Gone for a Spin (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 16)

by J. Naomi Ay

  As it was, his foot looked normal enough, roughly a man's size nine, with a couple of smashed in toenails and a bit of foot fungus. She guessed he played sports, probably soccer or rugby. Also, typical of a fourteen year old boy, he hadn't bothered to wash his foot before he snapped the pic.

  If Sara had been in her dorm room surrounded by friends, or at least with Carolie, she wouldn't have responded. In fact, she would have reported Thunk as abusive spam. However, here in this cold, dark house, Sara was lonely and bored, and there was no one else to talk to online. Against her better judgement, and a fair measure of desperation, Sara friended Thunk, which immediately opened up his personal news feed.

  This action treated her to a series of little league baseball pics and his favorite rock bands. There were also a lot of rude comments from a host of teenage boys.

  “Yuck,” Sara whispered, about to unfollow the torrent she had just unleashed.

  “Hey! Thanks for friending me.” Thunk’s foot immediately appeared on Sara’s timeline. “I’ve admired you for a really long time. I hope you don’t mind my stalking you a little bit. I guess you could call me your number one fan.”

  Sara rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, although only the inanimate maid droid was there to see it.

  “Is your name really Thunk?” Sara typed, against her better judgement. Chatting, even with this boy, was better than a one way conversation with the droid. “Not that I’m discriminating or anything like that. Thunk is a cool name. Unique and different. Not at all weird. Probably, you’re from some really awesome planet?”

  “Actually, it’s not my real name, and I’m from Earth, which isn’t all that awesome. All my friends have called me Thunk since I was hit in the head by a baseball. I guess it made a thunking sound against my skull, but I wouldn’t know on account of I was knocked out. LOL. LOL. ROFL.”

  Sara forced herself to laugh, to type LOL repeatedly in the chat box, while wondering if she really had become that desperate. Was she willing to spend her first evening of vacation Footbooking with this brain damaged geek? On the other hand, there was no one else around, even in cyberland.

  Well, there was her grandfather, the Evil Emperor, who was closeted in his office, probably devising new ways to destroy planets and kill people. When given a choice of him or Thunk, probably, the geek was the better option, so Sara swallowed her revulsion and continued chatting.

  "What’s it like being a princess?" Thunk asked, his smashed toes wagging in an overly eager and overly friendly way.

  Although he couldn’t see her face, Sara scrunched up her nose. She hated boys who were obviously trying to get close to her. Always, there was always an ulterior motive. They were sure that hanging out with the princess would improve their social standing. No one had ever liked her for herself, let alone fallen in love with her just because she was Sara. No one had ever friended her just because they had interests in common. On the other hand, what interests did Sara have besides her own self-preservation after being shuffled from one family to another?

  Sara almost disconnected. In fact, her finger was paused over the tiny little “X” icon, ready to close out Footbook and Thunk, and whomever else was out there waiting to follow her news feed. But, she didn’t. She was that desperate. She was that lonely and depressed. She wanted to talk to someone. She wanted a friend, even if it was this creep.

  "It’s boring," Sara replied, her own perfectly painted digits wiggling, delighting Thunk with their graceful, pretty form.

  Carolie had begrudgingly administered the pedicure just last week when the girls were still roommates in the dorm. The color was Sara's favorite rose pink, a perfect complement to her slightly pinkish, pale skin. Immediately after the paint had dried, she snapped the pic and uploaded it to her profile. As of right now, it had garnered more than forty thousand likes, although none of them could be considered a real friend.

  “I’m bored too," Thunk lamented, followed by some more inanities and complaints about teachers, homework, and school rules. "Fortunately, my granddad’s going to take me and my brother hunting. He takes us hunting or fishing practically every week. What about you? Do you ever do anything, or are stuck in your palace?"

  "I’m stuck,” she replied. “Totally and completely.” Sara couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to go fishing with her granddad. In fact, she didn’t want to imagine it. It scared the jeepers out of her soul. “I wish I had a normal family," she murmured, under her breath. Not realizing what she was doing, she inadvertently typed the same into the chat box.

  "I’m sorry!” Thunk responded frantically, his foot wagging in double time. “It’s too bad you can’t come here, and hang around with me. We'd have an awesome time together, because my family is totally normal and completely boring. You’d probably get sick of us within a few days. For sure, you’d get sick of my brother. Ha ha. I’m totally sick of him, too. Anyway, I could take you around the town, and show you Earth.”

  “That sounds like fun,” Sara replied, surprisingly whimsical about Thunk’s life.

  “Do you think there's any chance you could actually come? My mom could talk to your dad about it, if you want her to. She's always had a crush on the Imperial Prince Shika, probably like everyone. She gets totally fangirl about him whenever he's on the news. In fact, she might just fall over and die if I tell her she'd have to talk to him."

  Sara didn't want to reveal that her dad was nowhere around, and neither was any other parental figure, except for the Evil Emperor. She also was a bit peeved that Thunk knew so much about her family, even though the Imperial Family’s business was always news.

  In fact, Sara's life was like that of a specimen on a slide beneath a microscope. Still, it irritated her, and made her wish for the millionth time that she wasn't a princess. How awesome would it be if she was just a nobody named Sara Golden? A normal teenage girl from planet Earth.

  "I don't think it would work out," she replied instead. "I'm supposed to stay here in Takira-hahr and...and...do some things. You know, princess kind of stuff."

  "I understand. Maybe, we can get together another time. Hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, just ping me on Footbook. I’m always here."

  "Alright,” Sara typed, while sighing audibly to herself. "Thanks, Thunk. You’re cool. You know?"

  "No problem, Sara. Thanks again for friending me. I really want to be your friend, and I assure you, I don’t have any ulterior motives."

  Sara hoped that he was telling the truth, because she really need a friend right now. Responding with a row of happy face emoticons, she logged out of Footbook, afterwhich, she scrolled through funny vid's on MeTube. Around 3AM, she fell asleep only to be woken up a short time later by the rumbling of her empty stomach. Sara had missed dinner because nobody had reminded her to eat.

  Chapter 9

  Senya tried to imagine how it would feel to be terminated. He had terminated many souls himself, so he understood the process. However, he didn't know what happened once it was done, as termination was completely permanent with no opportunity to go back. There was no other side, no second chance, no retribution, and no redemption. Existence in all forms of matter was completely eliminated.

  In the past, when he died, he had always reverted to his celestial form, which wasn’t really all that different than what he was now. In the past, when he didn't occupy a mortal body, his wife hadn’t either. When he was reborn, she did so as well. In one form or another, they were always side by side. Now, if he was terminated, and she wasn't, what would that mean?

  Senya decided to sit up, which wasn't as easy as it sounded, since he was still spread out upon the cold, hard, marble floor. He was also quite intoxicated, enough so that when he finally managed to push himself more or less upright, his head swam, and his stomach lurched until he gently lay back down.

  Nevertheless, he resolved to stay conscious. He focused his attention on his heart, willing it to slow to a normal, steady, sinus rhythm. He bid his stomach to calm,
his anxiety to lessen. He needed to think this through, and not be concerned with his body’s pains. He needed to figure this out before it happened, for in truth, he didn’t want to be terminated yet. Not really. When it came down to it, despite his lamentations, he wasn’t actually ready to go.

  To disappear completely, never to return, was beyond any punishment he had ever imagined. Always, there had been another life with new goals to achieve. Always, there had been a time in between. Always, there had been something to look forward to despite how he may have messed up in the past. There was always something to work for, a reason to be.

  And, what about his wife? How would she manage if he just up and vanished into thin air? What about his mortal sons? Fools they were, but he loved them all the same. He had to see them settled. He had to ensure their lives were on course. And, the girl, Sara. If Luka had set his sights on her, how could he just turn away?

  Then, there were the people, the mortals in many forms, who occupied this universe, his domain. What would happen if they were left in Luka’s clutches?

  He and Luka had battled over something since time began, and they always would. That was the way of it. That was the Plan. That was how mankind was supposed to learn. Luka provided the temptation, whilst Mika led the fight for what was right, and hence, their own salvation, and Heavenly Age. But, if Mika was gone, would they all wander aimlessly, or would they all become one of Luka’s Rossorian drones? Would they perish from the poison which Evil had unleashed? Or, would someone else be assigned to save them?

  “I’m glad you finally remembered how to use your brain,” Uri said. “The big one, not the little one that is.”

  “Fuck off,” Senya groaned. “Don’t bother me now.”

  “Why do you always greet me with an obscenity? I thought I was your favorite brother. Is that not true anymore?”

  Senya felt an odd pressure on his stomach where he suspected Uri was now sitting. In his celestial form, the cherub didn’t weigh anything, yet his presence could still be felt.

  “Yes, I suppose you are still my favorite brother, if only because you haven’t pissed me off completely yet. However, should you continue to bother me thusly, I shall renounce you as well.”

  “If you are terminated, you shan’t have that opportunity. I shall miss you though. I have always loved you best, especially since Gavri’el and Rafa’el treat me like a child.”

  Senya felt a tiny bit of remorse for he had loved the cherub, too. In fact, it was Uri’el who had come to him, and taught him how to use his brain.

  Senya had been very tiny then, still an infant with the accompanying desires and wants, consisting primarily of food and relief from his own waste product.

  He was hungry, he recalled, and he could smell the formula he was given to drink in a bottle warmer across the room from his cage-like bed. There were other infants in the room, little heads full of empty thoughts, little bodies with muscles incapable of controlled movement. A larger creature arrived, one of the sisters, although Senya didn't know that at the time. She smelled of sweat, unwashed hair, and musty clothing, sour drops of spilt formula mixed in the cloth.

  Senya pulled himself up to his feet, steadying his legs by grasping the rail, while at the same time, holding out his hands for a bottle. He wanted one, and would have told her so, if he could have thought of the words, but his own small brain was still incapable of speech.

  Then, someone was beside him, someone familiar and comforting, someone who needed no words to convey his thoughts.

  "Imagine it in your hands," Uri said, directly into Senya's mind. "Will it to come to you, and it will be so."

  After that, Uri'el came often to guide Senya's development. The cherub showed the child how to hold a spoon, how to toilet, and how to dress.

  "Listen to the mortal's words," the angel said. "And, hear what is in their mind."

  Although Senya rarely spoke, he understood language, and from there, acquired the knowledge of everything else, his own mind expanding at a breakneck pace.

  One sister knew mathematics, and another, the sciences, and yet another, art. The man who fixed the furnace was an expert in engineering. As Senya hid beneath the staircase, or above the cellar, or sat across the room from a sister at the dining table, he filled his own brain with the information in their minds. Combined with the memories of his other lives, and his visits to the future and the past, by the time Senya was ten years old, he knew more than most mortal men would learn in a lifetime.

  "I do not wish to be terminated," Senya mumbled, voicing the thought which had been bouncing around in his still inebriated brain.

  "Ah! That is good news, I suppose," the cherub replied. "Although, it may have already been decided. I suspect you shall have to beseech and beg for Forgiveness. You will probably have to earn your rank back, too. I have heard rumors that you have already been demoted. You ought to not wait, but get on it, and find out what conditions you must satisfy to be reinstated."

  "I will," Senya mumbled, as the cherub vanished, leaving his stomach alone. "And, thank you. You are still my favorite brother."

  Senya did his best to roll his body over, a process that shouldn't have taken as long as it did. Once there, he lay prostate and prone, profoundly apologizing for his errant behavior. He swore with the utmost devotion and fealty to mend his ways, and to never transgress like this again.

  This process also took quite some time. In fact, because his list of sins and offenses was so very long, nearly an entire night passed before Senya clearly understood what redress was required for his reinstatement. Fortunately, during this ordeal, his drunkenness had more or less abated, leaving him instead with a hangover that could only be deemed horrific. Rather than assuage it with more drink, or tame it with more drugs, Senya resolved to muscle through and end this addiction.

  He dragged himself upright, a sluggish process as the damaged muscles in his left leg had chosen not to respond. Once vertical, if only by gripping the firm edge of his desk, Senya ran a hand across his face and scratched his beard. His jaw felt unusually slack, jowls sagging where before it had been only firm. His chest and belly were the same. Age and the cruel treatment subjected to his body had finally caught up with him.

  Besides that, he badly needed a shower and a shave. Probably, given some time, he ought to have a haircut, a manicure, and perhaps, even a delousing treatment. His breath was horrific, and his teeth were encased in several layers of plague. Despite this, he laughed uproariously.

  “Not so beautiful now, am I?” he asked no one.

  Fortunately, no one answered, for they certainly would have agreed he was a mess. The once magnificent, ethereal Emperor was now no more presentable than a homeless bum.

  Senya found his cane hanging from the back of his desk chair, which was a good thing, because he still couldn’t recall in which dimension his secret hiding place resided. He also found a pack of cigarettes in the top drawer, the Royal Mishnese filtered kind. They weren’t his favorite by any means, but until he could acquire others, these would have to do.

  With a cig perched on his lip, and his cane guiding the way, Senya laboriously plodded from his office into the second floor hallway of his cold, and nearly empty house. His bedroom was up one floor, a challenge that had never been so difficult to scale. Why hadn’t he thought to install a lift or moving staircase?

  As he stood before the sixteen marble steps, which he would have to surmount in order to reach his bath and shower, he realized that at this time, his mortal body was incapable of meeting that challenge.

  Instead, he summoned his wings, the great and once shining silver angelic ones, not the magnificent and noble satiny black of his raptor-self. Since he was now effectively on probation though, their feathered beauty was significantly lessened, the color a plain, unadorned white, their length and breadth markedly reduced.

  However, they still worked and managed to propel him to the upper floor, whereupon he landed just as young Sara’s bedroom door opened, surpr
ising both of them and not in a good way.

  Sara had just awaken and was still groggy, and a bit confused. She was also hungry and curious about the odd noises in the house, so the young princess climbed from her bed, and donned a pair of jeans and t-shirt. Venturing out into the hall, she immediately encountered the once Great Emperor, vile smelling, old and decrepit-looking, with ghostly wings upon his back.

  “Zombie!” Sara screamed at the top of her lungs, and forgoing everything except her cellphone, she raced down three flights of stairs and out of the house.

  “Sara,” Senya mumbled, his own confusion and grogginess preventing him from recognizing the severity of the situation, which included the fact that she had seen him in a hybrid mortal/celestial form. This was specifically forbidden by The Rules, and would earn him yet another demerit on an already magnanimous list of offenses.

  Sara, in the meantime, raced over to the adjacent staff annex, following the signs which pointed to the main lobby. Unfortunately, upon arrival, she discovered the facility locked and closed, as today was a weekend and the staff were all government workers.

  With nowhere else to turn, and determined never to set foot in that haunted mansion again, Sara walked the two mile distance to the estate’s western border. From there, she hitchhiked into the city of Takira-hahr, whereupon she planned to purchase a spaceplane ticket with the last of the birthday money remaining on her paycard. Her destination was Earth, for she was determined to seek out the only one who cared about her now, a mysterious boy on Footbook whose friends called him Thunk.

  Chapter 10

  “Janet!” Katie cried, stepping back from the door, just as the camper's lights flickered on. “What are you doing here, and why are you dressed as a Rossorian?”