by Jeff Altabef
The skyscrapers scream “look at me” like a toddler might shout after building a tower of Legos, right before a bigger kid comes over to knock them down.
Troy shifts the helmet in his hands. “Of course they can’t compete with those. Those rock formations were created when the world started, when the First Man lived and life began. How could we build something to match that?”
“I guess we can’t.” I shrug. “It’s just that New York always sparkles in the movies like it’s the center of the universe and magic glistens off the skyscrapers.”
I’ve always wanted to visit this city. I thought the skyline would make my jaw drop in awe. I wanted to see magic, as silly and childish as that sounds, and now there’s none.
“We’re not going to find magic here. This place gives me the chills.” He shakes his head. “Why would so many people want to live on top of each other? Look at those apartment buildings. There’s no connection to Mother Earth with all the concrete and glass.”
He doesn’t understand, but I do. Humans are herd animals. We like the company of others—not the grouchy next door neighbor who drinks too much, but energy surrounds us when we gather. Our hearts pump faster and our thoughts quicken.
“It looks awfully big. We have to find the Inn and we only have the symbol to go on.” My stomach tightens. It’s possible to feel alone in the middle of a big party or a crowded city or on the New Jersey Turnpike with cars whizzing by you. I have Troy with me, but I still feel alone and that frightens me. I can’t shake the idea that I’m no longer part of the herd.
I know we need to find the Inn because the Alphians gave me that information. I drank a fluid that had secret bits of knowledge embedded into it. At times, the information bubbles up to the surface of my thoughts, as if I’ve read a book and remember parts of it at odd moments. It’s frustrating because everything is so fragmented. For instance, I know we need to go to New York City and find the Inn that uses a certain symbol. The other Chosen are supposed to gather there and we’ll meet an Alphian who’s called a Host. He will help guide us, but I don’t know what the Host looks like or what his role will be. All I know for certain is that the Inn is in this giant city and we’ve got to find it among the monstrous glass and steel buildings.
Troy grins. “No problem. I have an idea.”
We jump on the bike, drive through the Lincoln Tunnel and emerge in the middle of the city as if we break the surface of a river. Skyscrapers are everywhere, and we’re plunged into a vast canyon where the buildings are massive cliffs.
Troy somehow manages to weave his way through the crazy number of cars that all have minds of their own. Cabs in particular have no compunction about cutting us off, and they stop wherever they want. He has to jerk the bike hard to the right to avoid one that swerved in front of us to pick up a fare.
When he pulls the bike in front of New Beginnings headquarters on 44th Street and 11th Avenue, sweat coats my back. Tall glass doors mark the main entrance, and a mural depicting young adults of different races, sizes, and shapes that head inside the building flanks the front doors, where a few teenagers mingle.
The building reminds me of a high school. Above the entrance is a round powder blue sign with the name “New Beginnings” spelled around the edges. In the center of the logo is an open door with light streaming through it.
I hand Troy my helmet as he locks the bike next to three others. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“No, but Landon’s always been cool. He’s lived here for three years now, so if anyone’s going to know what that symbol means, it’s him.”
Troy’s cousin finished two tours as a Marine in Afghanistan. The last time he came back, he seemed different—not talk-to-imaginary-people different, but damaged in a noticeable way, as if some of his soul had been stripped from him. He refused to look people in the eyes, and he cringed at loud noises and shrank away from crowds. We were all surprised when he decided to move to New York.
I’m not sure seeing him is a good idea. “If he calls back home or tries to turn us in, we’ll have problems. When was the last time you even talked to him?”
“Must be three years ago when he was discharged from the Marines. Aunt Jane says he loves working here.”
I hesitate at the doors, and the wind flips strands of loose hair across my face.
“Come on. He’s family. It’ll be fine.”
Troy tugs on my arm and we go inside. To the left is a common area with walls painted bright colors, a small sitting area set up around cube-shaped chairs, and three knots of teenagers who chat around the edges, smiling and laughing. We amble to the right, toward a security guard, a glass partition, and a metal detector.
“We’d like to see Landon Black Bear Asher,” Troy tells the mountain-sized guard.
The guard slowly washes his eyes over us. We must have passed some test because he points at the metal detector. “You’ll have to give me those bags and go through the detectors. We don’t let visitors bring bags into the dorms.”
Troy glances at me and I nod. What else can we do?
We stroll through the metal detector and hand the guard our bags—Troy’s with our clothes and cash, and mine with the Seeker Slayer hidden inside. As I hand him my cinch bag, a cold chill settles in my bones and butterflies flutter in my stomach. It’s foolish—we’re not going to face any Deltites here—but I remember what happened the last time I left it behind.
The guard sticks our bags into cubbies and points to an office down the hall. “Let them know you want to see Landon. They’ll ring him.”
A young woman with dark skin, long dreadlocks, and bright caramel-colored eyes sits behind the desk. With her runner’s build she could easily have been a track star.
We tell her we want to see Landon.
She doesn’t ask our names but smiles at us, her eyes sizing us up with that same look the security guard gave us. We pass the unknown test again, because a moment later she sends us down a hallway with instructions to meet Landon in the third office on our left.
“What does he do again?” I ask Troy as we amble toward his office.
“They take in homeless kids—” Troy points to the logo on the wall and grins. “—and give them new beginnings.”
“Oh.” That explains the looks we’ve been getting. With the number of kids flowing through these doors they probably have to make quick assessments about them all the time. I’m sure most are harmless, but some must have deep scars by the time they get here. Those types of experiences can change a person.
We reach Landon’s office and find the door open and him sitting behind a desk. He could be Troy’s brother, with the same body type—wide, strong but not sculpted like workout junkies you’ll find in gyms. His hair is crew cut short, and a few patches of gray mingle with his black hair, which surprises me because he can’t be thirty yet.
When we walk in, his eyes lift from the computer screen and a broad smile lights his tanned face. “Holy cow! Look what the cat dragged in—Troy Buckhorn and Juliet Wildfire Stone.” He slips around the desk and shakes Troy’s hand. “It is good,” he says.
Troy takes his hand and repeats the traditional Dine’ greeting. “It is good.”
Landon wraps him in a tight hug, and they look like two bears wrestling. Once he releases Troy, he looks at me and turns down his lips at the ends. “I’m sorry about Jake. Your grandfather was an inspired healer. He helped me a great deal.”
My heart swells with pride. I know Sicheii helped many people, but I never asked him about it—not in any real detail. I wish I had. “Really? I didn’t know that he helped you.”
“I brought a few dark spirits back with me from Afghanistan. He taught me how to put my world back in balance. They still haunt me now and again, but I can deal with them.”
My eyes moisten.
Landon squeezes my hand. “He’s still with us. A spirit as strong as his could never disappear. He’s watching over you from the shadow lands. You’ll never be without his
guidance so long as you open your spirit to his.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. He’ll haunt me forever.” We chuckle and the sadness passes. It doesn’t fade completely, but it slips to the back of my mind.
“You two have certainly created quite a stir back home. Mom’s called me three times. The whole Tribe’s worried about you. They want me to lead a search.”
I grin nervously at him. “I guess we made your job easier, but we don’t want to be found just yet.”
Landon’s eyes sparkle. “We’ll talk. How about lunch? There’s a great pizza place down the block.”
Troy rubs his stomach like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Pizza sounds awfully good.”
I roll my eyes.
“What?” he asks me.
“We just ate an hour ago.”
He doesn’t eat like our friend Marlon back home, who inhales food as if he’s always starving, but Troy will never pass up fast food like pizza, tacos, or burgers.
He smirks at me. “It’s an insult to turn down food from a member of the Tribe. I’m just being polite.”
Landon leads us back to the front door, his shoulders swaying confidently, his head high and his back straight. He seems whole, which is much better than he looked the last time we met. A green, long sleeve T-shirt fits snug over his muscled frame, and beige cargo pants swish as he walks.
I follow a step behind as we walk through the empty hallway. “So, what’s New Beginnings? What exactly goes on here?”
“We provide new starts for homeless kids. We give them food, a safe place to stay, medical care, addiction counseling, and education.”
When we reach the metal detector, the security guard hands us our bags.
On the way out, Landon stops in front of a young man and woman who are in the middle of a quiet conversation near the front door. “Hey, John,” he says as he clasps the young man on the shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be in the interview workshop?”
John combs his hands through his long straight hair. “They rescheduled the class until later. Don’t worry, I’m not skipping out.”
“Good.” Landon turns toward the young woman. “Amy, I heard you missed Group yesterday.” He crosses his arms against his chest, his eyes narrow. “You’ve got to stick with the program.”
“Do you know everything that goes on around here?” She shoots him a half-smile and puts her hands on her hips.
“Only the important stuff. What happened?”
“Job interview with CVS.”
Landon arches one of his eyebrows upward. “How’d it go? Did you land the job?”
“We’ll find out later today.”
“Good.” Landon winks at her, and we head out the door.
“Amy’s going to get that job,” he tells us when we hit the street.
“How do you know?” asks Troy as he speeds up to keep abreast of us.
Landon marches us down 44th. “The assistant manager at that CVS is one of my first kids. I called him yesterday to set it up.”
“Does she know?”
“Nope. We all have secrets. That’s okay, so long as they aren’t harmful. Most of the time these kids just need to know someone cares about them and is paying attention to them. Plus, a kick in the rear every now and again comes in handy.”
We reach 10th Avenue and Landon leads us into a small pizzeria. It’s around two o’clock so the place is empty. As we stroll into the restaurant, a middle-aged guy with a round face and a gold necklace recognizes him and points to the back. “Your table is open. Do you want the usual?”
Landon looks at me. “Is pepperoni, sausage, and meatball good?”
There’s no need to ask Troy. His tongue practically flops out of his mouth.
“You bet,” I say.
I sit opposite Landon at the metal table in the back corner. “They seem to know you here.”
“Sometimes I do initial intake sessions here. People open up after they have food in their bellies.”
“Is that what you’re doing with us?” I shoot him a pointed look. We’re not homeless kids looking for a place to stay. He shouldn’t use tricks on us.
He leans back in his chair and smirks. “Maybe, but I’m hungry and Anthony’s has the best pizza in town.”
Just then the waiter brings over a large pie and places it in front of us. Troy jumps in almost before the waiter leaves.
I grab a small piece and take a bite. Landon’s right; the flavors explode in my mouth, the best pizza I’ve ever tasted by a wide margin. Nothing else should even be called pizza.
After we’ve all finished a slice, Landon asks, “So, what’s going on? Why’d you guys run?”
Troy and I share a look. He’ll never believe the truth, and he shouldn’t be involved in this mess. I already feel bad about Troy. “We didn’t run away permanently. There’s just something we need to do here before we go back.”
“And this thing is secret, right?” When we nod, he asks, “What can I do to help you with this super-secret-you-can’t-tell-me-at-all thing?”
Troy stops shoveling pizza into his mouth long enough to say, “We need to find a place. We don’t know the name, but it has a distinctive logo. We figure you might have seen it around.”
Landon clasps his beefy hands together and places them on the table in front of him. “Okay, here’s the deal. Trust is a two-way street. I’ll help, but there are a few conditions. First, you need to check in with me every other day. I need to know you’re safe. Second, you’ve got to send some proof of life back home. You don’t need to tell them where you are or what you’re doing, but they shouldn’t be worried that you’ve been abducted by aliens or worse.”
I glance toward the front of the restaurant and spot a mom with a young daughter. Pink ribbons tie the girl’s straight blonde hair into pigtails. She couldn’t be older than five. The mom orders one slice and the girl jumps up and down. I envy them, their ignorance. They don’t know about Deltites, or the Chosen, or the fate of the world.
I turn back toward Landon and nod my agreement, sealing our deal.
“All right, so what’s this symbol look like?” Landon asks, grabbing his second slice of pizza.
“It’ll be better if I draw it.”
He hands me a pen and I start to sketch on a white paper plate.
“Do you guys need money or a place to stay?” he asks while I draw.
Troy mumbles as the words compete with space for his third slice of pizza. “No, but I left my motorcycle back by New Beginnings. Is it going to be safe there?”
Landon grins. “I’ll put a NB sticker on it. You’re part of the family now. We look after each other.”
He sounds serious, and his eyes sparkle as if he’s found a treasure he wants to share with us. New Beginnings is more than a job to him; it’s become a family, a replacement for what he felt with the Marines before he fought and killed overseas.
His emotions flood through me in a heartbeat. I pick up intense emotions from others easier than reading thoughts. Often they just whip through me without me doing anything. I hate when that happens.
I take a deep breath and pass him the plate with my sketch of the logo on it. The logo combines all four of our symbols—the twisted arrows, samurai swords, muskets, and English long swords. A circle encloses them, separated into fourths by swooping curved teardrop-shaped lines. Each section has a different symbol, so if I squint, it resembles a weird wheel with spokes.
Landon studies it for a second and looks back at us. “That’s curious. I’ve seen it before. It’s the symbol of a small boutique hotel in the Village. It’s kind of upscale. Is that what you want?”
“Sounds right.” I take back the plate from him.
“There’s one more condition.” He crosses his arms and his voice turns stern. Whatever the condition, he won’t negotiate with us.
“You have one week. If you can’t complete your secret mission by then, you’ve got to come completely clean with me, and I get to decide if you stay or go home.�
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Troy frowns at me. We’ve never discussed how long this would take.
I consider it for the first time.
You don’t need to see or touch something to be convinced that it’s real. We learn facts in school we could never verify with our senses, and yet we know they’re true. I’m certain Seekers are coming for me even if I don’t have any physical proof of it. If we can’t defeat them in a week, it’ll be too late. They’ll have found us.
“Deal.” I reach out and shake his hand.
He writes an address on the paper plate and hands it to me. “How about I show you guys around the City tonight? I’m doing an outreach run. You’ll see parts of the City they’ll never show you on any other tour.”
“Sure,” Troy and I say at the same time.
“Good.” Landon beams a bright smile at us. “The run starts at midnight. Meet me back at NB headquarters and don’t be late.”
I close my eyes and a sudden thunderclap rips open my skull. The pain is so intense it makes me dizzy, but the storm dissipates as suddenly as it came. When I open my eyes, I study Troy for a moment as he shovels the last bite of his third slice into his mouth. A faint aura surrounds him—a soft white light. Landon has one also, but his has small swirls of black around the edges. I shake my head and glance at the waiter, who has an aura also—light gray. The cook by the pizza oven is surrounded by gray light tinged with a muddled red as he pounds flat a new ball of dough.
I don’t know what it means, but I realize with dread that my aberration traits have kicked up to seven.
When do I stop being human and become something else?
Has it happened already?
We finish lunch, leave the pizzeria, and take the Number 1 subway train to West 4th Street. We stand in the middle without holding onto the metal poles, like surfing in a tin can deep underground, only instead of riding waves we’re on rails that wail and make sudden turns we can’t see.
The train stops unexpectedly with a screech of the brakes and I fly forward. Troy grabs me a moment before I careen into a stuffy looking man wearing a business suit. He glares at us, but we laugh, and I feel light for the first time in days—almost like I used to be.
