Strange Omens

by Jim Stein

  “Ed, we were just talking about you.” Dad waved me over. I sat in the recliner next to the couch, relieved he hadn’t heard—“Who’s Ralph?”

  “Um… I was just playing with Max.” I gave Piper a pleading look and got a shrug of apology in return. “He reminds me of that big goofy comedian so I call him Ralphy-boy sometimes.”

  Dad gave me a puzzled shrug. My old man was good at going with the flow. Neither he nor Mom were clued in on the supernatural activities of their children. Oh, they were well aware of my sister’s obsession, but considered it a harmless hobby. It never occurred to a statistics manager and nurse that magical beings and powers might exist right beneath their noses. Such things just didn’t fit their worldview.

  “Well, not so much you specifically, but the upcoming census.” Dad said, picking up his train of thought. “The numbers don’t look good.”

  The Census Bureau is a global organization. The old Disease Control Center battled the spreading C-12 virus for decades, but as the workforce shrank the two organizations eventually merged. Now, the Bureau estimates population growth, tracks C-12 carriers who can still have kids, and coordinates with research groups working to reverse sterility. If the “numbers” looked bad, then the human race marched toward extinction.

  “I told Dad you need to be tested,” Piper added.

  “Me?”

  “Sure.” My sister put on her professional voice, but her eyes gleamed with excitement. “Simple blood and bone marrow test. It’s required of everyone before they hit twenty-one. Mom checked me at eighteen. You’re months overdue.”

  Given I was only half human, the thought of being screened for the C-12 virus made my hands sweat. I had only been to the doctor a couple of times in my life, back when I’d broken my collarbone. When your mom’s a nurse, there isn’t much call to go down to the hospital. She even gave me those nasty vaccinations when I was little. I honestly didn’t know if my blood had ever been under a microscope.

  “There is that third test.” Dad cleared his throat and studied a sheaf of papers the two must have been discussing before I barged in.

  Of course there was the ultimate embarrassment guys had to suffer through—just to be certain. The thought made my ears burn. But if Koko’s efforts were ever going to amount to anything, the fact his kids were fertile had to get out in the open. It was probably a good idea to ensure our presumption was right and that the god of music, pranks, and fertility could jumpstart a new generation. For all I knew, C-12 might not even be in my system.

  “No problem. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

  ***

  Sunday was for getting the fountain working. I stumbled out of bed, took care of Max, and fueled up with an energy drink and toast. Piper had what passed for the newspaper propped out in front of her coffee and eggs. Ralph perched on the table edge looking for all the world as though he was reading along as he crunched on a strip of bacon and clutched a doughnut bite in the other hand. Leaving the imp out of his cage overnight worked fine. He slept with Max alongside my bed and didn’t seem inclined to run. I patted my dog’s furry head, then Ralph’s on my way to the door. The imp’s scalp was smooth and dry like snakeskin.

  Outside, my repairs looked to have held firm. Just to be certain, I sent a trace of Earth into the stonework, feeling my way across the bottom and sides with a lazy melody. Solid determination and quiet resolve met my probing, as if the fountain had been here since the beginning of time. I sighed as the stillness beneath me absorbed the spell. The fatigue was manageable, but definitely there. Working with Earth didn’t take as much energy as, say, healing with Fire. Nothing another can of Rejuve couldn’t fix.

  “Get back here!” Piper’s yell startled me out of my semi-trance and was all too familiar.

  My sister stormed toward me, her pink unicorn pajamas fluttering. The door behind her stood wide. I scanned the front of the house. Nothing but fluttering prayer bundles set every few yards stirred in the wild bushes I called landscaping. Pina’s people maintained the colorful rags holding bits of organic material and prayers of protection. I swiveled, trying to spot Ralph before he made the edge of my property, but again, nothing moved in the grass or down the drive. Even inside, the imp had proved impossible to corner.

  “He’s gone, Pipes.” I turned back as my sister scowled at the use of her childhood nickname. “No way we’ll—”

  Ralph sat on the stone wall with feet dangling into the dry fountain. The imp swayed and watched the stonework as if enjoying a concert along with his doughnut-hole. We gaped as the little guy finished his breakfast, hopped up, and strolled back to the house. His gait involved stuttering steps and sideway hops, perhaps due to the odd bunches of muscles at the back of his knees. The movement resembled an old freeze-frame animation, although the little guy moved fast as he disappeared inside.

  “I’m sorry,” Piper said. “Ralph just suddenly got super agitated and ran to the window. He beat on the glass while you worked. I thought he was going to claw his way out. When I opened the door to call you, he zoomed out. He was just a blur…so fast.”

  “No harm.” I studied the prayer bundles to either side of the door. “You’re the expert. How can he can cross the prayer line so easily?”

  “Huh.” Wheels turned in Piper’s head as she thought aloud. “Well, it stands to reason he doesn’t mean us any harm. Those bundles pack a powerful spiritual punch. None of the other nasties have been able to get in.”

  “So Ralph’s one of the good guys?”

  “I…guess?” My sister didn’t exactly brim with confidence. “Or at least he isn’t working for the dark powers. Plus, he likes it here.”

  “Because he gets like a pound of sugar a day!”

  I shrugged and tossed the hose in to start filling the basin. It would take a good hour, which was fine since I had more weeding to do. The inside of the fountain was smooth and perfect, but the ill wind that had blown in the strange seeds was at it again. Green squid arms sprouted up all around the fountain. Rubbery stems topped with fat purple flowers rose from the diamond leaf clusters this time. The strange weeds even pushed through my concrete sidewalk. Seeds must have caught in every little nook and crevice.

  The weeds seemed to multiply as I worked. I tried burning the stupid things, just to be sure they didn’t spread more seeds, but the leaves contained so much water they just sputtered and smoldered, giving off a choking purple smoke. A simple Fire spell finally did the job, but left me cold and miserable. By nightfall, Pete’s plumbing fountained clean water from the neck of the stone guitar.

  Monday morning came too early for my aching back. I stumbled through the kitchen with a mumbled greeting to Piper and Ralph and headed down to my lab. My morning ritual included layering on the hiding spell, but my body and brain moved like molasses. The mechanics of the spell were second nature. The tune sprang to mind easy enough, and tying each layer off to my chakra points was elegant simplicity. But the process grew wearisome. I just wasn’t enough of a morning person to afford losing twenty minutes of sleep every night. Grinding through the ritual felt like putting on a suit of armor, the heavy plate style, not that wimpy chainmail.

  I finished and trudged up the stairs. It was a surprise to find Ralph perched atop the coat rack. The imp handed me my keys along with one of his cookies. His gesture was a glimmer of sunshine that made the armor feel lighter. Piper had been working with our guest and claimed he even understood a few words. I patted his bald little head and scratched behind a batwing ear. I laughed at his rapt expression, pulled back my shoulders, and left for work.

  ***

  “The boss is a jerk,” Hassan whispered, too loud for me to ignore.

  In my months at Main Line, no one spoke ill of Mr. Conti, let alone called him names. My skin prickled as I stomped up to the two interns at the supply cabinet. Hassan had a mop of curly black hair framing his swarthy face. Piper might remember him from school, but he’d been a few years ahead of me. His confidant, David, hiss
ed out a breathy little laugh that had me counting to ten. You’d think a wiry twerp with thick glasses and dull brown hair cut using a cereal bowl would be the last to laugh at someone. Both interns had excellent references—certainly better than my own had been—but bashing the station owner just wasn’t going to cut it.

  “How’s the count coming?” I waved at the stack of recordings.

  “Everything is here from this past year,” David said. “Older programs are missing or misfiled.”

  “We’re still digging crap out from the storage room.” Hassan shook his head. “Isn’t there something more useful to learn than how to sort broadcast files?”

  “Wednesday we work with Billy on basic gear and system checks.” I bit my tongue, ignoring his punk-ass attitude. “Until then, you get to suffer through the boring admin with me. Suck it up”

  “But Mr. Conti said—”

  I swung around, forcing Hassan to step back. “I don’t want to hear any more complaints about Mr. C. He’s a great employer and we’re lucky to have him for a boss. Am I being clear?” My vision swam red in the moment I waited for his reply.

  “W—what?” Hassan looked from his partner to me.

  More red crept in, reflecting against the barely perceptible Tokpela shields, and my vision dimmed. A growl vibrated in my throat, but before I could tell him exactly what I thought about biting the hand that fed him, Hassan hurried on.

  “No, no. I agree. Conti is great!” He managed to look sincere.

  “Good.” My smile felt sharky, but I had gotten my point across and gave them each my best teacher’s glare. “No more bitching. Just get this done so we can move on to the electronic systems. Is that clear, gentlemen?”

  They exchanged a look and nodded. I left them to it, but caught one last comment as I crossed into sound room two.

  “You’re right,” David said. “The boss is an ass.”

  I managed to refrain from marching back and confronting them. My shields shimmered deep red. These two had no respect at all. I’d just finished explaining how lucky we were to have Mr. C, and a minute later, they were back at it. A few deep breaths and the shields settled back down to near-invisibility, no longer reflecting what must have been my flaring aura. Odd, since the thing was notoriously hard to see. If this sniping about the boss didn’t stop, I would have to take it up with Mr. Conti himself and hope he was thick skinned about insults.

  People refusing to do their job baffled me. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for management, for being in charge of people. I stopped short, remembering Hassan’s surprised look at my mention of Mr. Conti, how he narrowed his eyes at me, and David’s squirrelly demeanor. Mr. C isn’t the one they’re complaining about.

  I left the new help to slog through the archives, finished the weekly broadcast schedule, and searched for Billy. He was back in the equipment room up to his elbows in wiring. My nose itched at the smell of dust and ozone as I plopped down onto a stool.

  “How long do I have to get these new guys trained?”

  “Dunno,” Billy mumbled around a roll of vibrant-yellow tape, tore a piece off, then wrapped the tape around a cable plug. He scooped up a marker and printed out a neat label. “We leave in two weeks. I’ll be out of the office next week, but around if you need help.”

  “Wonderful.” I held the marker while he tagged another cable.

  “They seem decent enough.” Billy pushed black-framed glasses up his sweaty nose and took the pen. “You’ll have plenty of time to whip them into shape after we hit the road. Hell, I’ll probably be out of a job by September.”

  “They looked good on paper, but…” I didn’t want to be a whiner. “They work hard, but they complain. Both of them always think they should be learning something more interesting, and Hassan doesn’t like me at all.”

  “Ed, you’re the boss!” He let out a deep chuckle. “They aren’t supposed to like you.”

  “But we all love Mr. C.”

  “He’s an exception.” Billy waved the pen toward the front office and smiled. “Plus, these yahoos probably resent how young you are. Look, do you have a solid plan that walks them through what they need to know?”

  “Well, sure. You and Mr. C helped me build it.”

  “Do you know who to ask for help if something interesting comes up?”

  “I have your notes and handyman Jack’s number.” Fat lot of good that was going to do me in dealing with surly interns.

  “Plus Mr. C himself. And Meg’s title might be office assistant, but believe me, she could run the place better than any of us.” He must have seen my sour expression. “Ed, there are no perfect employees. You just have to work with what you have. For that matter, there aren’t any perfect bosses. Try a little give and take. I don’t sweat it when Jinx complains about the venue, or Quinn gets all prima donna on me, or even when Randy bitches for more drum solos. People work better with a little latitude.”

  “I guess.” It was a hard concept to swallow. Employees should just do what the boss says, no questions.

  “Look here.” Billy pulled me over to an alcove at the far end of the narrow room. “You can even get a hold of me on the road.”

  Two black pieces of equipment were stacked on the metal desk. They were each the size of a small suitcase and looked much like sound gear, except with more knobs, buttons, and only two big gauges. A computer screen sat in front of a rolling chair tucked neatly under the desk.

  “Radio?”

  “Shortwave.” He nodded so vigorously his massive beard flipped up, momentarily obscuring his geeky grin. “Antenna’s already set up. I just need to hook in power and the battery backup. I’ll have a smaller rig in the RV. Ought to reach us anywhere if the weather cooperates.”

  “What about mountains?”

  “Working on it. We’ll mostly be okay getting past the Appalachians, they sort of peter out this far north. Time of day and the fact we are traveling in summer are our worst challenges. To handle those and the Rockies out west…” Billy patted a much smaller box tucked behind the computer screen. “…this baby will patch into the cell network. I know that’s shit too, but in theory it’ll support interstate calling if the radio is out. I can’t get access to any of the old satellite resources. Demand is just too high.”

  ***

  I tried to take Billy’s advice on board, but it was damned hard. Both interns learned well enough, but every once in a while I caught Hassan snickering or making snide remarks. Nothing egregious enough to make a scene over, but it kept the friction high. Billy did his part and was comfortable taking off the last week before tour.

  We sent Jinx and Randy fifty miles down the road in Pioneer One—the christened name for their motorhome—to check communications. All worked well, though handling a shortwave was more complex than I would have thought. Luckily, David turned out to be an amateur enthusiast. He and Billy drew up a communication plan calling for different frequencies and channels based on things like time of day and weather, with backup channels to jump to when all else failed.

  Billy and the band handled most of the tour prep, but I helped Quinn pull her personal stuff together and button up her room. Ralph had a penchant for napping and got into the most unusual places, like Quinn’s laundry basket and sock drawer. Not wanting to return to an imp nesting area, we stowed her extra clothes in plastic crates for the summer.

  As the tour date approached, our casual interactions grew more strained. I thought about her constantly, but couldn’t bring myself to hold her hand. Quinn didn’t do any reaching out either. Somebody kept adding bricks to the wall between us, and I had no idea what to do about it.

  All too soon, Pioneer and the band were ready to depart. I planned to spend that entire Sunday home and practicing, not angry and sullen at all. But Piper dragged me downtown. The studio put on a launch party with banners, balloons, and of course music. The parking lot was jam packed when we rolled up in Piper’s big black SUV.

  On the short ride over, I decided to try again w
ith the ring. But my vision of getting a last quiet moment with Quinn evaporated at the sight of the crowd. The whole town came out to wish the hometown group good luck. I figured the boss pulled out all the stops, but a woman I didn’t recognize handed me a ball cap stenciled with the Double-M Records logo. The party was the promotor’s doing.

  “Piper, Ed, over here.” Quinn waved and broke away from a group of locals.

  She wore tight leather pants, and her spangled jacket reflected the noon sun like a disco ball. Glitters on the pavement danced and rushed forward with the bass player. Aside from the interesting outfit, Quinn’s hair was pulled back into a knot secured with a flashy half-tiara as sparkly as her coat.

  “Nice getup.” I looked across the lot. The other band members mingled with the crowd, and were all dressed…interestingly.

  “Double-M sent new wardrobes.” She spun around, blinding us, but I was glad to see she at least wore her yin-yang top. “Don’t say a word.”

  “Been a good morning?” I eyed her happy smile and the empty bottles piled on discrete trays next to the trash bins.

  “I need food.” Piper made a hasty break for the refreshments.

  “Quinn, can we talk?” This was likely to be my last chance.

  “Sure, Mr. Sourpuss. What’s up?”

  I steered her to the edge of the lot, beyond the blaring music, and pulled the ring from my pocket. It sat there forever in the palm of my right hand, shining copper and silver in the sun. The gold chain swayed faster with each passing minute as my hand trembled. I’d poured my heart and soul into making this for her, but she didn’t take it. The bright smile slid off her face.