. I’ve got this.” She and Brady locked eyes for a moment.
Roka and his gunmen were nearing the log wall. Sonnier floated along in Roka’s wake. “Now what?” Alex said.
“Hey! Assholes!” Brady started waving his arms.
The gunmen turned, their heads listed to one side as if they were already bored with the proceedings. Roka was the last to look. He gave a command and the skull mask pulled his rifle and took aim for Brady.
“Oh shit.” Brady stuck out his hand and fanned his fingers and instantly the rifle flipped upward, the stock swinging down and the muzzle swinging up. The shooter jerked his head back and out of the way but he wasn’t fast enough, for when the weight of the gun pulled against the crook of his finger, the rifle discharged and obliterated his nose. He stumbled back and fell to the ground and lay there screaming and writhing as he cupped what was left of his face. Brady stared at his own hand, twisting it this way and that in the light of the crane as if he were really seeing it for the first time.
Roka took a knee to better watch the man struggle. He made no move to help, no move to comfort. Just knelt there staring, a look of morbid curiosity on his face. When it became clear that the man wasn’t going to die, he slowly got to his feet and stood close to his prisoner. Roka waited until the screams started to weaken before he spoke, and even then he timed his words so that they fell between the man’s gasps. “Kill them.”
There was no hesitation and there were no other words. The gunmen simply turned and stepped forward as if they were emerging from a nightmare, a demonic clown and his frowny-faced friend, staring down the sights of their suppressed rifles in all their lunatic glory.
“Get down!” The boys flopped to their stomachs as the first bullets whizzed overhead. They slithered across the corrugated metal and pulled themselves over the edge. They landed hard and awkwardly, and as they rolled to their sides and propped themselves into sitting positions they each glanced one at the other, checking for any signs of damage. No broken bones, no bullet holes. They gathered themselves as the soft pop pop pop of the suppressed rifles slowed and then stopped. All was quiet again.
Brady was the first to his feet. He went to the edge of the container away from the SUV and peered around the corner. “It’s clear, let’s go.”
“Wait!” Alex said.
“What?”
Alex looked at the wreckage and the twinkling mess scattered on the ground. He opened his palm. Hundreds of diamonds began trembling, so many shifting points of refraction that it looked like the surface of the ocean in the setting sun. He flexed his fingers and the diamonds jumped into the air and condensed into a glittering baseball-sized sphere that now hovered above his hand.
“Good idea,” Lachlan said. He collected his own ball of diamonds. “Brady, you should—”
“I’ll be fine.” He peered one more time around the metal edge and then ran across the open space and past the adjacent container. He slid to a stop at the far side of the container two rows over. He motioned for Lachlan and Alex to follow and they did.
Alex could tell Lachlan was seething, so he stayed back and kept watch at the opposite end.
“Brady!” Lachlan said, straining to keep his voice at a whisper. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Calm down.”
“Calm down? We’re a team, remember? And this is my mis—”
“I have a plan.”
Lachlan took a deep breath. His diamonds hovered just above his left shoulder. “Well, does it involve us?”
“Of course,” Brady said.
When Alex glanced over, he saw Brady tracing something on his hand like a quarterback drawing up a play in the huddle. Lachlan’s face was still red, but he nodded along. The two of them finally broke apart, Brady running off on his own, Lachlan hustling back to join Alex. “He’s going wide, we’re going straight ahead. Let’s go.”
They kept to the shadows as best they could, looking every which way as they crept along the metal walls, checking the spaces between the containers like a couple of wary paintball players entering enemy territory.
Alex suddenly stopped and grabbed Lachlan’s shoulder and motioned for him to keep quiet. They backtracked a few steps and took cover behind a pale grey container.
“What is it?” Lachlan whispered.
“There’s a guy in the next aisle.”
“You can feel him?”
Alex nodded. “He’s right in the middle. Not moving.”
Lachlan swallowed and looked at the metal as if he might see through it. He shook his head. “I can’t feel him. What are you thinking?”
Alex flattened his hand and Lachlan�
�s diamonds floated over and joined his own. The sphere was now the size of a softball. He looked at Lachlan. “Get ready to run.” Alex waited for Lachlan to crouch into a starting position and then pitched the diamonds up and over the container as though he were tossing a hand grenade. The ball disappeared from view and Alex clapped his hands together and the whole thing exploded, diamond shrapnel tearing in every direction, pinging against the metal like hail on the roof of a car.
There was a groan and then something clattered on the ground.
“Now!”
Lachlan ran around the corner. The man was on all fours and spitting blood. Lachlan charged and kneed him in the side of the head and the man crumpled and lay sprawled on his stomach. He kicked him one more time—just to be sure—and then flipped him over so he could see his mask. It was the clown. He lay there sparkling, diamonds embedded up and down his clothing, the ones in the bare skin of his arms and hands ruby-like as the blood welled around them.
Alex approached as Lachlan was casting the rifle into the ocean. It went spinning sideways out of sight. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Lachlan said, “just out cold. He’ll be like this for a while.”
“Oof!”
The muffled yell came from somewhere deeper in the maze. Lachlan and Alex looked at each other, eyes wide. “Brady!”
They found him standing triumphantly over an unmoving body, rifle in hand. He smiled at them as they approached. “Life imitates art,” Brady said. Blood had worked its way through the fabric of the mask and was now pooling from the corner of the red frown.
“Nice work,” Lachlan said. “Now chuck the rifle.”
Brady’s expression changed. “What? No!”
“Chuck it. That thing won’t help against this guy.”
Brady looked at it in much the same way he looked at his hand earlier. Then he turned and heaved the rifle toward the water, giving it an extra boost of TK so that there wasn’t a hint of an arc in its trajectory.
“Good, now let’s go save Sonnier.” Lachlan took off with Alex close behind.
