VOLT: YA Fantasy

by Dawn Brazil

  Almost as if he reads my mind, Joe whispers. “What’s up with that voice? And that name, Bill Board.” He motions toward the nameplate on his desk that announces his full name, William Board.

  Joe whispers, but Ferris belts out a shrieking laugh. A hush falls over the room. Angry faces glare at us—faces that say, without speaking, we better keep it quiet, or else.

  I stifle my giggle and fix Ferris with a look that quiets him completely. “We don’t have an appointment, but we were hoping to be seen today.”

  “Since you don’t have an appointment,” Bill Board says, “You’ll have to wait in the lobby to be seen. I’ll call you when it’s time. What name should I put?”

  “FSJ,” Ferris says before I can reply. I smile. I guess it’s fitting.

  He motions us toward the sitting area, furnished with dark leather high-back chairs. A large, dark couch sits on the farthest wall. All the seating is circled around a massive dark wood coffee table with a large, fragrant floral centerpiece. As we approach the sitting area, the flower tilts my way. “Sam is looking quite lovely today.” I stop moving and take a step back.

  “It’s okay,” Bill Board says behind us. “This flower has been slightly modified to only issue compliments.” I nod once and move forward, still eyeing the potentially mischievous plant.

  I plop in one of the leather-bound chairs, as far from Joe as I can get. I need to have as few interactions with him as possible. I can’t risk my chances of finding Ryan because of a silly crush. That’s all Joe will ever be, a crush.

  The women in the books my mother reads fall for the handsome guys who rescue them? Well, Joe has rescued me so many times, I’ll probably have to name my first born after him, but my heart is accounted for and I don’t have room for anyone else. Real or fake.

  I grab a magazine to read while we wait. Waiting, it seems, is my life’s work. It’s the worst job ever.

  I leaf through the magazine, not quite reading or noticing any of the pictures. A shadow casts over the words. What’s large enough to obstruct the suns from my view?

  A woman, with the lower extremities of a cow, with a colorful flower printed dress, stands in front of me. She stares at me with the expression of a person trying to figure where they know you from.

  “Um, can I help you?” I ask. She hasn’t spoken, but remains in front of me with her giant overbite gaping at me.

  “Looks like she already helped herself to it all,” Joe comments, sitting beside me. I glance over at him and roll my eyes. I thought he'd sat across the room.

  “What are you doing here, child?” Cowwoman finally says. She obviously doesn’t hear Joe’s comment, or doesn’t care.

  “Uh, I think you have me confused with someone else.” I pick the magazine back up and scan through the pages. I’m hoping she goes away.

  Unfortunately, she doesn’t.

  Chapter 32

  “Oh, I see!” she exclaims. She moves her giant frame in closer to where I sit. She crinkles her small black nose like she doesn’t like the way I smell. Joe shifts in his seat. He’s on the edge of his chair, as if making himself ready in case she moves the wrong way. That’s him, always coming to the rescue. I smile, despite the gargantuan five-hundred pound cowwoman invading my personal space.

  “Incognito… I see. Smart… very smart, but this is a horrible disguise. It’s not appropriate for you. Next time, darling, come to me and I’ll properly place your wears.” No point in spoiling her delusion, so I nod in agreement and give a tug on my hideous attire to emphasis my dislike for it, too.

  “Good girl,” she says. She turns and walks out of the lobby, past the reception and to a bank of elevators.

  “That was weird,” Joe says, leaning toward me. “Looks like you made a friend, or two or three, depending on how you look at it.”

  “That’s not nice,” I say. “Why are you such an Alaska?”

  “Um, giggling psycho, I haven’t been able to decipher which improper term this is yet.”

  “You’re an ass, Joe. An ass. Why do you have to be so mean?”

  He shrugs and picks up a magazine. “I don’t know. I have five siblings. I’m used to giving them shit. I guess I just do it all the time. I don’t even think about it. Shit just spills outta my mouth.”

  “You’re too old for shit to just spill out of your mouth. You can’t take back things you say, and you say some bad things sometimes. You can hurt or even kill someone with your words.”

  “You shouldn’t do that,” he says.

  I pull the magazine from my face to stare at him. “Do what?”

  “Sound like my mother. She always wanted me to be polite and nice. She’s gone and I don’t have to do that anymore.”

  “You still have to do it,” I say. “Sometimes your mouth doesn’t match your heart.”

  He laughs. “You can see my heart?”

  I look away from him. Why do I always feel the need to defend people? Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? I pick the magazine back up without answering his question.

  Joe leans over and our upper arms collide. Fire burns through my arm at the epicenter of our touch. I shift in my seat so we’re not touching anymore. “I see your heart too, Sam. You’re not as much of a princess or a psycho as I thought.”

  “Wow—gee, thanks. I’ll pick through that for the compliment when I start to care what you think of me.”

  “You care. You just don’t want to admit you care. You’re in hiding from yourself. Ferris and I can see you clearly.” I glance over at him, trying to understand what he’s saying. Am I that easy to read? I don’t think so.

  “You think you know me, but you don’t. You wouldn’t even like me if you did.”

  “We’re all hurting from something no one else knows about. Maybe the three of us are here to take away the hurt. To try and heal,” Joe offers. “We can’t do that if we hide who we really are from each other.”

  “So, you’re being who you really are all the time?” I question.

  “Yes, I’m being me.”

  “The flowers said you were lying about something, too,” I remind him.

  He strums his fingers across his knee several times without looking at me. “I’m not lying. Just omitting. Some things are better left unsaid. But I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not. And the information I withhold doesn’t help you or hurt you in any way. Some things you have to keep close to you until it’s the right time.” He shakes his head and looks away. “I’m not as put together as I wanna be. I struggle, but I’m fighting. Are you?”

  “Honestly, most of the time, I’m not. Sometimes I don’t even care what happens.” Parts of me can’t believe this conversation. I’ve avoided this forever. How does Joe do it? How can he get me to open up like this?

  Ferris chimes in, “I didn’t care either for a while. It’s not good to lose hope. Bad things happen when you don’t care, trust me. Whatever you’re going through is worse when you stop caring and lose hope.”

  “Hope is hard. Especially when everything you see is disaster,” I whisper.

  “That’s why you allow others in—to help you. To keep you on the right track. If you isolate yourself, it’s harder to come back,” Joe says.

  “As much as we three are different, there is something we all have in common,” Ferris says.

  “What’s that?” Joe asks.

  “Secrets and lies,” Ferris says. For a few seconds none of us speak. “We know we’re keeping secrets and not telling each other everything. Some things, like Joe said, you have to keep close to you, but if you keep something so close it costs you your life, what’s the point in keeping it in the first place?”

  “Some secrets aren’t kept to protect yourself. Maybe they’re kept to protect others. If it’s already destroying you, why destroy someone else in the process?” I say.

  “Shit,” Joe says. “What happened to you?”

  “I know I’m younger than the both of you, but I understand holding onto stuff is bad. You’ve got t
o let it go. I held onto stuff too long and suffered because of it. It’s not worth it in the end.”

  “Can we lighten this conversation? I mean, we’re in VOLT. Shouldn’t we be happy about that? This chance we have. And we can be anyone we want. Who gets this kind of opportunity?” I say.

  “Yeah, but what happens when we leave VOLT?” Ferris asks. “Shouldn’t we learn something from this experience, too? Something to help us cope outside of here.”

  “Well, if VOLT is trying to teach us something, it’s got a shit-show for a lesson plan. This place is making me more screwed in the head,” Joe says. I suspect this is one of the most honest things he’s said since I met him.

  Ferris and I grunt an agreement.

  “I should commend Sam for her total commitment to her crazy, though. It’s admirable and scary,” Joe says. Ferris snorts beside me.

  “You’re awful sometimes,” I say.

  “I know. It’s kinda fun to be bad. You wanna try?” Joe moves closer to me.

  “No. I’ll leave the clowning to you. You’re so good at it.”

  The lobby is empty of any other people but us now. It had only been a few humals and Duds when we entered. How busy could he be? “Where is this guy?” I say in Ferris' direction. He shrugs.

  “I’m here,” a voice calls out to my left.

  A young man who can’t be older than twenty-five strolls into the space. He wears a pricey charcoal designer suit with a light pink tie. Striding toward me with his hand extended, I can’t help but take in his perfectly sculpted face. Joe’s to his feet in an instant. He thrusts his hand out, but the guy drops his immediately. The meticulously posh man straightens and nods at Joe. He turns from Joe and locks eyes with me. For a second, I’m speechless.

  The unexpected sight of whom I can only assume is the Navigator is jarring. He’s gorgeous, not a man-beast, or humanimal, as they call them, like so many others in this area of town. I half expected a bloodhound man to walk up, sniffing me for Ryan’s scent.

  “How can I be of assistance?” he asks. His face is soft and masculine, but his voice is low and steady, as if he measures the weight of each word before it passes from his lips. I don’t trust him because I do this a lot. It usually means I’m hiding something.

  “We need help getting to The End,” Joe offers. The man, who hasn’t given us a name but we assume is the Navigator, looks at me and nods. He turns on his black-patent-leather-clad feet and starts off.

  “Follow me and don’t touch anything,” he says. We walk through the lobby and past the elevators, to the back of the building. The floors are rubbed marble, and every detail of decoration looks high-end. I don’t know high-end except for what I’ve seen on TV and in museums, though.

  We follow the guy into an office outfitted in more expensive-looking furniture. Matching leather sofas adorn one wall, a marble desk anchors the room. I glance at the walls and have to catch my breath at the collection of artwork that lines them.

  I air trace my fingers over The Starry Night by Van Gogh, marvel at The Birth of Venus by Alessandro Botticelli, and I’m captivated by Water Lilies by Monet. How can someone from the oddest place ever have such a sophisticated collection?

  “Do you like my collection, Samantha?” The Navigator asks. He’s so close his musk scent rolls around me. It’s sexy, but he’s invading my bubble of privacy, like cowwoman.

  “Oh, yes. Sorry. I don’t mean to be a distraction. I used to love art.”

  “Your appreciation is understandable,” he says. “Beautiful people enjoy beautiful things… What stole away your passion for it?”

  “Life,” I say before I catch myself. “Life, and… I got busy and found other interests.”

  “I suppose that happens,” he says. He extends his hand for me to take. I don’t want to touch him, but kindness might go a long way in helping me get what I want from him.

  I place my hand in his. His skin is warm and soft, like he’s never seen one day of labor in his life. It makes me dislike him more. My father always told me a man’s hands shouldn’t be softer than yours. “My formal name is Aidan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Samantha. It’s rather refreshing to meet someone who appreciates the pieces I have here. Far too many are not abreast to what good art is. Would you care to inspect my entire collection?”

  “No. Can’t,” Joe says. “We’ve got to get to The End. Like now.” He walks over and stands beside Aidan. He’s taller than Aidan by a hair. For a second, no one speaks as Joe and Aidan lock in on one another. “So, can you get us there?”

  “Actually, that would depend on a few things,” Aidan says. He blows a deep breath and turns away from Joe as if he’s pestering him.

  He sits at his massive desk and strums his fingers over the hard surface. No one speaks or moves. We’re at the point, I assume, where we discuss money. Usually not a good thing when you have none. We’re more than tapped out in that department. Coming here might be a colossal waste of our time.

  Chapter 33

  “What… things… would it depend on?” Joe asks. The words are pulled through his teeth.

  “If you can afford my expert services.”

  “How much?” Joe asks.

  “I like Samantha,” Aidan says. His eyes scan me from my position near the entry. My stomach turns. “So, I’ll cut the price in half—only five-hundred Zygos.”

  “What?” Joe and Ferris shout in unison.

  “We don’t have that kind of—" I start.

  “Don’t worry about it, Sam. We’ll make do on our own.” Joe rises and motions for Ferris to follow. “We’ve already wasted too much time. I doubt you can reason with people like him. Let’s go.”

  “There’s no way you’ll get to where you need to go by tomorrow evening. I do, however, have a proposition for you.”

  Ferris and I look to Joe to determine if we should listen further. Joe turns from the hatch. “Okay, make it quick. You’ve already wasted a significant amount of our time.”

  “Samantha Mandalyn Porter,” he says my full name and it irritates the hair on my arms. “Can you please come sit, so we can discuss this situation like civilized people?” He motions me to a white leather high-back chair in front of his desk. I glance at Joe and he nods in agreement.

  Once seated across from Aidan, he chuckles softly, nearly inaudibly. A sinister smile penetrates his face. It makes me nauseous.

  If any hope exists in finding Ryan, he is that last hope. I smile across the desk at him and swallow the basketball-sized lump down my throat.

  “I’ll make this simple. Samantha. I’ll take you to The End.” He looks Joe directly in the eyes as he says this. “I won’t accept any money for my services. I only ask that you get rid of the two of them. You don’t need them. They’re excess baggage, and personally, I don’t like him.” He points to Joe. “I’ll help you… not them.” Before I have a chance to even think over the offer, Joe chimes in. “So, you take her and that’s it. Nothing else. We go away and you help her.”

  “Yes and no, but she and I can discuss the rest of the arrangement. She doesn’t need you to speak up for her. She’s a strong, beautiful woman, capable of rational thought without your influence. You can exit now,” Aidan says, pointing toward the door. He sits back in his seat and crosses his arms in front of him like a sullen toddler refusing to obey an order.

  “She is strong, and beautiful and capable, but if you don’t—"

  “Joe.” I shake my head.

  I rise from the seat with uncertainty. If I learned anything from Joe, it’s how to be tacky and rude to others. I’m not sure if I want to employ that option right now, though. “What would the rest of the arrangement entail?” I inquire.

  “I’d prefer to speak with you alone,” Aidan says.

  “And I’d prefer for you to hurry the Florida up and tell me what else you want. Please.”

  Aidan releases a deep sigh. “You come back here and work for me once you find who you’re looking for.”

  “Work fo
r you doing what?” I assumed I’d leave VOLT after I found my lost thing. Maybe disappear or something. Or fall asleep and wake up in bed because I’m still not sure what this is. Or… maybe this isn’t a dream. Maybe this is something so different there’s not a name for it yet. Or maybe I’m totally bat-San Diego crazy.

  “Yeah, she’s not interested,” Joe says before I can speak.

  “Let her speak for herself, you Neanderthal,” Aidan says. Joe squares his jaw but doesn’t say anything.

  “If I don’t want to work for you, then are you not going to help me?”

  “I’ll help still, on one condition,” Aidan says. His features have grown hard and his mouth is a straight line when he stops talking. “There aren’t many women here in VOLT, at least none that look like you or share my interest in the arts. I’d like to get to know you better. If you don’t like it here, you can leave. Allow me a courtesy of getting to know you. About six to nine months.”

  “No,” Ferris speaks for the first time. His footfalls over to me are purposeful. He grabs my arm and starts hauling me to the hatch. “Friends don’t let friends make dumb mistakes. She’s not doing that. We’ll make a way on our own, like Joe said. Goodbye.”

  Joe stops and says, “I thought it only fitting, since you’ve expressed your feelings for me, that I let you know I don’t like you, either. And if Sam weren’t here, I’d show you how far my dislike goes.”

  “Do you think I’d be worried in the least about you? I have security all around me. But, I doubt I’d need them for you.”

  “You don’t need to worry about getting beat. And you might not be conscious long enough to call your security.” I grab Joe by the arm and pull him out of the office with me.

  “You know,” Aidan says, following us out the hatch. Why doesn’t he stop talking? He’s only fueling Joe’s mouth. “You can’t use Samantha to make up for what you’ve done. Nothing will ever change that. You’re a monster. You’re—"

  Before Aidan can finish his sentence, Joe breaks away from my grip. He slams his fist into Aidan’s jaw. Aidan crashes to the floor, blood pooling around his mouth. Ferris releases me and hauls Joe ahead of us.