by Peter Telep
Needless to say, the lessons were over. She ripped me out of the driver’s seat. I thought she’d make me walk home.
She didn’t, but she wouldn’t look at me for a week, even though my father paid to have the car fixed. I apologized five hundred times. She called me an idiot six hundred times.
Then one day she caught me sitting in my father’s Toyota. I was in the driveway with the windows down. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere. Dad was too busy to take me out, and the rules say you need a licensed driver with you at all times. So there I was, closing my eyes and pretending to drive.
Without being asked, Julie opened the door and slid into the passenger’s seat. “So?”
“So what?”
“You got keys?”
“Yeah.”
“You wreck this car, at least it’s not mine.”
“You serious?”
“You want to practice or not?”
“Awesome. But wait. Should we tell my father?”
“Like he’ll listen? You know how he is when he’s working.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell him I asked, and he said okay.”
She smiled. “He won’t even remember.”
I started the engine, moved the shifter into drive, and nearly hit my garage door.
“You need to back out in reverse,” Julie said sarcastically. “See? R is for reverse.”
“I’m just nervous. Sorry.”
After that, things settled down.
We stopped at a red light, and I asked, “Are you still mad at me for messing up your car?”
“What do you think?”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because you feel sorry for me?”
She made a face. “No.”
“Because I’m like your little brother?”
“Sort of.”
“Well, I’m not. I don’t want to be that.”
She smirked and pointed at the traffic light. “I know what you want. And you’ll never get it.”
“Don’t be so sure…”
“Green light. Shut up and drive.”
I checked my mirrors and hit the gas. For just a second, I felt like we were on a date. She was like my girlfriend.
I was a man behind the wheel of a car.
Stud with a capital S.
In reality I was just a sad geek whose stepmother had walked out on him the week before—
So Julie was feeling sorry for me.
But that was Julie. When I needed help, she’d be there, even if I smashed up her car.
And the truth is, I was crying before Julie found me.
Why?
Because it was Grace who’d promised to give me driving lessons. She’s not my biological mother (and she’s not even Floran), but she’s the only mom I’ve had since I was three.
She taught me the alphabet and bought me my very first Donkey Kong game. Every morning before kindergarten she would put gel in my hair and style it and tell me I was the most handsome young man she ever saw.
When I was in middle school and dad was away so much doing research, we’d go on adventures up to St. Augustine for a long weekend or down to Sanibel Island, where she taught me how to find some great shells by digging in the surf.
During the boring summer months, she’d take me to the movies. She didn’t mind my sitting through a bunch of superheroes fighting for two hours, and she always bought lots of popcorn and red licorice.
I remember one long day of shopping when she helped me pick out a charm bracelet that I gave Julie for her birthday. That night she cooked hamburgers and taught us to make McDonald’s “special sauce” using ketchup and mayonnaise and other super secret ingredients.
She loved my father because they were exact opposites, and she loved me like her own son, even after I discovered she was my stepmother. I told her that it didn’t matter. She was my mom. Period.
But after she left, I hated her. I thought going to Seattle was selfish. Yes, all three of us were living separate lives, and I could see why she wanted to leave. Dad said it was for the best, but he sounded really hurt. Over time, I began to let it go, and I got used to living without her. It wasn’t so bad. No one was bugging me to clean up my room or wear a shirt that wasn’t so wrinkled or turn down my Bluetooth speaker.
Also, Julie’s mom kind of slipped in and assumed Grace’s place, always acting very motherly and praising me for schoolwork and other stuff.
And then when Hollis gave me my real mother’s immortal, I was able to experience parts of my her life as though I actually was her. I understood how she felt when she married my father and when I was born. It was incredible, but they were only moments, and the woman herself did not raise me.
I guess I’m lucky to have Lori, Grace, and Alina in my life. And when you have three moms, it’s weird but necessary to use their first names when talking to other people.
So here’s mom, I mean Grace, standing right in front of me, and I’m not sure if I want to scream at her, hug her, or save her.
“Docherty, do you hear me? Who are these guys? Why do they have guns?”
Before I can answer, Tommy and my father rush outside—
“Which one of you is Harrison?” barks the taller nomad.
“I am,” answers Tommy, shifting in front of my father to shield him.
“He’s lying,” my father says. “I’m Thaddeus Harrison. And I know who you are.”
The nomad raises his bushy brows. “Then you know why we’re here. Where is it?”
“What’s he talking about?” I ask my father—
But he’s not listening to me.
He’s spotted Grace. He’s blown away. The nomad keeps talking, but neither of us listen. I’m watching my father watching her.
“Grace?” he asks.
“I picked up some donuts,” she says, lowering her gaze to the sidewalk. “The ones you like. But these jerks grabbed me, and the box fell open.”
The nomad lifts his pistol at my father. “Take us to the engine. Right now.”
“Roger that,” Tommy says, moving forward to once again shield my father. “The engine’s just inside. Let’s go before the neighbors see us and call the police.”
The nomad glances around the neighborhood and spots a car coming down the road. “We’ll follow you.”
As we head up the driveway, Keane says he’ll grab the box and gather up the donuts.
Back in the house, we shift into the living room, where my father scowls at Grace. “You just come by with donuts? Like nothing ever happened? No call? No text? Nothing?” he asks.
“Can we do family drama later?” Meeka asks. “I want to know what happened to our security?”
“What security?” asks the taller nomad.
“Now boys?” Tommy says, singing his words. “Y’all failed to think this through. I got no idea why you want to go back to Flora, and frankly I don’t care, but the engine’s locked up. You can’t use it without us.”
“Well that’s why we’re here,” says the taller nomad.
“With guns and threats?” Tommy asks. “You coulda rung the bell.”
The taller nomad grins darkly. “You think you’re funny?”
“Look here, we’ll send you back—you and the rest of those knuckle draggers working for Solomon. Truth is, we’ve been looking for y’all. But now we got a problem.”
“No, you got a problem.”
“Listen to me, son. Did you kill my security team? Because if you did, I promise you one thing: you won’t leave this house alive.” Tommy steps forward. “Well, did you, son?”
Before the nomad can answer, the front door creaks open.
Keane slips inside holding the box of donuts. He’s got a frosted one with sprinkles hanging out of his mouth.
CHAPTER FIVE
Major Thomas McMillan is a United States Marine who breaks bones but not promises.
Before the nomad can blink, Tommy rips the pistol from the guy’s ha
nds and aims it at the shorter one, who trips back into the wall, shouting, “Whoa, hold your fire!”
“We gonna talk nice?” Tommy asks.
“Look, we got here this morning,” says the taller guy. “We saw this lady drive up. We thought taking a hostage might get us to the engine. And by the way, there’s no security out there. No one.”
“This is my fault,” Tommy tells my father. “I got distracted with all this and forgot to check-in with them. Now what happened? I had Rific on that shift.”
“I’ll see what’s going on,” my father says.
As he rushes off, Tommy faces the nomads. “We’ll get you boys home. But first, your weapons…”
The taller one’s gaze narrows and pans the room, like he’s plotting something. “No, we’re not playing it that way.”
“Son, did you forget your glasses?” Tommy asks.
“I don’t wear glasses.”
“Well then you need a pair. I want you to look at me. I’m the guy holding your weapon, the one you failed to control, and I’m pointing it at your head.”
“I’m standing down,” says the shorter nomad. He lowers his own pistol and looks to his partner. “Come on, Landry, we can’t do to this. They already said they’ll send us back.”
Meanwhile, Grace is totally confused. This will be an interesting day for her.
Tommy lowers the pistol, if only a little, and asks, “So your name’s Landry?”
The nomad takes a deep breath, thrusts out his chest, and sneers at Tommy. “My name is Landry Centennial Ethgard.”
“That’s a real good name. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re from Promised Land, South Carolina, just like me.”
“And I’m Boonwalla,” says the shorter one, handing his pistol to Meeka. “I’m not trying to impress you, so you can just call me Boonwalla, thanks.”
Tommy snorts. “Now that’s an interesting name.”
“Yeah. Obviously my parents hated me.”
Meeka lifts Boonwalla’s pistol and expertly removes the magazine. She racks the slide to eject the round in the chamber, and then hands the unloaded weapon to Tommy, along with the loaded magazine. She leans down to retrieve the loose bullet from the carpet.
Tommy thanks her, and then adds, “Now boys we ain’t done yet. I want your knives, your extra magazines, all of it.” He tips his head to Steffanie.
Landry sighs loudly in disgust and digs out another pistol, two magazines, and three knives, including one tucked inside his boot that Steffanie discovers with a bit of probing.
Boonwalla lowers his head and wipes his eyes. I’m not sure, but he may be crying.
“You all right?” I ask.
He glances up, looks embarrassed, and laughs. “Yeah, it’s just… we thought we might be the last Florans on Earth.”
“What do you mean?” Keane asks.
“Everyone’s gone.”
“What?” I ask.
“Before I tell you, can we get some donuts? We haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Keane shrugs. “They got some grass on them.”
“We don’t care.”
The nomads grab two donuts each. After taking a huge bite, Boonwalla continues, chewing loudly as he speaks:
“After Solomon exploded or whatever happened to him on the island, most of us stayed together.”
“That’s not what we saw,” Keane says.
“I know. A few guys ran wild, but most of us joined the nomads so we could belong to something. Landry and I are ex-military. We like structure and order.”
“Oorah,” Tommy says with a nod.
“Yeah, but then we get here, and it’s chaos. We got no IDs and no money, so we can’t do anything. After a few days, we got together with some of the guys, and we decided, okay, we’ll stick together and figure this out. But then last night, something happened.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“We’re not sure. But like I said, everyone was just… gone.”
“They ran away?”
“Maybe. But they left everything, even their guns.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah, maybe they found another engine. But why would they leave without us?”
“Maybe they didn’t trust us,” says Landry, removing his ball cap to reveal a familiar scar on his forehead:
It’s a capital letter Q with a slash through it, the symbol of the Monkshood and its members known as “despers.” They hate the First Ones and think our entire existence is just part of an experiment created by them. They poison their wreaths to protest being controlled. Dad says they “drink the Kool-Aid” because they’ve been brainwashed.
Boonwalla lifts his cap to reveal a similar mark.
“They used to be despers,” Meeka confirms.
“So you poisoned your wreaths?” I ask.
Boonwalla nods. “We started to, but then we changed our minds. We can still translate other languages, but we can’t use our personas, so we couldn’t look for our friends.”
“You talk too much,” Landry says, his lips now covered in powdered sugar. “I don’t trust them.”
“But you trusted the Monkshood and Solomon? So maybe I’ll be the judge of who we trust from now on?”
Meeka grins. “Ouch.”
Landry’s about to defend himself—
Just as my father returns. “We’ve lost contact with all our security teams, even the one at the safe house.”
“I was just there,” says Keane.
“You see them?”
“I thought their job wasn’t to be seen.”
“What about the rumms?” Steffanie asks.
“I called, and they’re fine,” my father answers.
Tommy lifts his chin at the nomads. “Gentlemen?”
As he escorts Landry and Boonwalla toward the kitchen table, I look to Grace, make eye contact, and then lead her onto the back porch, where my father joins us.
Keane, Steffanie, and Meeka see what’s going on, so they give us some alone time. They join Tommy as he interrogates the nomads. I hope he finds the others like Rific who’ve been so loyal to us. They wouldn’t just run off, would they? If so, what would make them do that? Or who?
Grace shuts the sliding glass door and gives my father that look. “Thad, what kind of trouble are you in now?”
My father ignores her. “What’re you doing here?”
“You sound bitter.”
“What do you expect?”
“When I left, you didn’t say a word.”
“Maybe I was in shock,” he says.
“Maybe you didn’t care.”
My father closes his eyes and takes an exaggerated breath. “We’re not going through this again.”
“So why’d you come back?” I ask. “Did you find yourself?”
My question is honest and contains no sarcasm. When she left, she tried to explain her feelings. She felt like she was at war inside. I thought she might change her mind.
She smiles, but there’s something’s wrong in her eyes. “I tried calling a few weeks ago, but neither of you answered.”
I want to tell her that we had a good excuse: Dad was abducted by Solomon’s men and I was on another planet, trying to get back home to rescue him.
She goes on, “I know this is wrong. And I’ve never had good timing for anything. So what’s happening here?”
“It’s a research project,” I blurt out. “With some friends from school and dad’s company. So now we’re having a few security issues because it’s for the government.”
Grace frowns. “Really? Is Julie involved? Where is she? And what does Alina think about all this?”
I just look at my father, and neither of us answers.
Grace continues: “So now you’ve got him involved in your work? Are you endangering our son?”
“Our son?”
“Thad, I came here to apologize.”
“Are you kidding me?
“I need time with both of you.”
&nb
sp; “Let me drop everything.”
“Thad, listen to me—
“No, you listen to me. This is not a good time.”
“But don’t you see? That’s my problem.”
“What?”
Her voice cracks. “Time. I don’t have much.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“God, this is selfish. I wish it wasn’t.”
I harden my voice. “Grace, what’re you talking about?”
“I’m talking about hating doctors and waiting too long.”
I stiffen. “What? You’re sick?”
“I’m being punished for leaving.” She lowers her head.
I look at my father. The glasses come off. The eyes widen. The mouth drops, but he’s holding back any more emotions.
My voice softens. “Mom, how sick are you?”
“Very… sick.”
“Are you…” I can barely say it. “Are you… dying?”
She glances up and nods. “It’s already stage four. Not much they can do.”
“Oh, no.”
She closes her eyes, bites her lip, and nods again.
“But how did you get it? You were always talking about living healthy and eating good stuff.”
“Sometimes cancer doesn’t care about that, Doc.”
I want to hate Grace for leaving us and then showing up like this. The old wound has been reopened. But she’s… she’s my mom. And now she needs me.
But so does Julie. This can’t be happening.
CHAPTER SIX
TO: The Universe
FROM: Docherty Harrison
SUBJECT: Worst day of my life
How can you do this to me? How is this fair?
You drop the bomb twice in one day?
Really?
You cheated me. I’ll get revenge. You just wait.
Docherty Harrison
Alien from the planet Flora
So does threatening the universe make me feel better?
Nope. I actually feel nauseous now.
A hand slides across my shoulders. “Oh, Doc, breathe,” Grace says. “Come on, just breathe.”
