by N M Tatum
Cody’s heart seized, struck with the horror that a plan was unfolding around him, and he had no idea what it was. Unsure of his role, he drew his dual pistols and readied for what was sure to be their last stand.
Sam counted down from three. On ‘one,’ she pressed the button, and the hatch opened.
The ShimVens piled in as it lowered. The Notches picked them off well enough at first, dropping the first wave. But the second and third and fourth waves came one on top of the other, faster than the Notches could fire.
Cody glanced to his side and noticed that Joel was no longer standing beside him.
His chest tightened. His guts swirled. He thought about his friend being torn apart by these goddamn bugs all for the sake of a job, for money. They never wanted to take office jobs, to sit in a cubicle farm and process purchase orders or file reports. But they never wanted to get eaten alive, either.
Then he heard Joel’s voice from on high, the voice of an angel, now that he’d left this earthly plane.
“Give me your fucking hand, you goddamn asshat.”
Cody looked up and saw Joel dangling from the emergency hatch in the ceiling, his arms extended toward Cody. Escape is a much better plan than going out in a final blaze of glory, he thought. He holstered his pistols, jumped, and caught Joel by the wrists.
Joel lifted him through the hatch and onto the roof of the ship. Then they both leaned in and did the same for Sam.
Reggie was the last man standing, holding the bugs back by the glory of his badass killing machine. He held his Gatling gun with one arm. He barely needed to jump to reach Joel and Cody; they grabbed him, then Sam gripped them, and they all pulled him out.
Sam looked to Cody. “You’re up. You ready?”
Apparently getting to the roof wasn’t the end goal.
“Right,” Cody said. “I’m up. For what?”
“No time for fucking around, man,” Joel said. “Lay down.”
Cody lay on his back, amazed at how susceptible he was to peer pressure, even as the world was ending around him. Joel grabbed one of his ankles, and Reggie grabbed the other.
Suddenly, Cody was dangling upside down and being lowered through the very hatch from which he’d escaped.
The bugs leapt at him, snapping their pincers. He was a fish on a hook.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Shoot the button,” Sam said like he was an idiot.
Understanding finally dawned on him.
Cody drew one of his pistols and shot the controls for the cargo hatch. It burst with a flurry of sparks, and the hatch closed, trapping the swarm.
The Notches pulled Cody out, much to his pleasure, and Reggie clapped him on the back.
“Knew you could do it,” his friend told him.
Cody forced a smile. “Yeah, no problem.”
Joel activated three grenades and dropped them in the emergency hatch. “Fire in the hole!”
The entire ship shook as the swarm was blown to smithereens.
A few bugs either refused to take the bait or didn’t make it in before the hatch closed. The Notches took them out in a few minutes.
Cody reviewed his scanners. “Not picking up any more heat signatures, but I’m seeing a few ships on the station manifest with heat shielding. We should check those to be sure.”
The team located each docked ship with heat shielding, and investigated their contents for bugs, clearing them one by one.
“Job complete,” Reggie reported after they’d cleared the last ship on the station. “I’ll phone it in. We’re well under the deadline—the contact will be pleased. Great job, team.”
Cody wanted to join the others in celebrating, but something was nagging at him. Those crates. Layton Corp. The same crates from the Waystation…
It could have been a coincidence. Layton Corp was a huge company that shipped stuff all over the galaxy, and both stations were hubs that saw a lot of traffic. But still, something didn’t sit right with him. He had wanted to investigate the crates further, until Joel blew them to hell. Now there was nothing left to investigate.
Not that he was complaining. He’d rather be alive. But those nagging questions would need to be answered eventually.
Reggie called their client once they were back aboard Sonic. Joel held his breath as Reggie reported the results of the call back to them.
“Client was ecstatic,” Reggie assured them all. “Even tossed in a little something extra for delivering ahead of the deadline.”
Joel exhaled and waited. “Is that it?”
Reggie looked confused. “Yeah. Why? What else would there be?”
“No other jobs with impossible deadlines?” Joel asked. “No, surely there are arms dealers we need to find, right? Dangerous planets that we need to search?”
Reggie shook his head. Sam shrugged.
Joel smiled. “Then we’re free? We can relax? Eat cheeseburgers? Game?”
The Notches looked to each other, hesitance pursing their lips. “Yeah,” Reggie said. “I guess so.”
They all went silent and still for a moment, waiting for the phone to ring, for a communication to come through Sonic’s comms, any message that said, ‘No, you can’t have any fun at all, ever, because another infestation just broke out in the anus of the universe, and you need to clean it up in seven minutes.’
But there was no such call.
They jumped and hollered and high-fived like they were a beach volleyball team.
“Set a course for anywhere but here,” Joel told Cody. “I’m going to put on my celebration pants.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Sonic Shuttle
It was times like this when Reggie wished he wasn’t so nice. He insisted that they give the bedroom to Sam. Joel just wanted to add her to the rotation and make her also compete for the right to have the room. But, no, Reggie insisted she get the space.
Now, caked in sweat and bug guts, he wanted nothing more than to have a room to himself so he could change and sleep without the feeling that Joel was going to stick something in his ear the moment he fell asleep.
He kicked his boots off and threw them under his bunk. He stripped off his shirt, dropped it in a pile of dirty clothes, and fell onto his bed. Sam called dibs on the shower, then Joel after her, so it would be a while before he had the chance.
Reggie closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was somewhere else, somewhere clean. He loved Sonic. He loved having his own ship, and he loved the people with whom he was sharing it. But sometimes, he just wanted to be lying beside a lake, lapping waves the only sound for miles, fresh breeze the only smell.
A picture formed in his mind. He recognized it as the spot his dad took him fishing every year for their father/son weekend getaways. Reggie always looked forward to that weekend more than he did Christmas. The only time when it was just the two of them, nothing on their minds but fishing. No school. No work. As he got older, though, he remembered the shine fading on the trip. He’d started to not look forward to it as much. He even viewed it as a burden, the last few times they went.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with his dad, but rather that Reggie had started to see through the shimmer. More and more, he saw his dad as a real person rather than the mythic superhero father Reggie had always believed him to be. He could tell that work still weighed heavy on his dad’s mind, even though it was against the rules to think about it during those weekends.
That’s when Reggie realized that there was no escaping the grind. You can try to postpone it. You can try to get through by doing something you love on the side, like competitive gaming. But even if you’re lucky enough to land a gig like that, it too becomes a grind eventually. Or, you can grind away with your friends and hope you have enough laughs while doing it that it feels like fun.
Now, as he started to drift to sleep, the image of the lake transformed. He was standing in the metal bowels of the space station. Skittering came from all around and sounded like continuous rolling t
hunder. Always building, never breaking. It felt like a constant pressure in Reggie’s ears. He clutched at them, begging for the pressure to release, for his eardrums to burst so he wouldn’t have to listen to the army of skittering creatures as they haunted him. He was granted no such mercy. He heard every last step. Then came the screaming. Not from him… From somewhere out in the dark.
Reggie jolted upright. He had just barely crossed the threshold from awake to sleep. His heart pounded against his chest. Sweat ran from his brow all the way down his chest to his navel. Sam’s voice echoed in his memory. “‘Remember where you are. And where you are not.’”
“I’m on Sonic,” he said to himself. “No bugs.” He swung his legs over the side of his bunk and planted his feet on the floor. “I’m on Sonic.”
“Where else would you be?” Joel said, walking into the room with a towel around his waist. “Shower’s yours.”
“Must’ve been asleep longer than I thought,” Reggie said. He stood and stretched, the haunting feeling of his nightmare lingering in his memory. He grabbed a handful of what he assumed to be clean clothes and headed for the shower.
Washing away the blood and grime felt like a religious experience. The worry, the fear, the anxiety that he carried was washed away with the dirt and bug guts. It all mixed into a reddish soup and swirled down the drain. He felt the distance between him and that sludge of anxiety grow with each second. His heart fell back into a normal rhythm. He was again excited to be on the ship with his closest friends, striking out on their own, carving a new path in their lives.
“Just a rough day at the office,” he told himself.
Reggie bumped into Cody on his way back from the shower. Cody had a towel slung over his shoulder and was clearly keen to have his turn at freshening up.
“You have a call on the bridge,” Cody said to him. “Your parents.”
The happy, hopeful feeling that had returned to Reggie bloomed into an entire garden.
“Tell your mom to send us more of those oatmeal cookies. Fuck, those were good.” Cody passed by, a dreamy look on his face.
Reggie winced at the curse word. “Yeah, sure.”
He hadn’t spoken to his parents in more than a month. That may not have seemed like long for most people his age, but he was used to talking to them a few times a week. He was close with both his parents. He always had been.
The bridge was a cramped space, not meant to hold more than two people—a pilot and a navigator. Cody had automated most of the navigational and piloting stuff anyway, so they didn’t spend much time on the bridge. The communications system was also housed there. Any calls, long- or short-range, were made through the comm system.
Reggie stopped off at his bunk before heading to the bridge. He ran a comb through his hair, double-checked that his shirt was clean, and made sure he was generally presentable. His parents weren’t the critical type, but they were worriers. Was he getting enough to eat? Was he sleeping the proper amount? Were he and the boys getting along? Was he taking his vitamins?
Reggie stepped on the bridge and immediately noticed the dust covering everything. He ran a rag over as much of the surface as he could before feeling like he’d kept his parents waiting too long. He sat and pressed the glowing button indicating a call was on hold.
The image of his parents popped up on screen. Both had round faces. His mother’s cheeks were red and plump. His father’s chiseled jaw had since become hidden under a layer of sag, but he didn’t look chubby. Just like age was beginning to set in.
Reggie didn’t like that.
“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.”
His parents beamed. “Hey, there, Reg,” said his dad with a soft smile.
“Reginald, why do you look so tired?” his mom asked. “Are you not getting enough sleep? Those boys keeping you up all hours of the night? You send Joel and Cody over to this screen right now so I can set them straight.”
When Reggie was a teenager, living at home, gaming with the guys, no worries outside of leveling up his character in Return to Order, his mom’s questions would have irritated him to the point that he would have gotten up and left. But, now, after leaving home, they were a comfort. It felt nice knowing that his mom was still looking out for him. Even if she was looking out for him with a set of eagle eyes that saw everything as a threat.
“No, Mom, they aren’t keeping me up. We just got off a job.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice,” she said. “You know, Pat Leland, Tom’s boy, just got a job at a big law firm in Minneapolis. Can you believe it? Minneapolis. He’s rubbing elbows with some real big wigs.”
Reggie nodded along as she filled him in on the goings on around town, who’s dating who, the achievements of everyone from his graduating class. She would have kept going if Reggie’s dad didn’t interject.
“What was that about a job?” The look of pride on his dad’s face was subtle, but it was enough to warm Reggie’s cheeks.
“Our second one, actually,” Reggie said. “I think we’ve got a real knack for this. Things were a little hairy at first, but—” His parents’ faces scrunched up tight as they seemed to look past him. “What is it?” he asked.
They stammered, never managing to put together an entire word.
Reggie looked behind him to find Sam.
“I didn’t know anyone was in here,” she said, quietly. “I was just coming to check our coordinates.”
“No, it’s cool,” Reggie said.
Though, by the looks still on his parents’ faces, they knew he was lying. It reminded him of every time he saw a person in a wheelchair while grocery shopping with his mom as a kid. He’d ask her why the man’s legs didn’t work. She would blush, stutter, and shoo him away, never making eye contact with the man, pretending like he didn’t exist, and never answering the question.
“Mom, Dad, this is Sam.” Reggie pulled Sam over next to him, so his parents could get an unobstructed view. “She just joined the crew the other day. We wouldn’t have been able to finish those jobs without her. She’s been a huge help.”
Reggie’s mom nodded slowly, as an awkward, very forced smile spread over her face. “Oh. Well, isn’t that nice?” She cleared her throat. “Is she sick?” She pointed to Sam’s mask.
Sam lowered her eyes, a quiet annoyance in her gaze.
“No, Mom,” Reggie snapped, suddenly mortified. “Jesus.”
“You watch your mouth, young man,” his dad said in a stern voice.
Reggie slapped his forehead and tried to hide behind his hands. “This is the worst.”
“Reginald, speak up,” his mom said. “You know I can’t understand you when you mumble.”
Reggie respected his parents more than anyone, but in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hang up on them. Luckily, he got a different break.
“Sue, Larry, how the heck are you lovely people?” Joel poked his head onto the bridge and into view of the communication monitor.
Reggie’s parents both perked up at the sight of him. “There he is,” they both said.
Joel squeezed between Sam and Reggie, nearly budging them both out of the picture. “Sue, you are a picture of beauty as always. Larry, have you lost weight?”
Reggie’s parents swooned.
“Oh, you,” Sue said. She waved for Joel to lean in close, as if that meant they could have a private conversation. “Tell me, Joel, is my Reginald getting enough rest?”
“You know what, Sue? I don’t think our Reginald is getting enough sleep. I think he stays up too late playing those video games of his.”
Sam leaned close to Reggie and whispered in his ear, “Your parents seem to like Joel more than they like you.”
“They do,” Reggie said. “They always have.”
“Well, do us a favor, son,” Larry said, “and keep an eye on him for us.”
Joel put one hand on his heart and raised the other. “I promise to keep our Reginald out of trouble, sir.”
“You’re a good boy,” Larry said.
Reggie covered his face with his hands and shook his head. He looked up when he heard something rustle next to him. He peeked through the cracks in his fingers, wondering if the blood pounding in his ears was playing tricks with his hearing. The rustling continued, and was joined by a soft whimper, like a baby animal makes when nuzzling against its mother.
Before he could investigate, Cody entered the bridge. “What, are you guys having a party or something? Why was I not invited to hang out with the cool kids?” His voice died when he saw Reggie’s parents on the communication monitor. When he spoke again, his tone was shaky. “Oh, hello.”
Larry and Sue both pursed their lips and cast Cody disapproving looks.
“Cody,” Sue said. “I assume you’re well.” Her voice was frigid, like ice water being poured down one’s back.
He shifted uneasily, now awkwardly jammed in the overcrowded bridge with no graceful way of exiting and escaping Sue’s cold stare. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Sam leaned in close to Cody and whispered, “She definitely likes Joel more than you.”
Reggie couldn’t focus on the conversation, the voices became background noise. All he could hear was that nuzzling. Then he found the source of it: it was coming from Joel’s shirt.
Something moved under the fabric. Joel’s hands were covering his abdomen.
There is definitely something in his shirt!
Reggie shoved everyone aside and reached for the communication controls. “Good talking, Mom and Dad. Got to go.”
“But we’re not finished—”
Reggie shook his head. “Sorry. I love you. Bye.” He ended the call without waiting for a response. He spun around, casting an accusatory finger at Joel. “Take off your shirt.”
Joel tried to step back, but Sam was blocking his path. “That’s awfully forward of you. And a very weird transition after a conversation with your parents,” he said, dodging the order.
“What’s in your shirt?” Reggie demanded
“My nipples,” Joel answered. “What’s in yours?”
As Joel tried to budge his way between Sam and Cody, something wriggled more furiously under his shirt. Cody tried to jump away from him and banged his head on the ceiling.
