Tokyo.
You sure it’s not a bad joke about Godzilla? I love Godzilla.
Peter looked again at the completely unhappy crowd. No, it doesn’t seem like a joke.
Peter? Jenny finally responded. I don’t know anything about the districts getting smaller, but I just remembered that Orb said he was going to ‘reintroduce’ new creatures.
What? Why didn’t you say something?
I forgot. It was last week when Orb had me push all the animals out of Paris. He said something about ‘reintroducing creatures’ beforehand but I was so exhausted afterwards that I forgot all about it. I’m sorry.
That’s ok, Jenny, Peter replied. I’m just sitting here in front of thousands of people who called for a district meeting because they’re being eaten by velociraptors.
I just got home Peter, Eli replied, but I think I have enough strength left to teleport to you.
Thanks bro, Peter said, I think I’m ok. I can’t actually get hurt, right? I know what I need to do.
Don’t you want to ask Orb? pleaded Jenny.
It’s fine. He does this kind of thing on purpose just to keep us on our toes.
Peter turned to Ms. Tanaka. “Please take me to these velociraptors.”
Ms. Tanaka stood, motioned for the crowd to part, and walked down the short set of stairs to the ground. Peter followed close behind. The crowd, full of thin, excited tunic-wearing followers, created an opening large enough for Peter and Ms. Tanaka to pass, but then quickly closed that gap and followed just a step behind Peter.
They walked through the forest on one of the former park trails, then entered a cleared area likely previously occupied by buildings that was now being tilled and worked by the people of the district. The only paths for walking between the crops were narrow and crowded by the stalks and greenery of the potatoes and sweet potatoes which had been planted on either side.
Peter risked a quick look back and saw that the thousands of followers had lived up to their name and were following in several single-file lines behind him, and stretched out to either side on other paths which wound through the crops. Peter turned back around and saw small tents and hutches at regular intervals in the corners of the small plots. The walking paths made crisp, exact turns around the portable but permanent housing and continued. Mountains loomed in the distance.
The hike continued until Ms. Tanaka stopped next to a large stick shoved into the ground with a red scrap of cloth tied to its top. She turned to Peter. The area ahead looked like everything they had just passed—with the exception of the shelters, which were either knocked down in the mud or shredded.
“We can go no further. The area beyond was part of our district but is now patrolled by the raptors.”
She moved out of the way the best she could on the narrow trail, bowed and extended her right hand to invite Peter to go farther. Peter took another quick look at the area ahead, saw nothing moving, and nodded to Ms. Tanaka as he squeezed by. He took four strides before turning to see the population of the district splayed out behind him in lines that started far behind, but extending no farther than Ms. Tanaka.
Many fathers had hoisted their young ones on their backs to better see the spectacle. A young girl, her hair bunched in short pigtails on either side of her head, rode on her father’s shoulders a few spots behind Ms. Tanaka. The girl released her grip on her father’s hair and gave Peter a small wave. Peter waved back and was greeted with a smile and a giggle that the girl’s father attempted to shush.
Peter was tempted to giggle himself, mostly from the stress, until he saw the eyes of everyone staring at him widen. The crowd cumulatively took a step back, with many members pointing frantically at something behind Peter. The giggling girl took to screaming, and her father pulled her down from his shoulders and tried to make his way back the way they had come without damaging any of the valuable crops.
Peter locked eyes with Ms. Tanaka. She whispered something that Peter’s mind thought was “I’m sorry” before casting her gaze down at his feet.
“I’ll be fine,” he whispered back, almost believing it.
He slowly turned and saw that he was staring face-to-face with a long, shiny snout which served as a roof for a set of sharp, long teeth. The nostrils of the beast sucked in air, then blew it back out in Peter’s face. The breath smelled of rotten meat. He watched the intelligent, inquisitive eyes of the raptor appraise him and his ridiculous yellow tunic. He should have been scared. He was scared, but he also had the pressure of thousands of people watching him expecting him to be brave.
“It’s ok,” Peter declared to the raptor and everyone behind him. No one appeared moved by his proclamation, but he did see other members of the raptor pack emerge from behind the various shattered shelters, their long necks craning for a good look at Peter as they fanned out, the talons on their feet ripping and crushing the plants which had just the week before been the gardens of numerous families of the district.
Peter could not help but watch their muscles slide under their thinly feathered, mustard-colored coats. The raptors tensed and flexed their talons as they approached, and several bit at the air making horrible, clicking sounds with their teeth. They called to one another in short, guttural bursts which meant nothing to Peter, and apparently were not part of Orb’s translation package.
“We have no weapons to fight them,” Ms. Tanaka called from behind him. “They appeared the night after Orb’s announcement and began taking families. We tried fire, we even dug pits, but each night they came further into our fields until they finally stopped here.”
Not daring to turn his head, Peter nodded slowly. The lead raptor mimicked his head movement which, for Peter, was the most frightening thing he had seen.
Peter swallowed loudly, summoned what was left of his courage, and willed himself to bluff his way through this as he tried not to look at the dagger-like talons of the raptor which flicked, and cut the air just in front of him.
“I am Peter, the lead Disciple of Orb,” he declared, slowly bringing his left arm up. “I do not know why you are here, but you should know that I speak for Orb, and my word is law.”
Peter’s arm was now level with the snout of the raptor, and he slowly unfurled his fingers to make his hand into a flat, vertical obstacle at the eye level of the raptor. “I do not wish to harm you, but know that any attempt to attack me will result in your death.”
The lead raptor slowly looked backwards to one side, and then the other as it conferred with its pack members. There was another loud exchange of guttural sounds and squawks. Peter hoped his inability to understand the raptors did not mean they could not understand him. It seemed like they could.
He also felt quite foolish standing in the middle of a muddy field in his Orb tunic, pushing his hand in the face of a creature that had been extinct for millions of years. I should have called Orb. I may still call Orb, but if I’m not in any real danger it can’t hurt to try.
Peter watched as the lead raptor turned its attention back to him. He felt the warmth from the puffs of air coming from its nostrils as it slowly examined his hand, starting with the palm and moving out to the ends of his fingers. A bead of sweat decided this was the moment to emerge from the stuffy place where his hair covered the back of his neck. The droplet trickled slowly down the valley of his spine. Peter did his best not to move or show fear.
The lead raptor, finished with its examination, called back to its pack on either side and then opened its mouth slightly as it turned back to Peter. It looked like the raptor was about to say something, which would have been extremely odd but also possible in a world governed by Orb. Peter leaned in slightly and began to lower his hand when the raptor opened wide, used its long neck to close the distance between them, and bit Peter’s hand off at the wrist.
Peter screamed and fell to his knees as blood poured from the stump that had once supported his hand. “That can’t be!” he screamed. “I’m a Disciple! I can’t be hurt!”
The raptor, amused, to
ssed his severed hand into the air. Peter watched as the hand that was once attached to his body completed several circles before it fell back into the raptor’s mouth and was swallowed whole. The raptor looked down at the severely wounded Peter and appeared to grin.
Peter had a series of wild thoughts about using one of the powers that had not yet been taught to him, particularly Matt’s crushing ability, but had no faith that he would not do himself more harm trying to use it. As he squeezed his right hand around the stump of his left wrist, he was also very much aware of the amount of blood pulsing out onto the ground. This wasn’t the time to experiment. This was the time to retreat.
As the raptor leaned in and lowered its head down to Peter, he thought of his house, and his farm, and used those images to teleport.
The raptor looked confused at the now-empty stretch of mud before it and used the long, knife-like talons from its hind legs to dig long gashes at the spot where Peter had fallen. It then leaned down and sniffed the mud, repeating the guttural sounds from earlier. Eventually the raptor lifted up, snapped its teeth at Ms. Tanaka, and trotted away from the crowd. As the lead raptor opened the distance between itself and the crowd, the others in its pack fell in a loose formation behind it.
Peter appeared next to the tailgate of Big Ed’s truck. He tried to remain conscious and upright, but continued to lose large quantities of blood from the stump of his left arm. He slumped momentarily against the truck’s tailgate and noticed that someone had used a rock or other crude tool to scratch “traitor” in large letters across the back.
His stump left a smear of blood against the tailgate which extended to the rear fender as Peter took a few wobbly steps towards the house while still using the truck for balance.
Eli! Come home!
Peter’s call hit Eli’s brain like a cooler full of ice water. Typing in all caps had been the way to shout when using e-mail or text—back when there was e-mail and texts—but normally he, Jenny and Peter were very careful to communicate telepathically using calm, tranquil thoughts to avoid startling the recipient. Eli simmered as he pushed his temper down, for the moment, in order to find out why Peter was so excited.
I am home. What do you want?
There was no response. Eli, who had just crawled into bed after thirty straight hours of hurling spheres through portals in Beijing, muttered to himself.
Peter? Where are you?
Eli slowly counted to ten, staring up at the dark ceiling above him. He thought about giving it another ten seconds, then sighed, pulled on the jeans he’d just thrown to the floor, fumbled around for his shirt, which he pulled over his head, and then used his arms in front of him to feel the path to the door. He hit the louvered slats of the doors to his closet, then used his left hand to find the light switch he knew lurked just to the left of the closet.
The light, powered by Orb as there was no longer a working utility company, clicked on and showed the dirty socks, shoes and shirts he had thrown to the floor over the past week. His yellow Orb tunic, which he had also just removed, almost stood by itself—a clean beacon in a sea of chaos and filth.
“Peter?” Eli cried out as he grabbed a pair of tennis shoes and opened his door.
Using the light from his room, Eli entered the hallway and walked to the door of Peter’s bedroom. He opened the door, flicked on the light, and saw the same type of mess he had just left. The bed, however, was empty.
He left Peter’s room in favor of the kitchen. He turned on the light to find that Big Ed had done all the dishes. The spotless Formica countertops showed no trace of the mess Eli had made just a few minutes before, when he attacked a container full of leftover rice and vegetables with a fork and a bottle of homemade hot sauce. Eli pulled one of the chairs away from the table and sat down heavily as he slipped his tennis shoes on his sock-less feet.
“What’s going on?” Big Ed asked as he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. The full-body, faded, red long underwear Big Ed wore spoke to the fact that autumn was slipping away in favor of winter. Big Ed’s bare feet stuck out prominently at the bottom of the long underwear, and Eli wondered not for the first time how anyone could wear size sixteen shoes.
Pulling on his left sneaker, laces still tied, Eli answered, “I thought I heard Peter calling for me.”
Big Ed scratched his backside as he lumbered into the room. “I didn’t hear him. All I heard was you hollering.”
Eli pulled on his other shoe and tried to reach Peter’s mind one more time. Peter? I’m here. Where are you?
Big Ed, unaware of the telepathy shared by his boys, stared at Eli with an expression that was close to annoyance. “Do you know where he went today? He left awfully late.”
Eli thought back to the thoughts he and Peter had traded regarding Godzilla, and Japan. “He went to Japan. I thought he would still be there.”
“But you said you thought you heard him here?”
“I did hear him.”
Eli pulled on his other shoe and dug it into the laminate flooring to try and get his heel to fit inside the narrow space provided by the still-laced shoe. He bent down and, using his finger like a shoehorn, tried to slide his shoe on while he hopped towards the back door.
“Would be easier if you untied them first but, seeing as you have ignored that advice since you started wearing shoes, I won’t hold out hope.”
Eli grimaced at Big Ed’s critique as he finally pushed his foot into the shoe with a light popping sound and grabbed the knob to the back door. “I’m just going to go check outside.”
“Why would he be outside?”
Big Ed’s question was a good one but there was no great way to answer him without divulging their secret gift of telepathy. I know I heard him. I know he’s here.
“I don’t know, Dad. Maybe I just dreamed it, but I wasn’t even asleep yet. I’ll just take a quick look.” Eli flicked on the porch light and opened the creaky, wooden back door.
Big Ed ran his large hand over his long face and waved Eli out. He sat at the breakfast table using the same chair Eli had pulled out, and looked over at the dated family photograph hanging on the wall. Eli and Peter, both so young that they still got along, stood with their hair wetted into place and their mother’s arms around them. Big Ed leaned down and added his long arms to the mix. Everyone, even Eli, wore a smile.
Big Ed stared at the portrait for another minute, trying to get his mind around how much had changed, when Eli’s voice cut through the night air.
“Dad! Come quick! Peter’s bleeding everywhere!”
Big Ed rose so quickly that the table he used for support skidded a couple of feet away. Not worrying about shoes, he took two large strides to the door and flung it open. The back flap on his long underwear tugged against the large buttons which held it in place. Big Ed jumped down the stairs and used his hand to block the glare of the porchlight as he squinted and stared into the night.
“Where are you, Eli?”
“Over here by your truck.”
Big Ed’s bare feet crushed the rocks and pinecones without complaint as he ran across the yard towards the garage. As he rounded the corner of his new truck, he saw Peter, cradled in Eli’s arms, on the ground beside the driver’s side door. The porch light did not carry to the garage, and Big Ed had to blink and lean down to try and make sense of what he was seeing. There was a black stain across Peter’s jeans which carried to a pool on the ground. Peter’s yellow Orb tunic was, of course, spotless.
Eli grabbed at Peter’s arm, where more black stain oozed out, and yelled out, “Orb! We need you! Peter’s been hurt!”
“Oh my! Oh my!” Big Ed repeated as he scooped Peter out of Eli’s arms and raced back to the house. Peter’s head bounced softly against Big Ed’s shoulder. “Go to my room and get my belt, Eli! And turn on the big burner on the stove!”
Eli dashed to the house, screaming, “Orb!” as he went.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Recovery
When Peter tried to open
his eyes, the lids were partially stuck together as if someone had tried to glue them shut.
“There he is!” the voice of Big Ed boomed.
Peter used his right hand to rub his eyes and found himself staring at a large group of people. They were all taller–much taller–than him and it took another moment to realize that he was lying down on the couch in his living room.
He opened and shut his eyes once or twice, tried to push himself up to more of a seated position, and screamed as fire shot through his left arm.
Jenny immediately grabbed his right hand as she sat on the nearby coffee table to get to his level. “It’s ok, Peter. Orb is here now and he’s going to fix you up.” She squeezed his right hand reassuringly.
Peter heard almost nothing she said as he raised the stump of his left arm and stared at what had become of it. Someone had removed his tunic so his forearm, still covered in fuzzy baby hairs that had not yet darkened, extended into a wide piece of white fabric (a t-shirt?) that had been folded over on itself several times. He brought the stump closer to his face and saw that blood had seeped through the fabric over the now-flat end of his arm. He also saw that the fabric was held to his arm with an overly generous amount of masking tape.
Peter, still quite groggy, focused in on Jenny’s smiling, concerned face and asked, “Where did you come from?”
A nervous look shot briefly across her face before she tried to sell an overly breezy response. “Oh, we had talked about me coming by tonight so we could catch up after your trip to Japan. Don’t you remember?”
You screamed out to me at the same time you called out for Eli. Play along and say you remember.
What?
Orb is here. Your dad is here. Even Matt and Irene made it over after I teleported over and told them what was happening. I can’t exactly say that you sent me a telepathic message, can I?
“Oh, yeah. That was tonight. I’d forgot all about it.”
“That’s understandable, Son.” Big Ed patted Peter’s feet at the other end of the couch. “You’ve had a rough couple of hours.”
The Disciples of the Orb Page 11
