VOLT: YA Fantasy

by Dawn Brazil

  For half a second, I’m looking at Aidan and then glancing at Joe. What the Houston did Joe do? Why would Aidan call him a monster?

  Chapter 34

  We scatter into the lobby and Bill Board eyes us like we’ve stolen a painting off Aidan’s walls. He does not divert his gaze as we inch closer to the hatch. Aidan doesn’t come to stop us. Neither does his security.

  Once we’re on the sidewalk, Joe sighs loudly and seems to relax. I smile internally at his bravery.

  “That was pointless, too. I feel like I’m messing this up. It’s so frustrating,” Ferris says. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

  “Ferris, it’s okay. So, Aidan ended up being a real tool. That’s not your fault. Everything that goes wrong isn’t your fault. You only suggested him.” I glance around at the few people who line the street. The suns are perched high, and the day isn’t so much pudding as before. “You and Joe should carry on with your lives. I can make it to The End on my own. I’ve taken up way too much of your time already.”

  “I’m not leaving you in VOLT by yourself,” Joe says. “I can’t do that. You’re my responsibility. My mom made you my responsibility.” Joe glances at Ferris. “Can’t leave you, either. Plus, you’d both get killed without me.”

  “Wow,” I say. “Thanks for the vote of confidence in my survival skills.”

  “Aside from you wanting to battle the Feline, you don’t actually seem to possess any of those,” Joe says. I swat him on the arm.

  “Yeah, you’re kind of a mess in that area sometimes,” Ferris says, laughing.

  “Am not. I just haven’t cared about…” I swallow my words. “I’m … really hungry. Can we get some food?”

  As bad as I want to rip into Joe and Ferris, I can’t. I know I’m no wuss, but I haven’t exactly shown that to them because the nothing won’t let me be heroic. It doesn’t matter if I live or die. It’s hard to explain that feeling to other people. Once I get to The End, I’ll have to decide what I want. I’m torn in two wholly different directions.

  “Sleepers Village is up the road, and I hear they have great food,” Ferris says.

  “Sounds good to me,” Joe says, “At this point, I’ll eat anything as long as I don’t know where it came from.”

  I agree with his sentiments. I’m starving and I’m the furthest thing from a vegan you can get. I need meat.

  We walk in the direction Ferris leads us. It doesn’t take long for him to point out a large green-and-black sign that announces we are entering Sleepers Village. All is quiet, not a person or animal in sight. How strange. The rest of VOLT is alive with movement. Yet here, not one car drives by blaring its music, and no animal struts by giving us an evil glare or whistling their appreciation for how I look.

  “Is it me, or is it too quiet?” I ask. We’ve had our share of surprises since starting out a few days ago. Excitement and adventure are severely overrated. “It’s always quiet like this here,” Ferris announces. “Don’t worry. Trouble seldom finds its way to this area of VOLT."

  “He’s been here long enough to know,” Joe adds. I offer Joe my best I’ll-smack-you-in-your-mouth glare.

  “We can eat here,” Ferris says. He leads us to a small tavern with orange brick. A red-and-black sign above the entry reads, 'Sleepy Quarrel.' Ferris ushers us through a black metal door. Hanging chandeliers and rusted wall sconces, spaced out on the walls, light the tavern. The tables are wooden, round, with a single jar candle in the center. It reminds me of those old western bars in movies. Everything inside has a film of dust wrangling on the surface. No one greets us as we enter. A sign to the left instructs us to take whatever seat we fancy. I pivot as my foot touches the inside of the sitting area. The quiet is unnerving. I turn around to exit, but Joe shoves me in deeper from behind. I glare at him, but he smiles and throws his hands up in defense.

  We drop into a booth in the far corner of the room. I scan the room for others, but the tavern is empty except for the three of us. Not even a waitress scurries by our table. A persistent screech sounds behind a wall made of thick plastic. I inspect our surroundings with varying levels of suspicion. Finally, I’m sufficiently weirded enough to stand. “Okay, this place is giving me the creeps. We should go.”

  “Ther’ a problem?” a woman asks behind me.

  I spin around to find a petite woman with long blond hair and a nice-enough smile standing beside our table. She has a pad and pen in hand. I smile reluctantly. I sit back in my seat. “Hello. Is it always this quiet in here?”

  “Yeah, most’n days. Wit it bein’ workin’ time an all. The normals be’s there and not here. Yous all wouldn’t wanna be here with the likes of theys no how. They’s a bunch of rowdy folks.” She laughs to herself and places her pen in the air. “Yous guys knows what you like yet?”

  I bite the inside of my lip to stop the giggle from escaping out of my mouth. Her drawl is hilarious and a little freaky.

  Joe leans in close to Ferris and whispers loudly. “We needn’t the regulars to come with theys rowdy selfs. So we’d best place our order with lightening under our bottoms.” I smile at the look of confusion that crosses our waitress' face at Joe’s words. Joe and Ferris pull their menus to their faces. Their snickering is loud. They leave me to feel the blunt of the joke by myself.

  “You’s ready to order, Miss, or you’s not finished wit' cha laughin fit?”

  I look up sharply, smile gone from my lips. The menu has pictures beside the items, which makes ordering easier. “I’ll take a cheeseburger, fries, and a coke, please,” I mutter. I hope it tastes like it looks.

  Our waitress scratches her head with the pen she holds. “I’s got no clue what ya want. Nones of that on the menu.” I glance at her, confused. I point a finger at the picture of a number one—a cheeseburger, fries and what looks like soda. “That’s scorchin’ fold with meltin and planter, mallard logs, and that there's a frothy brew.”

  “What kind of meat is that? Scorchin’?” I ask.

  “What ya say? Meat? I’s don’t have no clue what you talkin.’”

  I shake my head. “Never mind, I want the scorchin’ fold and mallard logs.” Both Joe and Ferris order the same.

  Once the waitress leaves, we sit in silence for a moment. I take in more of the tavern while Joe and Ferris argue quietly amongst themselves. It’s odd that there’s not a single soul in the restaurant other than the three of us.

  Joe and Ferris are still engrossed in their conversation. Ferris' face is serious. He appears thoughtful as Joe explains something to him in a hushed tone. Are they deliberately leaving me out of their conversation? Ferris' eyes do a quick sweep across the table to me, and Joe stops talking at once and sits straighter.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” I say. “You were talking too low for me to hear what you were saying. But I guess that’s what you wanted—for me not to hear what you were talking about.” I purse my lips and raise my brow a fraction.

  “If you want to know what we were talking about, all you have to do is ask, Sam. Eavesdropping is such an un-ladylike thing to do,” Joe says.

  “What were you talking about?”

  “None of your business.”

  Ferris laughs into his cupped hands. I glare at them. “Sorry. Joe’s crazy. You should be used to that by now.”

  “Actually, if you must know, we’re discussing the prospects of you finding your dude,” Joe says. “Doesn’t look good for you, kid.”

  “I thought we should explain this with a bit more tact, but of course the ever-charming guy Joe is thought it best to shoot from the hips; I believe that’s how the expression goes.”

  “I know the possibility of finding Ryan is basically nonexistent at this point, but I have to try still. I—I’ve kept you away from what you’re in VOLT to do. To find your mother, and for you to be with yours,” I stammer. “I can find this place Ryan’s at on my own. I can’t stop now, though. I could even take the Navigator up on his offer.”

  “We’re not suggesting
you stop, or do anything asinine like that,” Joe says. “And… we said we’d help to the end, so we will. We only want you to have realistic expectations. We don’t need you getting to The End and having a nervous breakdown and murder everyone.”

  I laugh at his sarcasm. He doesn’t crack the slightest smile. “Listen, I’m fine. I understand, he may not be there. I have to know for sure. I’ll regret this for the rest of my life if I don’t at least make every effort. I can’t pass on an opportunity like this.”

  “Ya’lls, orders’ up,” our waitress announces. She juggles the food on a large platter heaved to the max. It tilts to the right as if it might crash at any second. Finally, she places it on a stand next to my chair. She passes a plate to each of us, before ducking behind a small bar. She returns with some foreign condiments in shades of purple and green—in squeeze bottles. As quickly as she arrives with the food, she leaves without another word.

  Joe and Ferris tear into their food so fast I’m sure one of them will choke from not chewing. They don’t, but it’s fun to watch them devour their entire plates while I’m not close to halfway finished with my own. Ferris grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth. He smacks his lips in satisfaction and sits back in his chair. Joe runs his hand across his mouth, looks at my plate, and back at me with an idiotic smile plastered over his face. “Don’t even think about it. I’m eating my food. Every last bite.” I shove my plate closer to me. I don’t need him reaching over and grabbing something off. “I’d hate to stab you in the hand with my fork, but I’m prepared to protect my plate at all costs.”

  “Uh… Sam?” Ferris says, hesitation in his voice.

  “Yes, Ferris?” I say after a couple seconds and he hasn’t spoken again.

  “I… um… I’m wondering. Well, the Sensei said… um. She… it… said you weren’t being exactly truthful. Uh…” He lifts his right hand and wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. No one speaks or moves. I place my fork on my plate and wait for him to complete his thought. “We’re wondering what it is you’re hiding? Maybe whatever it is is the reason we can’t get you to Ryan.”

  Chapter 35

  I square my jaw before I release the torrent of harsh words my brain prepares for me to say in response. “Why do I have to be the one to confess?” I say. “We’ve all been called liars and we’ve all admitted it.”

  Joe stares at me like he’s ready to dispute. Instead, he turns to Ferris. “I’m glad we got a chance to meet, dude. My reaction to your news was… well, it wasn’t good. I know. I need to work on my people skills.”

  “Oh, uh… I’m sorry, too. I should have said something immediately. I didn’t know what to say, I guess. I didn’t really put together from the picture that we could be brothers. Plus, you seemed a whole lot of intimidating at first—until I got to know you, that is. And I think I was waiting until Sam left to bring it up.”

  Joe asks, “So, what’s he like? The sperm do—your father.”

  Ferris puts his head down. “You really didn’t miss much. It was kind of awful most of the times. Especially after my mother died.”

  “I used to argue with my mom to let me meet him. She wouldn’t,” Joe says. “I think she thought her getting married would be enough for me. Maybe when I was younger, but as I got older… I just wanted to know him.” He shrugs and picks invisible lint from the dingy blanket. “I’ve always been curious.”

  “One day, I raced from school to find my mother seated at the kitchen table,” Ferris starts. “Her head was bent, awkward—like she’d fallen asleep while eating lunch. I tried to wake her. She wouldn’t rouse.” He swallows hard. “My father came in as I was attempting to resuscitate her. He asked what I had done to her. He placed a large kitchen knife to my throat. Told me to confess. I couldn’t. He made me sit with her for ten hours before he called the authorities. I sat there all night watching her lifeless body. The only person on earth that loved me was gone.” He stares at the table. “It was my thirteenth birthday.”

  Without thinking, I place my hand over his. Joe places his hand over mine. We keep this position for a couple minutes without a word. The sailor's knot in my chest won’t go away. I hate this man I don’t know for what he’s done to my friend.

  “Maybe the feline’s not being entirely truthful,” Joe says. “About Sam, I mean. Makes perfect sense to me since she already said how much she hates her.”

  Ferris nods his heads in approval. I mimic them. Right.

  “I think we have a worse situation,” Ferris says.

  “What situation?” I ask.

  “What if you come to VOLT, but you don’t recall anything after you’ve gone for good? We won’t remember one another. I’ll never get to see where you live, or you, Joe.”

  His words stick like a sailor on one day’s leave sticks to see his girl. Once I find—or likely don’t find Ryan, I’ll leave and never see the two of them again. The thought makes my stomach sour. San Diego.

  “Don’t sweat it, Sam,” Joe says. It’s amazing how he can suddenly read me so well. “We need to make the most of the time we have together and let the future take care of itself. Maybe we’re meant to help one another through this and that’s it.”

  “Yeah, well, I haven’t helped anyone here,” I say.

  “Of course you have,” Ferris says. “I didn’t have any friends. Now you’re my friend. Plus, I was terrible at talking to girls, and now because of you, I won’t be. Girls are as normal as us guys, and even the prettiest girls like you can be nice. You always have my back and make me feel like I’m contributing to the group. You make me feel like I matter. I can’t even describe how great that makes me feel.”

  I can’t stop the smile that stretches across my face at his words. “You do matter. So Florida much. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. I’m glad I could help you realize that.”

  “How did Sam help you, Joe?” The hint of laughter in his voice makes me squint over at him. He ducks his head slightly but keeps it elevated enough to hear Joe’s response.

  For a long moment, Joe says nothing. His gaze locks with mine and for an immeasurable amount of time, we hold each other there. As much as I want to look away, I can’t. I hate myself for it, too.

  “Actually, Ferris,” Joe says. His eyes never leave mine. I sit up straighter. I brace for what I’m sure will make me upset. Joe has an undeniable way of making me angrier than a sailor summoned for a late-night muster. “She’s teaching me not to let my foot rest in my mouth. She taught me to never give up on the people you love. She’s teaching me to be kind to others. I actually like myself better when I’m around her. She’s tough and tender.” The back of my throat is on fire with emotion. I take a deep breath and hold it like a tribute to my sorrow.

  “Here’s ya bill,” our ill-timed waitress states proudly.

  “Thanks,” Ferris says. Joe reaches over and takes the bill from Ferris' hand.

  “That’s twenty-five zygos,” Joe says. He reaches in his pocket and hands the waitress, who hasn’t left, some orange paper with green letters and symbols on them. “We’re officially broke.” He shrugs.

  “We have to get going if we’re going to make it to The End anytime within the next week,” Ferris states as soon as the Zygos are exchanged. We rise to leave. Joe waits as I round the table. Once I’m standing beside him and Ferris, he takes a quick peek at my eyes, then starts toward the exit. The soft, rhythmic cadence of my heart makes me want to drown myself. Stop that, I order my heart. These feelings are reserved. I swallow hard as I walk past Joe, who holds the hatch to the tavern open for me.

  Joe and Ferris head up our long trek across VOLT, and I, of course, bring up the rear. I don’t mind, however; I enjoy the time to think. I need to reflect on what has happened here so far. What’s still happening here? What’s occurring between Joe and me, though I fight against it, it’s not right. I can’t let it happen. Every couple minutes, either Joe or Ferris turns. They don’t think I’ll walk off like an idiot, do they?

  I attemp
t to match my strides to theirs. It’s pointless, however. They walk too fast. So, I fall behind. If my leg were better, I’d outwalk them both.

  I gaze around the quiet street. We’ve only seen a handful of people since leaving the restaurant. The cobblestone streets have turned to a stained charcoal cement. Not many businesses line the streets as they did in Sleepers Village.

  From nowhere, a woman and two girls walk along the sidewalk across from us.

  Two ordinary little girls run around a woman with a beautiful floral dress. I assume she’s their mother. One girl wears a red dress, with red stockings and red shoes. The other wears a matching outfit in green. Their clothes are covered in chocolate, but it might be dirt. They run circles around her, singing a nursery rhyme.

  Teddy bear, Teddy bear,

  Turn around,

  My stomach clenches and my head pounds.

  Teddy bear, Teddy bear,

  Touch the ground.

  I know their song. This song haunts me.

  Teddy bear, Teddy bear,

  Show your shoe.

  I’m falling like Humpty-Dumpty. They won’t be able to put me back together, either.

  Chapter 36

  I divert my eyes with the hope of slowing the madness infecting my soul. Coming up behind them, a woman moves at an unnatural pace. Her feet barely touch the cement as she draws closer, nearer to the happy girls and their mother. My vocal chords shiver in fear someplace else. Think, Sam. I plant my feet where I stand and watch. Is she going to do what I think?

  The staggeringly fast woman doesn’t acknowledge me watching. Without thinking, I’ve stepped into the street. Without consulting my brain, my feet make their way across the four-lane road. Except, I move at the pace of a leisure stroll and not the imminent death-pace I need because my brain is in a fog still. My insides are corroding from that stupid song.