Doc Harrison and the Masks of Galleon

by Peter Telep

  And while she’s as petite as a model, her shoulders never sag, and that makes her appear a little taller. Add to that her commanding voice, which definitely sounds older, and you can’t blame me for being nervous.

  I wipe my face and clear my throat. “Uh, yeah, hi, I’m Docherty Harrison, and uh, we’re cool. We’re friends.”

  The leader smirks and extends her palm, face up, like she’s asking for payment or something.

  But she’s not.

  A persona of her head ignites from her palm and floats there, glowing like a crystal ball.

  Whoa, it’s an exact replica of her face, except with dark, high-arching eyebrows and perfectly matched ears.

  I step back in shock.

  “What’s your problem?” the persona asks me, as though I shouldn’t be surprised.

  A persona of just her head?

  Why not her entire body?

  And why is she speaking with her persona instead of her own mouth?

  I stare at this strange girl a moment more, and then frown at Meeka.

  “She’s an ivy,” Meeka says.

  “They all are,” Steffanie adds.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Sometimes Grace calls bad things “blessings in disguise.”

  Like an “F” on a Spanish quiz.

  Like a Mustang with a shattered side view mirror.

  Or even a diagnosis of cancer with no treatment.

  When I was younger, she would always tell me that failure is a chance to learn, and that sometimes setbacks make you appreciate what you already have in life.

  She always found the positive within the negative, and she never allowed me to stay depressed for very long. She’d try to cheer me up, and if that didn’t work, she’d make cookies.

  That always worked, even though she’d warn me about using food as a medication for larger issues.

  Okay, so I had to put things “into perspective,” she said, because that would help me find the courage to go on.

  I wonder now how these kids we’ve just met found that same courage.

  They come from a world where everyone has a wreath… but theirs are damaged, deformed, or don’t work at all. Some were born with issues. Others were wounded during the withering. Still, others suffered attacks by nomads.

  Many have never seen our virtual gathering places like the Hood. They’re stuck inside themselves.

  They are literally introverts (which Florans abbreviate as I-Vs, which became the nickname “ivies”).

  I guess they’re just like I used to be on Earth, but here on Flora they’re considered disabled, which seems really sad and ironic.

  “You’ve never heard of us?” the leader asks, just after Meeka fills me in. “What planet are you from?”

  I open my mouth—

  “Don’t answer that,” Meeka orders, and then she regards the floating head. “What’s your name?”

  “Hedera.”

  “So what’s with the…” I gesture to the persona.

  “You’re serious?” Hedera asks.

  “Yeah, I mean you can’t talk with your body? Were your born like that?”

  She rolls her eyes in both her body and persona. “Yes, my throat and vocal chords were damaged when I was born, along with my wreath. My real voice barely comes out, so I stopped using it a long time ago. If I want to talk, I use my persona, or at least what’s left of it. Now it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

  “Hey, that’s cool.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  I look to Steffanie and Meeka before answering. “You ever deal with them before? I mean, can we trust them?”

  “I’m asking the questions!” Hedera shouts.

  Damn, her persona can get really loud.

  “Okay, Okay!” I say, raising my palms.

  “They won’t hurt us,” Meeka says in a tone that challenges Hedera.

  “Oh, yes we will if you don’t talk,” Hedera says.

  “Okay, listen,” I begin quickly. “We came up here because we thought… oh, whatever, you don’t need to know all that. If you could just let us go—or maybe you could take us to Verbena? Did you walk up here? Do you have buckets? My parents are in the temple. They’re hurt. They need help. And can we get our backpacks?” I point to the guy chomping on my granola bar. “Uh, yeah, you can have one of my bars.”

  “Doc, slow down,” Meeka urges me.

  “So we rescue you from the schmemmer, and now you want more help?” Hedera asks.

  “You mean the big one’s also called a schmemmer?”

  “That’s right,’” she tells me.

  I sigh with disappointment.

  “You guys aren’t from around here,” Meeka says.

  Hedera narrows her brows. “How do you know?”

  “Because I know every caravan from here to the Rosengate Sea, and a few more down in Lily.”

  “We came from the north, from the City of Orchids.”

  “I don’t think so,” Meeka says. “There’s no one up there. It’s a dead zone.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Everyone knows...”

  Hedera regards her friends. “Well everyone’s wrong. We came down to see who’s left.”

  “People were taken up there?” I ask her.

  “Yeah, they just disappeared.”

  “Did you see any faces in the sky? Like masks?”

  “I didn’t,” Hedera answers. “But it happened in the middle of the night. So have you figured it out yet?”

  “No, have you?”

  “We don’t know much. Just that anyone with a wreath is gone. People like us and the despers were left behind. But if you don’t know about ivies, then—”

  “Hey, we’re just like you,” Meeka says quickly. “We were drugged and our wreaths don’t work. We can’t jump. So we need to stick together and help each other.”

  “That’s right,” I tell them. “And like I said, my parents are trapped. They could be dying. We need your help.”

  “Why should I believe you?” Hedera asks. “Maybe you’re leading us back to your friends so they can rob us.”

  “Please… I’m not.”

  “Look, Docherty Harrison, we were just camping in our buckets, minding our own business, when you idiots woke up the schmemmer and nearly got us killed.”

  I glance wide-eyed at Meeka and Steffanie for backup. Steffanie’s about to speak when something glimmers in the trees… just off to our right.

  It’s one of Grandpa’s personas.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. The grren are territorial and their instincts drive them to investigate any form of intrusion on their lands.

  Just ask the despers about that.

  Of course they could have arrived a little sooner…

  Anyway, I watch as Grandpa surveys the heavily armed caravan, looks at me, and decides we’re in trouble.

  Before I can stop him, all six of his personas shimmer to life a few steps ahead of us, even as his packmates surround the rest of the caravan.

  The ivies swing around, bringing their rifles to bear on the ring of glistening grren.

  “Hold your fire!” I scream.

  The real flesh-and-blood Grandpa, who’s been watching us for who knows how long, soars down from a tree above—

  And with a muted thump, he hits the mud, his powerful legs flexing like springs as he regains his footing and eases up beside me like a domesticated pet.

  I stroke his ear like we’re best friends.

  Gasps and curses echo through the caravan.

  Yes, I have their full attention.

  “Okay, I’m impressed,” Hedera says. “One of you is a sage and connected with them.”

  “No,” Meeka says. “The grren will connect with anyone they want—”

  “But they never do,” Hedera says. “Because only sages can convince them.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ve seen it happen.”

  “I don’t think so. The grren just block the invitation. They don’t e
ven give you a chance to ask.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you said you’re on drugs. So if you’re not sages and can’t connect, then how’d you even do it?”

  “It’s a long story, but obviously we’re friends.”

  “Obviously,” I repeat and glance at my ferocious buddy. “And Grandpa’s worried about us. Seriously worried.”

  “I’m worried about you too, because you’re lying to me. You show me how you connected with them.” Hedera sounds both angry and jealous.

  I look past her. “Everyone? Lower your weapons.”

  “Because if you don’t…” Meeka adds, and then she bears her teeth, chomps down, and claws at the air.

  Nervous whispers flutter through the caravan, and the ivies grow more tense. Seeing this, Hedera gives the order to stand down.

  Steffanie shifts up behind me and mutters, “Okay, Doc, so where’s this going?”

  “Hopefully to Verbena. But we’re wasting time.”

  “I have an idea,” Meeka says in my ear.

  “Go for it,” I urge her.

  “Hedera?” Meeka asks. “It looks like you can’t jump all the way into your persona, but can you connect with people?”

  “Usually. Single connections only, but they’re kinda weak. I can’t travel, and I only see glimpses of the Community or the Hood through others. I can’t go there.”

  “But if my wreath was working and I wanted to show you something, I could. And you could show me things.”

  “I could do that.”

  “Would you be willing to do it with a grren?”

  Her eyes light up. “Are you serious?”

  Meeka nods. “You wanted me to show you…”

  Hedera begins to shake her head. “I don’t believe you.”

  I shift up next to Meeka. “Look, let’s just say that one of our friends helped one of them a long time ago, and they don’t forget that. We’ve earned their trust. Let us earn yours, okay?”

  I lift my gaze from her persona and stare hard into her eyes, searching for weakness. She just looks at me, and I’m not sure what she’ll do.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  A few more ivies rumble up in buckets like pickup trucks, with our bicycles piled in the back of one four-wheeler.

  We can’t blame these ivies for scavenging the bikes, but those rides have huge sentimental value, and the girls will demand their return.

  Two more buckets join the first pair, their headlights cutting like lasers between the trees.

  The rain has picked up once again, beating an even louder rhythm across the leaves and branches.

  At least some of the mud is beginning to wash off our clothes and faces. That’s nice, but more mud has worked its way beneath my clothes and into my boots and rubs against me like sandpaper. And my neck… I can’t figure out why it’s so sore. Oh, yeah, now I remember: I was in a car accident just before taking a trip on Mr. Schmemmer’s Wild Ride.

  But pain is pain, right?

  Hedera whirls away from us, like she’s mad at herself for going along. She orders her people to return our backpacks, and then we carefully lead her and two boys acting as her guards over to some roots, where she carefully settles down beside one of Grandpa’s personas.

  I gesture to grandpa that we really, really need him to connect with Hedera. He seems to think it over for a minute, staring thoughtfully at me, then Meeka, and then Steffanie. We’re all begging him with our eyes.

  With a loud sigh, the old grren raises his mighty paw and gently touches the persona floating over Hedera’s palm.

  The physical connection of their personas helps Grandpa recognize Hedera’s invitation to connect and accept it.

  And it’s working, because the face above Hedera’s palm shivers and reacts in wide-eyed wonder. “Whoa…”

  “Talk us through it,” Meeka says.

  “I’m running, and it feels like I’m him.” Her head jolts. “We’re jumping through the trees.”

  “Great, now ask him to help us,” I say.

  “I’m not sure how. The only way is to show him pictures from my memory, and I don’t know what to show him.”

  “Well, then, uh, ask him to show you the masks.”

  “Okay, I’ll imagine just any old mask and maybe that’ll help.” Hedera closes her eyes for a moment and then says, “Okay, yeah, he’s showing me now.”

  “What’s it look like?” I ask.

  “Everyone in his pack is connected. They’re in the trees. There’s something wrapped up in all these branches. It’s a grren. It’s one of their burial ceremonies.”

  “Yeah, they do that.”

  “And that’s when the mask came. They’re all looking up in the sky… Oh, there’s more than one now. I don’t know how many… Wait! Now he’s taking me someplace else. Looks like a subway station. Kind of dark. Flashlights. Rushing water. Man with grayish hair and a beard. Woman. Funny-colored hair. They’re trapped.”

  “Those are my parents! He went there.”

  “Wait. Bright light. He’s cutting me off. He’s scared. He won’t show me any more.”

  I clench my teeth and curse.

  “He went to the subway,” Meeka says. “He saw something that scared him.”

  “Whoa,” Hedera says. “Whoa, whoa, whoa…”

  “What?” Steffanie asks.

  “He’s showing me someone else’s memories… it’s another grren… I am that grren. There’s a girl. She calls me Brave.”

  “Yeah, we know him,” I say, getting really excited. “And the girl’s my friend Julie.”

  Hedera’s mouth opens. “Oh, I can’t… no, I don’t…”

  “What’s happening?” I demand. “What do you see?”

  Hedera’s eyes become even more distant… and then tears fall… When I look at her body, she’s weeping there as well…

  I ask again.

  But she continues to cry—

  Until Grandpa removes his paw and lowers his head.

  Hedera pulls back her persona and sits there, panting and trembling.

  Meeka and Steffanie look confused.

  “Hedera?” I call softly. “I’m sorry this hurts, but please, my parents need me back. Will the grren help us?”

  She faces me, and her persona reappears. After composing herself for a few seconds, she answers, “I saw everything.”

  “What do you mean everything?” I ask.

  “Brave and Mama Grren went to Earth. And I saw it. I saw the yacht and the ocean. I saw Florida. I saw the house where you father has the engine.”

  “So you know who we really are.”

  “You’re a Floran, but you came from Earth.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I know everything you showed Brave. Everything Julie showed Brave. How her father saved him and how that same man killed your mother.”

  “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

  “But I did. And I saw how the people on Earth are just like ivies. It’s weird. They don’t jump. They’re all introverts.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I tell her.

  “So we’d be normal there. Can you take us?”

  Meeka interrupts with a quick, “No problem. You drive us to Verbena. Help us dig out Doc’s parents, and then we’ll send you to Earth.”

  “You’ve all been there,” she says. “I saw you.”

  “That’s right,” Steffanie says. “No lie. We’ll get you there.”

  “Wait a minute,” I say. “Hedera, if you go, you can’t use your persona to talk. I mean, we’ve kept everything a secret. People on Earth would freak out. We have some friends there right now, some rumms, but they’re drugged, just like us. I think it’d be bad if people found out…”

  Steffanie and Meeka glare at me, as if to say, Why did you bring that up?

  “Oh, I’m not going myself.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I meant my friends. I’ll ask them. And this grren you call Grandpa? He saw something, and he�
��s scared, but Brave and Mama Grren were his friends. He wants them back. He wants all his friends back. I think he’ll help now, even though there’s something still out there.”

  I bolt to my feet. “Then let’s roll.”

  “Whoa, slow down,” Hedera says. “I need a moment.”

  We fall in behind Hedera as she raises her hand and faces her people. “Everyone,” her persona shouts. “Listen to me. These people need our help, so we’re going to Verbena.”

  Shoulders slump. A few girls near the front roll their eyes in disgust. More groans rise from the back.

  “What’s this?” she asks. “We’re not grateful?”

  The tallest kid comes forward. “Hedera, strange things are happening, and we need to go home.”

  “And we will! But think about all the help we’ve taken over the years. Think about where we’d be right now without it…”

  The ivies sigh and lower their heads.

  “That’s right,” she continues. “So now it’s our turn to give. It is our way. From ashes to bloom.”

  The ivies groan and begin to mutter to themselves.

  I clear my throat and raise my voice. “Everyone, please, we really need your help. If you’ll just come with us, maybe one day we’ll take you to a place that’s just like Flora before the withering. And everyone there is an ivy, just like you.”

  “All we hear are promises,” comes a voice from the back.

  “Yeah, and just because Hedera trusts you doesn’t mean we do!” comes another voice.

  “Please, we’ll do whatever we can to help you. I wish you’d believe me.”

  Meeka shifts up beside me and mutters, “Doc, if they won’t help, we’ll just take the grren and go.”

  “Roger that,” I say.

  Hedera must overhear us, because she ignites her persona and lifts her voice again. “Everyone? You’ve seen it with your own eyes. The grren are willing to help them and so am I. But even after all that we’re still talking about trust?”

  The caravan falls silent.

  Hedera continues, “Because if that’s the case, then we’re not talking about Doc and his friends. We’re talking about me. You don’t trust me anymore? Rattle, is that true?”