The 17

by Mike Kilroy

  It was a fate worse than death. It was torture without end. A nightmare one would never awaken from. It was intolerable to Zack.

  He pushed himself away from the table and stood. Mizuki closed her eyes and shook her head. “Zack, don’t get all moral. It’s only gonna cost you.”

  Zack pressed his hands on the table, leaving dark fingerprints of condensation on its surface. He leaned in to whisper. “You’re okay with this? You’re supposed to be like me. We’re supposed to be the good ones, the ones with the Spark. How can we turn our backs on them and all the others here stuck in this hell?”

  Mizuki spoke bluntly. “Because if we don’t, we’ll be stuck in that hell right along with them.”

  †††

  Zack lay in his bed and stared at the shadows creep across his ceiling.

  He heard the leaves on the tree outside rustle in the wind and he felt the breeze that blew through the window ripple the sheet that covered his legs.

  But this wasn’t his bed. This wasn’t his ceiling. This wasn’t his tree. This sheet and even the breeze that billowed it were phony.

  None of this was real.

  He listened for crickets; there were always crickets at night in Maine, chirping a song so soothing. There were no crickets on this night, or any other in this place.

  Nothing here was soothing.

  Zack ripped the sheet off of him and rolled out of bed, his feet hitting the floor with a thump. He marched past the paintings and the books and the sculptures to Mizuki’s door.

  He brought his fist up and hesitated, and then brought it down sharply on the door.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  She didn’t answer.

  He pounded again, harder. Bang. Bang. Bang. And again, harder still. Bang. Bang. Bang. Finally, the door swung open.

  “What?” She barked.

  Zack peeked into her room and it was very much different than his. It was dark, but he could see ample moonlight filtering in through her window, illuminating a hammock that hung with thick white rope high above a floor made of uneven stone. It was cold, very cold, and he could see wisps of his breath in the chilled air as he exhaled.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “So, you felt like you had to wake me? Thanks.”

  Zack moved his head to get a better look inside her room. Mizuki smirked and tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re gonna hurt your neck.”

  Zack was startled and a bit ashamed about being so snoopy. “I’m sorry …”

  “It’s okay,” Mizuki said, laughing. “It’s only fair. I got to see how your species lives. You should see how things are done on my planet.”

  Mizuki pushed the door open and Zack entered. He grinned as he gazed around the room. The stones beneath his bare feet were warm and comforting. The walls were also made of stone, with symbols scrawled on them in white chalk. They were like small works of art, each one as unique as they were beautiful.

  Zack walked to the window and gazed outside. The outline of a large mountain range was cast against a dark cobalt sky. Two moons, both white and as smooth as a marble, hung, one above the other just above the peaks.

  Zack muttered something in amazement.

  “Pretty spectacular, huh?”

  Zack began to shiver. His teeth chattered.

  Mizuki put a blanket around his shoulders made of some sort of woolen material. “It took me awhile to get used to how damn hot it was when I was with your people. As you can tell, our planet is a bit colder.”

  Zack turned to peer at Mizuki, who smiled and crossed her arms on her chest. She seemed to get as much joy out of watching Zack as he did examining her surroundings.

  He walked to the wall and traced a symbol with his finger. It was two elongated loops with a zigzag line cutting between them. On each end of the line was a small circle.

  Zack was mesmerized by its simplistic beauty. “What does this mean?”

  Mizuki walked over and beamed. Her words steamed in the chilled air. “I’m not surprised you’d be drawn to this one, Zack. The body is very much like your symbol for infinity. The line represents the crooked path our lives can take and the circles represent the beginning and end of our journey. It also symbolizes our moons. They aren’t always in the sky at the same time. In fact, they are only together one night a year. When it happens, that night is rejoiced.”

  Mizuki walked to the window and peered at the moons above the mountain peaks. Zack joined her and smiled as she spoke. “There are many stories in our mythology about them, about how they are doomed lovers who are cast apart by one of the three Gods, about how they vow to return to each other and eventually reunite, but are torn apart again. The story goes on to tell about how, undaunted, they make the same vow to return to each other, over and over again, about how instead of dwelling on their fate of being separated, they are thankful for their one night together.”

  Zack thought it the most beautiful story he had ever heard. It was made more charming by the way Mizuki told it with the wonder of a child.

  “Do the moons have names?” Zack asked.

  “Yes,” Mizuki said, wistfully. “Alldan and Anneka. I’m actually named after the female moon. Anneka. That’s my given name.”

  “It’s not Mizuki?”

  “No! That’s the name they gave me. I guess it fits my looks in your species. Racists.”

  “Should I call you Anneka?”

  Mizuki became cross. “Absolutely not! No one calls me Anneka.”

  She noticed Zack’s pout and flashed a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry. Sore subject. Mizuki is fine. I’ve kind of taken a liking to it. Ironically, it means ‘Beautiful Moon’ in your Japanese language.”

  Both names were beautiful and befit her, Zack thought. As he gazed at the moons as they dipped below the mountain peaks, Anneka first and then Alldan, chasing his love, he felt fortunate. For all the pain and anguish his captors had brought him, for all the fear and dread he endured day after day stuck in a cycle of damnation, being here with Mizuki was a blessing.

  And for that, he thanked his captors.

  †††

  Apparat shuffled the papers, his hairless brows knitted together. “This can’t be right.”

  More rustling of white stock; more confounded murmurs. “No. This isn’t right at all. Drat. Drat, I say.”

  Zack stared at him from across the table with his arms folded on his chest. He held back a giggle by biting his lower lip. He sunk his front teeth into it so hard he thought for sure he would draw blood.

  “This isn’t the right language either.” Apparat pouted and then seethed. He shook his misshaped bald head side to side in frustration for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality only a minute or so.

  He rose like a thin stalk of corn reaching for the sun and smiled, his lips parting enough to show the thin brown planks that were his teeth. “So sorry, Zack. I’ll get this straightened out. Don’t you worry.”

  “I’m not worried,” Zack said.

  “Well, good. That’s the spirit. I think Splifkin wants to see you. He’s got a job for you.”

  Zack eyes widened and he rung his hands nervously under the table. “What job? Who … who’s Splifkin?”

  Apparat rubbed his bald head with his boney fingers. “Don’t you fret about a thing, Zack Earnest. Splifkin doesn’t bite. Well, I don’t think he bites. He may bite—he has the teeth for it, certainly. No. No. I’m sure he won’t bite you. He knows how important you are to the Ankhs.”

  That wasn’t reassuring. “Where is he?”

  “When you leave, make a right, then a left, then a right and another right, then sort of a soft left, then a zigzag right, left, right. If you get to the room with all the norge in it, you went too far.”

  Zack stared at Apparat, mouth open wide, eyes as large and round as the sinkholes Apparat called sockets. Apparat noticed Zack’s complete and utter confusion and smiled that rotten smile of his. “I’ll just have Mizuki show you.

  “Probably a good i
dea,” Zack said. “What’s a norge?”

  Apparat made a loud noise that stunned Zack. It almost sounded like a laugh. “The thing probably closest to what you know on your planet is mice. Nasty things. The Ankhs keep them around as food for Splifkin.”

  Mizuki entered the room and distracted Zack from his state of overwhelming confusion. He was taken aback by her beauty. He hadn’t really noticed how absolutely stunning she was until this moment. Her eyes were so large and brown. Her cheeks were adorably chubby and wrinkles formed around the corners of her lips when she smiled, which wasn’t nearly often enough.

  Her long silky black hair was pulled back into a pony tail and her chocolate skin glowed in the florescent light. She wore a white tank top, a pair of dark cargo pants and black open-finger gloves.

  She looked badass.

  Her voice was angelic, even when she barked orders. “Let’s go! Splifkin gets mad if he is kept waiting.”

  “Lead the way, Laura Croft,” Zack said, chuckling.

  Mizuki snapped her head back to stare at him with a scowl. “I know who Laura Croft is, jackass. Don’t call me that again.”

  A wink let him know she wasn’t serious.

  She led him through the maze once again. During the journey, Zack realized there was no way he would have found Splifkin without her.

  Mizuki shepherded him to a door, a steel one, smooth and cold.

  “This isn’t the room with the norge in it, is it?” Zack asked naively.

  Mizuki sighed. “Just go in. Remember, do what he asks. Never argue with him. Trust me. Never argue with him.” And with that ominous decree, Mizuki walked briskly away. She turned her head to look at him once and flashed him a flirty smile.

  Zack pushed the door open and felt warm, humid air hit him. Almost instantly, sweat beaded on his forehead and his RELAX T-shirt stuck to his skin.

  Splifkin, his head smooth and covered with green scales, sat at a desk with his yellowish, cat-like eyes fixed on a flat computer screen. His green fingers with long yellow nails that looked sharp pecked at a keyboard. He was woeful at typing, which amused Zack.

  He took a few hesitant steps forward and Splifkin ignored him. He took a few more steps until his thighs were almost pressed against the desk as Splifkin typed on, never diverting his gaze.

  Zack stood there as Splifkin punched a letter, paused, and punched another, painfully slow.

  He types like my grandmother.

  Finally, Zack coughed.

  “Is that how humans get someone’s attention?” Splifkin finally spoke, his voice deep and gravelly. His eyes never wavered off the screen. “By ejecting your germs in a spray? You realize I can see you without actually looking at you.”

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” Zack groveled.

  “No need to apologize. You are, what do your species call it? Ah, yes, a noob.” Splifkin finally looked at him as he leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. “Your species, especially the youth such as yourself, have such colorful and diverse slang. It’s like a language in and of itself. Fascinating. Human boy, you are absolutely fascinating.”

  Zack wasn’t sure if that was a complement or sarcasm.

  “This is all very overwhelming as you can imagine,” Zack said. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. Not long ago, all this was just science fiction on some television show. Now, I’m living it, and I have to say, I’m pretty freaked out.”

  Splifkin threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep, hardy one and it set Zack at ease. “I like you, Zack Earnest. I can see what the Ankhs see in you. You don’t take yourself too seriously, yet you’re not aloof, either. You know your limitations. Do you know your strengths?”

  Splifkin held his hand out for Zack to be seated. Zack pulled out the chair, made of soft, brown leather, and sat.

  “I was told you have a job for me?” Zack asked.

  “Good. Good. Right to the point. Ready to get down to business.” Splifkin reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder stuffed with papers and dropped it on the desk in front of him with a thud. “This is everything you need to know about the Omians, a humanoid race that shares quite a similar history as your own. In fact, it is remarkable how similarly the life forms on your two planets evolved. Their language is actually strikingly similar to your ancient Latin.”

  Zack stared down at the stack and reached a trembling hand for it.

  Splifkin took notice of his trepidation. “Zack, I understand your nervousness. Mizuki reacted the same way when she was briefed on your race. It’s intimidating. It’s daunting. But it’s necessary. This race shows great promise, one boy in particular. We need you to mingle with them, live as one of them and report on their worthiness. This is an important job.”

  “Why don’t the Ankhs send one of their own, like Fred, to infiltrate them?”

  “Well, Zack, you showed they are inadequate for the job. It takes improvisational skills to pull off an assignment like this and, to be honest, the Ankhs fall woefully short in that ability. Everything must be a certain way for them to function. That’s what we’re here for. Just don’t get close to them like Mizuki did to you. That was her mistake. She took too much of a fondness for you.”

  Splifkin went back to his stare at the screen and his laborious jabs at the keyboard. “Take the files and go. I’m tired of looking at you.”

  Zack debated whether to pry deeper, but his curiosity won out. “Can I ask you something?”

  Splifkin stared at the screen and did not answer.

  “Hello? Splifkin?”

  “Yes, Zack, I can see you, remember. Fine. Ask if you must.”

  “Why do you work for them? How long have you worked for them?”

  Splifkin stopped typing, his finger frozen over the key and his green skin melted into a bluish tint. It was a question Zack could tell pained him, and not just because of his pigment change. Zack needed to understand why he was so special and Splifkin was not.

  “They brought me here … you know, it’s been so long I’ve forgotten. They put me and my kind through the trials like they do to all species they collect. I guess we didn’t pass the test. But they plucked me out of the games, asked me to do this for them and I agreed. It was better than fighting battle after battle, war after war, seeing my friends die and come back, only to die again. I’ve come to enjoy my role. I’m treated well. I live well.”

  “Don’t you miss home?”

  “Every day. They do a fine job recreating it, but it’s not the same.”

  “What happened to your friends?”

  Splifkin was done answering questions. “You have some studying to do. Go now. I have work.”

  “But I have questions.”

  “Go!” Splifkin bellowed, pointing toward the door. His face was taking on a reddish hue now.

  “I don’t understand. I just want to understand.”

  Splifkin stood, his face bright red with a tinge of purple swirled in it. He growled, showing his sharp, pointed, ivory teeth. Zack leapt to his feet and backed away slowly as Splifkin stalked around the desk and toward him. “You do as I say! You never disobey me! You understand?”

  Zack backed away more quickly now until he was flush against the steel door. Splifkin continued his angry, menacing walk toward him and Zack feared for his life, even though he couldn’t believe Splifkin would actually kill him. The Ankhs certainly wouldn’t like that, Zack thought, and he must know there would be retribution. Still, his enraged eyes and boiling skin made Zack wonder and fear the worst. Just before Splifkin reached Zack, the door swung open and Zack tumbled backward, falling at Mizuki’s feet.

  “Splifkin! Stop!” Mizuki commanded and Splifkin, startled, halted his approach. “He’s human. They ask a lot of questions. They’re inquisitive, but they don’t always listen. He’s a noob, remember? He doesn’t understand.”

  Splifkin’s red skin slowly turned green again. He closed his mouth and swallowed harshly. “The boy has a lot to learn. Make sure t
hat he does.”

  Mizuki nodded and grabbed Zack under the armpits with her sinewy arms and pulled him to his feet. His legs wobbled from the release of tension and terror.

  “I’m … I’m sorry,” Zack mumbled.

  Splifkin grabbed the thick folder and shoved it into Zack’s chest. “Study this. Learn every line. Become an Omian. All is forgiven.”

  Splifkin slammed the door shut and Zack let out a long exhale. He felt jittery and braced himself against the door.

  Zack thought Mizuki was going to be terse with him, berate him for ignoring her warnings. But she didn’t. Zack was continually amazed by Mizuki.

  “You’re an idiot,” she said, simpering. “What did I tell you? Do you even listen to a word I say?”

  “I know. But you know me.”

  “Yes. Unfortunately.” Mizuki playfully punched Zack on the arm. She had such sharp knuckles. “C’mon, noob. I’ll help you study.”

  †††

  Page after page, Zack read about the Omians with great interest and admiration.

  Splifkin was correct; they were very similar to humans. They had most of the same organs—they had shed their tonsils, appendix and gallbladder generations ago—and they were mostly in the same locations. They were a bit shorter on average, fitter probably because of the abundance of leafy green vegetables on their planet, Wahe, and their disdain for eating red meat. They were a very spiritual people, polytheistic, with a belief in a heaven.

  And a hell.

  The group of six Omians probably believed they were in hell now.

  They had a glorious culture with painters and sculptors and philosophers. He recognized one famous Omian sculpture in his research folder as one that rested in the hallway on a marble table just down the hall from his bedroom.

  The Omians had brutal wars and waged some of them still, but were mostly a peaceful race. They still had their foibles, their blemishes—such as a deep divide between the wealthy and the poor—but they were working on erasing them.

  Zack had a strange thought: he’d like to visit there someday. Then he realized he would soon, in a round-about way.

  Zack leafed through the pictures of the six Omian captives—he had no other way to put it. There were three boys and three girls roughly the same age as Zack and they had only been there for a short time. They were still scared and timid, but a boy with stark blond hair, deep blue eyes and a gentle smile named Lucan had drawn the Ankh’s attention.