Guardian's Rise

by Matthew Renard

  I had said Die Hard, since it’s the best Christmas movie ever. Sammy had also said Die Hard, because he wanted to prove it wasn’t a Christmas movie. Since Emily was holding up BluRay discs for Santa Claus: The Movie and The Night They Saved Christmas, I guessed that John McClane’s first machine-gun wielding outing wasn’t on offer.

  We opted, in the end, for Santa Claus: The Movie. In part because I had never seen the other movie and didn’t know if I would like it, and in part because I knew it was Emily’s favourite Christmas movie of all time. Plus, John Lithgow is amazing and can do no wrong. Sammy moved to the recliner and Emily took his space on the sofa, sitting far enough away from me to have her own space, but close enough that I trembled internally.

  We watched for a while, as Lithgow’s greedy toymaker decided to introduce “Christmas Two” until I noticed Sammy sag in the chair, dozing peacefully. Emily, who had either been watching him or had a remarkable sense of timing, took this as a cue to put her feet in my lap. Reflexively, I massaged them, as I had done when we were dating.

  ‘Ohh, this is nice.’ She smiled lightly.

  ‘Yeah,’ I smiled back, trying to keep the shaking out of my voice, ‘Dudley Moore’s great in this.’

  She looked at me, giving me a look that said I know that you know what I mean, and I know you know it too. For my part, I tried to keep my look as innocent as possible. She arched her feet and I dutifully moved my thumbs up her soles, and we continued to watch in silence, comfortable with each other, until the end of the movie. Once it had finished, she stretched and slowly stood, and faced me, holding her hands out. Taking them, I stood too, and smiled down at her, before noticing the curious expression on her face.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You never liked jewellery.’

  ‘Yeah, so?’

  ‘You’re wearing a silver... is that a necklace?’ She smiled impishly.

  ‘It’s a chain.’ I shrugged, hooking one end of it around my thumb to show her.

  ‘Why?’

  I struggled to think of what I could tell her. ‘It’s... a souvenir. Of a lost love.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her smile faded. ‘The war?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I grasped onto her question, answering with something more than a half-truth, but less than honesty.

  ‘Lots of that going around.’ She shivered and looked around. ‘God, it’s cold.’ She grabbed a comforter from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around herself.

  ‘Hey, Em?’

  ‘Yeah?’ She looked over at me.

  ‘We had goose for Christmas dinner.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Right? I was there. I bought it, too.’ She began to look mildly concerned. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s just...’ I tried to piece together what had been bothering me and put it into coherent words. ‘You hate goose for Christmas. Your dad raised you to only eat turkey.’

  ‘Right?’

  ‘So why did we have goose?’

  ‘You like goose.’ She replied simply, then learned forwards, looking at me levelly. I was very consciously aware of how close our faces were. If I leaned forwards ever so slightly, I could kiss her... ‘I should get to bed. Feel free to sleep on the sofa if you’d like.’ She stood quickly, the comforter draped over her shoulders, and gestured behind me. ‘It looks like Sammy’s claimed the chair.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I smiled, not looking back. ‘Emmy?’

  She sighed. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Look, I know we said just trinkets, but...’ I pulled a small box out of my pocket and presented it to her. Her eyes went wide, and she opened it. ‘Oh, Jay! It’s lovely.’ She pulled out a gold necklace with a small amethyst set in a pendant and put it around her neck. ‘You remembered!’

  ‘How could I forget? Your birthday is the week before mine - we have the same birth stone.’

  ‘I’ll treasure it.’ She pressed her hand to the pendant and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Sorry I didn’t get you anything half as nice.’

  ‘You’re back in my life.’ I shrugged. ‘That’s all I need.’

  She looked at me oddly. ‘Weirdo.’ She shook her head and yawned. ‘I should get to bed. G’night.’

  She tiptoed past Sammy and vanished around the corner. I lay back on the sofa and tried to make myself comfortable on furniture that seemed more designed for aesthetics than comfort.

  ‘Well, I’m pretty sure that went well.’

  I frowned and closed my eyes. ‘Oh, be quiet Sammy.’

  After a fitful night’s sleep I awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon, and the sound of humming. I looked over to the recliner, which was empty. Getting up, I noticed a cup of coffee resting in a white ceramic mug on the floor. Picking it up, I felt the warmth - it must have been only put down quite recently. Sipping at it, I smiled. Black and sweet. Perfect. I heard Sammy and Emily laugh in the kitchen and went to join them.

  ‘...And then he looked up at them and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought the popcorn was free.”’ Sammy finished a story, and Emily laughed along with him.

  ‘Oh, that’s amazing.’ She looked up at me, and smiled, before bursting out into laughter again.

  ‘Good... morning?’ I raised an eyebrow. She was in a fresh business suit. ‘How long was I asleep for?’

  ‘Oh, not long.’ She shrugged. ‘Americans don’t really do Boxing Day like we do. I have to go into work.’

  ‘Anything fun?’

  She got a more serious look on her face. ‘I’m assisting in a classified project with Lemniscate International.’

  Sammy tilted his head. ‘You know, I still can’t figure out what they do.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well,’ Sammy began ticking names off with his fingers. ‘You’ve got SabrexTech, who make prosthetic limbs and other body parts, not to mention assorted weaponry.’ Emily waved at him, and he happily waved back. ‘Borleath who make... all sorts, apparently, like my phone and computers. AwaTen the fitness kings...’ He stood and showed off his red step counter, wiggling his wrist in the air, ‘who also know how to give a free gift - I love my WalkWidget. And Lemniscate International, which...?’ He trailed off, eyeing Emily, and sat back down.

  ‘They’re an international group who work all over.’ She shrugged. ‘A lot of their work is classified or confidential I’m afraid.’

  ‘So you could tell us, but you’d have to kill us?’ I interjected.

  Her wicked grin in reply was humourous and unsettling. ‘Something like that.’ She shrugged. ‘Realistically, if I could tell you anything I would. They don’t even tell us the overall goal - just the bits we need to.’

  ‘Oh, like compartmentalising the data?’ Sammy chipped in.

  ‘Exactly!’ She looked at her watch. ‘Speaking of which... will you two be okay to let yourselves out before you tear up the town?’

  ‘Yeah, of course.’ I smiled at her as she walked past and got a kiss on the cheek for good measure. ‘See you later.’

  ‘You too.’ She scooped her mug up. ‘And don’t forget guys, don’t go South West. Some Gnarlers have breached their containment zone.’ She waved, carrying her mug as she left.

  Sammy waited until he heard the door close, then turned to grin at me. ‘Wanna go through her stuff?’

  ‘What? No!’ Well. Maybe a little... ‘Absolutely not. That’s invading her privacy.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nodded slowly. ‘So?’

  ‘No!’ I laughed, a little in shock. ‘She’s being really good to us, letting us crash here last ni...’ A thought returned to my mind. ‘Hey. Where’ve you been staying?’

  ‘Oh. Hospital room down the hall from you, and then at EPIC.’

  I stared at him. ‘Why didn’t you get a hotel room?’

  ‘Because I quit my job when you won the lottery, remember?’

  ‘Right...?’

  ‘Can’t get a hotel without money!’

  I shook my head and pulled my phone out, tapping a contact. ‘You’re such an...’ the line connected. ‘Oh, hi! Michael
! Merry Christmas.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Jason. What can I do for you today?’

  ‘We need a house.’

  I heard a ruffling of papers. ‘Okay, what sort of thing were you thinking of?’

  I looked at Sammy, who shrugged. ‘Something nice, but not too flashy.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. There are some nice Colonial Revivals out in Willowbrook.’

  ‘Cool.’ I glanced at Sammy. ‘Michael says there are some Colonial Revivals out in Willowbrook.’

  ‘What the hell have the guys from Battlestar Galactica got to do with houses?’

  I shrugged and turned my attention back to the phone. ‘Sammy said... cool.’

  ‘In the meantime,’ Michael continued, oblivious, ‘what’re you guys up to today? It’d be good if we could schedule a press conference and show the world that the founder of the Anson Foundation is bloody but unbowed.’

  ‘Yeah, sounds good.’ I looked over to Sammy, who had gone on his phone and was looking at something. ‘I’ll let you know when would be good, okay?’

  ‘Okay. And I’ll send you a list of houses to look at!’ He rang off, and I put my phone back in my pocket. ‘Hey, Sammy?’

  ‘Yeah?’ He didn’t look up from his phone.

  ‘What did Emily mean, “tearing up the town”?’

  ‘Oh, I told her what I had planned today.’

  ‘Which was... what, exactly?’

  ‘It’s Thursday.’

  ‘Right?’

  He looked up from his phone and stared at me. ‘So it’s Thursday.’

  ‘I don’t...’ Oh. ‘No.’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘We’re not in England anymore. How did you even-’

  ‘Jay, this is America. America. Land of excess. They have everything. All events running on every day. Including...’ He turned his phone to face me, and on the display was an advert:

  The Jolly Roger

  Karaoke every Thursday!

  All day event!

  ‘All day Karaoke?’

  ‘Who doesn’t love Karaoke?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘It’ll be fun!’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Oh, come on. You can sing “Love Is A Battlefield.”’ I sighed, and he grinned, knowing he had won another battle.

  ‘Can we get cleaned up, first? Maybe get some new clothes?’

  ‘Yeah! Let’s do that too!’

  ‘And somewhere to store them?’

  ‘Fine.’ He sighed. ‘We’ll check into a hotel.’

  ‘A nice one.’ I reminded him. ‘We can afford it.’

  ‘But nowhere near the South West. I don’t want a zombie to eat my brains.’

  ‘Gnarlers aren’t zombies, Sammy.’

  ‘Close enough.’

  ‘Dude.’

  He looked at me incredulously. ‘What? They’re shrivelled up former human beings with the over-riding goal to eat flesh. They’re all id! That’s pretty much the textbook definition of a zombie.’

  ‘Gnarlers don’t eat brains.’

  ‘Neither do zombies!’

  ‘They used to be someone’s loved ones.’

  ‘So did Zombies. And you’re starting to sound like one of those Pro Gnarler groups.’

  ‘Don’t start.’ I examined my phone, typing whilst Sammy did, in fact, start, but I chose to ignore his ravings. ‘Hey! How about The Grand Manor hotel?’

  ‘I bet it’s a cheesy motel.’

  ‘In the centre of Capehill?’

  He shrugged, relenting. ‘I guess we could check it out.’

  The Grand Manor certainly lived up to its’ name. A large, old looking building, the Grand Manor was positioned more or less equidistant (Or so they boasted) to the main corporations and the hospital. Slap bang in the middle, it was a perfect spot for visiting businessmen. As such, they did a busy trade in men and women smartly dressed, who looked oddly at the tall handsome black guy dressed like a walking advert for Capehill University, and his slightly shorter, pale friend with an Assapan cap worn low to avoid being identified. I examined the polished floor with great care as Sammy checked us in, to avoid eye contact, and because I didn’t want to watch as Sammy spent an undue amount of time flirting with the woman behind the desk. As we rode up in the elevator, I felt compelled to turn to him.

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘Do what?’ He shrugged. ‘I pressed the button for the floor.’

  ‘You were flirting with that receptionist.’

  ‘I was not.’

  ‘You definitely were.’

  Sammy bristled slightly. ‘And if I were? So what?’

  ‘But... you’re gay.’

  ‘And?’ He tilted his head. ‘Were you going to flirt with her?’

  ‘Well, no.’

  ‘No, because you weren’t talking at all, and you’re obsessed with Emily. Now, however, instead of the mute midget with an Assapan cap...’

  ‘5’10 is average.’

  ‘Whatever. Instead of you, she’ll remember the dashing Englishman with manners and class.’ He turned away from me, to look at the door. ‘Me being gay doesn’t stop me from talking to anyone however I’d like.’

  ‘I just... it’s odd.’

  He raised an eyebrow, looking at me in the polished mirror reflection of the elevator door.

  ‘You flirt with me.’

  ‘When?’ I laughed.

  ‘When we got our suits, remember?’ He paused. ‘You said if you weren’t straight, you’d go for me, or something like that. You do it all the time.’

  I thought back. ‘Yeah, but that’s just two friends talking.’

  ‘And to an outsider, that would definitely seem as flirting.’

  ‘It’s not the same thing.’

  He smiled at me in the mirrored door. ‘No, it is. But I’ve never held it against you for not understanding.’

  After we got changed - Sammy into a white shirt, me into a Hoodie, we headed out. Taking a cab to The Jolly Roger was easier than expected, as the doorman hailed one for us and we bundled in, Sammy grinning as we glided away from the hotel.

  My phone chimed, and I pulled it out, examining it. ‘Hey, Michael’s sent me that list of houses.’

  ‘Any nice ones?’

  I scrolled through thumbnails. ‘Uhh... they’re all nice. They’re a bit too nice, really.’ I showed him one of the images.

  ‘Four storeys... who needs four?’

  ‘Right? Eight bedrooms, six bath, four reception rooms... we don’t need all that!’

  ‘The top floor is a bedroom by itself.’ He thought about it. ‘Clearly that would be mine.’

  ‘Why yours? It’s my money.’

  ‘I need more room. You won’t be... entertaining anyone.’ He eyed me. ‘Well. Except for Action Barbie.’

  ‘Would you stop calling her that? I thought you two were getting on!’

  ‘We are! Better than ever.’ He nodded. ‘She’s still Action Barbie, though. And don’t get sucked in too quickly. Take it slow, yeah?’

  We pulled up outside a dingy, run-down looking grey building. I paid the cabbie, and we got out.

  ‘Will you? Take it slow?’

  ‘Sure.’ I looked around, grateful I had worn my belt, hidden as it was under my baggy hoodie. ‘This must be the place.’

  ‘Why?’ Sammy looked annoyed. ‘Why must it be the place? Because nobody’s here? Because it looks bad? Because this is a trashy neighbourhood and nobody in their right minds likes karaoke? Why?’

  I slowly pointed up to the sign above the door, which read “The Jolly Roger”.

  ‘Oh.’

  It wasn’t all that bad, to be honest. It was pretty much just Sammy and me, with a few other tourists having a lark. Sammy pretty much owned the stage, and he even respected my wishes to not get up and make an idiot out of myself. Some of the tourists came over to applaud and appreciate him, which he took in his stride.

  ‘Let’s do a duet!’ He announced, when he was several drinks
in. I looked at my watch - it was barely 2pm.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘Let’s do... “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”.’ He cackled. ‘You can sing it for Emily.’

  ‘Sammy... just no.’

  ‘“Hoooo-hoooo.”’ He sung at me. ‘“And nobody knows it.”’ He stared, intently, waving me on. I sighed.

  ‘“Nobody kno-o-ows.”’

  ‘That’s it!’ He drum-rolled the table with his hands. ‘“I’ll never be tardy/for my Action Barbie.”’ He ad-libbed, earning a glare from me. ‘Excellent. Let’s sing it!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Fine.’ Sammy scowled, and looked around. ‘I need the toilet anyway. Or as they say here, “the head”.’ He shook his own head. ‘What a dumb name.’ As he disappeared around a corner, I waved a waiter over and rested my hands on the table, which was only slightly sticky, and felt a light rumbling through the cheap plastic.

  ‘Hey, there!’ The waiter said brightly.

  ‘Hi, could I please get...’ I felt the rumbling getting more intense, and I turned to a nearby waiter. ‘Is there a train track nearby?’

  ‘No sir.’

  I frowned. ‘Must be a PI or someone flying overhead.’

  ‘PIs don’t usually come this way, sir. This is a Normal part of the city.’ He scowled. ‘They leave us alone because there’s no money or publicity to be had here.’

  The rumbling was now evident to everyone else in the bar and getting more intense all the time. ‘Then what the hell is that?’ Panic seized me. ‘Earthquake?’

  ‘No, we’re nowhere near a tectonic boundary...’

  ‘Gnarlers!’

  ‘It can’t be-’

  A crashing sound came from overhead, and we all looked up as a giant figure in black armour smashed their way through to the bar.

  At least seven and a half feet, the black armour was etched to show a muscular physique, and the figure had a helmet on that reminded me of a Medieval helmet, covering the full face, with glowing red eyes glaring out from it.

  ‘Where is he?’ A distorted voice, clearly male and deep, bellowed as he looked around. ‘Where is Anson?’