VOLT: YA Fantasy

by Dawn Brazil

  “Thanks, friend,” the kid says. He extends his hand past me for Joe to shake.

  Joe leans forward and pushes me out the way. I stumble forward into the room and gape in amazement as he greets our new roommate. What the Houston? When did that hunk of ice around his heart melt?

  “Uh…Joe, can I speak with you in the other room?” I ask through clenched teeth. He turns and rolls his eyes, which in my honest opinion, I thought only females do.

  “No,” he replies. He plops onto the couch and starts a conversation with the new kid.

  I take a deep breath. It’s like I’m taking yoga lessons with all the breathing exercises I’ve been through today. “If you won’t speak to me in private, I’ll have to talk in front of… whatever his name is here.” I fling my arms in the direction of the kid.

  “It’s Ferris,” the kid says, raising one long, slender finger in the air quickly.

  “What?” I say.

  “My name, the fella you referrin’ to. The name’s Ferris,” he says.

  “Ferris,” I cover my mouth with my hand and look away for a second to shield my laughter from him. “Like Ferris B—"

  “Yes,” he interrupts. He stares at me; I stare at him, then Joe. Joe stares at me like I’ve stepped on the back of his new J’s.

  “Sorry, dude,” Joe comments. “She’s… I don’t even know what to say.” He shakes his head. “She’s not even worth a good comeback.”

  “Wow. You’re the one to talk, delta sierra. Ferris, if you’re going to stay here, you might as well know—Joe has multiple personality disorder. Don’t freak out if he curses you out in the next minute. Or bangs his head against a wall until he passes out.”

  I expect Joe to say something. I expect him to roll his caramel eyes. I expect him to try and eviscerate me with his sharp tongue. He doesn’t. He sits back with the TV remote and starts flipping through the channels.

  I scratch the fading scar on the side of my face and turn my attention to the room. The décor is oddly different from the hallway. It’s a hodgepodge of colors, textures, and patterns. The curtains are dark blue velvet; the carpet is a shag in bubble gum pink, and the walls are varying shades of purple. The furniture is oversized and in the most outrageous purples and oranges imaginable.

  “It looks like someone threw up confetti,” I remark. The room is like therapy, because due to a combination of Ryan not being here when I arrived, Joe's rudeness, and now another person being added to the fray, I’m unable to stop the laughter that erupts from me.

  Laughter crossing these lips isn’t something I’m accustomed to, yet I’ve done it many times in VOLT. I’m not even sure where that laughter came from. Maybe there’s some residual happiness in my soul that escapes on occasion. Rare occasions.

  I need to get serious and talk with Joe. Maybe there is a reasonable explanation for us being here. With the prospect of Ryan being so close, I can’t abandon the idea of seeing him.

  “Okay, Joe. What’s the plan? Why are we here?” I allow a small measure of hope to seep into my pessimistic heart at the thought of seeing Ryan, touching him, and having him see me—like no one else ever could. That possibility is the shelter in the hurricane of my life. If Joe can make that reunion a reality, I might attempt to be a measure kinder. Might attempt.

  “The plan is for you to leave me alone so I can watch TV,” Joe comments. He props his feet on the orange and purple table in front of the sofa.

  “What’s it you’re tryin’ to do?” Ferris asks.

  “Find someone. Why? Can you help?” I’m not even the slightest bit embarrassed about asking for his help, since he was bold enough to ask if he can share our room.

  “Surely can, Miss ma’am. Happy to help, too. I’ve been in VOLT for I reckon goin’ on thirty years now. I know every inch a—"

  “Wait a minute. Back up. You’ve been here,” I point to our surroundings for emphasis, “for thirty years. You’ve got to explain. How’s that possible?”

  “That’s simple. I ain’t found my Ma—my lost thing.”

  My heart beats slower after his words.

  Florida.

  Chapter 13

  “It ain’t as bad as it sounds,” Ferris protests. “If you got here straight away, you got an advantage I ain’t have. If I’d arrived sooner, I reckon she’d a been waitin’ for me real close by. Who you two here for?”

  “I’m here for my Mother. Found her already.” Joe states. He waves his hand toward me. “I’m stuck doing charity work my mom signed me up for. She’s looking for her boyfriend.”

  “I can speak for myself,” I say.

  “Then do it, instead of sitting over there frowning all the time.”

  “I don’t always frown.” That’s a lie. “I don’t like you.” That’s the truth.

  “Am I supposed to care about you not liking me?”

  “Care. Don’t care. I don’t give a Florida. But you don’t get to speak for me.”

  “Fine. Then talk, dumb-ass, and s—"

  “Are you two kin?”

  “Hell no. I have three brothers and one sister and she’s not her.”

  “I don’t have any siblings. Thank God,” I mumble.

  “Yeah, I ain’t got no siblings neither,” Ferris states. “But it’d be rightly swell to have a bro.”

  “My brothers are younger. They can be a pain, but they’re good for doing my chores and keeping secrets,” Joe says. He and Ferris start a conversation I don’t want to participate in.

  “I’m going to the head first,” I yell over my shoulders in search of the room.

  “Whatever the hell that is, we don’t care,” Joe shouts after me. I smirk at his comment. Of course he doesn’t know what it means. I don’t know why I keep up with the military speak. I guess it’s natural for me now.

  The head is less colorful than the other rooms. I expected the toilet to be some weird shade of purple. It’s black. The walls are black, too. Everything else in the space is white. I like it. It reminds me of me.

  When I get back to the front room, Joe and Ferris are talking pets. “Howdy, Sam. What kinda pet you got?” Ferris asks in his annoying-as-Florida cowboy accent.

  “Yeah, not in kindergarten. I don’t feel like sharing in story time.” I drop into what’s most likely meant to be a dining chair. It’s a neon shade of orange with lilac flowers covering it. Four chairs—in differing sizes, shapes, and colors—sit around the oblong table.

  “She don’t mesh well with other Duds,” Joe says. “Ignore her. I do.”

  “You’re an Alaska to the highest degree.”

  “What?” Ferris says, with a frown.

  “She’s cursing,” Joe says. “You know, like a kindergartner.”

  “If you must know, I invented my own words using cities I’ve lived in. So my parents wouldn’t know what I was saying.”

  “Why cities?” Ferris asks.

  I take a deep breath. Denver he’s nosier than a legal officer at court martial. “My dad’s in the military. Moved a lot. Can we get some chow?” I turn to Joe.

  “No,” he says without even a glance in my direction. I don’t feel much for debating, so I stare out the nearest window and don’t speak for several minutes.

  “Some fixins would set my bell right, too,” Ferris states.

  “What the hell? Seriously. You two make me think I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone with the way you talk. Say shit like normal people.”

  “Joe, my papa was a cowboy and this here's how he talked. I picked it up honest.”

  “Well, you sound honestly like an idiot.”

  “Leave him alone. You’re such a delta sierra it’s not even funny.”

  Joe jumps to his feet. “That’s what I’m talking about. What the hell’s a delta sierra? Or chow. Who the hell talks like that?”

  “Actually, a lot of people use the vernacular Sam uses. Most notably people in the military,” Ferris says. Joe and I turn and stare at him open-mouthed.

  I shake my head. Joe
laughs. “You lost something there, Ferris Bullshitter?”

  “What?” Ferris squints his slanted eyes and a look of confusion clouds his pale face.

  “Your cowboy accent, dumbshit,” Joe says. “You lost it.” Ferris' face is redder than a clown’s nose and he licks his thin lips.

  “Stop being a bully, Joe. You understand that, aye?”

  “Thank you, Sam. I’ve been in VOLT so long, I forget how to act or who I am… sometimes. It’s nice to have a friend here.”

  I blink at him several times. “I’m not your friend, Ferris.” No one speaks or moves for a few minutes. Ferris frowns into the carpet. Joe flips through the channels on the TV. And I scowl at the backs of their heads while I bite on my thumbnail.

  Joe lifts himself from the sofa. He throws the remote back to the table and says, “Let’s get something to eat.” Ferris and I exchange glances, but follow Joe as he heads for the hatch.

  "We cannot stumble out into the night with reckless abandon. Sustenance is critical, but our very lives might be in peril if we attempt this task at such an hour." Ferris motions out the large window where night has fallen.

  Joe and I exchange another look. “You’re doing too much, Ferris,” I say. His face brightens again, this time like a red Christmas bulb. I shake my head. “Way too much.” I follow Joe, who’s already out the room at this point.

  When we make it to the elevator, Joe turns and stares. “You need to follow my instructions. The reason we’re at this hotel is because of that couple you thought you recognized. Most likely, you did. For some reason, the people you think you know are usually reapers. Not all the time, but most of the time. I didn’t want to take a chance earlier, that’s why I reacted like that.” I nod. “Reapers are bad. They attack the living in VOLT. They want our souls, I guess.”

  “Got it. Reapers bad.” Isn’t that the name Pete said?

  A group of females exit from a room nearby. They’re all skinny, and Barbie-like, and plastic. They stop at the elevators beside ours. Joe gives me one last pointed look before turning and pressing the button for the elevator. The cluster of girls giggle and point in our direction. The tallest doll waves her hand back and forth. It takes a few seconds for me to figure out she’s motioning for me to come to her. Her boney wrists sways so hard, it looks like it might snap any second.

  Curious as ever, I walk to where she stands. “Hiya. I’m Cindy. And these are my friends.” She waves her thin, plastic wrist around her friends. They are nearly my height. “We have to know. Who’s the dreamboat with you?” I stare at her for half a second without speaking.

  One of Cindy’s friends, with a long French braid that hangs nearly to her butt, says, “The tall one with the pretty brown eyes and kissable lips.” I cringe at her words. Who the Florida is she talking about? “The tall one with the dark black hair.” I scrunch my face more. Are they talking about Joe?

  “Are you partially blind?” I wave my hands in front of her face to see if her eyes follow the movement. “Sorry, doll. You don’t want any of that mess right there. Trust and believe.”

  “He’s so hot, though,” Cindy says, staring past me at Joe. “His big, broad shoulders, and oh boy, those lips.”

  “Don’t forget his eyes, Cee-Cee,” another one says. “He’s definitely a ten.”

  “Hey, Princess Paranoia,” Joe says. “Elevator.”

  I cut my eyes at Joe. “Sorry, ladies, he’s actually taken. That’s his boyfriend standing next to him.” I turn and Joe and Ferris are talking quietly together. “I’ll be right there, boys.” I wave in their direction. They both frown. “Well, I’ve got to go. You all should improve your horrendous taste in guys.” I walk away and try not to crack a smile.

  It’s hard.

  Joe glances over at the dolls, who continue to stare after us. We walk into the elevator and they’re still craning their elastic necks to get a glimpse of hunky Joe. "Okay, reapers,” Joe starts as soon as the hatch closes. “If we go by ourselves… you know, one at a time, we won't attract as much attention. You okay with that, Giggling Psycho?"

  “Aye,” I say, still amused from my short convo with the plastics. I’m unsuccessful at keeping the amusement from my voice. Joe frowns at me for a second without speaking. I peek at his eyes. They’re an extremely light shade of brown. Caramel. Weighted against others' eyes I’ve seen, they aren’t entirely bad.

  "You’re not listening, Gigantor," Joe says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. "I saw this reaper snatch a guy bigger than me once. The guy screamed and yelled, but the reaper kept on charging until the man stopped moving. He just lay limp in the reaper's arms after a while. That was some scary shit. Maybe we should put you in front. You’ll for sure scare the reapers with all that frowning.” He smiles and Ferris joins in on the lame-Alaska chide.

  "I'll remind myself constantly not to bother these reapers you two are terrified of.” They both shake their heads. “And Joe, how can you say anything about my height, when you’re taller than both Ferris and me?"

  "Yes, Your Royal Dryness, I’m taller than you. Thank you for pointing out the obvious. My height is normal. Yours isn’t. You must be, what, five-eight, five-nine? It's gangly looking, honestly." Again, he and Ferris enjoy a laugh at my expense. It doesn’t bother me.

  I shrug and pick at my nail beds.

  We exit to the lobby and I strain to contain my amusement as we pass through. The lobby is subdued compared to the mania earlier, though. Once we arrive at the front hatch, Joe stops. "I'm going first. Sam, you follow me."

  His light brown eyes bore into me for a long moment before he speaks again. "I need you to listen carefully. You have to do exactly as I do. If I step on a crack in the sidewalk, you better do the same. Understand?" His eyes burn into me, and for a brief moment I can't speak. What’s wrong with me?

  "Aye, aye." I shove past him to stand next to Ferris, whose hand is cupped over his mouth; he’s laughing into his curled fists at something.

  We march out of the lobby, my hands sweating as they hang at my side. Joe and Ferris obviously think the plain people walking on the street are serious threats. Reapers. If the insinuation behind the name is accurate, I should be more cautious until I find Ryan. Are they actually demons who cart their victims off to death? Since this is VOLT maybe it has another meaning altogether.

  Judging from the fear in Ferris' eyes and the caution in Joe’s, the threat of a reaper is something I have to take seriously. I can’t allow anything to stop me from getting to Ryan.

  Chapter 14

  Joe’s steps are precise—not too fast, not too slow, as he crosses the road to the restaurant. I study his movements to ensure I follow them exactly. As soon as he enters the restaurant, I step off the curb. Gravel crunches beneath me with each plod of my foot. My eyes focus on the ground as much as possible. I pick out discarded garbage on the road to keep my attention focused. There’s not much trash; VOLT seems to be a rather clean city. A gum wrapper lays to the left, a soda can next to it, and a man's wristwatch with a broken face and brown leather band—other than these objects, the street is clear. Cautiously, I walk, careful to avoid stepping on the junk I observe.

  I match Joe’s movements exactly.

  As I approach the middle divider, a red Lexus convertible zooms by, full of bears. They whistle at me as they drive by. I stop, frozen in place for a second. Ferris clears his throat behind me; the sound propels me forward. One step off the divider, a woman hurries in my direction from the sidewalk. My feet refuse to make the next step forward. It’s my fifth grade English teacher, Mrs. Green.

  I’m frozen.

  Is she coming to kick me from VOLT?

  I won’t be able to see Ryan. My lacking life will remain incomplete. Fear grips my movements and holds me hostage. Sweat trickles down the side of my face as I stand immobilized. She’s almost reached me where I stand.

  A hatch opens in front of me and Joe runs full speed toward me. I shift my eyes back to Mrs. Green. Her speed increases.r />
  Still, I can’t move. I’m frozen.

  Joe snatches me under his arm and half-drags, half-carries me to the sidewalk. We reach the hatch to the restaurant. Mrs. Green freezes. She pulls her mouth back into a snarl, exposing razor-sharp teeth. A shrill hiss escapes her as Joe and I enter the restaurant. What the absolute Houston was that?

  Joe motions toward a sign of a dove. I have no idea what that means. We make our way toward a booth at the back.

  We don’t talk as we sit. I glance out the window but can’t see anything above the russet curtains. But Ferris is out there. What’s he going to do now?

  I led her right to him.

  Chapter 15

  “Sam,” Joe starts. I fix him with a paralyzed stare. “What the hell was—"

  “I killed him. I killed him.” I can’t stop the words from spilling repeatedly from my lips. “I did it. I did it.” I can’t catch my breath. The air has evaporated around me and I’m gasping.

  “Sam, be quiet. People are staring,” Joe says. Except I can’t stop the words from rolling from my lips.

  “I don’t give a Florida about anybody in here.” I pound the table with my fist once. “Florida, San Diego, Florida.” I strike the table again. Joe’s lips quirk into a smile and I frown at him.

  “You sick, sadistic—” I cease my rant and my mouth hangs open as Ferris slides in beside Joe. I close my mouth, but can’t find my way to the right words.

  I launch out of my seat, grasp Ferris by the neck, and hold him tight against me. “Florida, Ferris. You scared the San Diego out of me.”

  Ferris frowns over at Joe. “She’s cursing, remember.”

  “Right,” Ferris says.

  "You're okay?” I ask him. He nods but offers no explanation.

  “I don't know what I was thinking… I was… paralyzed." I smile the biggest smile I can muster. Happy something didn’t get fouled up because of me.

  “That looks like a real, genuine smile,” Joe says.

  I stop smiling.