Meteor Mags: Omnibus Edition

by Matthew Howard

  ★ ○•♥•○ ★

  She smiled between mouthfuls of her sandwich. The first sandwich had disappeared in the blink of an eye. But she slowed a little on the third one. She grabbed a glass of milk and gulped it down. “Thank you so much.”

  Jack sat across from her in his modest flat. “My pleasure. Would you like another glass of milk?”

  Mags nodded enthusiastically.

  “Why don’t you tell me your story? How did you end up all by yourself in London?”

  Mags guzzled half the glass in a second and set it back on the table. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She started with the fighting in Barcelona, and related her tale to him.

  Jack listened, slowly chewing his sandwich as the young woman talked. He raised his eyebrows in amazement. He had seen some brutality as a boxer, but this young lady’s tale was something else entirely. He shook his head.

  “Then I walked until I found that cemetery,” she said, concluding her story.

  “And now here you are on Meteor Street, safe and sound.”

  “Meteor Street? Like meteorites?”

  “Mhm. Didn’t you see the street sign?”

  “I love the stars.”

  “Do you, now? Here, let me show you something.” Jack walked to his bookshelf and picked up a wooden case the size of a cigar box, with a hinged lid. Standing at Mags’ side, he set it on the table. “I picked these up when I went to Sydney for a fight. Must have been about twenty years ago now. Open it up.”

  Mags lifted the lid. She looked in awe at the contents, then up to Jack.

  “Go ahead,” he said, returning to his seat. “You can hold them.”

  She lifted a polished stone from the box. It sparkled in her hand. She set it on the table and took out another. “Where is Sydney?”

  “Australia. Where they send all the criminals.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m just kidding. They send boxers there, too. It’s really a beautiful place. Most people don’t know England sent criminals all over the world, even the States. Forced transportation, they called it. Anyway, if you’re up for exploring, you can find all sorts of craters and meteorites there.”

  Mags took out the meteorites one by one, some rough, some polished smooth. “Oooh,” she exclaimed. “This one’s pretty.” She held a meteorite which had been sliced into a slab, flat on two sides. All around the edges, it was only black and brown. But the interior was filled with chips of colorful rock, all packed together. A hole had been drilled in the stone, and a metal ring set in it. Mags could not take her eyes off it.

  “That’s a beauty.”

  “It came from the stars?”

  “Some people say we all came from the stars. But these rocks came from asteroids. Bigger rocks that float in space. And sometimes they get smashed up, and the little pieces fall to earth. They say these ones from Oz mostly came from the same asteroid, a real big one out past Mars. A place called Vesta.”

  She closed her fingers around the stone. “I want to go there.”

  “Australia? You could buy a ticket and sail there, I suppose. Or work on a ship.”

  “No,” said Mags. “Not Australia. Vesta.”

  Jack’s belly shook with laughter. “You’re something else, young lady. I tell you what. Why don’t you hold on to that little rock for me, okay? And someday, when you get to Vesta, you can tell her old Jack sent you to bring that rock home.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But I don’t want to lose it!”

  “Take the chain that’s in the bottom of that box. Do you see it in there?”

  Mags pushed the pile of stones to the side. She saw the links of a silver necklace, and she pulled it out of the box.

  “There you go. Put your new pendant on that, and then it won’t get lost.” Jack watched her string the pendant and clasp the necklace. It had sat unused in that box ever since his last wife passed away. It felt right to give it to this girl who had lost so much, yet could hope for something so obviously impossible.

  “How does it look?”

  “Like it belongs,” he said.

  Mags purred.

  “Now that’s a very special rock. But a girl that gets in as many scraps as you needs an edge. Otherwise, who’s gonna keep that meteorite safe until you take it home?” He went to the living room. “Come here, young lady. I’m going to show you a couple things that will help you in a fight.”

  “Yes!” Mags joined him.

  “First, if a fight’s coming, you want to stand like this. See? Get your fists up like this, to protect your face. And stand with your body like this.”

  She imitated his stance. “Like this?”

  “That’s good. But,” he said, pushing her elbows up slightly, “you want your arms raised a little more. There you go. Good. Now let me show you some footwork. Have you ever danced before?”

  “Mama taught me how to dance.”

  “Good. Because when you’re in a fight, you need to do more than just swing your fists. You gotta dance.”

  “Okay,” said Mags. A broad smile forming on her lips. “Let’s dance!”

  For the next few hours, Jack taught her basic sparring moves and methods. “You’re a natural,” he finally declared. “I’ve never seen anyone pick up footwork so fast.”

  “It’s just like dancing.”

  “It sure is. How about another sandwich?”

  “You’ve been so kind to me, Jack. But I’m worried about that little kitten. I feel like I should go find him. He could be lost.”

  Jack sighed. “You’ve been great company, Mags. And you seem like you can take care of yourself. Let me make you a few sandwiches to take with you, at least.” He busied himself in the kitchen. “And in this corner,” he said, “the reigning champion, Battlin’ Roast Beef Bronson!” He wrapped up a sandwich and handed it to her. “And in this corner, a bold new contender. The one, the only, Meteor Mags!”

  She clapped her hands. “Is that my boxing name? Hahaha! I like it.”

  “Every fighter needs a fightin’ good name.” He looked at her seriously. “Now, if things get too rough out there, young lady, you just drop by any time. You’re always welcome at the house on Meteor Street.”

  Mags threw her arms around him. The old fighter held her like a father holds his daughter. When she finally left, Jack immediately missed her.

  It would be many years before Mags could keep her promise to take that meteorite home. And by the time she did, Jack had been dead a long, long time.

  ★ ○•♥•○ ★

  She walked across town towards the park and the graveyard, sniffing the air for the scent of the little black cat. “Kitten,” she called out now and then, alternating words with mews only a cat could understand. Eventually, she heard a response. She crouched at the entrance to an alley and called again.

  The kitten emerged from the shadows. He peered around the corner of the alley, blinking his eyes. He rubbed his face on the corner. “Meow?”

  “It’s okay, baby.” She held out her hand for him to sniff. He rubbed his face on her fingers. “Are you lost?” The kitten bumped against her and curled his tail to rest on her leg.

  Mags scooped up the cat in her arms. He purred on the ledge of her forearm as she talked quietly to him and scratched the side of his face. “Let’s get out of this part of town. Then we can have a roast beef sandwich. Doesn’t that sound nice? Yes, it does.” Mags chattered on and on.

  People filled the streets that evening. They cast disapproving looks at the young woman, seeing nothing more than an untidy urchin. It was half past six.

  Mags ignored the frowns, the stares, and the throng. But as she passed the park, she caught another familiar scent. This one, she did not like. This one smelled like an enemy.

  From beyond the line of trees surrounding the park came a shout. “Emily! That little slag is back!”

  Mags recognized the boy’s voice. And a second later, Emily’s.

  “Where?”

  “O
ver here!”

  Mags could have run. She could have fled. But the idea of enemies charging her through the trees brought back savage, horrible feelings. This time, she did not even consider escape.

  She whispered to the kitten. He leapt from her arms and darted up a tree. By the time he had safely reached a limb high above the ground, Mags was already running full speed into the park.

  She tackled the boy. His body slammed into the ground. Something inside him cracked. Mags grabbed a fistful of his hair. She pounded his head into the ground until his eyes glazed over.

  Emily screamed. She raised her club and charged.

  Mags rose from her prey like a beast and stepped forward into a boxer’s stance. When Emily was upon her, Mags danced out of the way. Emily flew past. Mags turned to face her, hands raised and clenched.

  Emily charged again. She swung her club. But Mags stepped quickly inside the swing. With her right arm, she deflected the blow, blocking Emily’s arm. With her left, she jabbed the girl in the face.

  Emily’s free hand swung into the side of Mag’s head. It took a firm hold of her hair. Instead of pulling away, Mags danced even closer. She smacked her head into the girl’s teeth. Then she flung herself upon Emily.

  They fell to the ground, twisting and turning. Emily screamed incoherently, swiping her fingers like claws. They raked the side of Mags’ face and drew blood.

  Mags hissed. Her hands locked on Emily’s club. She tore it loose from her enemy’s grasp.

  Gripping it like a barbell, Mags smashed it lengthwise into Emily’s face. Blood spurted from the ridge above the girl’s eye. “Don’t!” Smash. “Fucking!” Smash. “Hit me!” Smash.

  Mags swung the club again and again. She had no awareness of her own screaming, a long wail broken only by her shuddering sobs. Tears streamed down her dirty face, rendering her field of view a cloudy, swirling purple.

  Mags wanted the girl to stop. Stop tormenting her. Stop teasing her. Stop making sounds. Stop moving. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

  Mags took a deep breath. Her tail twitched sharply. She tossed the blood-smeared weapon to one side. With a filthy sleeve, she rubbed streaks of snot and tears away from her face, sniffing now and then.

  “Puta,” she said, drawing herself to her feet. She sniffed, then spat on the ground. “You fucking bitch.” She wiped another stream of tears from her cheek.

  “Mew,” came a voice from the edge of the park.

  “Kitten? Kitten!” Mags held out her hands. The little black cat came trotting up to her. “Mi bebé.” She stroked the cat’s side.

  He wrapped his tail around her forearm. “Mew,” he asked again.

  “Agreed. Vámonos!” Mags quickly walked away. The kitten followed her, glancing back nervously at every sound.

  She thought the screaming and the fighting would have attracted some attention. But no one paid her any attention at all, not even the slightest bit. In fact, quite a noise had begun in the streets during her struggle. When she left the park, she found everyone looking up. People in the crowd talked loudly, agitatedly, pointing their fingers at the sky.

  She looked up, too, and she saw. The entire sky was on fire. She scooped up the kitten, pushed her way through the crowd, and ran from the city.

  ★ ○•♥•○ ★

  Mags sat on a hill overlooking London, watching the sky blaze with mysterious lights. They sparkled through her haze of tears. She wiped her eyes then patted the kitten at her side, wondering what it would be like to be up there, flying in the burning borealis. The adrenaline rush subsided from her body. Fatigue mingled with her sadness.

  A fiery finger from the blazing curtain stretched out to Earth. It reached the foot of the hill. The kitten ran for cover in the forest. Mags placed her palm to the dirt to push herself up. But she saw something that stopped her.

  Where the light touched the hill, an incandescent globe appeared. The outline of a figure appeared inside it. The figure raised its hands above its head, clasping them. The white globe expanded, illuminating the entire hill.

  Mags shielded her eyes with her hand. But she felt no fear. Something about the light burned too purely, too powerfully, too divinely to be a threat.

  The globe contracted, forming an aura around the figure, twinkling like a robe of stars. The figure stepped forward. It looked up the hill, and it spoke. “Maggie,” said the voice, not questioning, not asking—simply knowing. It sounded just like the voice from Mags’ dream.

  Then she recognized the figure from portraits she had seen at her gramma’s house long ago. “Great-gramma,” she cried, and ran down the hill.

  Magdalena opened her arms to greet her great-granddaughter. “Maggie.”

  Mags wrapped her arms around her great-grandmother. She wept into the black lace of her shirt. She heard ravens singing. She felt warm like blood. She smelled the ocean. In the woman’s embrace, Mags felt a peace unlike anything she had ever felt before.

  “My daughter, don’t be sad. What a lovely young woman you’ve become.”

  Mags looked up into her eyes. “Great-gramma! How can you be here? Didn’t you—”

  Magdalena’s white hair stood gathered on her head like a mighty temple. She arched an eyebrow. “I did, dear. I died. After two hundred years. Bloody hell, I’m exhausted. Come sit with me.”

  They walked hand-in-hand to the top of the hill. The kitten peered out of the forest. He ran down to inspect them as they took a seat on the hilltop.

  “What do you think of my light show, Maggie?” She scratched the kitten behind the ears, and he promptly plopped down in the grass beside her.

  “You made this happen? It’s beautiful.”

  “Why, thank you. I don’t mind telling you it was harder than hell.” Magdalena brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “That should give them something to write about for a few years, anyway.” She put her arm around Mags. “I tried to reach you sooner, but it’s taken all my power to pierce the veil between our worlds. These lights, this curtain of fire, is the result. That, and being with you now.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here! It’s been so awful. We were fighting, and then the war went against us and we had to run, and then Mama—” She hugged her great-grandmother and cried.

  Magdalena pet her hair and rubbed her head. “There, there. It’s okay.” Her heart broke to see her great-granddaughter in such pain. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save Mollie. I could see what was happening, but there was nothing I could do.”

  “You could see us?”

  “I could. And I tried to help but—oh, Maggie. I felt so powerless.”

  “So did I. I wanted to save her. I wanted to help her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but run. I’m so ashamed of myself.” She put her head down and sobbed.

  “I know, baby. I know.” The woman placed her hand on Mags’ cheek. “You did everything you could. That’s all anyone could ever ask of you. We can never give more than everything we are. Do you understand?”

  Mags sniffed. “Yes. But she was just lying there and I—”

  “Shhh. It’s okay, baby.” Magdalena held her, letting her cry until the trembling subsided. “Maggie, I’m so proud of you.” She lifted the young woman’s head to look into her eyes. “You fought, and you survived. No one your age should have to go through what you did. No one. But you didn’t let it destroy you, did you?”

  “No, Great-gramma. It was so hard afterward. I was so sad. But I had to keep fighting.”

  “That’s right.” Magdalena sighed. “You remind me so much of myself when I was your age. So much fire. So much spirit. Did you know when I was your age I was already sailing under the black flag?”

  “Were you?”

  “Oh, most certainly. It was a rough life, and I could have let it destroy me. Grind me down to nothing. I could have given in to despair. But like you, I had more fight in me than that. You just have to keep going, Maggie. You keep fighting until you can’t fight any more. There’s no other choice. Not for u
s.”

  “I’ll never give up, Great-gramma. I want to be just like you.”

  Magdalena laughed and laughed. “Oh, my dear. You had better be prepared to leave a pile of bodies behind you, then. And to make quite a few enemies along the way.”

  Mags wiped her face. She recognized some of her mother in this glowing woman, the same rage and determination. But the power radiating from her was like nothing she had ever witnessed before. Mags believed this night she sat in the presence of a goddess. She would never forget the awe she felt for this woman whose blood flowed in her own veins, this ancient woman who made the sky fill with fire.

  She grasped Magdalena’s hand. Her mother’s ring and Magdalena’s ring touched. When they made contact, a mystical flame bloomed, lighting up their faces, yet burning neither of them. The rings were exactly the same.

  “I see Mollie gave you my ring. I’m glad.”

  “She made sure I took it, Great-gramma. Like it was the most important thing in the world, even as she was—” Mags tightened her grasp on her great-grandmother’s hand. “Even as she was dying.”

  “Do you know why that is?”

  “No.”

  “That’s my ring, Maggie. Look at them. Do you see how they look just like one another?”

  “Yes, Great-gramma.”

  “There were only two ever made. One for me. And one for my husband, your great-grandfather. I obtained them at considerable cost. And I don’t mean money. I mean many good members of my crew went to their graves for me to have them. Maggie, I have seen so many people die. But when I met your great-grandfather, I wanted more. I wanted something that would last. Something beyond these pale constraints of flesh. We deserved more than that. Our love deserved more than that. Our love…”

  Magdalena’s voice trailed off. She focused on the curtain of fire shimmering between this realm and the other. How many skies would she have gladly burned to the ground to regain her love? How many empires would she have gladly toppled? How many lives would she have snuffed like candles to spend one more hour with him? But she knew all of that was fantasy.