VOLT: YA Fantasy

by Dawn Brazil

I hate it, too. There’s no room for him. Real or not, there’s only space for Ryan. I answer as truthfully as I can. “Love can be an odd thing. The operative question isn’t whether you should give your heart away. It’s to whom you should give it. And whether they are worthy of you. You should be selective. Not everyone deserves you.” That’s a complement I hadn’t even expected to cross my lips. But the words are true.

  “Great advice.” He’s so close his breath caresses my cheek. “There’s my dilemma. Most girls back home are selfish and shallow.” He pulls back, not meeting my eyes, and sits on the end of his bed.

  I yawn and stretch my arms above my head. "I’m so tired." I slip all the way under the blanket. I can’t continue this conversation. It’s wrong. I’m fragile. And he deserves better.

  A shadow falls over me and my eyes spring open. Joe gazes at me from above. "Sam, you’re so freaking beautiful.” His eyes dance across my face. “Even the crazy you let us see, it’s beautiful. Ryan was lucky. Your dedication to him… I don’t know. It makes me… jealous, sometimes."

  "Please stop," I plead. "I love Ryan. I always have. And as beautiful as you think this shell is, the inside, my insides, are corroded. I’m dead. I’m nothing. You deserve way better than me.”

  "I hate how you talk about yourself," he raises his voice. "Who told you you were worthless? Why do you feel like this?” I don’t answer because I want him to stop talking and go back to his bed.

  He doesn’t stop talking, though. “You’re hiding behind whatever happened to you, but you have these moments when you peek out and we see you. God, it’s spectacular. How you reassure Ferris and put me in my place.” He shakes his head. “What happened that’s so bad you feel worthless and stay true to a dead guy?"

  “Love is pain. You don’t get to give up on who you love because it gets hard.”

  “It’s not hard. It’s impossible. He’s dead.”

  "Joe. Goodnight. We have to go to bed. You need to get rest. We have a long day ahead of us."

  In fairness to everyone involved—Joe, Ryan, and me—I can’t allow this discussion to continue. Though I love Ryan, an ache rises in my throat and lodges itself there at Joe’s determined expression as he moves back to his rack.

  * * *

  I know the smile plastered over my face matches his, dimple for dimple. I also know love this pure only happens once in a lifetime. "Ryan," I breathe into his neck as we cuddle close. "I hope we’ll always be this in love." He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lifts his head from the thick blades of grass we’re lying in to peer at me.

  "This is forever," he replies, smiling so irresistibly it makes me feel like I'm on the verge of tears.

  I push myself so I’m aligned with him. I stroke the side of his face, drawing out the features I love most. I run my hands through his close-cropped hair, down past the nape of his neck, and further to his chest, and finally to his heart that beats out a melody for us of long life, endless love, and uncharted happiness. I tilt my head to him and our lips meet, causing a cascade of pleasure to ripple through me. Too quickly, he draws away, though. He cups my face in his hands.

  He caresses me gently. “Do me one favor, please?”

  “Anything,” I reply.

  “Stop calling me Ryan. My name’s Joe.”

  “Joe,” I creak.

  I’m ripped from my lover’s arms and thrust into the waking world by laughter. When I fully wake in bed, I realize I spoke aloud. I said Joe’s name. San Diego. I had a dream.

  I pull the blanket back from my head a fraction, only enough to peer out and determine if they heard me.

  Joe and Ferris sit at the end of their bed, laughing hysterically at what appears to be the news. I blink a few times to shake the absurd dream away. How the Houston can I even dream here?

  My breath moves too quickly through me, so I close my eyes to bring it back to normal. I sit, still fatigued from yesterday’s events and peer closer at what they find so amusing.

  The news anchor explains how a perpetrator robbed a local market and stole all the milk. She adds that this same perpetrator also robbed other establishments, often only stealing dairy products. Confused why that’s so funny, I crane my neck past Joe to get a better view of the TV. The channel logo at the bottom right corner announces that this station is CNN. My face scrunches in confusion. I rarely hear anyone laughing as they watch CNN.

  I stretch my arms wide and my collarbone clicks. The memory of how I broke it floats to my head. I shake the flashback loose, like I’m freeing myself from the murderous bite of a scorpion. When I glance over at the guys, Joe has a smile plastered in my direction. The smile is startling at first because it reminds me of the way he smiled in my dream. His soft, full lips around a brilliant white mouth…

  My surprise is replaced with indignation. He knows. He must have heard me say his name when I woke. I want to cower back into the blanket, to restart the day. Except, my lost thing is somewhere waiting for me. I don’t have the luxury of procrastination.

  I kick the blanket off and push myself to the edge of the bed. I’m about to stand when I remember my gown. Joe turns and peers at me.

  "Is there a problem?" I ask.

  “You want a list?”

  I smile because his smart-Alaska response is exactly what I want from him.

  "You’re such a weirdo,” he says. He throws a small paper bag and a much larger plastic bag at me. “I bought this for you." His attention is back to the TV in seconds.

  The smells emanating from one of the bags is pure joy. My belly feels hollow. Inside one bag, two breakfast tacos are waiting for me to devour them. They’re egg, potato, and cheese—my favorite. I take one delicious bite, but as I’m about to swallow this delectable treat, I remember. Where did he get this?

  "Uh, Joe," I say, around my mouth full of food. "Where’d you get this? I mean you’re the one who warned us about meat."

  "Don't worry about it. I got it from a reputable establishment. It’s not meat. It’s mallard and flautin with meltin—it’s food specific to this region." He smiles. "Is it good?"

  I swallow, savoring each morsel as it slides down my throat. "It's delicious." I stuff another bite into my mouth, not caring how greedy it makes me look. I finish the food and guzzle the small carton of purple stuff that tastes like orange juice but has a lemony aftertaste. My stomach gurgles in delight. I finally fed it something good—even if I didn’t know what the Houston it was.

  I grab the other bag and pull it open. Inside a pink silk robe sits, folded neatly. The robe will cover the gown he gawked at like an insane person last night. I slip it around my shoulders and tie it around my waist.

  It’s a perfect fit and conceals the lingerie beneath. I want to give Joe a giant kiss. I also want to wrap my fingers around his thick neck and choke him until he’s near death. How mixed up I am about everything is a matter of great confusion in itself for me.

  As I enter the head, the television blares, "We'll be right back with more Cat News Network." I shake my head. I should have suspected something preposterous like this from VOLT.

  I laugh at CNN the entire time I wash my face and brush my teeth in the head. How could a cat steal a carton of milk?

  "Sam!" Ferris yells through the hatch. "We have to go."

  "I'm ready." When I exit, Joe and Ferris are already heading out the room and don’t turn to look at me. Ferris holds the hatch open and I slam it behind me.

  The suns blare overhead and the cloudless sky is sprinkled with shades of yellow and fuchsia. We cross the parking lot of the motel and cut down a small alleyway. We walk to the next block and make a left.

  "We're here," Ferris announces.

  "We're here. As in, we arrived at our destination. Our destination being to meet the Sensei?" I ask, doubtful. We meet so much opposition any time we venture out, I’ve grown accustomed to it.

  "Yes."

  "Ferris, you're an idiot. You should’ve told us about the Sensei before now if he’s so close
." I push Joe in the shoulder and shake my head at him.

  "I know. I goofed on that one." Ferris ducks his head.

  "It's okay, though—you came through when we needed you. Maybe it wasn’t meant for us to meet the Sensei until now." I don't want to make him feel bad about this. He’s proving to be one of the nicest kids I’ve ever met.

  “Thanks, Sam,” Ferris smiles over at me.

  As we walk to the white brick building, I inspect it to find a hatch or window. There are no hatches or windows. How are we supposed to enter the building?

  Ferris walks around Joe and me and taps a single brick with his closed fist at the front of the building. The brick appears to be normal—it isn’t bigger than any of the others, nor does it have any special characters to distinguish it, and it’s the same color as the others. As soon as he touches it, a keypad folds down. Ferris speaks into it, words I can’t hear because two car loads of pitbulls ride by, blaring country music. The music is so loud Joe grabs me and pushes me in front of him.

  Once the commotion behind us settles, Joe releases his grip on my waist and I stop holding my breath from his touch. Ferris turns and smiles at me. “They’ll be out in a second,” he says.

  A billowing cloud of charcoal smoke seeps around us. We each take a step backward and exchange glances. As quickly as the smoke arrives, it dissipates faster, leaving a hatch in its wake. I take another step back, running right into Joe. His hands are back at my waist, balancing me. I inhale then exhale, trying to push away the ache where his hands rest.

  “I didn’t take you for a weakling,” Joe says. I shove him playfully and his grip on my waist releases. The hatch swings open. A towering man in a tuxedo and top hat opens the entrance and peers at Ferris solemnly.

  "What business do you have here?" His voice is so loud it’s like he’s speaking through a megaphone.

  "We’d like to speak with the Sensei," Ferris says.

  "Check out Lurch," Joe whispers beside me.

  "What is your name, Milk Dud?" The gargantuan man asks.

  "It’s Ferris Wheeler, Sir," Ferris answers. Ferris turns to Joe and me, hunches his shoulders, and shakes his head.

  The man closes the hatch, but not before leaving Ferris orders. "Stay put until I return." From my position next to Joe, I see Ferris' Adam's apple bob up, then down as he swallows hard at the strange man's request.

  “Hey Ferris,” Joe asks. “Why isn’t your last name Ji?”

  Ferris' shoulders seem to sink with the question. “It is. I use my mother’s maiden name here.” Joe lays a hand across Ferris' right shoulder and squeezes. I smile at their interaction.

  The giant returns and slides the hatch open further without one word. He gestures with a sweeping motion of his beefy arm for us to enter. I squint at the massive hand that ushers us inside. He’d make an excellent center on a basketball team. I wonder if VOLT has a basketball team. I wonder if VOLT people, things, even know what basketball is?

  When my turn comes to enter the building, Joe squeezes in with me. As I make my way through the hatch, the giant thrusts his hand out and it lands on my chest.

  The touch is a jolt of electricity.

  It slams into me and I shuffle backwards, onto the sidewalk outside. Joe grabs my hand to pull me inside with them. “What the hell, Lurch? She’s with us.”

  The giant shakes his head and pushes me back through the hatch, breaking the connection between Joe and me. I stumble out of the space and land on the ground outside. My bottom hits the concrete with force. Ouch. San Diego, that hurt.

  I scramble to my feet. This time I stand in a fighting position, ready to defend myself against the giant bully. “What the fuck?” Joe says.

  "No Duds of her kind allowed," the giant says. His voice is angry now, like I’ve done something to insult him.

  "I'm with them," I say, pointing to Ferris and Joe.

  The icy glare expelled by Lurch leaves room for no questions. He’s not letting me in.

  San Diego.

  Chapter 28

  Joe inches closer to the tall man and says in an authoritative voice, "She comes in. She’s the reason we’re here."

  The tall man spins quickly, but once he’s directly over Joe (who does not shy or cower away like most normal people would), he releases the tension in his shoulders. He tilts his head a little to the left, peering down at Joe. Then he makes a nonsensical sound I can only conclude is a laugh. He turns back to me and waves me through.

  “At your own risk,” he says.

  I hesitate for a second, unsure if this is a ploy on his part to pull me back out by my hair this time. Joe, akin with my feelings somehow, steps forward, around the giant, and stretches his hand out for me to take. I snatch his hand into mine and he tugs me through.

  Once inside, Ferris looks like he might pee his pants. The giant escorts us through a long hall of rooms. As we walk, some of the hatches are open and I’m curious what takes place in a building with no windows. What could they possibly have to hide?

  Joe grips my hand tighter as we’re led deeper into the building. I’m torn between smacking his hand away and drawing him in closer.

  I’m such a mess.

  The paint on the walls is a dark color—like brown or black—but I can’t tell because apparently, they are conserving energy. No lights guide us. Only the shuffle of the giant’s feet in front of us, and the slits of light visible from beneath the closed hatches offer any reprieve from the dark.

  Darkness is something I crave—it matches my decrepit soul.

  Right now, though, it’s annoying.

  To add to the ominous feel in the building, strange noises abound. A squeal from an infant, things falling to the floor with a crash… The sounds are familiar, but coupled with the darkness, a lion could be poised to strike. A loud shriek rips through the air, breaking my inner deliberation. My foot halts in midair. I reach forward and grab Ferris' shirt to stop him from moving, too. Joe collides into my back. “Joe,” I whisper into the darkness.

  “Move it,” he says with a small push to my back.

  “Is there a problem?” the giant asks.

  “Maybe you and Ferris should wait outside. I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.”

  “The Sensei isn’t frightening, Sam. It will be okay,” Ferris says. Joe laughs. Ferris pulls my hand away from his shirt and I hear him pad softly in front of me.

  The giant must not hear my words because he hasn’t moved. Joe yells to him, “We’re good.”

  Joe seizes me by the waist and pulls me into his arms, nearly cradling me from view. He doesn’t realize I’m not scared of the dark. I’m not scared of what’s hiding behind these closed hatches.

  I’m more nervous about what could happen to them while they’re with me. They should be more frightened of me than anything here.

  I peek into an open hatch as we pass. Joe and Ferris stop walking and gawk at what’s in front of us, too. A room full of russet-colored infant monkeys scamper around—the tiny, adorable kind they have at the zoo, and the type Michael Jackson probably had at Neverland Ranch.

  The monkeys alone are enough to leave the three of us gaping, but what they’re doing is asinine. They’re brushing the fur of dozens of multi-colored kittens with thick, long-handled brushes. The kittens purr their delight as the monkeys frolic back and forth and rub them. Joe pulls me toward him so we can continue, because our gargantuan escort turns the corner ahead, not noticing we’ve stopped.

  I dare a peek once more into a hatch that is open. The room is an open-concept shower. A dozen showerheads stream a white, thin liquid. Dozens of kittens scamper through the liquid, which I assume is milk.

  What the Houston kind of place is this?

  The tall guy leads us to a room with olive-green padded walls that are severely scratched. I assume the cats have gotten to them. Ornate chandeliers that burn with a soft glow hang from the ceiling at different intervals, providing the only source of light for the open space. The light
cast shadows around us.

  I grab Ferris' hand to pull him beside Joe and me.

  The three of us walk behind the giant, not uttering a sound. Unexpectedly, the giant turns and in his booming voice says, "You may proceed. Alone." He saunters back down the hall we came from. We watch until he disappears around a corner.

  "What business do you have here, Duds?" a feminine voice says, cutting through the silence that hangs in the air. "Come forward. Let me see you."

  We take two steps forward before the voice shrieks.

  "Stop. Why is that… thing present?"

  Shouldn’t I have known this was coming? Florida you, Universe. "I’m—"

  "Silence," the voice shouts. "Do not speak unless I give you permission, Dud. You, tall Dud, step forward, darling." Joe, being the tallest of the three of us, steps forward, after I reluctantly release his hand. San Diego!

  "Aw," the voice rumbles. "You are quite lovely. I shall listen to you and you only. I have no patience for… what do you call them?” The person speaking makes a noise with the back of their throat. “No matter. I shall call it 'It.'”

  Funny, even in VOLT I can't make friends.

  Out the corner of my eye, something large flashes. My eyes dart to where I saw it. What the Houston was that? A few seconds later, it happens again. It looks like a giant tail sways in the air. It hangs suspended for a second and collapses into a heap on the floor. What the Houston are we talking to? Some kind of walking, upright cat?

  "We’re here because Sam—the female you seem to detest—is trying to locate her lost person. She’s having a hard time with reapers and a giant metal robot attacking us. We—"

  “Oh darling, I already know that. I am not called the Sensei for happenstance.” A light shatters the darkness around us.

  For a few seconds, I squint away from the brightness. Once my eyes adjust, I can clearly see. Ferris gasps, “A humal.”

  In front of us is a caramel-colored cat. It stretches and stands on its back legs, like a human. It’s clothed in a scarlet wrap dress and has long, flowing, jet-black hair. It saunters over to stand in front of me, over me—it’s as tall as Joe. I square my shoulders and look it in the eyes. Joe steps between the two of us.