As is the case for many of us, I’ve spent considerably more time at home over these last several weeks. As is the case for many of us, I’ve got kids. One of the only family activities that has been a guaranteed success with both of my sons has been “Lego Masters Nights.”
While the television show was putting out new episodes, we would start the evening with a timed build competition of our own, and then we would end the evening by watching the show, Lego Masters. If you’ve never timed yourself while trying to build something specific, it’s surprisingly difficult. In our household, each contest would go something like this:
My oldest son is too sensitive about competition and too cunning to be sucked into something he might not win, so he “volunteers” (forces his will) to be the judge and challenge creator for the evening. My youngest son is so excited to be doing stuff together that he forgets he freaked out during last Friday’s competition, so he’s all in as usual. The wife couldn’t care less about building with Lego or about being creative in general (unless it involves cooking), but she’s super excited to do anything that everyone else is onboard with and that doesn’t involve screaming, butt slaps, competitive burping, or football. I quietly anticipate crushing everyone with my superior building skills while simultaneously building up my family members by praising the quality of their inferior builds.
We start the contest with instructions like, “Build some kind of vehicle with a western theme. You have thirty minutes.” With that, the judge (my eldest) goes about pretending to be Will Arnett while cracking bad jokes. My youngest panics that we don’t have enough time and that he can’t find the right parts. The wife rolls her eyes and starts slapping random parts together (while, I can only assume, fantasizing about me). I ignore my eldest, comfort my youngest, devise a build plan, wink at the wife, and build like the wind.
After the timer goes off via Alexa (I respect my Amazon overlords), the judge struts around the room and evaluates the results. I win. I deflect the glory onto the others. We commiserate about how hard it was. We go upstairs, make popcorn, and watch the latest episode of Lego Masters. By the end of it, everyone is smiling, and we’ve survived another week of Covid-19 togetherness.
And I owe it all to Lego.
Am I embarrassed that we have something in the neighborhood of $3,000 worth of Lego building bricks in our basement bedroom (where we have carpet, by the way)? Absolutely not. We’ve spent probably $250 on Legos since the shelter in place order came down here in Idaho. And that’s probably a top 10 budget item. Screw it. I plan on spending more.
Now that we’ve discovered Brick Owl and Brinklink, we’re buying the specific parts we need to build sets or original creations of our own. My kids spend at least an hour building every day (EVERY DAY). And they’ve been doing this for over 5 years. What other toy can boast that? And besides, I’ve had to wait 25 years to play “Legos” again without looking crazy. (And now there is a freakin’ Fox television show featuring adults playing with Lego!)
So take my money, Lego. You’ve earned it.
At the Desk This Week
I’ve been able to outline a couple more episodes of The Green Ones, Season 3 this week. I also figured out a few key bits about how I want to portray post Covid-19 reality a year or two into the future. I’m trying to get as close to reality as I can with this stuff, since Season 3 will be based in our actual universe (rather than one of the fictional multiverses).
I think I’ve figured out enough to push out into the drafting process this next week. New rough draft! Yay! This is the absolute funnest part for me. While I love world-building, nothing beats pulling story out of thin air and pounding it into existence. I’m totally rusty since I’ve done very little drafting over the last five years, but it usually comes back to me after a week or two of stumbling. I’m hoping to be able to keep doing some drafting every week from here on out, so that I can climb back on top of my game. We’ll see how it goes. Wish me luck!
Outburst: Ep.3, Scene 2 — Scene 7
[Click here to start at the beginning.]
Neca and Olin seat me against the wall in a corner. Kneeling, Olin looks at me funny. I’m about to ask him why when I realize I’ve got my hand on his cheek.
He covers it with his own. “Why so mushy all of a sudden?”
I smile and breathe my first genuine sigh of relief in two years. “Don’t get all weird about it, but you know I love you, right?”
He nods. “I never doubt it.”
“Good.” I drop my hand and straighten my braid. “So how about some water.”
Neca is already offering the canteen. “You guys’ll be fine here for a minute. I’ll get us some grub. Just don’t talk to anyone.” He hurries off without waiting for a response.
Olin plops down beside me, and we take in our new surroundings.
I’ve never seen whatever section of the underground we’re in. I’ve only visited on a few occasions, and only the fringes. The blossoming of the underground, some two hundred years ago, lead to strict regulations on subterranean building. Technically, everything around us is illegal.
Before his death, I asked my father why the government allowed the underground to exist. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but it amounted to one of those, “when you’re older, you’ll understand” sort of answers. I’m several years older now, and I think I’m starting to get it.
I don’t recognize any of the faces rushing past, but they’re the same citizens above ground as below. The difference is posture. Underground they hold their chins high. They rivet each other with their eyes. They nod knowingly. They’re concerned with simple pleasures and small luxuries rather than stretching credits with stale tortillas and sour atolli. They’re happy to have a single toe outside the boundaries—pacified by a trifle of rebellion.
There is no kinship between me and these people. But I think I understand.
Olin stretches. “I hope Neca comes back soon. I’m starving. What time is it anyway?”
“Close to six.”
“In the evening?”
I snort, causing Olin to punch me in the arm. “Sorry, I keep forgetting we’ve had different days,” I say.
“Days?” Olin asks.
“Only one.”
Olin leans back against the crumbling plaster. “It felt like minutes. Totally different than last time, when I knew something was wrong.”
“About that, when you woke up, you knew Huatiani was coming. How did you—”
“I could see him gliding down the hall, a billion storms bound by leathery skin. He was…brilliant.”
“Brilliant?” I frown.
“Shining. Shimmering like a candle underwater.”
“Like a dream?”
“But real.”
“The sixth sense.” Neca startles me with his sudden reappearance. He’s holding out two plates of food, his mouth gaping wide.
“Wait, what did you say?” I heard him, but I’m hoping for a different answer the second time. Olin takes the plates before Neca spills their contents. Unfazed, or simply too hungry to care, Olin starts eating. Neca fumbles with his braid and looks over his shoulder. I grab his hand and pull him down next to us. “Are you saying you think my little brother has gods’ eyes?”
Neca exhales, “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“Whatever, just answer the question.”
Watching the steady stream of people pass, Neca nods. “Centavo described it to me as lights underwater.”
“How? I’ve never heard of a mortal with gods’,” I catch myself, “the sixth sense.”
“I don’t know, but he knew Huatiani was—”
“Wait,” I offer an alternative, even though I don’t believe it myself, “maybe the knock wasn’t the general.”
“I told you,” Olin spits while talking with his mouth full, “I saw him.”
“But the door was closed.”
He shrugs and shovels in another spoonful of beans. Despite my brother’s atrocious manners, I find myself too hungry to discuss the matter further. Holding the second plate between Neca and me, I offer him a spoon.
“Right. We should eat and get moving as soon as you’re able.”
“I’m already feeling tons better.” I tear a cornmeal drop biscuit in two and offer Neca half. He winks. I realize I haven’t thought anything mean about the dark-skinned chadzitzin boy since Immortal City. A part of me is relieved. And yet, the other part is disappointed. I’d hate for him to get the wrong idea. “You don’t think Huatiani will look for us down here, do you?” I soften the cornmeal by dipping it in the squash and beans.
Neca swallows while shaking his head. “He’ll wait for the identification burn to drive us to the surface. Until then, he’ll be preparing.”
I nod. A chill shoots through me at the thought of missing a burn.
“He works alone, no department, no colleagues, no paperwork. Just him and the law. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he brings in the Justice of the Peace, or some of the JP’s volunteers, for a manhunt like this.” Several bites later, Neca nods at my chest. “I almost forgot, we should treat that cut.”
With everything happening so fast, I’d forgotten the gash left by the razor-sharp canine. “My tzotzomatli.” I pick at the edges of the tear in my favorite garment. The collar is rent, one half of it encrusted into the wound.
“Sorry, I was referring to your skin, not the dress,” Neca says.
I tug the fabric away from my chest with a wince. The cut’s not deep, but it’s across my breastbone. Not as bad as a cut to the head, but it’ll still take weeks to heal properly. Even then, there’ll be a permanent scar. And the blood stain will never come out of my tzotzomatli.
Olin chews loudly and swallows. “You guys get into a bit of trouble while I was out?”
I can tell by the smirk on his face he’s being a brat. Neca and I share a glance before I answer. “Nothing to speak of.”
“Or nothing to worry the little brother about?” Olin asks.
“Something like that.” I wait until he shovels a fresh bite into his already-full mouth. “When this is over, I’ll tell you all about Immortal City.”
A bean shoots out Olin’s nose, and Neca and I have a much-needed laugh. My brain is a jumble. My body aches. And yet the three of us sharing an early breakfast in the underground feels as close to family as anything has for a very long time.
Weaving our way through the growing crowd, Neca points out local curiosities. There is the place where the Justice of the Peace got caught with a sweet, young yoalzoah under each arm and betting stubs pouring from his pockets. A year later, the JP is more popular than ever. Neca points out the cart where he got his first case of food poisoning. We pass his favorite spot for training.
Until now, the underground has seemed menacing and forbidden, like only bad things happen here. Bad things done by bad people. But hearing Neca carry on about the most trivial aspects of everyday life—the best place for peccary tamales, or the freshest day-old tortillas—instantly removes the shadow of fear.
And at a time in the morning when everyone above ground shuffles morosely about, the underground is bubbling with energy. Neca says this is a slow morning, and that people seem subdued by the recent attacks on the perimeter. I wonder what a busy morning would be like.
Neca directs us out of the flow of traffic. We stop beneath a large buzzing clock. I stare up at it—the short hand midway between the seven and eight, the long hand creeping toward the six. The underground is quickly emptying.
Of course, a few will remain behind—the walking shadows who already live completely outside of New Teo’s reach. For most, the underground is a temporary indulgence. And time is up.
Neca exhales, a serious expression on his face. “I’ve been thinking it over.”
“Yes?”
He hesitates. “I don’t like it, but we need to split up.”
My neck and face flush with anger. “You’re just gonna leave us?”
“Calli.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, but I slough it off. “Think about it. Huatiani knows me. He’ll be looking for me. I’m an easy target, and witnesses have probably already put me at the perimeter during yesterday’s attack.” I gaze at my dirty feet until he continues. “Even if they didn’t recognize me, one mention of a dark-skinned boy and Huatiani will know.”
“What’s to say he isn’t looking for us, too? If we split up, he’s more likely to spot one or the other of us. How will I even know where to find you afterwards?”
Neca forces a smile. “Easy. I don’t plan on going anywhere. I’ll be right here when you get back.”
“What? Don’t be crazy.” My vision pops and crackles. I realize I’m breathing too fast. “You’ll miss the burn.”
He shakes his head. This time when he reaches for my arms I don’t stop him. “You were right. I’m not like you and Olin. I’ve missed burns before, lots of them.”
“Then that means…”
Neca nods. “I’m a chadzitzin psych-fighter. My place is in the cage, not the city.”
“But your braid—”
“It’d be hard to exist above ground without one, but it’s not my identity. I’m more than my hair.” He winks and nods toward the clock.
I jump. 7:28—two minutes until burn.
“I don’t think Huatiani will have placed the two of you at the attack. The odds that someone identified you are low. Your hopes of getting into the academy depend on him not suspecting you, and he will suspect you if he sees you with me.” Neca pushes us toward the stairs. “Go.”
I back away, fighting a confusing assortment of emotions. Neca is right about the path to the academy, and that’s the priority. Finally, I take Olin by the hand and turn.
“Just don’t loiter. You look like beetle food,” Neca’s voice echoes in the emptiness.
Olin and I take the steps two at a time and leave Neca behind. Condemning him to a life underground, a life that is all but expired. If he’s eighteen years old, he might have four good years before the twitch symptoms render him a threat to others. Then, cast into the walled prison called the Shadows, he’ll spend his final days like an animal—killing until something bigger and badder kills him.
Olin and I step into the sun, several seconds to spare. The clouds have temporarily cleared. As much as I love the womb of the earth, I’ve missed the sun. I close my eyes and soak it in.
Olin squeezes my hand.
“Mm-hmm?”
“Why don’t we find a place to sit.”
I open my eyes. No one else has remained right by the stairs leading to the underground. Everyone else has places to go, a schedule, a life to continue. Let the burn do its thing. No one stands around waiting for it. “Right.”
I suck in a quick breath and assess our surroundings. Relying on Neca has made me sloppy. “Let’s loop around the block. Keep your eyes open for the general.”
Before we reach the shadow of a large iron foam shopping center, the ID burn buzzes from the dome sixty meters overhead. Just like that, my continuing citizenship status is recorded within the strands of my hair like rings within a tree. The same chemical signature runs the length of my entire braid. Even so, as I breathe in the ozone-pregnant air, Worker City feels less like home than ever.
Four more days, I remind myself. Stick to the plan.
Olin tugs me. “Should we go back?”
“I’ve got a stop to make first. It’ll only take a second.”
I shimmy my arms through the sleeves of a plain white tzotzomatli and smooth its front. It’ll need some tailoring to bring out my hips—the only way to keep me from looking like a tree trunk draped in a sack. But that’ll have to wait.
Surprised by my own emotion, I force down tears while holding my dirty tzotzomatli out for examination. It’s not like I could wear it at the academy. And maybe that’s the thing. Whatever happens, the next four days will change my and Olin’s lives forever.
I fold the garment carefully. I’ll leave it with the shopkeeper. She’s a quality seamstress and faithful client. She can find another home for it—an uninfected girl, a mere carrier of the twitch virus, who can spend her long years raising children and being a wife here in Worker City.
Outside my changing room, Olin barks a warning followed by the clatter of an overturned clothing rack. An instant later, a bullish chadzitzin rips through the curtain and pushes me into the corner.
I lunge for his throat with two fingers.
Lightning quick, he clenches my hand. Bending it back, he demonstrates the ability to snap my wrist before letting it go. Shirtless and dripping with sweat, he hesitates. As Olin rushes up behind him, the chadzitzin raises his hands and backs away. “Neca says to tell you, if you ever wanna visit your garden again, you’ll do exactly what I say.”
I open my mouth to argue. Olin shakes his head. “It’s Huatiani. He’s onto us.”
The chadzitzin nods while grinding a strip of tzapotl bark in his teeth. “You drew his attention with your stunt at the entrance to the underground. Now he’s had time to surround the place.”
“And you are?” I ask.
“Yetic.”
I nod. It takes only a moment to place the name—another well-known psych-fighter. “Well, listen here, Yetic, I don’t take orders from you or Neca, so—”
“Neca also says to tell you, if you want your brother to survive until registration, shut up and run.” Grabbing Olin with one hand and me with the other, he thrusts us out of the dressing room and toward the back of the shop. “The JP’s man guarding the meat market won a lot of money off my last match.” In a blur, we reach the interior corridor connecting the shops. Yetic sprints to our right. “He let me in. Hopefully he’ll let us out.”
“And why are you helping us? I don’t like trusting sweaty strangers.”
“Neca promised me something I’ve wanted for a long time.” Yetic bursts through the back door to the meat market. “Don’t you worry, Bluehair. There’s no way this side of the underworld I’m not fulfilling my end of the deal.”
The three of us duck behind a counter where a worried butcher does his best to ignore our presence. Brandishing a cleaver, he hacks apart the rib cage of what looks to be acoyote. I note to avoid his store in the future, then remember I won’t be back. “And what deal is that?”
“Deliver you and your brother safely to the agreed location.” Yetic strips the last of the gummy resin from the piece of tzapotl bark with his teeth before tossing the woody portion. He stares at me while chewing the remaining gum.
I grip Olin’s hand. “And where—”
“Now.” Yetic rushes around the end of the counter.
I’ve no choice except to follow with Olin in tow. We sprint past the open front of the shop and onto the walkway. A man with a stun stick faces us. When he spots Yetic he nods and looks the other direction. Slapping the pavement with our bare feet, we dart away from the underground’s central entrance and away from Neca. I want to go back, but I keep running. As we sprint down an alley, a hover sled loaded with blockades slides to a stop behind us.
“We’re not out of the trap yet.” Yetic is as fast as Neca but not as graceful.
I continue the comparison against my will. The muscles rippling across Yetic’s shoulders and back with each stride reveal he’s more powerful. Power isn’t everything. “Is Neca okay?” I ask. “I mean, Huatiani didn’t—”
“He’s still underground. Said he’d meet us at the rendezvous.”
“How is it you got past Huatiani if Neca couldn’t?”
“Huatiani’s got no problem with me. I’m not even a chadzitzin, at least not for long.”
“Wait, you’re registering?” I’m flabbergasted.
“Of course.”
“But you’re a psych-fighter.”
“Hey, just because I fight doesn’t mean I’m an urchin.” Yetic stops and pokes his head around a corner before waving us on. “I live at home with my parents, nice and legal. Which is more than I can say for you and your brother.”
“I’m taking care of that.” Whether Yetic is helping us or not, I resent his air of superiority. And I wish it were Neca leading us to safety.
“You better hope so.”
As we round another corner, Olin squeezes my hand. I glance at my little brother and jolt at what I see. His eyes are flickering, the irises rolled into his head. “Olin?”
“I can see them,” Olin says.
“Olintl, what are you—”
“See who?” Yetic interrupts without slowing our pace.
“Volunteers setting up a checkpoint three blocks ahead.”
Yetic clutches my arm and yanks us into the shadow of an adobe apartment building. He stares at Olin’s blank eyes. “Gods. It’s impossible. How is he—”
I shake my head and hold Olin tight. “I don’t know.”
“The only opening is east,” Olin points.
“Xoxochueyi,” Yetic swears between loud smacks of his gum.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s exactly as I thought.”
“What?” I’m starting to find Yetic more frustrating than Neca, something I thought impossible.
“Our only way out.” Yetic lopes east across the walkway. “Come on. We better hurry, or we won’t have any way out, ugly or otherwise.”
Olin and I catch up with Yetic halfway down the block. Eyes closed, my little brother is somehow able to run normally.
“Will you complete a thought for once,” I huff, “and tell me where we’re going?”
“How’s the foot, by the way?” Yetic doesn’t slow or look back. “I saw the bandage. It looks like the bleeding has stopped.”
I had forgotten about the injury since Neca treated it at Centavo’s. Amazingly, there’s no pain despite the constant use. “Stop changing the subject.”
“Hey, I’m just concerned for your well-being,” Yetic says.
“Sure. Out of the kindness,” I gulp down air, “of your heart.” A raindrop slaps my forehead, drawing my attention toward the dome. The clouds have returned early today, promising a soaker. It doesn’t matter. My new tzotzomatli is already half-drenched in sweat. “Answer the question, or so help me,” I shake my fist at his back, “I’ll knock out my second psych-fighter in the last twenty four hours.”
Nearly swallowing his gum, Yetic chokes and slows to a jog. “I don’t see the harm in being straightforward, considering the situation.”
“Please, I wish nothing more.”
“I’ve liked you for a long time, Calli Bluehair.”
“What?” My confusion reaches a new high, unable to make the leap Yetic is suggesting.
“My deal with Neca aside, I’ve been looking for the opportunity to prove myself to you.”
I can’t think of how this boy even knows who I am, much less of why he has set his sights on impressing me. “Look, Yetic, all I know is if you don’t answer my question, I’m gonna—”
Olin interrupts, “The Shadows.” I stop in my tracks. My brother’s eyes have returned to normal. He takes my hand as if to comfort me. “It’s where we’re headed, but it’ll be okay.”
Yetic jogs back to join us. I grill him with an angry look. He shrugs. “Your brother’s right on both counts.”
After Olin and Yetic practically drag me the last few blocks, the three of us arrive at the gates of the Shadows. All of the buildings within a block of the wall are abandoned, despite not looking the part. Every few years, a Masa team cleans the area and makes repairs in an effort to keep the fear from spreading further into the city like gangrene.
The hill on which New Teo resides was chosen both for its natural defenses from the outside as well as its natural defenses from the inside. A ridge bisects Worker City from Immortal City. At the crest of that ridge, the Palace Tower supports the highest point of the shield dome.
Aside from that natural divider, there is a smaller bowl—a walled depression within the confines of Worker City. Since the founding of New Teo, that bowl has served as the final living and dying place for chadzitzin actively infected with the twitch. The walls built around the bowl are the only structure, other than the Palace Tower, to rise all the way to the shield dome.
I’ve only looked upon the unguarded gates once before. That time, I hadn’t entertained the misconceived notion of passing through them. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
Yetic rests a hand on an iron foam buttress built into the sixty-meter-high wall. “Huatiani knows who you are. It won’t take him long to find the weakness in the blockade. He’ll come in person. When he finds you, he’ll administer his brand of justice immediately. We all know what the sentencing will be. What other option do you have?”
“You mean other than suicide?”
Yetic rolls his eyes. “You’re accused of a storm that took over thirty lives. Staying here is suicide.”
I gasp, clutching Olin instinctively. I feared lives had been lost at the initial perimeter attack, but so many?
“By the looks of it, your brother might possess that much ability and more.”
“My brother is innocent.” I pound my fist on Yetic’s chest.
“Hey, I’m on your side.” Yetic raises his hands in surrender. “I meant it as a compliment.”
I grip my brother’s arms and stare at him until he blocks out everything except me. “You didn’t attack the city. You protected it. You protected me, do you understand?” I’m surprised by his lack of emotion. His hard expression makes him appear older. “Because of you, we’re still alive,” I say.
He nods. “I know.”
“Good.” I turn toward Yetic. “Now that we’ve got that settled, explain to me how entering a prison from which no one has ever escaped is a good way to get from point A to point B.”
Yetic grins. “Who says no one has ever escaped?”
Still struggling with Yetic’s plan and its rushed explanation, I follow him and my brother into the arched entry of the Shadows. Due to the four meters thick wall, the entrance is more of a tunnel than a door. “And this queen person actually exists?”
Yetic ignores me.
“How can you be sure she’s going to help us?” Everything I’ve ever held to be true is in question. Yet, there isn’t time to rummage through the mental confusion. The one thing never in doubt is that what I’m about to do will define my worst nightmares for years to come.
“We have an arrangement.” Yetic stops just short of the gate—a telekinetically charged iron turnstile pounded into a nearly seamless door. “We might have to move fast, and we’ll need to stay together.” Yetic shakes me until I focus on him. “That means we’ll need to cram in all at once.”
I nod.
Yetic continues, “You understand what we’re likely to see on the inside? The survivors are keyed to this one point. All the fresh meat passes through these gates.”
I growl, “We’ve been over this already. Just make sure you keep up.” I disguise my fear with rage. I’m sure Olin sees through it, but not this chadzitzin boy. “The quicker we get in, the quicker we get out.”
Yetic backs into the turnstile. Only the slightest slivers of light slip through the door’s cracks, along with all my most vivid imaginings about the blood-soaked ruins of the final battleground for the twitch insane. I clutch Olin, and we squeeze in to join Yetic.
He grinds his gum into a corner with his thumb. “Ready?” He braces his arm against the lever that will spin us through the final gateway into the Shadows.
Pressed up against me, Olin shivers. “There are several within thirty meters—two fighting each other, at least five watching from the trees.”
“Trees?” I question.
Yetic interrupts by slamming the lever. “Now’s as good a time as any.”
The gate spins so fast it ejects us, ready or not, inside the Shadows. As I steady myself, the first image seared into my consciousness is of a twitcher sinking his teeth into the arm of another—one gurgling, the other screeching. The clearing at the site of the gate is a bloody mess of shattered human carcasses. Beyond that, there’s nothing except dense forest.
“Go!” Yetic forces us to our right.
I push Olin to the front. The two of us crash through the underbrush like peccaries fleeing the jaws of a jaguar. Behind us, Yetic grunts. A half-dozen screams split the air, riding the front edge of a telekinetic pulse. The distortion washes past us, leaving only the sounds of Olin and me stumbling through the brush. I’m tempted to look over my shoulder for Yetic, then I hear him.
“Keep the wall on your right until you see a red insignia painted on the rock.”
“Insignia? Of what?” I ask.
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Then what?”
“Head straight in,” Yetic huffs, “with caution.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going hunting.”
“What? I thought you said stay together.” I duck a low-hanging branch.
“I won’t be far.”
Olin calls over his shoulder. “He’s getting the queen’s attention.”
Yetic is already breaking away from the wall and heading further into the forest when he adds, “Before her subjects sink their teeth into us.”
Again, Olin and I are running, this time through a forest in the heart of Worker City. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always envisioned the Shadows as an ancient and wasted version of the city itself—a tattered urban war zone. Instead, I find myself in an ancient forest more lush than the one surrounding New Teo.
In quick glimpses, I scan the interior for movement. It’s difficult to see further than ten meters. “You watch for the insignia,” I call up to Olin. “I’ll watch the forest.”
“No need. I’ll warn you if anyone gets past Yetic.”
Olin doesn’t even sound winded, and I’m already sucking air. “How can you—”
“We’ve been over this, remember?”
I think of a dozen smart remarks to put my little brother in his place. I decide to focus on not tripping or spraining an ankle. As I do so, the bandage wrapped around my foot snags a branch. The branch snaps, but not before yanking me to the ground.
I hit with my hands and knees first. Unable to buffer the impact completely, I smack my face into the dirt and roll to a stop. I scramble to my feet and fall again. The wall to my right spins. The ground refuses to stay beneath me.
“Calli, I’m here.” Olin stabilizes me. “They’re not far behind.”
Completely dependent on Olin’s fluttering eyes for all sense of orientation, I lift and drop my feet in obedience to the motions I remember as running. After a few minutes, it’s apparent I’m slowing us too much. And the spinning hasn’t stopped. “How close?”
“Close.”
“Yetic?”
“Busy with others.”
“I can fight.”
“You can’t even run.”
“Fighting is different from running,” I insist.
“Just keep running,” Olin says.
“I can’t.”
Olin’s grip around my waist tightens. “I don’t want it to happen again.” It only takes a moment to realize he’s talking about his telekinetic outbursts. He huffs. “Not even to twitchers.”
I latch onto the only thing I can think of to encourage him. “It happened to me too.”
“What?”
“Wolves outside the city, yesterday.” I can almost hear him thinking, weighing our options. “Not so powerful as you, but I saved Neca, like you saved me.” I hear the brush snapping and know whoever or whatever is pursuing us is much too close. “That means we can control it.”
I cringe as my shin slams into a stump. We remain upright and running, but we’re losing ground. “You can control it.”
“No!” Olin yells. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to learn to kill.” His body quivers beneath my weight.
Olin’s pacifist desires aside, I know the time has come to turn and fight. I also know I don’t need my sense of balance to tear out the throat of the next living thing to threaten us. “Keep going.” Reaching over my head, I grab a branch with both hands and rip free of Olin’s embrace.
“Calli!”
I focus on the sounds of movement closing from behind. Still swinging forward, I switch my hands on the branch and turn myself for the backswing. I raise my feet and pump them forward as one. The world spins, but I can see well enough to identify the twitcher’s head and aim for it.
With a crunch, I plant both heels into his nose and cheek. The impact jerks me free of the branch and slams me down on top of the stiffened body. While delivering further injury to the twitcher’s rib cage, I lose all breath in the process. With my elbows out and my hands gripping the sides of my head, I bounce and tumble into the brush.
Gasping and dizzy, I hear footfalls approaching at a rapid pace from opposite directions. To my horror, I realize a set of them must be Olin’s. Before I can get up or even scream, the leading edge of a telekinetic pulse forces my face into the soft bracken of the forest floor.
Shards of rock and splintered branches shower me in the wake of the telekinetic attack. Lifting my head, I spot Olin on his back several meters away. While crawling on my hands and knees, I manage to suck in a complete breath. “Olintl, I’m sorry.” Oh, gods, please let him be okay.
Footsteps approach from behind. I turn to see Yetic with an outstretched hand.
“I can’t even trust the two of you to stay ahead of some injured twitchers?”
“Olin? Is he—”
“He’s fine, just caught in the wash.” Yetic brushes a branch from my shoulder. “Can you walk?”
Staring at him, I realize his face isn’t spinning. I nod. “So the outburst, that was you?”
“Outburst?” We reach Olin, and indeed he’s awake and moving. “That was a directed attack. Damn fine aim, if I say so myself." Yetic pulls Olin to his feet. "Not that you two were making it easy.”
Embracing my brother, I whisper into his ear. “Nothing you are forced to do by others will ever change who you are. That will always be your choice.” I squeeze him to let him know I love him for who he chooses to be, even if it doesn’t always serve my purposes.
“There’ll be time for war stories later. The queen’s men are clearing a path for us this way.” Resuming a cautious pace, Yetic steers away from the comforting presence of the wall until we’re surrounded by nothing except world-dampening forest.
I’m still not sure I believe the Shadows contain an organized society lead by a so-called queen, but neither Yetic nor Olin waver on the matter. For now there’s nothing to do except follow their lead.
Meters into the forest, the branches hug us as tightly as a cave. If it weren’t for the noteworthy exception of concealing blood-thirsty twitchers, the forest’s closeness would be comforting. Yetic doesn’t seem worried. Olin’s eyes have gone to fluttering again. I try to relax.
“What is it like? Other than shimmering water?” As we walk side by side, I look straight ahead to avoid Olin’s empty gaze.
“The forest is amazing.” Olin breathes deeply. “So much shadow and light. At first, after the attack at the shield wall, I didn’t understand how to overlap the signatures of light with the rest of my senses. I got lost. Now I see you as both flesh and brilliance.”
“Brilliance?” I flush at his casual usage of such a flattering word.
“If only you could see yourself as I do.” He glances at his hands before putting an arm around me. We slow, allowing Yetic to outpace us several strides. Olin whispers, “Yours is yellow with wisps of green. Mine is mostly blue with green flecks. His,” he nods toward Yetic, “his light scares me. It’s red and angry. I don’t like him.”
“Don’t judge too quickly.” I smile at my little brother without looking him in his flickering eyes. “Do you even know what the different colors mean?”
He shrugs. “The twitchers that attacked us, they were dark red, like blood.”
I shiver at the memory of my feet crunching into the twitcher’s face. “Come on, we should stay close.” We catch up with Yetic, who doesn’t seem to take notice.
For the next several minutes, despite my attempts to occupy my mind elsewhere, I return to two thoughts. First, how awful it must be for Olin to experience the nightmare that has become our life in so much terrible detail. Second, what could it mean that Yetic’s color is so similar to that of the twitchers?
Flittering between those thoughts, I land on a third. I almost ask Olin about Neca’s color, but a small knot in my stomach keeps me from it.
Fifteen minutes into our hike through the Shadows, it starts to rain in earnest. The altered rhythm of rain inside the dome quickly becomes normal for residents of Worker City. Rather than an even blanket of droplets, the rain falls in a combination of shattered mist and large, collective drops.
Beneath the forest canopy inside the Shadows, the rhythm feels completely natural as leaves deflect and pool the rain on its way to the earth’s surface. The relative quiet of the rich greenery transforms into an orchestra of drips and drops, until it feels like we’re at the base of a waterfall.
Yetic stops our trudging pace. He shrugs and shakes his head as if he’s gotten us lost. The noise of the rain makes chewing him out more effort than it’s worth. Instead, I look for a means to slake my raging thirst.
A large drop strikes the top of my head. Looking up, I find a banana leaf pregnant with rain. While tipping the leaf for a few mouthfuls of water, I’m struck with the impossibility of finding this non-native tropical in such a hostile place. Before I can offer Olin a drink, he catches my wrist.
His eyes have returned to normal, save an extreme level of concern. With a subtle nod, he indicates the canopy above us. This time, as I lift my head, I focus past the branches of the banana tree. Shocked, I realize the forest is filled with perching twitchers.
My first temptation is to scream. Fortunately, my survival skills override the terror rippling throughout me. Unwilling to look away, I reach blindly in the direction of Yetic. His hand on my shoulder startles me.
“I thought I had the right place.” He sounds relieved, jovial even. “These guys get trickier every time I visit.”
I risk a glance at him. “You make it a habit?” I’m nearly yelling over the rain.
He shrugs. “It’s the best place to train.”
My brain freezes, unable to compute Yetic’s words under the circumstances. I jolt, realizing the twitchers above us are on the move. As a single unit, they flush from the branches with the grace of monkeys. I squeeze Olin’s hand and try to shield him. He and Yetic don’t crouch at all, exposing my efforts as ridiculous at best.
Fanning out around us, the twitchers’ numbers swell into the dozens—at least fifty. Packed shoulder to shoulder, they form a tight circle around the three of us and the banana tree. Fresh eyes reveal the tree to be planted in the center of a small opening. Someone has tended it, protected it.
None of the twitchers make an attempt to communicate, either verbally or physically. Seconds later, a hole opens in their perimeter. A female strides into the circle, bare chested and mottled as if her skin were an extension of the light and shadow of the forest. “Yetic, how nice that you bring company this time.” Barely speaking up, her voice cuts through the rain like a knife.
Yetic bows slightly. “You tire of my face already?”
“After the first time we met, yes.”
Yetic smiles and nods.
The queen continues, “I hope you don’t expect us to extend the same agreement we have with you to any morsel you tempt into our forest.”
“I’m hardly a morsel.” I bite the inside of my cheek, too late to stop the outburst.
The woman shifts her focus from Yetic to me and my brother. The circle of twitchers release a hissing breath in unison. The sound racks my body with shivers. “The little boy has promise. But you,” she points with her chin while leering at me with beady, black eyes, “how do you expect to survive?”
“I could start by killing you,” I growl, this time without apology.
“Ah, I see. Fire can serve you well, as it has me. But—”
My feet lift from the ground as my arms crush to my sides. I squeak, the air rushing from my lungs. Olin flinches. It’s only the slightest of movements, but I know the woman sees it. I’m helpless to cry out, to demand she leave my brother alone.
The woman’s eyes flare, and a blue light sparks the air beside me. I tumble to the ground, free from the woman’s mental grip. As I rise to my knees, a swirling storm of light expands in the space between Olin and the woman.
Flicking her hand, she yanks the storm into the ground. It dissipates with a gentle puff of pulverized earth.
Olin trembles, and I rush to his side in time to keep him from total collapse. “What did you do to him?” I demand.
Yetic steps in between me and the woman to defuse the matter. “I come seeking safe passage through your forest. As you know, I would not do so lightly.”
The woman cracks her neck, shedding a subtle pulse of telekinetic energy like a smoke ring from a pipe. “Explain.”
“These two have become hunted enemies of the ometeotl.”
“Huatiani,” the queen growls the name. The ring of twitchers burst into a chorus of rain-shattering screeches that fill the air with mist. Moments before my brain explodes, the woman expels a weak pulse that silences her minions instantly. “Continue.”
Yetic snaps to attention. “Right. You know the punishment they face. The boy’s crime is telekinesis. His sister’s,” he glances at me, “is hardheadedness.” I clear my throat loudly. “That, and caring for her brother,” Yetic adds.
“Siblings.” The woman nods. “I will let you pass, but you will owe me. As much as I hate the Supreme and his groveling Guard, especially Huatiani, our forest is not a safe haven for enemies of the state. I needn't remind you, if our secret is discovered, you will die among the first.”
“You couldn’t be clearer. I’ll return with a batch of Worker City’s finest at my earliest opportunity.”
“You mean before you scamper off to the academy?” Yetic nods. The queen brushes him aside, approaching Olin and me. “The circumstances suggest I can look forward to seeing you two again, if you survive long enough to die in our forest.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” I say.
“On what? You surviving?”
“On anyone standing in our way.” I glare at the woman.
She laughs, causing the pattern of light and shadow beneath the surface of her skin to dance. “I like you very much.” Then her look of disdain returns. “In that case, perhaps we shall meet again, somewhere outside these walls.” She turns. Her entire entourage of twitchers shift into two columns, one on each side of us. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Yetic falls in beside Olin and me. All three of us are flanked by disciplined and sentient twitchers, something I didn’t know could exist. Together, we march.
Thanks so much for taking the time to read these scenes of Outburst, Season 1 of The Green Ones. I’ll be publishing FREE daily scenes from The Green Ones until…I die…or something terrible happens. Seriously, I’ve got over 100 scenes written so far, and I’ll be writing more until the story reaches its natural ending. You are totally welcome to read the entire story for FREE! If at any point you decide you would rather finish the story in ebook or print format, just click the buttons below and you can do that as well. If you enjoy reading the serial releases, BUT you would also like to support me as a writer (my kids need wine!) please subscribe to my premium content for bonus scenes, exclusives, and insider access to my process. And of course, I’d be grateful if you would share this post with any of your reader friends who you think would enjoy The Green Ones. Happy reading!