by Peter Telep
Grandpa lifts his head and opens his mouth in the most intimidating yawn we’ve ever seen, exposing every tooth.
And then he settles back down. Bored.
Barely a second later, the grren we left behind charge into the cave, huffing and shaking the rain off their backs.
They take one look at us—
And break into a chorus of hissing.
Grandpa leaps into his personas, and all six glowing cats surround the newcomers. Meanwhile, he remains in the nest, still recovering from his hard run.
The new grren jump into their own personas to connect, and now the cave sounds like an animal shelter, with all the barking, clicking, and hissing rising into a debate.
“Can I say I’m scared out of my mind!” shouts Steffanie above all the noise.
“I know, right?” I reply. “But I think we’re okay. They’re not hungry anymore.”
To my surprise, Meeka drapes my arm over her shoulder and tucks her head into my neck. “I’m sorry, Doc. I’m not sure any of this is working.”
I clutch her shoulder and squeeze more tightly.
All the “conversation,” if you could call it that, tapers off as Grandpa draws back his personas. The new grren settle down and begin licking their paws. One grren actually picks flesh from his teeth while another shakes rain from her ears.
Steffanie backs away and finds a spot on the floor against the wall. She pulls her knees into her chest and closes her eyes.
“So here we are,” Meeka says through a deep sigh. “In a dark cave full of monsters.”
“Could be worse.”
“Really?” she asks.
“Yeah, we could still be mad at each other.”
“Who says we’re not?”
“So you’re just using me as a pillow?”
She laughs under her breath. “Yeah.”
“Okay, so we can take a little break. But after that, we need to get out of here. I’ll try again. Maybe I’ll get through.”
“Maybe we should just wait. You’ll jump, connect, and then we’ll be okay, just a few hours late.”
“Yeah, but the flooding in Verbena.”
“I know, but it might be the only way.”
“Can I ask you something?”
She tenses. “Here we go again. What?”
“Do you wanna live forever?”
“Do you?”
I shrug. “I’m asking you.”
She lifts her head to meet my gaze. “Why?”
My lip twitches. “Just curious.”
“So isn’t it obvious?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you know about Swiff. He died on me, along with all those kids on my bike. No one should have to go through that. It’s just wrong.”
“But that’s life, right?”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Meeka, let me tell you something, what Solomon has? That’s wrong. You don’t want it.”
She glances back at Steffanie, as though she realizes we’ve been talking. “You don’t know what I want.”
“Maybe not. But I know my father’s here to kill him. There won’t be any lessons on how to live forever.”
“Oh, what a shocker. Your father’s company destroyed my life. Plus, he’s a liar who drugged us without permission, and now he plans to kill someone—”
“Because Solomon is insane. He would’ve killed everyone to get what he wants. But you know, we’re not even sure we can do it. I mean how do you kill someone like him?”
“Maybe you don’t. Because you shouldn’t. Because maybe we can learn something from him.”
“Wow, really?’ I ask. “You were the first one on line to put a bullet in his head.”
“I’ll still kill him. But I want to know what he is first.”
I draw back my head. “So you lied to me.”
“About what?”
I glance at Steffanie. “About coming for her.”
“I am here for her.”
“Do you feel better saying that?”
She throws up her hands. “Whatever.”
“Meeka, listen to me. When we find Solomon, don’t get in the way.”
She snorts. “That’s a threat?”
“Just an F-Y-I.”
“You know, maybe we’re done here. Steff? You ready?”
“For what?” she asks.
“We’re leaving.”
“Sounds great,” Steffanie says. “We’ll just call an Uber and have them drive us home. Oh, can we stop at Chipotle first?”
“Get up,” Meeka orders.
Steffanie hardens her gaze. “Sorry, I’m not leaving.”
“Fine.” Meeka stomps off toward the exit.
I jog after her and catch up, just as she steps into the rain. “Hey, come on!”
She stops and rips around. “No.”
“Look, I’m sorry, but –
“I don’t know what she told you, but you don’t get it.”
“Then teach me.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry about your parents, but I have to go.”
“Go where?”
“Away.”
“You can’t leave now.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
I grab her hands.
She looks down at them. “You’re trembling.”
I’m suddenly embarrassed. “I know. Because I need you.”
We just stand there, getting drenched, until she swears, pulls out of my grip, and stomps back into the cave.
I follow her inside, where she turns, grabs me by the neck, and kisses me. Hard.
It feels good. I shouldn’t like it, but I do. I pull back and ask, “Why do you do that? It’s so random.”
“I know,” she admits.
“So what’re we doing?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
From the corner of my eye comes a flash. My gaze drifts past Meeka toward the light outside—
Toward Julie, still dressed in that shimmering cloak and standing there in the pouring rain.
It’s her persona. And she’s there. Really there. This isn’t some dream or weird vision, I know it.
Steffanie and the grren are still in the back of the cave and can’t see her.
“Meeka, turn around. Look,” I say.
But Julie’s already gone.
And there’s nothing left but falling rain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“What am I looking at?” Meeka asks.
“Uh, I thought I saw something. I guess not.”
She stares at me for a second and then sighs loudly in disgust. “I guess we’re both messed up.”
“Yeah, and it’s not like we have the greatest chemistry, but something keeps happening.”
She looks away. “And now something bad will happen.”
“What do you mean?”
She faces me and hardens her gaze. “You heard me.”
I smile crookedly in disbelief. “You think you’re a bad luck charm? Well, you’re not.” I slide out of her grip, about to go.
“Doc, it’s just… nothing’s ever easy for me.”
There are so many things I could tell her right now.
It’s true. I do feel something for her. But she’s right. I’m messed up. Confused. I want to save Julie. I want to believe Julie has feelings for me, too. But I saw her room. I’m barely in any of her pictures. I need to accept the fact that she’s only a friend. She’ll never be more than a friend.
And Meeka’s right here, trying to like me even though she’s scared.
I don’t know what else to say, so I just nod and head back to the nest, where Grandpa is snoring his head off.
“Hey, come on, wake up,” I urge him.
He eventually stirs, lifts his head, and then rolls over, the jewels in his eyes spinning slowly, vaguely.
“Okay, check this out,” I say, beginning to thumb through my entire photo library. He glances at the photos, but his head starts to droop.
; In the meantime, Meeka drifts over to Steffanie, and they trade whispers while looking at me. Great.
As I swipe through the gallery, I reach a photo of me and Keane with our lips thrust out, our cheeks sunk in: the classic duck face. We’re at the safe house, watching TV and diving into a plate of nachos made from over five pounds of cheese.
Grandpa catches me smiling. His eyes narrow, and then he raises his head and curls his lips—
A smile!
I nod. “Yeah, that’s right.”
And then I swipe to a picture of me and Grace at the beach on Sanibel Island. She’s wearing her favorite straw hat and shark’s tooth necklace. Her nose shines white from suntan lotion. “That’s my mom,” I tell him, gesturing that she’s trapped in Verbena, too. “I wish you could help her.”
Grandpa takes a deep breath. He looks at the picture, and then at the map Steffanie drew in the sand.
Behind him, his six personas ignite, casting a green glow across the cave. They all stare at the picture Steffanie drew of the temple, along with the Monkshood Q symbol, before they disappear.
“Where’s he going?” Meeka asks.
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “Maybe I got through to him. Maybe he’s going down to the temple in Verbena. In fact, I think he is!”
Meeka looks hopeful. “Yeah.”
“It’s still raining outside,” Steffanie says.
“And we’re running out of time,” I say, pushing up to my feet. With legs sore from the day’s pedaling, I hobble over to the girls. “Try jumping again.”
Their eyes crinkle under the effort. So do mine.
This feels like being locked in a room and wearing a belt that’s way too tight.
“I’ve been thinking about our situation,” Steffanie begins.
“Suddenly you’re the brains?” Meeka asks.
“Yeah, since you’re distracted.”
“Shut up.”
Steffanie snorts and continues: “So if your wreath works and a mask shows up, you get taken.”
“That’s what it looks like,” I say.
“Or it kills you,” Meeka says. “And there’s no trace of your body. It just burns away.”
Steffanie hates that possibility and fires back, “Can you let me finish?”
“I’m just saying you need to be ready in case she’s gone.”
“Pace is just fine. Now, shut up!”
Meeka takes a deep breath and glances away in disgust.
Steffanie ignores her and gestures around the cave. “So let’s think about this again. Why’re these grren here? Why weren’t they taken?”
“Maybe they were here when the masks came,” I guess. “Maybe the masks have to see you. Maybe you’re protected when you’re underground.”
“No, because Grandpa saw the mask. They were outside.”
“That’s right,” I say. “But then why wasn’t he taken? Is he too old?”
Steffanie tips her head toward the younger grren. “What about them? Too young?”
“This is giving me a headache,” says Meeka.
“We thought only certain people or animals were picked up,” I remind her.
“Yeah, but these grren aren’t any different.”
“So what’re you saying?” I ask.
“Maybe they were protected… but by something else. I remember Pace used to sing this song that her father taught her when she was a little girl.”
Meeka reacts with an exaggerated frown. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
Steffanie opens her mouth—
Just as Grandpa’s six personas return in a burst of pale green light. They spring into the nest and dissolve into his chest. He roars, hops out of the nest, and retreats to the back of the cave, panting and drooling.
I activate my phone’s flashlight.
Our meat-eating monster shrinks and shivers against the wall, his teeth literally rattling.
“What is it?” I ask him. “Did you go to the temple? What did you see?”
He mews like a kitten and glances away, tucking himself deeper into the rock. His packmates bound over the nest and form a half-circle around him, grunting softly.
At once, all of them jump into their personas, crowding into the back of the cave.
“What’s happening now?” Meeka asks.
“You ever see anything like this?” I ask Steffanie.
She shakes her head, terrified.
I bite my lip, ready to curse again in frustration. “I think he’s showing them something.”
“It’s pretty rare for the grren to look scared,” Meeka tell us. “What the hell?”
“Guys, we’re done here,” Steffanie says. “They’re all upset, and they won’t help us now.”
“They have to,” I argue.
“No, they don’t.” She raises her voice. “I have another plan. When the drugs wear off, we jump back to where the despers ambushed us, and we go find their buckets. We’ll bring them up here in our personas, and then head back.”
“And then all we’ve done is waste a huge amount of time to get some buckets,” I say.
“If we can get some ropes or something, maybe we can get the buckets down in the subway and use them to help lift off the concrete and beams. Get it?”
“All right, that’s plan B,” I say with a nod. “But I still think Grandpa can help. I’ll jump, show him everything, and maybe he’ll show me what he saw.”
* * *
About an hour later, I check my smart phone. It’s been a full eight hours since we left, meaning we can jump now.
But we can’t.
Meeka loses her breath. “That shot your father gave us?”
“It wasn’t some neutralizing agent,” Steffanie says, talking through her teeth. “I bet it was extra Wrrambien so we can’t jump for months!”
“No way,” I fire back. “Maybe going through the engine did something to us, or maybe it’ll just take a little longer.”
“Doc, you don’t really believe that, do you?” Meeka asks.
My defenses crumble under her gaze.
I lower my head… and I know in my heart of hearts that she’s right.
My father “protected us” with more lies. He knew we’d be vulnerable if our wreaths worked, so he shut us up with a story about getting a neutralizer.
Either there wasn’t anything in those needles, or Steffanie is right and he actually boosted our dose of Wrrambien. And if my wreath doesn’t work, how am I supposed to give Alina’s immortal to Julie?
I don’t get it. Why hasn’t my father just told us the truth? He could’ve said we need to stay on the drugs to be protected from the masks without telling us about the masks. Doesn’t he realize that keeping secrets makes it more dangerous?
He’s a smart man. I bet he does. He’s knows exactly what he’s doing. So why are these secrets more important than us?
Are we all expendable now?
And wow, talk about irony. My father’s lies might prevent us from saving him.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how mad I am right now!” Steffanie cries.
I hustle away from them, grabbing my vest and helmet.
“Where are you going?” Meeka asks.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I’m so angry with my father and so fed up that I stomp out of the cave. I guess my email to the universe went directly to spam because this day keeps getting worse.
Now I’m leaning hard into the fierce rain. And while the trees groan, the sky is sliced apart by pink-and-blue veins of lightning.
My smart phone’s battery is down to forty-nine percent, so I need to conserve power. No flashlight. Awesome.
I glance back at the cave entrance. Meeka and Steffanie rush out to join me, but they’re not happy.
At the same time, Grandpa and his pack have gathered to watch us leave, and no, they’re not suddenly filled with understanding and coming to our rescue.
They just stare at us… like we’re already dead.
I
feel that way, too. My plan sucked. We couldn’t recruit the grren. We wasted all this time.
How do you spell loser? With a capital D.
I grind my teeth and try to jump again.
“Doc, if we see anything out there…” Meeka begins.
“Like what?”
She hesitates. “During the rainy season, the grren aren’t the bosses up here.”
“They’re not?”
“Nope.”
“Please, don’t even say it,” Steffanie says. “You’ll jinx us. Do not say it.”
“All right,” Meeka says, and then she grabs my shoulder. “I’ll walk point.”
I shrug as she comes around me with her rifle held at the ready. I tug the pistol from my holster, careful to keep my finger off the trigger.
“So you got a plan?” Steffanie asks, hustling up beside me.
“Are we looking for those buckets?”
“Yep,” I answer.
She grins. “I told you I had a good plan.”
Just then she lowers her rifle and winces a little.
“Shoulder hurting again?” I ask.
“Yeah, this rifle’s pretty heavy.”
“Shhh, you’ll wake up the schmemmers,” Meeka warns us.
“Aw, no, you went and said it,” Steffanie moans.
“What’re schmemmers?” I ask.
Neither of them answer.
“What?” I continue. “Are you superstitious or something? We can’t even talk about them?”
“No,” Meeka answers. “Bad luck. The more you talk about them, the more likely they’ll find you.”
“What are they?”
“What did I just say?”
“Oh, that’s right. We can’t talk about them, meaning you can’t tell me what they are, and if we keep talking about them, they’ll find us.”
Meeka’s expression grows emphatic. “Shhh.”
“Don’t worry about it, Doc,” Steffanie says. “I’m sure she’s already jinxed us.”
* * *
Grandpa and his packmates took us to Mama Grren’s cave in about fifteen minutes.
By comparison, we hike for more than an hour around fallen limbs and wade through mud-filled puddles rising to our hips. Eventually, we reach the clearing where the rumms hid their buckets and we left our bikes.
At the moment, the storm breathes through the forest like a creature itself, and every scrape of branches and whimper of wind has Meeka flicking her glance to the tree line and the rain-swept darkness beyond.
