by Jeff Elkins
Jose hadn’t realized at the time how right she was. After leaving the Royal Farms, they’d walked for three hours, and Chris showed no sign of slowing down. He said he wanted to make it to the northern edge of the city by lunch.
Jose tried to mimic his partner’s attentiveness, but consistently failed. His mind wandered as he thought about other things: the chipping paint job of a passing car, the sound of a group of day care kids laughing in a back yard, the speed of a rat as it jumped in the sewer as they approached. There were a thousand things in the city to draw his attention away from the patrol.
They stood at the corner of Charles Street and Coldspring Lane, waiting for an opportunity to cross. Chris was ever vigilant, like a lighthouse watching for approaching ships. Jose ran his right hand across the bush next to him. The green leaves lightly scratched his palm. The feeling made him smile. He looked across the street to the University of Loyola sign. He liked the look of the white and red shield of the school against the black marble. The backdrop made the color of the shield pop.
Jose thought about the Gracanjo shield. Moose had drawn it for him in the dirt one night after a long day of walking. It was a large circle with a lower case g and the word “home” underneath. “You see that,” Moose said. “And you know you’re safe. That’s the sign of people who know what we do.”
“Come on,” Chris demanded, waking Jose from his memory. He was standing in the street a few paces in front of Jose.
“Sorry,” Jose said. “I’m sorry.” He took quick steps to catch up.
They walked another block north, coming to a stop under a foot bridge that read “Loyola University Maryland.” A chill ran down Jose’s spine. It was considerably cooler in the shade than in the sun.
“You know,” Chris said to Jose’s surprise. “If you are going to learn anything, you need to ask questions.”
“Oh,” Jose said.
“Yeah,” said Chris. They began walking again, crossing the street.
As he walked, Jose ran his fingers across the black iron fence to his right.
“Well?” Chris said.
A thousand questions ran through Jose’s mind. He struggled to settle on one. Words blurred in his mouth. “Uh,” he said.
“Come on,” Chris barked as he examined the building across the street. “I know you’ve got ‘em.”
Jose looked at his feet and tried to calm his mind. There was only one question that bubbled to the service. The one thing that haunted his thoughts. The only thing that mattered to him. He could feel it in his throat. Sitting there. Blocking all other questions until he let it loose.
“I um,” Jose muttered. He stumbled a little on a crack in the sidewalk.
Chris laughed. “I promise, I’ll give you an answer.” he said watching a car pass. “If we’re going to be partners, we need to talk.”
“Okay,” Jose said, still looking at his feet.
Chris sighed. “Listen kid,” he said. “I can walk in silence all day if you want to, but you aren’t going to learn anything if you don’t –”
“Why me?” Jose blurted out.
“What do you mean?” Chris asked.
“I mean, why did you pick me?” Jose said, still watching his feet.
“I didn’t. I didn’t pick you,” Chris said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that… We don’t pick our partners. You were called. Selected. Chosen by some divine hand. I didn’t pick you.”
“Oh,” said Jose, staring at his shoes still.
“Listen,” Chris said. “You’re too young. You’re too small. And you’re… Well. You wouldn’t have been my pick.”
“Oh,” Jose said again.
“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with you, it’s just that… Well. I don’t want this for you. You’re… You’re too young.”
“Yeah,” Jose said. Moose had told him the same thing. New Gracanjo usually weren’t picked until they were sixteen. Jose was an anomaly.
“So I didn’t pick you,” Chis said. “You were chosen by someone else. You were chosen because you’re like me. You’re a throwaway.”
“What?” Jose said confused.
“You’re a throwaway. You’ve got no one. Your mom is dead. Your grandparents are dead. Your dad is... Well, he died a long time ago. So there’s no one for you. If not this, then it would be a foster home. We’re disposable. That’s what makes us good Gracanjo. When we die, and we will die, no one will miss us. No one will want to pay for our headstone. No one will cry tears at the funeral that won’t happen. That’s why you were picked. Just like me. No one will miss you. And it’s better that way. Someone has to do this job. Someone has to protect the city. Better us than someone who has something to live for.”
Jose continued to stare at his shoes. “Yeah,” he said softly.
“I mean,” Chris said, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t mean to say that you aren’t worth anything. That’s not it. You’re a great kid. And I wish you hadn’t been picked. I wish you were in school right now, like all the other kids your age. And I wish your mom hadn’t died of cancer. And I wish your grandparents hadn’t been in that car crash. And I wish your dad...” Chris sighed. “I wish a lot of things. But the bastard in charge, whoever the fuck he is, doesn’t seem to care what I want. He does what he wants. He doesn’t ask me. So I didn’t pick you. Don’t blame me for this shit.”
“Okay,” Jose said again. “I get it.”
“You, um. You want to find some lunch?” Chris said. “College areas have good spots to find leftovers.”
Jose was suddenly aware of his stomach hurting. “Yeah, sure,” he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Chris and Jose lay in the grass between two large, empty buildings. The one on their right was an abandoned wholesale warehouse that had only lasted a year before it closed. The one on their left was a mega-store that had lasted four years longer. Both were now empty shells, waiting to be knocked down or repurposed.
“Can you see anything?” Jose asked. Once in a while, if they came to discover their calling in the midst of deep pain, Gracanjos would be given special gifts. As a team, Jose and Chris were rare, because they both had unique abilities. Chris’ gift was far more useful.
Reality and Ferventus – the world of the monsters which was comprised of the two great cities Malacandra, and Cocytus, and Midian, the land between them – lay on top of one another, separated by an invisible barrier called the Veil. Small, mysterious coins could be used to open doorways between the two worlds. Because of an accident that occurred long ago, Reality had been made visible in Midian. Reality haunted the parallel world, with people and buildings existing as cloudy like images. Midian, though, was not visible to people in Reality. Except for Chris. Chris saw both worlds at the same time. It often gave him a huge tactical advantage over monsters who were preparing to cross. Chris always knew exactly where they were going to come through.
“There are fifteen. Seven Mardocks. Four Slakes. And four Conculos,” Chris said back. “I don’t think they’ve seen us. They look like they’re waiting for something.”
“Are you sure there isn’t a Sinciput too? Or an Egrat?” Of the five races of Midian monsters. Jose had seen a Slake and he was too familiar with Mardocks. A Conculos would almost round out his education. The only races left would be Sinciput and Egrats.
“These aren’t trading cards, kid,” Chris said.
“I know. I just… I heard Sinciputs were small, you know? Maybe you missed one?”
“They aren’t that small.”
The roar of dirt bikes caught Chris and Jose’s attention. Seven bikes tore into the empty parking lot, kicking a cloud of debris behind them. As they entered, a pink circle emerged and a portal opened. Four Mardocks stepped through first. Large and muscular, their lack of pigment in their skin made them eerily white. They only wore loose-fitting gray pants and tight black shirts. A knot of fear formed in Jose’s throat when he saw their black swirling eyes.
“They’ve left half their force on the other side. This looks like some kind of arranged meeting,” Chris said.
“But I thought we were the only ones that knew,” Jose whispered in confusion.
Chris snorted. “There are others. There’s always others.”
The dirt bikes slowed to a stop fifteen yards from the portal. The riders dismounted and leaned the bikes on their kickstands. None of them wore helmets. Most looked to be in their twenties. One looked over fifty. The younger ones wore t-shirts and baggy workout pants with various colored boxers peeking out of the top. The older one wore blue jeans and a white button-down shirt. All seven had on dark sunglasses. While the six younger riders approached the monsters slowly, the older one stepped forward with no fear.
“We won’t hear anything from here,” Chris said. “Let’s make ourselves known.” To Jose’s shock, Chris stood and began walking toward the meeting. Not knowing what else to do, Jose jumped to his feet and chased after his partner.
“Yes, Ernie,” Chris said, speaking to the sky. “It’s noted. Now shut up while we handle this.”
“What’s noted?” Jose said.
“Ernie thinks this is a bad idea,” Chris said.
“I’m with you Ernie,” Jose replied softly unsure if the Relay could hear him.
It took ten yards before the two other parties noticed Chris and Jose striding toward them. The young riders responded with panic, drawing guns from their waste bands and taking steps back. The four Mardocks formed a wall in front of the Conculos. But the older man and the Conculos seemed unmoved by Chris and Jose’s approach.
“Goddamn it,” the older man yelled at Chris and Jose. “We’re just fucking talking. Why do you assholes have to be here?”
“Hello, Lefty,” Chris yelled back. “Miss me?”
The older gentlemen, shaking his head “no” in reply, said, “Fuck you, Chris.”
Chris and Jose arrived at the gathering. Jose was sweating. With the riders on their left and the monsters on their right, he was feeling exposed.
The Conculos with the purple knives pushed through the wall of Mardocks, smiled, and said, “It’s good you are here, Gracanjo. We mean no harm. We are simply here to make an offer.”
“We’re not buying anything you’re selling,” Chris said. There was a look of deep hatred in his eye.
The Conculos gave Chris a gentle look of compassion. “I understand. I apologize for breaking your rules. They call me Bose. Commander of the Riptride,” he said with a bow. His hair was black and ruffled, and there was a scar that stretched from the corner of his left eye, down his cheek. The more Jose studied the monster, the more unnerved he became.
“I don’t care what your name is,” Chris said.
“Gentlemen,” Bose said to the crowd. “We aren’t here to bicker. We don’t’ intend to stay and conquer your city. We are simply looking for something that is ours, and we would like it returned.”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Chris said with a growl. Jose scanned the riders. They all still had their guns drawn, but their arms were beginning to shake with fear and exhaustion. Jose looked back at the Mardocks. They were poised to strike. Two had their sights on Chris. One was tracking Jose. The other watched the riders. Jose nodded to the beast staring him down. It smiled in return, baring its white shark-like teeth.
“Why does your sort always jump to violence and blood and fire? Can’t we just talk? Far fewer people will die if we can just have a chat.”
“I have another idea,” Chris said, his eyes locked on Bose. “Why don’t you go back to whatever rock in hell you crawled out of?”
“So unreasonable,” Bose said. “I miss Carl. This town was much more fun when Carl was in charge.”
“Carl was always slower to the punching and kicking,” Lefty said.
“Nice friends you’ve made here, Lefty,” Chris said.
“Carl was the best,” Lefty said “I miss when he was in charge.”
“Carl doesn’t work here anymore,” Chris said with a sneer. “I’m in charge now.”
Bose nodded like a parent nods when a child asks to put a piece of artwork on the refrigerator. “We can see that.”
“I’ll give you to the count of ten to step back through that hole before I rip your head from your body,” Chris said with a growl.
Bose sighed.
“One,” Chris said.
Jose could feel the Mardocks grow restless. He watched their muscles tense as the black pools they called eyes intensified their swirling.
“Now Chris,” Lefty said, removing his glasses. “Ain’t nobody got to hurt anybody. This is just a business deal.”
“Two,” Chris said.
“We are in search of a box,” Bose said. “It’s small. About this big,” he said, illustrating with his hands the size of a cereal box.
“Three,” Chris said.
Jose clinched his fists, feeling his fingers in his palm. His heart raced. He could hear its pounding in his ears.
“What do I get if I bring it to you?” Lefty said.
“Four,” Chris said.
“What do you want?” Bose said with a smile.
“Five,” Chris said.
“Fuck,” one of the three younger riders said as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
“Put the guns down boys,” Lefty said. “Chris is all talk.”
“Fuck you, Lefty,” Chris said to the old man.
“You meant six,” Lefty said. Then turning to Bose he said, “I’ve got a score. You’re going to settle it for me.”
“Six,” Chris said.
There was the sharp sound of metal being unsheathed as two of the Conculos drew their swords.
“Fuck. Fuck,” the outermost rider yelled. His gun shook in his hand.
“I want it to be noted that all I wanted to do was talk,” Bose said shaking his head with frustration.
Jose tried to play the fight in his head like Moose had taught him. The Conculos and Mardocks would move on Chris first. He knew Chris would meet them head on, expecting him to step into the middle of the triangle, cutting off the riders from the rest of the monsters. He wondered if a rider would shoot him in the back when he moved in to protect them.
“Put the goddamn guns away,” Lefty barked.
“Seven,” Chris said.
“You don’t need to die here. You are painfully outnumbered,” Bose said.
“If I can take a few of you with me, it’ll be worth it,” Chris growled.
To Jose’s shock, another pink portal opened ten yards behind the riders. Through it stepped two more Conculos. The first was lean and studios. His face was lined with age. His hair was neatly trimmed and combed. He was dressed in armor similar to Bose except for its blue coloring. He carried a thin sword that reminded Jose of the Samurai movies he used to watch. The second was taller. The hair on his head was recently shaved and the goatee around his mouth was tightly trimmed. There was a wild look of hunger in his purple eyes. He wore no armor, but two curved swords hung off his belt.
“Fuck this. Fuck. This,” another rider yelled with fear, spinning to face the two new purple eyed monsters.
“Hi-ya Bose-ee,” the wild-eyed Conculos said with a wave.
“The exile and his guard dog. I should have known you were lurking around here somewhere,” Bose re
plied with disdain.
“We’ve incapacitated the rest of your troops,” the blue armored Conculos said plainly.
“Eight,” Chris said.
“This is none of your concern,” Bose sneered. “Walk away now, and I’ll forget you were here. No hard feelings. I won’t even tell Commander Azo.”
“Tell Azo he is breaking the council mandates by crossing the Veil,” the calmer of the newcomers said.
“Who are they?” Jose whispered out of the side of his mouth.
“They’re with us,” Chris said. “Try not to kill them.”
Jose laughed nervously in reply.
“Mr. Bose,” Lefty said with his hands held up. “This is getting to be a little too much. You said you had this under control, but none of this shit looks under control to me, so my boys and I are just going to back out of here and let all y’all have at each other, alright?”
“Nine,” Chris said.
“You’re going to miss the party, old man,” the wild-eyed one said.
“I’ve done my absolute best to keep this a peaceful negotiation but you’ve all left me no option but violence.” Bose held his hand in the air. The Conculos with the maces passed Bose a cloth bag. Bose opened the drawstring at the top and removed a severed head from the bag. He held the bearded, red-headed man’s head up for everyone to see. Although the eyes had glossed over and become milky white, the expression of terror on the face was still clear.
“Aw fuck! Fuck no!” Lefty’s crew exclaimed as they slowly backed toward their bikes.
“I was in the city you call Annapolis yesterday. This Gracanjo too refused to help me in my quest,” Bose said. He threw the head into the middle of the gathering. It landed with a thud. “You will all go hunting for the box and when you find it you will bring it to me or this will happen to you too.”
