by Martha Carr
“Doors closing,” the loudspeaker said, and Somers waited patiently on the platform to see if she was going to make it off the train. He didn’t care. He even wondered if he could take her.
The doors closed on her as she pressed her hands against the glass, yelling, “I’m gonna find you and kick your skinny little ass!”
He smiled and gave her the finger as the train slid away, picking up speed. A man in the back of the train gave him a thumbs up. He returned the gesture with a sharp salute. His other hand was still clutching the stone.
“I am somebody,” he said, grinning widely, and he set off for his apartment on Leavitt Street. “I just needed a little juice.”
He stepped out of the station, a cold wind hitting him in the face. He took the necklace out and put it on over his head, quickly tucking it under his t-shirt not wanting to attract any attention. He could feel the metal against his skin start to warm and the buzz grew inside of him. A train rumbled over his head, adding to the dizzy feeling.
He staggered to one side, and stopped, trying to will himself into walking a straight line.
“It’s not even happy hour, dude,” said a man walking toward the train. “Get help,” he sneered.
Somers didn’t care. A wave of nausea came over him and bile rose in his throat. He swallowed hard and marched toward home. He still didn’t care. He navigated down the wide sidewalk, drifting back and forth, swimming in the feeling that he didn’t have a care in the world.
It seemed to take forever to make his way into the middle of Roscoe Village and turn down his street. The recent snow had turned into ice and he was having to pick his way down the sidewalk.
“Whooooop!” he yelled as his left foot went forward and his right leg went back. His bag twisted behind him, slapping against his back. He braced himself for the fall, putting out his arms, then his legs found the strength to come back together, leaving him upright.
He knew it had to be the necklace. “Hot damn!” he whispered, still wobbling, his arms outstretched. “Hot damn!” he yelled again, raising his arms higher.
The few people on the sidewalk made a point of giving him a wider berth. He watched them pick their way carefully between the icy patches, their shoulders hunched against the cold.
He took a step forward and felt his foot slide and magically come back just in time. He did it again, taking two steps, then three. He strolled, gaining speed, first jogging, falling into a run. He wasn’t even sure if his feet were always hitting the ground.
The nausea rolled over him in waves, reminding him of riding a roller coaster.
He stopped at a corner to catch his breath, doubled over with his hands on his knees.
“Oh man,” he said, and he puked on a pile of snow that already had a frozen mound of dog poop. He shook his head, clearing his mind, and laughed out loud.
“Small price,” he muttered, and took off running again.
He got to his front stoop and kicked his neighbor’s neglected wet newspapers to the side. Every other day they were another reminder to Somers of how inconsiderate the world could be to him. Today, he got a charge out of watching them slide off the step and into the bushes.
Problem solved.
He put his key in the lock and jiggled it hard to the left while pulling back on the handle. The finicky door unlocked and opened.
“First try!” he exclaimed. He stepped in to his studio apartment. The beige couch in the front doubled as a bed. Professor Randolph had given it to him when he bought a new one. There was an old pizza box shoved under the coffee table and dishes scattered everywhere.
His laptop and research papers were on the coffee table. A nearby bulletin board was covered with articles about unexplained phenomena around the world. He had circled important parts with a yellow highlighter.
The galley kitchen was tucked into a back corner and consisted of a short refrigerator, a sink and a gas range that had seen better days. Two of the burners had never worked.
A plastic basket of clean clothes sat next to his empty dresser that doubled as a TV stand.
He usually hated being at home. Everywhere he looked reminded him of how far he hadn’t made it in life.
Today was different. Nothing seemed impossible.
He took off his coat and stuffed it into the only closet, setting it on top of a hamper full of dirty clothes. He went searching under the sink for the plastic grocery bags he was always cramming under there. He pulled a few out, shaking off the water that leaked from the pipes, and started piling trash into them, tying them off when they were full.
He folded the clean clothes neatly and put them away in the dresser. The dishes took him longer but eventually the small place was neat as a pin. He wondered why he’d waited so long.
He stood still in the middle of the small apartment, sweat beading on his forehead and his chest felt like it was burning. He stripped off the two layers of shirts he always wore in the winter and looked in the bathroom mirror.
The necklace was glowing, and the skin underneath it looked like it was sunburned. He gingerly lifted the chain and felt his skin. It was tender to the touch.
He took the necklace off for a moment and set it on the back of the toilet, and waited to see what might happen.
It didn’t take long for the energy to start draining out of him and the self-recriminations to start. What if I can’t make it work on Saturday? And in front of all those people. I’d be finished. What if this is the way my life will always be? What if this is the best I can ever do?
All he wanted to do was sleep.
He snatched the necklace off the top of the toilet tank, scraping the gold against the ceramic and put it back around his neck. The energy started flowing through him again.
He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed his eyes looked shinier than he remembered. He really wasn’t such a bad looking fellow after all.
He winced as the necklace warmed against his skin.
“Totally worth it.” He put his shirt back on. “Ack, ow,” he said, moving the necklace around under his shirt. “The skin will get tougher, like a tan,” he told himself. “I just have to make it to Saturday.” He felt his newfound courage return.
He stood in front of the small mirror over the sink and flexed his muscles, admiring the way he looked. He felt good. He relaxed and let the energy fill him.
Images of Oriceran ran through his mind and he imagined the night he would tell his world, or at least a large academic celebration, about this magical place.
As the feeling grew inside of him, his reflection in the mirror blurred in wavy lines. Somers blinked hard over and over again, trying to get it to stop.
He turned around and leaned on the sink for support, wondering if he had gone too far. He fell back into the space where the sink should have been, where it just was, and landed on the ground.
He felt the dirt under his hands and looked up at the trees. There was a hole hovering above him, ripped through a large oak tree. His bathroom was on the other side of the hole. He could see the faded yellow ducks on his shower curtain.
The air around him was warm and humid and he was surrounded by dark, dense forest on every side. Ancient American elm trees that Somers knew were largely gone on Earth, stretched upwards, blocking out most of the light. The ground all around him was mossy, making the forest floor look like a deep, green, fertile ocean.
Something clattered over his head and he looked up and saw crab beetles, a large claw for a head, scampering across the front of the tree trunk. They were making their way toward a nest tucked in a crook where several branches met.
Somers watched in fascination, frozen to the spot.
A small fuzzy head resembling a vulture peeked out of the nest, prompting a chorus of squawking. The line of beetles reached the nest, pincers clicking and clattering, making their way over the edge of the nest.
Somers braced himself for the carnage, unable to look away as he waited for the first baby bird to lose its head. At
the last moment, up out of the nest the mother appeared, her iridescent feathers rippling, neatly picked off the beetles, crushing them in her beak and feeding them to her babies to loud squawks.
Somers got up slowly, keeping a wary eye on the bird, and brushed off his pants, He noticed the red glow from the relic was showing through his shirt.
“Oriceran,” he whispered. “I’ve opened a portal.” he said awed. “I can do it. If I did it once I can do it again. Best day ever!” he said. He looked at his bathroom through the portal, waiting a few moments to see if the portal closed.
Nothing happened.
“Stable, good,” he said. He took a look around at his surroundings. “Samples,” he muttered. They’d be perfect for the university celebration on Saturday. “More proof.” he said and gingerly stepped off the path and looked for something to take back with him.
“Nothing to fear while I’m wearing this,” he grinned.
He noticed the tall grasses near where he was standing gently swaying every time he spoke. “Well, hello there,” he said, watching the grass undulate back and forth. “Red dog, blue dog.” He marching back and forth in front of the plant to see if movement affected it at all.
“It does,” he said in a hushed tone. “Perfect! Boom, shakalakalaka, boom, shakalakalaka!” He danced around, shaking his hips, watching the plant dance along with him. “Woot! Woot!” He knelt down by the plant and started digging around the roots. The plant quivered and let out a deep moan.
“Sound, no less!” Somers was getting more excited. He was picturing his big night and every night after that as the start to the life he had always deserved. The plant moaned again as he uncovered the roots.
A great roar went up from the dense forest, making the ground rumble. The plant shivered and drew back.
Somers started and tried to steady himself. He could feel the ground shake under his hands as the forest roared again, closer this time.
He looked at the portal, still hanging over the path behind him, his bathroom just on the other side. “I can still do this,” he said, gritting his teeth and turned back to pull out a handful of the plant. The plant moaned piteously, screamed and went limp in his hands.
“Got it,” he said, hoping the grasses could be revived. He got up to make a run for it.
He had only taken a few steps before something in the forest roared again, shaking the ground so hard he fell to his knees.
A large male lion with a full rack of antlers leaped into the clearing. It was carrying a tall, muscular elf with dark purple skin and thick brown hair. Plants and bugs wove in and out of his long hair.
“Thief!” the Dark Elf shouted. “No one steals from the Gardener!”
Somers scrambled back to his feet and dashed for the portal, still clutching the plant. He threw himself through the opening just ahead of the lion’s snapping jaws. He tumbled in head first, crashing over the sink and landing in the tub.
The lion’s head burst through the portal, roaring loud enough to rattle the ducks on the shower curtain.
Somers tore off the necklace, dropping it by his side. The lion fell back to the other side, back to Oriceran as the portal closed.
Somers smiled despite almost getting mauled. The energy was draining rapidly, but he clung to the feeling that everything was good in his world. “Things are working out for me,” he decided. Another thought fought for his attention. “It was an accident,” he whispered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You sure you’ll be okay?” asked Leira, eyeing Correk suspiciously. “Aaaaa!” She held her breath trying to hold back another sneeze. “Cold came on pretty fast. I don’t usually get sick.” She sneezed hard, holding the crook of her arm over her mouth.
A tiny, “Yum fuck,” could be heard from the other room where the troll was nestled in a shoebox with a pair of fresh underwear.
“Aw, that was like a little bless you.” Leira blew her nose. “Make sure to watch for cars. They’re pretty wild around here, driving on the side of the road and trying to beat red lights.”
“I’ve consulted with kings and prophets. I think I can handle walking to a merchant. We have roads and shops on Oriceran,” he said, an edge to his voice. He eyed her warily.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “The trip to Oriceran. It may have overcharged the energy in your body. It’ll pass.”
“Is that your way of saying I got a magic cleanse? How is that even possible? A little heads up next time, that Oriceran has that effect on humans.”
Correk looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead he said, “You stayed at the bar too long.”
“That’s what you do with family. Yes, that’s my family of choice. That’s a thing here. You pick your own and they can be all kinds of creatures.”
“Is that why you agreed to this bowling? Never mind. It’s a necessary distraction, I understand. I can handle going to a shop. I’ll be back.”
“But do you have CVS Pharmacies? Whole other animal. Don’t get lost in the, as seen on TV aisle. You could be there all day,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Turn left out of here and look for a sign that looks like this,” she said, holding up an image on her phone. “And they’re going to hand you a long piece of thin paper at the end that’s proof you paid for your things. It’ll go on forever and have a coupon on the end. It’s their thing. We call it a receipt. Don’t let that throw you.”
“You’re using a lot of strange words. This is still English? What’s a coupon? You’re not a very trusting lot. You make a deal with someone on Oriceran that’s the end of it.”
“That’s a lot in one burst. First, you don’t need receipts on Oriceran because you can zap them with a fireball. It’s a fiery receipt and second, a coupon is a piece of paper that says you can have something and give them less.”
“Bartering with a note, interesting.”
“Never thought of it that way, but sure. Here, you’ll need this,” she said, handing him her credit card. “There’ll be a little machine by the cash register. You swipe it,” she said, making the motion with the card. “I’m beginning to think this is not going to go well. Don’t tell them you borrowed the card. No one will believe you. Make sure you get Doritos, the cool ranch flavor.”
“What am I getting?”
“I told you to write it down. Do you know how to write? That’s insulting you too, isn’t it,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “Okay, from now on I’ll assume you have the basics. Hang on,” she said. She dropped the blanket and went to the kitchen and pulled out a plastic bag.
“In here somewhere,” she said, digging through the trash. “Nectar of the Gods!” she announced, pulling out the crumpled blue Doritos bag. “Take this with you. Anything that comes in a bag like this and is in the same aisle will be suitable,” she said, handing him the bag.
“I’m taking a bag of trash with me to the shop?”
“We call these snacks.”
“Are they even food?”
“Depends on who you ask. They’re good and they take years to kill you. I know, sounds stupid when I say it out loud. I hear it. But if we’re going to go on a road trip together, then we have to have them. Got it? Toilet paper and snacks for the road, when we eventually get on it. We don’t have much time left.”
“Fully aware,” said Correk. “We have to be sure we’re not walking into some kind of trap.”
“I want to ask you if you use toilet paper on Oriceran but I’m sensing that’s out of bounds too.” Leira looked up and saw that Correk wasn’t moving.
“Yes, I know something’s wrong,” Leira said, annoyed. “I’m still a damn fine detective and this is my town. Hell, this is my country, my world. I don’t run from anything. If there’s a monster out there, we’ll find it, tag it and bring it in. Go to the store. I’ve been taking care of myself for years. I’ll survive another hour on my own.”
“I’m not worried about that. I want your word you won’t decide to
leave without me.”
“That’s sweet, you do get me,” she snapped. “Don’t make me say this to you again, Bert, I’m a fucking good detective. I don’t run into situations without knowing as much as possible, first. You say there’s more to the story, then there’s more to the story. I’m beginning to think there’s an entire fucking anthology.”
The troll, the size of an overgrown house cat bounded into the room growling at Correk.
“See? Nothing to worry about. I have an attack troll, a gun and a pretty good right hook. Wait, you can’t go out there like that unless you want to keep telling people you’re heading to work at Sherwood Forest. Not sure they even have elves.”
Leira dug around in the bottom of her closet and found an old red knit hat from the milk crate in the back. She pulled a large green windbreaker off a hangar and handed them to Correk.
“Put these on. The jacket should fit you.”
“I assure you, my cape has seen me through many Oriceran winters.”
“I’m not doubting the cape, just the look. Take the coat. I borrowed it from Hagan when we were on a long stakeout. The rest just looks like a typical day in Austin,” she said, looking at the brown suede pants that laced up the sides. “Very typical Austin, where hippies go to retire.”
“That is the second time someone has suggested this forest.”
“Let it go. Earth humor,” said Leira, sneezing again. “If I tell you to get Dayquil, do I have a shot at seeing it?”
“Can you add some remnant of it to my trash bag?”
“Can you conjure up an image of it with one of your magic fireballs? By the way, I know you’ve been following me from the moment I got back from Oriceran.”
“Yes, you yelled at me underneath your car. That clued me in.” He pulled the hat on over pointed ears. “Something you should know about magic on Earth. It’s limited. I have to conserve my energy for times when a fireball or an incantation is really needed. Making sure I get the right snacks for you doesn’t count.”
