If I only had a thousand bucks for every time I’ve told my kids “The world don’t work that way,” over these last few months…well, let’s just say the only things I’ve repeated more frequently have been “life isn’t fair,” “no more devices,” and “for the love! That’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever smelled!”
We all know the world doesn’t work the way we want it to. But what if it did? Would that be a good thing?
My oldest son has entered the (virtual) seventh grade this (virtual) school year. This has been his first encounter with having multiple teachers and subjects. At the same time, everything has been via online platforms like Canvas and Google Docs and Zoom. Let me say upfront, I love our kids’ school. They’ve done a great job of going virtual. They’ve added a University Prep. session for seventh graders to help them learn essential skills like using a calendar and organizing their workload. Even if most universities collapse in the next several years, I’m totally onboard with my boys learning how to organize stuff so they can be effective.
Here’s the thing that my oldest son is haltingly and very begrudgingly learning: most of the stuff we need the most help organizing is all the “stupid stuff.” Yep. Remember back to a time in life when you hadn’t yet learned that a large percentage of your life would be spent doing “stupid stuff?” That world of bliss is coming to an end for my oldest son. And he ain’t liking it one bit.
We started out this semester with the understanding that we would give him some leash. While I knew that this leash would quickly wrap around everything in sight until he was choking on it, I knew he’d have to figure that out on his own. (Don’t we all?) Well, three weeks in and we’re getting emails from his teachers. It appears that when my son says, “I’ve finished all my work,” what he actually means is, “I did everything I didn’t think was stupid.”
When confronted with the emails, his first dismissal was half-assed at best. He eventually got to the bottom line.
Son: There’s only one assignment I haven’t finished yet, and it was like a pre-test or something.
Me: Says here you’ve failed to complete four assignments in this class alone.
Son: I’ll show you!
The Wife: Please do.
Son: [bringing up his assignment check-list] See, I did all of these.
The Wife: What about these that say they haven’t been turned in?
Son: Those are all stupid.
Me: [struggling not to laugh or crack a smile] That’s not how life works.
And there you have it. If only we could decide what stuff in life was stupid and simply choose to not do it. What would that be like?
“Honey, did you get the oil changed in the car?”
“Nah, I think burning fossil fuels is stupid. Besides, I hate how the guys at the Lube Place always try to up-sell me on new wipers and junk.”
“What’s this audit from the IRS all about?”
“Oh nothing. I decided not to pay our taxes between 1998 and 2019 because I think taxes are stupid.”
“Can you at least help find the neighbor’s kid? He’s lost in our backyard, and I think I heard a rattlesnake back there.”
“Meh. I stopped mowing the lawn because it’s just gonna grow back anyway. Mowing’s so stupid.”
As adults, we know a bunch of the stuff we have to do every year, or every month, or even every day is stupid. Deep down in our gut, the fact that we’re forced to expend mental and physical energy on such stupid things eats away at us…until we accept that the stuff that is stupid to us isn’t stupid to everyone.
Some of you love mowing your lawn. God bless you. I have no idea where along the line such a crazy idea took root in your psyche, or what sort of trauma you are dealing with that would make cutting down grass one minute just to water it the next so that you have to cut it down again a pleasant experience, but hey, if that’s your thing…I’m happy for you.
All of this to say, perhaps the world would be worse off if we each were allowed to opt out of the things we thought were stupid. Indeed, the world wouldn’t work that way.
My youngest son’s solution is more elegant and yet equally unviable. He would have us solve every major problem with the slogan, “No idiots!” Amen. Oh how I would love to embrace that motto. If only I could ensure I wasn’t one of those idiots…
At the Desk This Week
I’m making some progress this week with outlining Episode 3 of Season 3 of the Green Ones. It’s been slow. I realized I had a couple drafted books (that I wrote 5 years ago and have mostly forgotten at this point) that I had to go back and review to ensure continuity within the entire universe.
Basically, I need to figure out the right nemesis to introduce by the end of Season 3. And I have to make sure my timeline remains intact throughout the four series I’ve already started in my Schism 8 universe. I’m in the process of switching software, and my world-building is a mess. Tons of stuff just got lost or forgotten, so now I’m paying the price.
It’s always a delicate process, figuring out which details I need to know in advance, and which ones I can leave for discovery while drafting. I love writing myself into a problem. I hate having to go back and rewrite stuff later because I didn’t think it through to begin with. Fingers crossed!
Boundaries: Ep.2, Scene 13—Ep.3, Scene 3
[Click here to start at the beginning.]
An EM storm blossoms directly overhead, and Yetic drops me moments before he tumbles like a wounded bird to the plasteel surface of the high plateau.
It’s all part of the act. Still, falling from five meters up isn’t fun. I hit the ground feet first and roll as the crackle in the air raises the hair on my arms. I turn in time to throw a weak pulse over the head of a charging Y’etl.
His fist held high, he leads a surprisingly terrifying charge of bedraggled and crazed butterfly cadets. Only a few of them are capable of generating pulses sturdy enough to knock someone out. But they’ve got blood lust in their eyes.
I fall backward as Y’etl barely misses my forehead with a roundhouse. He dives at me. I roll to my side as he drives a bony elbow into the rubbery surface of the plasteel centimeters from the side of my head.
“Boy, you don’t hold anything back.” I assume a sparring stance while continuing to shuffle toward the citadel. We’ve narrowed the gap to nearly seventy meters.
“There’s no point in holding back when you believe each day to be your last.” Y’etl sprints toward me and launches both feet at my chest.
I block the kick, but not without being knocked to the ground again. This time my blood boils. Show or not, I refuse to let some shrimp get the better of me. From the ground, I arc my back and throw myself into a backhand spring. I land ready for Y’etl’s next attack.
Without pause he brings it, complete with guttural growl.
I block his punch and choke him while placing a knee in his stomach. My butt hits the plasteel hard as Yetl’s momentum carries us backward. Extending my legs, I toss him over my head and roll onto my feet in time to watch him sprawl face first.
Exhausted and barely able to breath, he chokes out the words, “Is that all you’ve got.”
As I charge to finish him off, a rippling red light births between us. I throw my hands in front of my face the moment the storm blossoms. The force tosses me spinning to the ground. Through bleary eyes I focus on the citadel, now forty meters distant.
“Need a hand?” Yetic swoops overhead.
I raise my arm.
Yetic latches onto it and tugs me into the air.
Another EM storm swells beneath us. “Those butterflies are good actors,” I croak.
Yetic wraps his arms around me. “That last one was from me.”
“What? You nearly—”
“You looked like you were about to kill their commander.” Yetic dips a shoulder to dodge an EM pulse that appears suspiciously out of thin air. “Whoa.”
“The operator?” I curl my legs around him as if I were climbing the trunk of a tree.
Yetic nods, “It might be time to talk to your brother.”
“Will do,” I pause. “I wouldn’t have killed Y’etl by the way.”
“No skin off my teeth. I just figured we might need him.”
I close my eyes and hail Olin. Ready?
A few more seconds. His response is abrupt, as if he’s under duress.
What’s happening?
There’s a long pause inside my head. I grit my teeth while waiting to hear back.
“Jags are engaging!” Yetic dives suddenly for the surface. “We’ve gotta go now!”
Steam rises from our sweat soaked uniforms as a large EM storm builds in our vicinity.
“Hold on!” The words barely escape Yetic’s mouth before a blood red storm drives us into the ground. Yetic spins so that his shoulder hits first. The crushing blow dislodges me and sends me skittering toward the steep cliff of the inland valley.
“Cap! Grab hold!”
All I see is a human-shaped blur as I shoot past. I throw out a hand and snag what feels like an iron anchor. Without a hitch, I’m yanked to a stop at the last second—nothing below my dangling body except thin air.
“Watch that last step. It’s a doozy.”
“T’zan, where’d you come from?” I blink my eyes into focus as the monstrously oversized cadet pulls me up.
“I’ve been sticking close.” T’zan sets me down a meter from the edge of the sheer cliff. Thirty meters below, Serpent 4, 5, and 8 are dug in and waiting for the doors to open. The citadel itself rises dramatically behind us, only twenty meters away. “What now?”
I turn a wary eye toward the narrow windows high up the fortress wall. “You think you can get me to the wall of the citadel?” I flinch as a pulse shoots out of the nearest opening. It’s aimed at someone else.
“How close?”
“Touching it.”
He swears under his breath. “Ah hell, I’ll take a stunning for ya, no problem.”
I grin, “Come on then, cover me.”
Together we sprint the final distance, T’zan assuming the role of human shield. The slick gray surface of the citadel blends with the plateau seamlessly. Above and below the surface, it’s all one impenetrable mass. Or so they would like us to believe.
Olin?
I’m at the security lock. Sorry about the wait. We had a few Jag fliers to deal with.
I say, Hold on. I’m approaching the citadel now. The hair on my arms rises. “T’zan!”
“I see it!” He veers to the right and slams his hands together. The concussion feels as if thunder has struck the inside of my head. My braid strips from around my neck and yanks taught. My arms and legs fly forward as the outburst propels me toward the citadel a dozen times faster than I can run.
“Olin!” I cry out to my brother as I have so many times before. Clamping my mouth and eyes tight, I focus on a far away place—my mother’s garden. Olin and I are both there. We’re working idly, enjoying an escape from the grind of Worker City. We’re happy just being kids. Now!
An EM torrent from unseen origin and unknown destination rips through me before I sense its coming or going. An infinity—a seed of a universe—sprouts from the darkness. I thrust open my hands and give it birth.
Instantly the world begins to crumble. What had sprung to life less than a heart beat earlier, begins to shatter. A terrible rattling threatens to tear me apart. I flail to escape the tug of the current until I find an open door in my mind. It’s wooden and old, creaking on rusty hinges. I run my hand across its rough surface. I feel a familiar pattern engraved upon it—an emblem of a tree with vines wrapped around its trunk. I know it. I’ve felt its presence before.
In a final gasp I swing the door shut.
The deafening roar disappears. The torrent leaves, taking my senses with it.
My eyes flicker open. Someone is tugging me to my feet. He’s talking to me. I can’t hear him. It’s Y’etl. He’s grinning and angry at the same time. I feel something solid against my back. Y’etl says something else before raising a brow as if waiting for a response. Then he’s gone amidst a stream of cadets. Some of them I know. Some I don’t. They’re yelling—plunging headlong into battle.
A spark fires at the back of my brain. The citadel. Olin.
“Calli?”
I hear my brother’s voice. It doesn’t sound right. I place a hand on the ground in an effort to stand. The plasteel is warm to the touch. I gaze overhead and realize I’m in some sort of tunnel. But not a tunnel. A door.
“Calli.” Olin’s face appears in front of me.
Olin.
“I’m right here.” He takes my arm and pulls me to me feet.
I sag into him, depending on him for support. Finally, I dislodge my tongue. “Is that how it feels for you every time?”
Olin nods. Wisps of his hair tickle my ear.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“I know you’ll be there to pick me up,” he smiles and holds me at arm’s length. “Now come on, there’s still a battle to fight and a tournament to win.”
“Right.” I wobble on unsteady feet as an errant EM pulse shrieks past and explodes several meters overhead. “Where are we?”
“Inside the citadel wall,” Olin smiles. “Before the operator realized I was borrowing energy from the security system, you transferred enough of it to disintegrate a hole through the wall the size of a mammoth.”
“Xoxochueyi,” I swear under my breath while awakening to my surroundings. The citadel is oddly well lit despite being encased by five-meter-thick plasteel walls. Thirty meters below our entry point, the battle continues to rage. My memory latches onto the moment before I transferred Olin’s storm into the wall. “T’zan?”
“Alive but unconscious.” Olin flashes a blue EM burst and brings down a Jag flyer inside the citadel.
The proximity of the attack jars me completely into the present. I step out of Olin’s protective shadow, slash my arms downward, and ignite my hands with a crawling green heat.
“You know what this reminds me of?” Olin gazes down into the EM energy brewing in the central caldron of the citadel.
“What?” I pretend I don’t know exactly what he’s talking about.
“Fly or die,” Olin seizes me around the waist.
“Oh great,” I grit my teeth.
“You still don’t trust me?” Olin asks as he sweeps me over the edge.
My breath catches in my throat. A moment later Olin slams on the brakes. He places me gently on my feet, and both of us are engulfed by the melee.
I throw a block with one hand while squeezing Olin’s arm with the other. I yell into his ear, “I just don’t like falling.”
“About time you show up!”
I turn to see Y’etl grappling with a wounded Jaguar. Swiftly, I tuck a punch into the Jag’s ribs and dispel a close range pulse strong enough to knock him out without stopping his heart.
“We’ve gotta get the doors open or we’ll be cooked in here.” Y’etl points toward two huge doors barred by a long beam.
“Where are the rest? Yetic? Neca?” I push Y’etl behind a low barrier as a pulse whips overhead.
“This is it. The rest didn’t make it in.”
Olin joins us behind the barrier while blocking another EM attack. “There can’t be more than a dozen of us left, with twice that many Jags.”
“The doors,” Y’etl repeats himself.
I shake my head. “I’m spent.”
Olin pops up and throws an offensive pulse before plopping beside us. “Luckily, I don’t think the operator can interfere with things inside here. Or least he doesn’t seem to be.”
“You think you can do it?” Y’etl asks.
“I’ll need a few seconds to focus, and you’ll have to take out anyone blocking me.”
A pulse slams into the barrier, shaking it. So far the battle has been a harried fray of unfocused energy—one side trying to stun the other. My brother is asking for the chance to lift the beam and open the doors with focused thought. The manipulating of inanimate objects is something I’ve only seen Olin and Centavo do.
“You’ll be exposed,” I object.
“It’s the only way without mass casualties on both sides,” Olin counters.
“It’s not like you’ll really be killing them.”
“Why practice something I’ll never do? You know I won’t.”
I nod. “Give me a second.” I stick my head out for a final assessment. “It looks like Cera and Tenoch made it in. There fighting back to back at two o’clock, twenty meters. First we reach them, then we do it together.” I look at Y’etl.
He nods.
“On three.” A pulse strikes the barrier again, this time threatening to shatter it. “Three!” We burst around the sides of the barrier and sprint toward Cera and Tenoch. After a few strides, we’re swallowed into the chaos.
A butterfly stumbles into my path, forcing me to leap over. Off balance and out of position, I’m struck with a flying knee kick that sends me tumbling. I roll onto hands and knees in time to catch a foot before it impacts my face. I recognize the attacker’s grunt as she wrenches her foot free. “Ami.”
“I don’t know how you got through the wall, but I’m putting an end to your pathetic little assault now.” She stabs at me with a side kick.
I jump to my feet, block it, and spin into her back with a backward roundhouse. It connects, but Ami anticipates the impact. She tumbles away safely. I use the opportunity to check on my brother. He and Y’etl have caught Cera’s attention.
Too quickly Ami is back on her feet.
I catch a flicker of light coming from her direction. Closing my eyes, I pool what little concentration I have left into blocking the incoming EM assault. I throw up my hands in the nick of time.
Ami follows immediately on the heels of the pulse with a savage physical attack. Her bullrush catches me with a shoulder to the chin and lifts my feet off the ground. Rather than worry about defending myself from the inevitable crash landing, I place both hands in Ami’s stomach.
When the moment comes, I push all the pain into a crackling ball of EM energy and gift it to Ami. I manage to cast her off, but feel my back and ribs crack in the process. Gasping for breath and struggling to see where Ami landed, I instead see Olin kneeling a few meters away. His eyes are closed.
I struggle to regain my feet. My head is spinning. I can’t breath. I scramble onto my hands and knees the moment Ami raises a blood-curdling battle cry. The sound reminds me of the queen’s men inside the Shadows.
She takes two quick shuffling strides and raises a foot to finish me off with a roundhouse to the head. It never connects. Instead, Yetl lands a nasty two-fisted blow. Dropping his hands like a hammer, he compacts Ami’s spine and drops her like a limp noodle. She could be dead, but I don’t care.
Staggering to me feet, I plunge into the fray nearest my brother. I join Cera and Tenoch and use everything I have left to clear a path for Olin. Suddenly a brilliance overtakes us—like emerging from a pitch-black tunnel into the full light of day. Blinded, exhausted, unable to defeat gravity for another step, I drop to my knees.
The ground quakes beneath me, as if my falling has been enough to shake the foundations of the earth. I realize the doors have been opened. Serpent 4, 5, and 8 are pouring in through the gap. Engaging the battle, they drop the weary Jags with close range pulses and hand to hand combat.
With Y’etl’s help, I drag myself out of the way. The two of us lean against each other and watch the remainder of our cadets finish the job. With Ami down and the doors open, it takes less than a minute for the interior of the citadel to fall quiet except for moans and heavy breathing.
Olin, Cera, and I are all that remain of Serpent 6. Cera helps Y’etl and me to our feet. A tense moment passes as Brutah, the commander of Serpent 8, eyes the remaining butterflies as if he hopes my ultimate plan is to turn on them in the end.
I shake me head. “The battle is over. The tournament is won. Congratulations, to all of you.” I grip Yetl’s arm.
He exhales and mouths two silent words, thank you. Then he raises a fist. “Butterflies! Today we eat our fill from the spoils of victory!”
I’m surprised to hear what must be nearly a dozen voices still able to respond with whoops and hollers.
After a few seconds I join in, followed by the rest of the Serpents. We only stop when the fallen begin to jerk and twitch, indicating the resurrection command has been given. There are three times as many casualties as survivors.
“Come on, help ‘em up. The quicker we get everyone out of here, the quicker the administration can dissolve this place.” I try to catch my breath. “If there are any fliers left, head up to the plateau and help everyone down.”
Twenty minutes later, everyone except my brother and I and Instructor Turon have exited the chamber. I turn around to watch the landscape disappear, leaving nothing but colored glitter falling softly. Quieter and more subtle than the formation, the dissolution inspires a reverent awe inside me.
After watching half the citadel dissolve into thin air, I turn toward Olin. “How long do you think it will take us to learn that trick?” I watch Turon through the corner of my eye.
Olin responds in a matter of fact tone, “I give it six months.”
Turon covers it quickly, but can’t disguise the genuine concern that flashes across his face.
I run a hand along the length of my braid and crack the vertebrae in my neck. “That long? I was thinking five.”
END of Episode Eight
I close my eyes and anticipate the warmth of the sun hugging my skin. With the rains still a month away, this April morning should be one of the hottest of the year. I envision the sun peeking over the tree tops, and I can’t believe it’s been eight months since I’ve seen the sky.
Packed side by side in a receiving bay with the rest of the leadership from Serpent 6, I image I can feel the sun’s rays. Someone jostles me, and I open my eyes. It’s Yetic. I smile. “You ready for this?”
He does his best to suppress a childish grin. “About time we get the go. I was starting to think the administration was going to withhold the prize from the tournament just because they were upset by the way we won.”
“Nah. They wanted to save the best for last. And with only six cadets every week,” I shrug, “it took two months to get to us.”
Cera ads, “At least we get to go before the rainy season.”
We all nod to that—all of us except Olin. He’s standing motionless at the very front of the group and looking straight ahead at the security doors built into the mouth of the cave. He has become increasingly depressed and moody as Zorrah’s absence has grown from days to weeks and now months.
I’m desperately hoping the time above ground and outside the dome of New Teo will refresh his spirits. At the same time, I’m worried he’s too upset with me to allow any joy to come from the experience. Or maybe he’ll refuse to enjoy anything he can’t share with Zorrah. I can’t blame him for his attitude. Even so, I can’t tell him the truth.
If he knew, he would have already tried to find her. He would have gotten caught. With the increasing presence of the mystery man inside my head, I shouldn’t even be thinking about the matter now.
The reminder that my thoughts are no longer my own is unwelcome. How can I defeat an enemy who only reveals himself inside my own mind? In the last few weeks the voice has begun referring to himself as Toltec, an ancient god of my people. That does nothing to help me identify him.
Lately, I’ve had an even more disturbing thought: what if Toltec doesn’t really exist at all? What if the experiences over the past year have begun to erode my brain? I’ve never heard of hallucinations or voices being a side-effect of the twitch, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.
“What are we waiting on?” Olin says his first words of the morning.
Yetic responds too quickly, “For the two Ometeotl Guardsmen who’ll be instructing us for the next thirty-six hours.”
“You mean our babysitters?” Olin scoffs. “We’re not old enough to wait outside? They’ve gotta bring us here a half hour early just so we can wait in the mouth of the cave with the sun so close we can taste it?”
I push past the others and put a hand on my brother’s shoulder. He sloughs it off. I use my gentle voice, “It’s not like they did it on purpose. There must have been a delay of some sort.”
“Of course they did it on purpose. First they lock us up underground. Then they take Zorrah. When they promise us a trip to the surface, they make us wait just out of reach to prove they own us.”
“Olin, I understand you’re upset—”
“You don’t understand anything, Ms. Bluehair,” he mimics Instructor Turon in an effort to push my buttons. “You’re already one of them. You can’t see that everything they do is intentional. They’re sending a message in bold letters: we’ve given you everything you have, and we can take it away. But it’s teocauli garbage. They can take my life, but they’ll never own me.”
The shield doors behind us open before I can respond.
“This must be the Serpent 6 group I’ve heard so much about.”
I spin around as two fully-armored Ometeotl Guardsmen, one on each side of a loaded hover sled, join us in the receiving bay. There’s no formal manner of greeting between masazin and ometeotl. I suppose it’s such a rare occurrence that none has ever been developed. Shifting uneasily, I wish I knew what to do with myself.
The taller of the two continues his greeting. “The rest of the 49 were proud of their individual accomplishments, but they couldn’t conceal their respect for your lot.”
My skin tingles and I’m suddenly afraid I might be blushing.
“Which one of you is Cap’n Bluehair?”
I jerk stiff and blink in an effort to clear my head. “Uh, here, sir.” I step forward.
“Of course. I suppose I was expecting…” he hesitates. Through the shielding of his helmet it’s hard to interpret his expression, but it sounds like he’s smiling. “Due to the name and all—”
“Oh, sorry,” I cut him off nervously. “It’s been over eight months since I’ve dyed it.”
The shorter ometeotl elbows the taller one.
The taller one reaches to the back of his helmet, unlocks it from the rest of his suit and removes it. “Obviously.” Flashing a toothy smile, he looks about the same age as Turon, give or take a hundred years. He’s leaner and has an arrogant air, like a two hundred year old version of Neca. “I apologize. After a while, we tend to forget what it was like in the academy.”
Leaving his helmet in place, the shorter one takes over. “As you’re about to discover, life after graduation is a bit different. Hopefully these next thirty-six hours will give you the inspiration you need to push through to the end.”
“Who knows? Maybe in a few years we’ll be partners,” the taller one says before scratching his chin. “What am I forgetting?”
The shorter one clears his throat.
“Oh yes, where are my manners. This is Chechen,” the tall one indicates his shorter partner. “And you can call me Gronk. We’ll go by given names to keep it simple.” He snaps his fingers. “Now let me see if I can remember. There’s Calli of course.”
I feel my skin growing hot again.
“Which one is Yetic?” One by one, Gronk recalls our names from memory and we identify ourselves.
I’m shocked by the casualness of it all.
“Alright now that we’ve finished the introductions, we’ll skip the formalities.” Gronk reattaches his helmet. “I’m assuming you’ve been briefed as to the nature of our assignment. I apologize for the inequity in our armament. But I suppose being immortal has its perks.” With his helmet on, the attempt at humor misses the mark.
Most of us attempt a courtesy laugh. Olin of course remains surely.
“Let’s do this.” Gronk strides through the middle of us and places a hand on the charged exterior door. It begins to swim with color. “Chechen will take the lead, then you guys, and I’ll bring up the rear with the hover sled. It’s an hour hike to our first stop, so enjoy the sites.”
Chechen pauses at the door to speak into his mission recorder. “S&P detail, patrol 21 departing at 8:34 sharp.” He breathes deeply and walks straight through the solid iron door.
“Now on with the rest of you, one at a time just to keep it simple.” Gronk waves us through with one hand while keeping the other in contact with the shimmering surface.
Yetic goes first, then Olin and Tenoch and T’zan.
Cera pauses before following the boys. “When do we learn how to do this?” She indicates the swirling iron door.
Gronk laughs, “Oh I’m sure you’ll pick it up. Barrier phasing is a must for the scout and probe detail.”
Cera nods and disappears through the door. The colors of the rainbow ripple across its surface as if each of us were a rock tossed into a vertical pond. Neca catches my eye before he passes through.
We’re both thinking about the time we phased through the shield dome around Immortal City. The obvious difference is that Gronk isn’t embracing each of us as we phase through. It occurs to me that Neca might have improvised that part just for kicks. I want to be mad at him, but the memory is one of my favorites during the short time we had together.
“You’re up,” Gronk nods while using telekinesis to position the hover sled directly behind me.
I stride toward the swirling patterns of color and close my eyes. Sunshine here I come.
The sunlight is even brighter than I had remembered—its warming touch more glorious. The dappled pattern of sun and shade dancing beneath the forest canopy is the most exotic thing I can imagine. I’m intoxicated with it—barely aware of the others, or of anything at all, except the subtle brush of air across my skin and the smell of decaying pine needles.
I breathe deeply. Despite my affection for the embrace of the earth, I’m suddenly convinced humans are not meant to live underground.
“Alright,” Gronk’s voice breaks the trance. “Don’t worry about a formation or anything, but do keep up. We don’t want to lose anyone out here.”
Chechen ads, “Keep your eyes open. While we don’t expect too much trouble, especially this close to the dome, we do run into some from time to time.” On that note, the two Ometeotl Guardsmen begin a steady march north toward the highest mountain peaks in the vicinity.
New Teotihuacan sits in a high mountain bowl. To the east and south the bowl pours downward into flat farmlands cleared from the forest. To the north the mountain rises to a set of three jagged peaks.
I’ve never been on this side of the shield dome, or seen the peaks from this close. I think of Zorrah and how much she would have wanted to see what we’re seeing. As we fall in line, I promise myself I’ll show it to her someday.
I avoid Olin for the first several minutes, choosing instead to soak in the moment. I feel the bounce of the forest floor beneath my bare feet. I taste the infinitely fine particles of pulverized earth as the hairs in my nose filter them from the air.
Eventually the freedom only intensifies the guilt I feel for leaving Zorrah in a box the size of a casket. If I’m already thinking of Zorrah, I know Olin is. Passing up the others, I walk beside my brother.
Maybe we can finally talk. In the light of day, my mind feels clearer—free from the oppressive threat of Toltec lurking in the shadows. Not wanting to say the wrong thing or feel pushy, I decide to let Olin initiate the conversation.
After a few minutes of silence, he does. “You realize it’s happening, don’t you?”
I keep an even, upbeat tone. “What’s happening?”
“The transformation Centavo warned us about.”
I cringe at the mention of the old man. While I can sometimes go weeks without thinking about him, there are times when I can’t shake him. Most haunting is his smell—pipe smoke and sweat coupled with the acrid stink of burnt hair. “And what transformation would that be?”
“You really can’t see it?” Olin asks.
“You wanna know what I see?”
“By all means, enlighten me.”
I sigh, “I see the transformation of chadzitzin to ometeotl. I see two kids growing into powerful immortals. We’re doing it, Olintl.”
He clucks his tongue. “You never see the cost, only the payoff.”
“You’re wrong.” I grit my teeth in effort to remain calm. “I know the cost better than anyone. I feel it every teocauli day. I dream of it every night. I pay the bill when nobody else will. How can you think I’m not aware of the cost of immortality?”
“Because you keep paying it.” Olin refuses to look at me.
I can’t tell for sure, but it looks like tears are forming in his eyes.
“You just admitted you’re obsessed with it. Day and night you martyr your humanity on the academy alter. Pretty soon, there won’t be anything left.”
“What would you have me do?” I throw up my hands. “Come this far just to give up? Settle for failure when we’re this close to fulfilling our dreams.”
“Your dreams, Calli. Or have you forgotten that as well?”
“I guess I had hoped time would change your mind.”
“I suppose my dreams have changed over the last several months,” Olin nods. “But you know what?” I brace myself for another accusation. He continues, “My dreams will never include exchanging a good life for a long one.”
I gawk at my brother. I can’t believe his arrogance. “Oh, and I suppose you own the definition of what makes life good? Or is it simply the shorter the better? And you think I’m the martyr?”
He looks into the forest.
I chew the inside of my cheek in an effort to calm myself. I had wanted to talk, to clear the air, not fight. Although it seems fighting is all we’ve done since the night I left Zorrah behind.
“Do you even remember the last time you laughed?” Olin surprises me with the question. “Really laughed?” When I don’t respond he continues, “Because I do. It was the night they took Zorrah.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” I ask.
“Saying what?”
“That they took her?”
“You said so yourself—that Toltec tried to kill her because she was too dangerous.”
“Toltec tried to kill her.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and swallow a sudden surge of anxiety. I’ve never referred to the mystery man out loud. The act of it sparks unwarranted paranoia. After a few seconds it passes. “That’s all we know. He might not even be a member of the academy administration.”
“Nonsense, of course he’s administration. But that’s not the point.”
“So all of this rambling has a point?”
Olin’s eye twitches. Just that easily, he’s made me feel guilty, and I’m afraid he’ll close up again. But he keeps talking, “I know you’re not telling me the whole truth. Something happened to you that night.”
“I already told you, Turon confronted me. He tried to convince me the regime was lying, that they were withholding a cure for the twitch. I didn’t believe him them. I don’t believe him now.” I’m exhausted of covering the same ground over and over.
Olin shakes his head. “There’s no reason for you to feel guilty about that. And it’s your guilt that’s fueling the transformation, Calli.”
“What transformation?” I raise my voice, completely exasperated with Olin’s circuitousness.
“You’re becoming a monster. You and Yetic together.”
Thirty minutes after emerging into the light of day, my heart is impossibly heavy. And it’s Olin’s fault. Of all people, he should understand my need to keep a safe emotional distance until we’ve discovered a means to combat Toltec. Instead, he’s accusing me of being inhuman.
Our path through the forest steepens, and I join Yetic at the back of the group. He’s still basking in the thrill of the moment. There’s no reason for me to darken his mood as well, so I bottle up my frustration. Gronk and Chechen lead us onto a wild game trail winding upward at a gentle pace.
I distract myself with the task of identifying plants. Eventually the distraction becomes remedy, and I shake off the effect of Olin’s words. I love him. Sometimes he doesn’t know how to love himself—especially when he gets together with Neca. Give the two of them thirty minutes together and they’ll conjure up a dozen paranoid conspiracies rather than accept the facts at face value.
I sigh a little too loudly.
“Don’t let them get to you,” Yetic responds to my audible sulking.
“Who?”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Yetic shrugs. “A matter of fact, I’d prefer we don’t.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Fine. I’m just saying I think you’re brother’s been listening to Neca too much lately. But don’t let ‘em get to you. They don’t know what it takes, not like we do.”
I nod and we continue on in silence for several more minutes. Yetic understands. He’s a warrior, not a romantic like Neca or an idealist like my brother. When the time comes to make the difficult decisions, I can rely on Yetic to make the right ones. While Toltec is in my head, Yetic’s the only one I can trust.
“Gather up,” Gronk gives the order from over the next rise.
Yetic and I rush to catch up. As we top the rise, we spot the first assigned stop, a mining camp wedged between two of the three highest peaks.
After we join the group, Gronk continues, “On the surface everything looks good. Chechen and I’ll check in to make sure no equipment has gone missing and see if the foreman’s got any news on suspicious movement. These guys have a good view of the surrounding area, and often times they’ll spot an enemy scout or recon team before we do.”
Chechen takes over, “While we’re doing that, we want you guys to each take a turn navigating the hover sled down the back side of this mountain.” He points west. “Our second stop is a logging camp in the next valley over. This will give you a first-hand taste of navigating the forest on your own.”
I cover the grin on my face with my hand and then pretend to itch my eye.
Gronk seems to recognize his partner’s false assumption that we’ve never set foot in the forest and tries to cover it up. “Just follow the trail. We’ll catch up with you within the hour. If we run into trouble, you’ll know it when the crate activates and launches the probes inside.”
Gronk smiles his toothy smile. “If you guys run into trouble, hit this button,” he indicates a red panic button on the top of the iron-foam crate. “Chechen and I will establish a direct link with the probes in order to assess the situation.”
“Even from that distance?” Cera points at the mining camp.
Gronk chuckles. “Sure. We’ve linked from over 20 kilometers before. Certain probes start to feel like pets after a while. Chechen and I usually request a different four—” Chechen elbows his partner. “Alright, alright. Enough yakking. You guys can handle the sled?”
Instantly the sled lifts from the ground and starts to glide smoothly along the trail. I can’t be sure, but I think Neca got to it first.
Gronk laughs as Chechen proceeds down the fork of the trail leading to the mining camp. “Right then, have a time of it,” Gronk calls over his shoulder as he jogs to catch up with his more businesslike partner.
Watching them go, I wonder which one of them I like better. At first I had felt myself drawn to the more charismatic Gronk. For a reason I can’t explain, I now feel myself leaning toward Chechen. Maybe his personality makes him seem more noble or wise. Maybe I can’t stomach the idea that even after one hundred years some boys still haven’t grown up.
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