novelistorange
Novelist Orange
Terrible Anime Prose
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Chapter 3
Friday, August 27, Evening
I’m not very fond of carnivals.
It’s not that I don’t like fun. Not to say I don’t like fun or anything. In fact, the very definition of fun includes enjoyment. Therefore, nobody, myself included, can dislike fun, because the definition of “fun” implies enjoyment.
But I digress. The point of that tangent was: I don’t like carnivals.
Naturally, I found myself at one anyways. Of course.
Specifically, I found myself at a booth, staring down a nefarious three by three grid of air-inflated water balloons.
Click.
Shooting an airsoft gun isn’t very hard.
Click. Pop.
At this distance, shooting requires two forms of compensation. The first is, of course, gravity. The second is the natural tendency of the gun. This one was missing the sight. Its trigger wasn’t smooth, and the bullet had rather poor curvature. In short, it was old, battered, and judging from the dust in the slits, long decommissioned. It was a wonderful tool. For making sure nobody actually won anything, that is. Sneaky, sneaky.
I aimed slightly above and to the right of the balloon target.
Click. Pop.
The girl at the booth nodded in approval. “You know, you would do well in Field Sports team. Think about joining.”
“I’ll consider it.”
But I wouldn’t really. To start with, I wasn’t really into guns. Secondly, a shooting gallery at a carnival hardly constitutes a sufficient audition for a serious team. A gallery is only under the most ideal of circumstances, barring the gun, of course, and the distance here can’t be more than ten feet.
Click. Pop.
This is ignoring heart rate, nerves, and other adverse factors. This is why police officers who are listed as crack shots through performance at a range might still end up missing or worse, hitting a civilian.
The principle is simple. Idealized situations are perfect--and fake. Idealization and reality are incongruent and incompatible.
No matter how high you score, the end result is the same. French philosopher Jean Baudrillard put it best. “Like dreams, statistics are a form of wish fulfilment.” Those who claim otherwise are delusional.
Click. Pop.
In an instant, in a flash, the last balloon disintegrated into a few scraps of rubber, falling like leaves to the wooden floorboards.
I tapped the trigger a few more times, to ensure that it was, in fact, empty.
“Hey, try spinning it around your fingers! Like this!” Leo grabbed it and started a twirl. The girl choked and grabbed the empty pistol.
“That’s how they break. And that’s how people get shot.” In place of the pistol, the booth girl handed me a teddy bear, along with a flyer. “Here you go. Thanks so much!”
We kept walking. Leo stopped in front of the Computer Club’s booth. His face turned somber.
“Any news?”
The boy (whom I assumed was the president) shook his head. “Nothing.”
“I see. Thank you.” Leo averted his gaze and resumed walking. Xylia looked as though she wanted to ask him what that was about, but both her and I couldn’t work up the courage. We kept walking.
Leo stopped us in front of an empty booth populated by one silver-haired girl.
“Y-you-!”
I stepped away from the table. That silver hair… that girl was--
That was the girl who’d been in ‘that world.’ I was sure of it. Her, and Leo. But… that was… a delusion, wasn’t it?
So how did I end up hallucinating a girl who happened to exist in real life? Was it really that theory? Or...
She looked up at me from her game. Hitting a button she said, “Sup. You need something, Scarlet?”
“Scarlet?” I asked. The silver-haired girl pointed at me.
“In the red. You. You keep looking at me funny.” Seeing my lack of response, she returned to her game.
“Wait, Yuna.” Leo said, “Let’s do an intro. Uhhh… the Emblem version.”
The silver girl frowned. “Right now? But I like the Elder version better.”
“Fine, you do your Elder one, I’ll do my Emblem. Hand me the broom.” Leo pointed the handle at me. “In the red, that’s Xavier. He’s Villager A. That’s Xylia, his sister. She’s Villager B.”
Villager A and Villager B. Flattering. Xylia and I exchanged a quick glance. Nope. She had no clue what was happening either.
“This is my club,” Leo explained, twirling his broom like a sword. “And I am the leader of this crew of vigilantes! Hailing from the royal house of Ylisse, bearer of the Mark of the Magus, wielder of the Holy Sword, it is I, Sir Azure!”
The girl posed with a mop behind her back. “And I, of the Silver Elf tribe from the frozen steppes of the north, the death scythe that pierces the night sky, Luna vi Nox!”
The two of them stood posing for several seconds. Xylia and I weren’t sure how to react.
“Pretty cool, huh? The two of us are the core… of Mendax High’s Hero Club! I’m the club president. This is my VP.”
They kept posing. Xylia looked at me again, and then slowly began clapping. She looked at me, confused, and just kept clapping, slowly.
They kept posing.
“You can stop now.”
They didn’t stop, though Leo did adjust his broom to point at us. “Wanna join?”
We exchanged more dubious glances. Xylia already knew my answer. I knew hers, just not how she would react.
“No,” I said.
“I, uh… Tennis! I uh, I’m gonna be busy with the tennis team. When you’re done, could you, uh, take me to their booth?”
“Look after the booth, Yuna.” He deflated a bit, then immediately filled himself full of hot air. “Let us be off!” I half expected him to summon a horse and ride off into the sunset.
We continued walking.
“Hey, Leo! Let’s watch the Spielberg Society’s film!”
Xylia pointed to a converted classroom. The flyer read: “Six Nights At Teddy’s: Survive the Animatronic Horror.”
For some reason, that seemed plagiarized. But I couldn’t put my finger down on why. But if Leo agreed with me, he didn’t show it. Or, I couldn’t see it, in any case. I have that problem.
“Whaddya say?”
“I’ll pass.” Yeah, it sounded way too plagiarized for my taste.
“Suit yourself. Meet us here when it’s over.” Phone in hand, he waved me goodbye. Funny. I don’t recall ever giving him my number. I’ll have to scold Xylia for handing out my number to strangers later. Stranger danger, kids.
“Sure.”
They pushed the fake curtains aside and disappeared into the darkness of the makeshift classroom-theatre.
I bought an ice cream cone from some club I didn’t recognize and sat down in a corner. I’m usually averse to excess spending, but it was a dollar and I have a weakness for ice cream. The ice cream stuck in my memory more than the club.
I had a little more than half an hour to kill.
A part of me wanted to go back to the shooting gallery and win more teddy bears. I was certain I would win. But what would I even do with all those bears?
Sell them online. That’s a good idea. I’ll sell them online for extra money. I smiled at the thought.
My eyes wandered at the passerby scene, at the band kids parading about with their instruments, at the shifty members of the Cell Phone Club, at the sports teams waving around bats and sticks. Against my will, my gaze settled on a single figure clad in pale yellow.
The girl… the girl in yellow I’d met earlier this week was speaking to the captain of the lacrosse team. She was smiling, but even someone like me, who has spent the sixteen years of his life forcibly ignoring social cues, could pick up on the strained upturned corners of her lips.
I was going to stand up and leave, but then she caught sight of me. Her eyes lit up, and her finger pointed at me. The captain’s eyes tracked her as she scrambled over to me.
“H-hey.” She stole a glance at him.
“Ko… Ko… Kokona?”
She frowned. “Kokona?
“Is it Kokona or Kokonut? I can’t remember.”
She spend a moment staring in incredulity, as if unable to tell if I was joking. “I’m Ko-to-ne. Jeez…”
“Right. My bad.”
Ko-to-ne’s eyes darted back to the sports captain, who was now eyeing me intently. “Hey, Xavier, I need your help for something. Follow me.”
I don’t like you. I really don’t. But don’t worry, you’re not special in that regard, I dislike everyone. But it seemed like I had no choice in the matter. Such is life.
My feet pressed again the ground. “Lead the way.”
As we strode away from the sports area, the captain’s eyes never broke from our sight.
“So, is there anything you want to see? I’m in the Executive Committee, so I’ve got the layout memorized.”
“I thought you wanted my help for something.”
“Yeah, about that…” Ko-to-ne’s eyes averted. Her lips curled into a different, more sheepish kind of grin. “You are. Helping, that is.”
“I am?”
“I needed an excuse to get away from that guy, and well, here we are.”
“I see.”
The two of us walked with enough silence to balance out the school’s noise.
Finally, she broke it. “So, do you have any hobbies?”
What is this, an awkward first date? I shook my head.
“Any interests you could find a club for?”
I shook my head again.
Kotone stopped and placed her hands on her hips. “What do you even do with your time? Besides look after Xylia, I mean.”
I look for missing drunkard uncles. “I’m not obligated to tell you,” I said, with a shrug.
She planted a hand on her hip and frowned. “You’re not making my job any easier for me, you know.”
Her job? You know, the one where she was supposed to playtend my friend.
I suppose there’s no harm in helping someone’s job. But no further.
“Is this about the other day? Jeez, I’m sorry, okay?”
Of course you are. The next line is for me to accept said apology and move on with my life. Unfortunately for Shakespeare, she reminded me why I hadn’t wanted to in the first place.
“Now that you reminded me, I’m even less inclined to do anything. You’re just mad that I utterly annihilated you at your own game.”
Her face turned bright red. Oh, I’d said that out loud. “Fine then. Let’s go another round then,” she said, pointing to the other students. “Whose deductions are faster?”
“I object. You know these people. It won’t work.”
“I don’t know everything about them. And neither do you. Will that do?”
“Still tempted to say adieu.”
“Hey Xavier. The rhyme patrol called. You’re next on their to-kill list.”
“Finally. I love being number one. So, what do I get if I win?”
Ko-to-ne placed a finger on her chin. “I’ll buy you an ice cream. Mock Trial is selling.” Ah. So that was the name of the club.
“I just had one. Are you trying to turn me into an addict? What if I lose?”
“You,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “get toured around the school. After you make a generous donation to Mock Trial and treat me.”
Well. Depending on my ‘generosity,’ I might go over budget. A grin crawled over my face. I won’t lose. “Sounds good.”
“Try to keep up.” She stepped back and motioned at a boy in a tux, leaned against a wall. “Drumming of the fingers. Anxiousness. The performance is soon. He’s waiting for someone to bring his music to him.”
“He’s a violin player. Powder on the sleeves, probably resin. Unless it’s cocaine.”
“Do you always assume the worst in people?” Kotone rolled her eyes.
“But of course. It doesn’t pay to assume otherwise. Are you done? Shall I take this as the white flag?”
“You wish.” Her attention shifted. “That’s a member of the drama club. His costume is itchy, but he can’t do anything about it because it would break character. He looks uncomfortable with no immediate cause around.”
“That costume was a rush job. Mass produced by hand. Look at the seams. Even, as if done hundreds of times before, but loose. No attention to detail. Are we done yet?”
“I’m just warming up.” She flipped her ponytail. “That girl’s supposed to demonstrate for the cooking club, but she’s too busy with exposition, so that guy’s taking over. He’s looking around for tools; he’s not used to her setup.”
“Wrong. She traded with that boy. Look, her finger’s cut. Probably during a previous demo.”
“Going on the offense, are we?”
I ignored her. “That boy has been looking everywhere for something. Knees and palms are dirty.”
“Panicked expression. Science Olympiad member. Probably lost his notes.”
“That girl is waiting for something from someone. Repeatedly checking her phone. Flyers. She’s holding an empty tray that probably shouldn’t be empty.”
She picked up on my thread. “Guilty look on her face. She thinks it’s her fault they don’t have enough. Look over there. Red Cross was going to give out cupcakes, but messed up the paperwork, so they’ve got balloons instead. You can tell from the looks on everyone’s faces. The Rainbow Association puts up the front of a club, but is actually a front for the school’s marijuana addicts.”
“Maybe you should join.”
She shot me a glare. “Marijuana, not vanilla ice cream.”
“So you admit you’re a vanilla ice cream addict.”
“Is this your resignation? You’re two behind.”
“As if. That basketball player is faking a limp. The leg he puts pressure on changes every so often. Over there. Unlike the other painters, that one doesn’t have paint on her fingers. She can’t paint, or isn’t taking it very seriously. The tennis club isn’t using their normal equipment. They keep rubbing the palms of their hands. Not used to the old, shabby grips.” Old shabby grips, unlike the one on Xylia’s racket. She was always proud of that thing. To be honest, I was, too.
Kotone nodded. “Sharp as always.”
“I’ll be claiming my ice cream now,” I said.
“You didn’t win.”
“Of course I did. The moment you cheated and brought up the Rainbow Club. There’s no way you can tell that they’re a front just by looking at them like that. That defeats the entire purpose of being a front.”
She pouted. “You’re sharper than you look.”
“Are you saying I look like an idiot?”
“Yes.”
Not helping your case, lady. “Besides, how did you know about that club anyways? What, are you a drug addict too? First it was vanilla ice cream. Then it was weed.”
“Stop trying to make me out to be some druggie!”
“Buy me ice cream and we’ll talk!”
“Fine. But I got what I wanted.” Her expression morphed into a grin.
“Huh?”
“Hey, so now that you’ve figured stuff out about all the clubs, is there any one that interests you?”
It was only then that I took a good look at where I was standing, then back at the path I’d unknowingly taken. Down the hall. Into the next building. Up the stairs. Why do I feel like I’ve lost? Maybe it’s because I did. At least I’m getting an ice cream. “Buy me ice cream and I’ll talk.”
“Who’s the ice cream addict now?”
“I dunno. Who’s the weed addict? Or did you get into the Rainbow Club on coc-”
She hit me. “Stop that, you idiot, or I won’t buy you ice cream. And I’ll get one. And eat it in front of you. While laughing.”
That actually sounds kind of uncomfortable. Not to mention difficult to pull off without choking. “You are a terrible person.”
“Pot, meet kettle. Become good friends.” Kotone raised an eyebrow. “Oh wait. Kettle is an antisocial loser.”
“Birds of a feather fly together, they say.” Aren’t you supposed to be guiding me around the school? The whole, new friend to the new students deal?
“To answer your creepy mumbles, yes,” she said, approaching the mock trial booth and pulling out her wallet. “But you annoyed me by accusing me of being a drug dealer. One ice cream, please.”
“Justice… is served!” The girl in a suit handed Kotone a waffle cone and a flyer. With her free hand, Kotone rolled the flyer and shoved it in my face, all while making a big show of eating the ice cream.
“Justice is served, indeed. Vengeance is a dish best served delicious. And soft-serve.”
“You are a terrible person.”
A cheeky smile from her. “I know.”
It was at this time that we were spotted, by the only other acquaintance that I have at this school, albeit not by choice. “The two wayward souls have been spotted! Seriously, didn’t I tell you to wait outside the theatre when it ended?”
Xylia and Leo caught up to us. The two of them were decked, head to toe with various crafts from various clubs. A little part of my mind examined Xylia and hoped that it was all free.
“Don’t worry. Most of it was,” she answered.
The four of us sat down at a nearby bench. It was past 9, now. Only an hour and a half left.
“Hey, let’s go watch the Orchestra!”
At this mention, Kotone sat up. “Oh! I totally forgot! I have to perform!” As she got up, Xylia followed her.
“You guys aren’t coming?” she asked.
Leo shook his head. “Nah. You guys have fun.”
Don’t assume that I dislike fun. Because I don’t. I just happen to have a radically different idea as to what fun is.
A short while after they turned the corner, Leo got up. “Hey, let’s just wander around a bit.”
Wandering with no destination in mind. Sure, why not. I was tired, but in a slightly better mood now that Ice Cream Girl was gone.
I followed Leo down a hallway. He chattered about some of the other clubs on campus but it was about that time when I had become so exhausted that I could no longer hear, much less listen.
Social interaction is draining.
I felt a little dizzy. I motioned him to stop and leaned against a wall.
My eyes closed. The noise silenced.
When I opened my eyes, Leo stood, his back also pressed against the wall.
“So it was you.”
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Chapter 2
Monday, August 23, After School
Someone else was here.
But how? I thought back to the person in white at the train station. Did that have something to do with it? Did… did something change? Of course it did. That’s logical.
But what? But how? What changed? Did that person do something to me? How? I hadn’t been touched. All that happened was that they’d spoken.
Spoken? How? There’s no noise in my world. It isn’t supposed to be this way. This is my retreat--
“Catch me if you can!” The sound of claws, scraping against the floor echoed against the windows and walls.
W-what’s this?
It’s an intrusion. It isn’t quiet. I’m certain. Someone is here.
My heart banged against my ribcage. My breathing got heavier and heavier.
I have to run, I decided. I have to run.
Back on the second floor, it was quiet again, save my own harsh breathing. It was too quiet to sneak up on anyone. I backed up against a wall, panting heavily. My eyes gravitated back to the stairwell I’d come. Less than a hundred feet. If I were not in a state of near-panic, I would’ve laughed. I thought practicing tennis with Xylia put me in better shape. I guess not.
I needed a breather. I needed to think.
Whatever it was, they had other ideas.
The scratching noises echoed from the stairway. Time was a luxury, one that my pursuer(?) was not willing to give me.
Scratching noises? What kind of person makes scratching noises as they ran?
I didn’t want to stick around and find out. All the more reason for me to make a break for it. I gathered my strength and kept walking, as quietly as I could.
I stopped again after walking for a bit. I needed another break. I consider my observational skills to be one of my few strong points. This is, of course, when they are not hindered by my lack of stamina.
But as exhausting making full use of my observation was, my senses were on full blast now. I had no idea which part of the school I was in. But the windows had a slight bit of mold on them. The hallways were dirtier than those I’d been traversing earlier. Probably an older part of school. The paint was peeling, a bit, too.
I didn’t remember an old building being mentioned in this morning’s tour. Had it been something I missed? Probably. I was too busy not paying attention.
My mind was racing.
And then, it stopped.
In front of me-- that scratching noise.
“Catch me if you can!”
In an instant, it appeared in front of me.
No, it hadn’t been someone who was here. Something was the better term. Something was in front of me.
A creature, barely humanoid, with twig-like limbs, stood on two legs upon seeing me. Claws, dripping with… a shimmering, silver-blue fluid, it was as if it had walked right out of the pages of a Lovecraft novel.
“I’m the Creeper!” It had a voice. “Catch me if you can!”
My feet refused to move. All I could feel was my heart, pounding, proof that I was still alive, if only for just another moment.
If time was a luxury before, the Creeper afforded me just a bit of it. But I could only think the same thing, over and over and over. The Creeper bent down on all fours.
I don’t want to die. I want to be there for Xylia. I don’t want to die. I want to be there for Xylia.
I don’t, I don’t, I don’t want to die. Please--
And then time ran out.
I came to my senses just as the Creeper pounced.
I don’t-- I don’t want to die. That much remained clear. My feet pressed against the ground. I jumped to the left.
Pain ripped through my right shoulder. Time seemed to slow; I watched as the Creeper’s claws tear through my shoulder.
I screamed. The sound echoed and lingered through the walls as I fell to my knees. I screamed again.
“I’m the Creeper! Catch me if you can!” It turned its head in a perfect one-eighty. On the side of its head, it seemed to grin. “I’m the Creeper! Catch me if you can!”
There was no way I could fight against this thing. Gripping my shoulder, I scrambled to my feet and sprinted down the halls.
The windows were slightly reflective. Turning my head at forty-five degrees, I can keep track of the Creeper’s movements. It was behind me, no doubt. And right now, I was running faster than it was.
I spared a glance at my shoulder. My jacket was torn.
But blood wasn’t seeping through. No, instead, I was bleeding (If that’s the right word) a blue fluid. It seeped everywhere, soaking down my sleeve and through the fingers of my left hand.
It burned.
I turned the corner and stopped to catch my breath. I was on the first floor now; I needed to get moving soon.
Should I escape the school? But what if there were more monsters outside? My chest hurt. I’d evaded one behind me earlier, only to run into it in front of me. The pain in my shoulder cut into my thoughts. It was hard to think straight.
Were there multiple of those “Creepers”?
Those things answered me.
I was careless. The moment I started paying attention again, I noticed. My heart was pounding now. My senses flared.
It was those scratching noises-- ringing from all directions. All directions and loud. My heart slammed against my ribcage. Where were they? The scratching echoed, louder, louder--
They appeared. Two of them, from both directions. I was trapped.
One said, “I’m the Creeper!”
“Catch me if you can!” the other said.
Pain continued to flare from my right shoulder. I clutched it. The two Creepers shuffled from side to side, swaying with willowy, thin limbs. I swallowed the lump in my throat; my eyes flicked from the Creeper in front, to the reflection of the one behind me.
The one in the back bent down on all fours.
This gesture-- I remembered it! I threw myself towards the left; the Creeper sailed past me. I had a moment to catch my breath. When it crouched on all fours… I need to watch out for that. With both Creepers on one side of me and the fight-or-flight response blaring, I bolted in the other direction.
The door gave way to an open blacktop area. It looked like the back of the school.
It only hit me then that I was having a seizure. Every excursion to “this world,” has ended with my back to a wall and Xylia looking over me. I’m having a seizure right now. My breath heaved.
But it wasn’t right. Again, every time I had a seizure, it never lasted more than a few seconds. Because medically, that’s how seizures work.
However, “my world” couldn’t be explained medically, either. So this, and those things…
Probably supernatural? Impossible. I swallowed again and reminded myself to breath. Breathe.
But there they were. Perhaps less impossible and more hallucinatory.
Another thought struck me. If I’m having a seizure right now, what happens if I do get killed? Worst case scenario, I end up as a vegetable. That’s not an acceptable solution. No way.
But as long as I’m having a seizure right now, all I need to do is wait it out. There was a sports shed off on the other side; I made a beeline for it and closed the door behind me. Within a minute, the Creepers were banging against it.
I’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. As long as they don’t break through the door.
Cracks began to appear in the wood of the door. I scrambled across the shed to the shelf. This was a sports shed, right? Wasn’t there anything I could use?
As I was looking, I spotted a side door. There was a chance the Creepers had noticed it, but it was better than charging through the main entrance.
The door was splintering now. Light began to pierce through the door frame.
As I searched, a part of my mind wondered what the students in the real world must be seeing. A door breaking down, destroyed by invisible forces? A floating bat? Probably not. For all I knew, this was just my seizure-induced hallucination--
Right?
The lacrosse stick would have more reach, but it’d probably be easier swinging around a bat. And the field hockey helmet would offer good protection. Grabbing everything would make it hard to run--
The door was giving way now. I was out of time. I threw the on the helmet, grabbed a bat, and charged out pushing a cart of baseballs.
“I’m the Creeper! Catch me if you can!”
One of them, those grotesque figures, burst through the wood fragments of the door. I toppled a shelf towards the door, and burst out the side exit.
I have always been confident in my hand-eye coordination. Playing tennis with my little sister for several years helped. For that reason and nothing else, the moment one of them appeared in view, I flung a baseball. The Creeper recoiled, just a little bit. My aim was perfect, even if it didn’t hit very hard.
A second one emerged. I slung another pair of baseballs, bopping both of them. Not good enough. They were will moving faster than I could push them back.
They were closer now. I readied another toss. My palms were sweaty. As I rotated my arm, pain flared up in my shoulder, again. The ball sailed harmlessly over their ‘heads.’
“I’m the Creeper!”
“Catch me if you can!”
They lunged again. I flailed the bat. To my surprise, there was a metallic clang. When my eyes opened again, the two Creepers were now one Creeper and two halves of one Creeper.
“I’m the Creeper!”
“Catch me…”
“...if you can!”
From the two halves emerged fully formed Creepers. Like a hydra. Fire. Kill it with fire. I panicked. I don’t have fire.
Calm down, Xavier. It’s not a hydra. No guarantee fire will do anything. Another one jumped; on instinct, I swung. Again, both halves of the Creeper regenerated into two full Creepers.
This was great. I was surrounded, with a bat and cart of baseballs in hand, surrounded by four monsters that duplicated every time I hit them. I love it when this happens. At least I knew I hadn’t been hurting them with the baseballs earlier.
Another one lashed out. I rammed the cart into it and charged past it. The Creepers, in hot pursuit, nipped at my back as my feet pounded against the blacktop. I felt a hard yank on my head; the helmet was torn off my head.
I spared a look back. The helmet I’d been wearing, partially mangled by one of the Creeper’s claws, was quickly devoured by the rest.
I ran. The wound in my shoulder surged again, dripping that blue fluid.
I needed time. I needed time. I needed to buy time. How to buy time? I turned the corner and--
“There!”
“Holy Sword Galatine!” A boy in blue rushed past me, sword in hand. The force of the wind as he blew past spun me around, and I fell backwards. With one hand gripping his giant, striking red headphones, he plunged the sword into the first Creeper. It reeled backwards.
A girl sprinted right behind him, carrying a massive, beautiful scythe. Her strange, silver hair danced as readied a strike.
“W-wait! You can’t cut those things!”
The silver-haired girl spun back. “Aw, how sweet. Thanks for worrying, kid.” She planted the blade of the scythe cleanly inside the second Creeper, and removed it without cutting it in half. The Creeper exploded into fragments of blue and silver.
“Holy Sword Clarent!” The blue boy stepped back. The blue-silver sword in his hands glowed red; it transformed, from azure longsword to scarlet rapier. He looked back, his eyes now burning equally red. It was only then I recognized him.
“L-Leo?”
It was him, the guy I’d met this morning. Leo leapt forwards again, aiming precise stabs.
“Are you hurt?” Someone dropped to their knees beside me, panting. She gathered her breath and gasped, “Alleviation of the Temperance.” Her hands glowed. The pain dissolved from my left shoulder; the wound closed. I noticed her tense slightly and touch her left shoulder blade.
Beehive barriers appeared all around us. A fourth person stumbled up to us holding her arms out in front of her. “T-this a-a-area is clear!”
The girl who healed me nodded. “Lie still. We’ll take care of it. Just… rest.”
I nodded. They stood and turned to the monsters. I closed my eyes again.
And then, all at once, the noise from the fighting ceased. There was that familiar falling sensation.
I heard just one more line. “Where’d he go?”
My world went white.
There was a falling sensation.
I woke up on a train.
I was leaning on someone’s shoulder. Each time the train hit a bump in the tracks, their shoulder bumped too. The car I was in was practically empty, though I did think I noticed people in other cars.
“Xavy?” Xylia noticed me stirring. My head rolled forwards; she placed her hand on my forehead and pushed me back onto the seat. “You feeling okay?”
Struggling, I sat up. “I… I’m okay now.”
“Seriously, I can’t let you out of my sight.” She smiled and sighed. I noticed that smile disappear the moment she turned away. “But… two attacks in two days… are you sure it isn’t getting worse? Should we visit the hospital?”
“No.” We couldn’t afford that.
“If something serious happened to you…”
“I won’t let that happen. I might be losing my mind, but my body’s fine. I think.. I think I saw something during that last attack.”
“See something during your seizure?” Her head tilted to the side. “Is that even possible?”
Evidently so. I told Xylia about the Creepers and Leo(?)’s crew jumping in at the end. I touched my forehead. Not a fever dream, it seemed. Not yet, at least.
Xylia was quiet for a moment.
“I don’t know about magic and monsters and all that… but it was Leo who carried you here. Like, onto the train. Leo and his friends found you and brought you to me.”
“Did… did one of them have silver hair?”
Without hesitation, she nodded. “It didn’t look dyed or anything, either. It was really strange.”
“A-and Leo’s friends. Three girls, right?”
Her cheeks puffed. “He’s popular.”
The four people I’d seen in my hallucination, three of whom I’d never met before, overlapped with events that had really happened to me.
It’s weird. Something weird is going on here. That, or--
“I’ve got a theory.”
“Hm?”
“You know how after a seizure I can still walk around and have conversation, I just don’t remember any of it?”
Xylia nodded. This actually rarely happened to me, specifically, she knew. I was rattling off Web MD’s symptoms now.
“Perhaps they found me when I was barely conscious and my brain meshed it into… whatever that was.”
She didn’t seem very content with the theory. But after considering it for a little bit, she shrugged. “I guess so.”
“If I just told you that I experienced this in real life, would you believe me?”
The rhythm of the tracks against the train car rang out in the room for a bit. Xylia looked down, as if to affirm herself.
“We’ve been over this. If I can’t trust you, I can’t trust anyone. You know that.”
I nodded. “It’s the same for me, too. You know that.”
Xylia flashed a cheeky grin. “But if you came home and said, ‘Hey, I can fly now,’ I’d probably ask you to prove it.”
“How’s that different at all?”
“It’s totally different.” Her cheeks puffed. “You don’t have a reason to lie when saying you saw something. If you claimed to fly or something, you’d totally just be screwing with me.”
“True.” I nodded.
“See, I’m always right.” It was that same cheeky grin again.
“Sure, sure.”
We rode in comfortable silence for a little while longer.
“Hey, Xavy.”
“Huh?”
“You’re going to the Club Carnival, right?”
The Club Carnival… that event those two people had described this morning. The one where clubs try to snatch up as many members as they can with any means necessary. “Are you going?”
“Probably. I’m gonna join the tennis team.”
“As usual.” She was wearing an old tennis jersey under her jacket. If I asked why she was wearing old school’s tennis gear, she’d reply ‘I’m most comfortable in it.’ Perhaps that was true, but I also suspected it may have to do with missing her old teammates, too.
“Leo and Kotone will be there too. You can ask Leo about your… theory? You can ask him when you see him there. Since you’ll probably ignore him until then anyways.”
You know me so well. Leo’s popular, she’d said. “I’ll go, then.” Just to keep an eye on her. Can’t have her getting carted off by some blue swordsman maniac. No sir.
“Awesome! I’m so excited!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
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Simulacrum - Chapter 1
Monday, August 23, Early Morning
It was 5:45 in the morning. I knew that without checking. I knew what the time was the moment I woke, before I knew where I was, before I knew what had happened.
I woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling. It was cracked all over; there were several strange splotches and stains all about. No, it was quite unlike the last place we’d stayed at. It took me a while to puzzle out where I was. My head hurt a bit.
Over the course of the past five years, I’d trained myself to wake up at exactly this time. Every single day since I’d mastered that, this was the time my day began.
Yesterday, after I collapsed in the shopping center, Xylia had helped me recover and did the heavy lifting for the shopping. It’d been much slower as a result, but somehow, we’d managed to get that squared away and worked tirelessly to make this place at least a little bit livable.
I stepped onto the dirty, old carpet. Even after over an hour of vacuuming, I’d only been able to salvage so much. I’d try again today, I told myself. I poked my head into the apartment’s only bedroom and confirmed the sight of Xylia’s eagle-spread, sleeping form.
Time to cook breakfast.
I heated up a beat-up pan, one of the few cooking implements I’d found, and poured a bead of oil on its surface and rolled it around. The groceries I’d bought yesterday were neatly stacked in the fridge. I cracked two eggs with one hand. Xylia likes her eggs sunny-side-up with a dash of pepper.
But I hadn’t bought pepper. We had to be frugal; the unexpected shopping trip had left a larger hole in the budget than I was comfortable with. I apologized mentally and decided she would just have to make do.
For a moment, I considered asking old man Uzual for a temporary budget extension. The thought killed itself just as quickly. As if I’d stoop that low. No, he couldn’t pay me to ask for more money.
It was past 5:55 now. I cursed silently. I’d wasted more time than I thought I did. Placing two glasses of milk in the derelict microwave, I went to rouse Xylia.
“It’s so… so early…”
I ruffled Xylia’s hair. “Breakfast is almost ready. Go get changed.”
“But it’s so early…” she yawned, not letting go of the covers. “Why…?”
“We have to go meet the principal, remember? It’s the first day of school.” I struggled, to no avail, and thus ruffled her hair harder. “Hurry up and get up.”
“You’re messing up my hair.”
“It was already beyond saving.”
“I won’t be able to find a boyfriend.” She pouted.
“Good. Boyfriends are deceitful creatures.”
“You’re just saying that because you’ll never get to be one.”
I wriggled out of her grasp. “I’ll give you…” It was almost 6:00. “Fifteen minutes. Any longer I’m stealing your whipped cream.”
There we go. That got her moving. I lumbered back to the kitchen and pulled out a single kitchen knife and a few strawberries. With my other hand, beat a pair of eggs with a fork, and dipped the bread into them, then shook the cream, switching hands to retrieve the milk. With all that done, it was back to the knife.
I didn’t like the balance. The material in the handle was far lacking; the blade was dull, even though I hadn’t used it once. I sighed. But it was inexpensive, which is why I now owned it. Cutting the strawberries was the most trivial part of the morning. I would never admit it to the police, but I consider myself to be quite good with a (kitchen) knife.
Finally, the toast itself. I poured a bead of oil into the pan and dropped the bread into it.
On each of our first days of school, I would always splurge a bit and make french toast, with whipped cream and strawberries, just to make the incoming dark day a little brighter for her. A wry smile. Whipped cream is so bad for you. But I liked it just as much as she did. I shook the can and sprayed little puffs on her portion and stowed it. More for her, later.
“Morning…” It was 6:21. I should’ve eaten her french toast a minute ago. She showed up in some old school’s tennis uniform, sat down and started eating.
“Morning. Eat quickly,” I said, picking up my own plate of eggs. “What do you think the principal will think? Showing up to your new school wearing old school regalia?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Anyways, shouldn’t you get changed too?”
Monday, August 23, Morning
I barely paid any attention to anything the principal said. Both Xylia and I are at the point where we could probably recite it from memory, anyways. Towards the end, though, he motioned to a pair of students carefully hidden from view. “Now, these two students are members of our Student Service group. They’ll be your guides while you’re still new here. Class is starting soon, so you should get going!”
The four of us shuffled out of the office.
The girl in yellow stopped the group and turned around. “Hey, sorry it was kind boring in there, so let’s start over. I’m Kotone. Kotone Koizumi. Nice to meet you.” She extended a hand. Xylia took it; I did not.
“Oh, It’s you,” Xylia said. “Xavy, don’t you remember? From the coffee place.”
Oh, I kind of did. “Sugar addiction,” I said.
“Hey. Come on, seriously? I’m gonna have a word with my boss…”
The other guy stepped between us. “Like a bolt from the blue! Our paths have crossed to this fateful meeting! You may call me Leo, ‘tis my mortal handle.” Leo reached back and threw up his scarf; it failed to flutter dramatically in the wind. With a sigh, he extended his hand as well. Xylia took it. I most certainly did not.
But my sister just giggled. “I’m Xylia! This is Xavier.”
That’s right, I forgot to lecture her on stranger danger. I never give my name to strangers. I cursed mentally. But there wasn’t any point in doing so now, so I just raised my hand and gave a slight wave.
Kotone eyed me suspiciously, but seemed to quickly dismiss whatever notion she had formed. “Okay, now a quick tour of the school! Follow us…”
Tours are always the same. I remembered the important places and omitted the rest. It probably wouldn’t come up, anyways.
“My friends, this marks the endgame, the conclusion of our voyage! Do you have any burning questions we have yet to answer?” Leo struck a different pose and stared at us with his uncovered eye.
I didn’t. But Xylia did. “Do you know if this school has a tennis team?”
“That’s an excellent question.” Kotone turned to Leo, pointing with both hands. “Hey, do you know?”
It seemed that Mr. Hero had been waiting for this cue, like a bad comedy duo. Pointing back, he said, “I know not, but you can find out at the Club Carnival!”
They posed together. This is the part where the confetti pops out of the side of the stage and the drum set goes badum-tiss. Was that rehearsed, or was that improv? I had a hard time telling. These actors were good.
“What’s that?”
“It’s when all the clubs on campus advertise and get people to join them. It’s a ton of fun. We can guide you, if you like.”
I haven’t even agreed to going. Is this what it’s like when a girl is asked to a dance in public? It’s almost disgusting when that happens. Will you go with me? As if they could answer “no” without social stigma. And if the couple has been agreed upon already, before the “public” asking? Well, then what would be the point? It feels like a waste of energy.
But it’s not as if this would ever apply to me. As if I’d ever ask anyone.
“That’d be great!” said Xylia, ever the enthusiast. “We’ll both go!”
If Xylia goes, though, it would appear I have no choice. Truly a feeling of helplessness.
A chime sounded through the cool air the school morning.
“By my troth! I must be off! But first, it is my sworn duty to show you both the way! What might your first classes be?”
I looked at the scrap of paper in my hand. “Physics. 304. Rocklin.”
“I have English in 108 with Dunlap.”
Leo bowed and extended a hand to Xylia. “Right next to my class! Follow me, fair maiden, I shall serve as your escort.” Xylia giggled and took it. Leo pulled the headphones off his ears. “But seriously, we have like five minutes. If you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late. Later, dude!”
As he took my sister and dashed in the opposite direction, I didn’t even have time to glare at him or anything.
“Hey, follow me.” Kotone pointed to a room in another direction. “We’re in the same Physics class, so just follow my lead.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I nodded.
Kotone’s ponytail trailed in the morning breeze as we strolled through the school grounds. It wasn’t particularly cold, I noted.
She seemed to disagree, though. Her pale yellow cardigan didn’t seem to be any less thinner than my jacket, but she seemed to be shivering a bit. Perhaps she’s wasn’t used to this weather. I wouldn’t know, nor did I particularly care.
Her head turned. Her eyes stole a glance at me. She slowed her pace to match mine.
“So, do you transfer schools a lot?”
Do I? Why should you care? “Wow, that was fast. I’m not used to having labels assigned to me so quickly.”
She smirked dryly. “What if I could prove it to you?”
“Please so. It’d be a welcome break from the monotony.”
“With pleasure.” She pointed at Xylia, off in the distance. “I noticed she was wearing a sport uniform from Claremont High. But I recall on your record that you were transferring from Kennedy. It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
Indeed, it wasn’t. “Two transfers isn’t unheard of. Quite a label to assume any more than that.”
“True,” she conceded, “But given cues a few cues from your spoken word, like the one about monotony and labels, it’s probably more.”
Now that last part is veering a bit into confirmation bias. But I relented. There wasn’t any point in pressing further. “Not bad, I guess.”
“I guess?” She smiled, a grin that didn’t reach her eyes. “It sounds like you think you can do better.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Kotone nodded. “Sure. It is now.”
My eyes scanned her once more, remembering the cues I’d observed just now.
“It’s unhealthy to eat ice cream in the morning,” I said. “If you must, whipped cream on french toast tastes just as good, especially with a side of chopped strawberries.”
“Huh. Explain.”
“Am I correct, Sugar Addiction?”
“My name’s Kotone. And I hope that’s not the reason why you say that.”
I pointed as I went. “You’re shivering, but it’s not very cold. Can be indicative of having eaten something cold. Tan crumbs sticking to your shirt. They haven’t blown off in the wind, which means they’re sticking there, probably sugary. I noticed that, and just guessed ice cream. Lucky guess.”
“Not bad,” Kotone nodded and placed a sleeve across her shirt and dusted. “Not bad, at all. Now, stop calling me Sugar Addiction.”
“Fine, fine.” I wasn’t about to tell her, but i’d forgotten her name already.
We were approaching the classroom now. She pointed at the door and said, “Here we are. I’m sure you know the drill, but go introduce yourself to the teacher. I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay?”
Monday, August 23, After School
The bell rang.
The best time to leave the classroom is always about three and a half minutes after everyone else has left. Why is this? Because everyone else leaves exactly as the bell rings. By two minutes, everyone has already left.
I yawned. The first day of school, no matter which school, is always the most tiring. Each class is another introduction, the sole exception being Spanish class. Because saying my name in English would’ve shattered the atmosphere, I surmised.
Two minutes was up. The stragglers were the last ones to wander to the door. My hand reached for my phone. Right about now, it should alert me to an incoming text.
True to form, it did.
And the only person who would ever text me would tell me that she had made some new friends, and they were going to hang out until later.
True to form, Xylia did.
That would leave me to go home to kill time and prepare dinner until she came back. The only variable was how long Xylia would stay out. Other than that, everything was the script. No deviations.
I tapped a short response, the same one every time.
Xavier: Don’t stay out too late. Stay safe.
And every time, the response was the same.
Xylia: u worry 2 much xavy! il b home 4 dinner
With that, I breathed an involuntary sigh of relief. I snapped my phone shut and stowed it in my pocket.
There were only a few people chatting in the hallways. I paid no heed to their babble and focused my attention on navigating the school. The layout was fairly intuitive (I’ve seen my fair share of disastrous architectural design). I turned the corner and headed down the steps.
All at once, the chatter ceased.
The students wandering the hallways vanished. The sound of the footsteps were gone. There was no one.
Welcome to my world.
But it wasn’t quiet. Echoing from down the hallways, just like it had been at the train station--
Someone else was here.
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Simulacrum - Chapter 0
Sunday, August 22, Late Morning
“Attention Passengers: Please stand clear of the doors. The train will be arriving shortly. Now approaching: Market Street Station.”
It would be something of an understatement to say I’m not fond of noise. In the same vein, I’m not that fond of crowds, either. So if you took those two values and multiplied them together, the resulting value would represent my distaste for the packed insides of a subway car.
But it didn’t seem to bother my sister; that was the important part. With one hand on her luggage, the other rapidly texting on her phone, she didn’t seem to notice much of the world at all.
“Now approaching: Market Street Station. Please stand clear of the doors.”
“Hey, Xylia.” I placed a hand on her head and tousled her dark, shoulder-length hair. “We’re almost here.”
“I know, I know.”
“Don’t text while you walk.”
“Okay, okay.”
We’d been over this. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to stay connected. Though, it wasn’t as if I had anyone to stay connected to, or anyone on the other end who thought that way of me. “I’m gonna mess up your hair if you don’t stand up and get ready.”
“Mm.”
I ruffled her hair, just a bit more. “C’mon, Xylia.”
“Hey, stop that.” The train slowed to a halt; the doors slid open. “Going, going.” Xylia slipped into the straps of her backpack and slipped the phone into her pocket.
“The South-bound Red line train is now boarding. Please watch your step.”
After watching her struggle with her second bag for a moment, I gently took it and slung it over my shoulder.
“Come on. Let’s go.” I took her hand and shoved my way through the crowd.
As we exited the train station, I scanned the area for a clock. Advertising billboards filled the walls, shilling some movie I’ll never see or some game I’ll never play. My eyes wandered elsewhere, onto the train schedules. My hand reached for my phone, which, in retrospect, I should’ve done from the start. People with epilepsy don’t get along well with flashing lights. It seemed everything in the train station was exactly that.
The info kiosks were giant masses emblazoned with bright flashing letters. The letters blinked in, and out, and danced across the light signs. In, out, and in, and out. My eyes were throbbing, as if being actively gouged out. It was too bright. I tried to look away.
The phone slipped from my hand and clattered against the ground. My sister looked at me, eyes wide. “Xavy? Xavier? Hey--”
I’d felt this before. It’s like being in an elevator, ascending slowly, and the ropes snap all at once. As if the ground were to cave and give way. It’s that familiar falling sensation.
My eyes opened with a start. The train station was empty. The noises and crowds that have just been annoying me had vanished. Behind me, the train doors closed, and the sound of releasing brakes echoed through the vacant tunnels. The train cars picked up speed and chugged off into the distance, filled with nobody and driven by no one.
After that, it was quiet. I’m a huge fan of quiet.
The signs continued to flash. It’s fine to look at them now. It’s not as if I could have a seizure while having a seizure. But, the signs won’t tell me anything important, anyways. Since, this is all in my head.
I can’t explain why this happens, only that it does. If you asked a doctor for the symptoms of epilepsy, “seeing the world but only you exist” isn’t one of them. It could be a random collision of chemicals. I wouldn’t know; I’m no neuroscientist.
That said, I can’t say I don’t appreciate this world. It belongs to me, only me.
“But… I guess it means I’m causing trouble for Xylia, huh…” My heart sunk. I’d have to make it up to her later.
“Trouble for who?”
Slowly, I turned my head. I could feel my heart beat.
I whipped my head around. Behind me, across the platform, there was someone standing there, hands in pockets, just staring at me.
I blinked, a couple times. They were still there. I looked around. No, I hadn’t slipped out of ‘this world’ yet. I was still here. Almost unconsciously, I took several steps back. “How… Who are you? How did you get here?” My voice cracked at the end.
That person had wavy, shoulder-length hair and androgynous features. Clad in flowing, white-gold robes, they chuckled and stared directly at me with golden eyes.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?
I continued to stare at those yellow eyes. This can’t be real. It’s all in my head, right? For the first time, then, I must be hallucinating someone in this world. But how? Why? Have… I seen this person before?
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? A sister you must be bothering?” With another chuckle, they raised a hand and snapped.
My vision blurred. The world around me seemed to crumble and shake and fade. The ground below my feet opened up and let me into freefall.
It was that same falling sensation.
I came to, leaning against a wall. The crowds of people and the sounds of the ‘real world’ had returned and filled the space. I’m back.
Without turning my head, I looked as far to the side as I could and caught sight of Xylia, looking around at the station. She casted frequent glances at me. Her demeanor brightened a bit to see my eyes open.
“Hey…”
“Hey there.” She smiled warily. “You… doing okay now?”
“I’ve--” I coughed, “been better.”
“Heh. Yeah, I know. Can you move?”
I tugged at my arms and flexed my fingers experimentally. Slowly, I managed to lift my feet as well. “A little, yeah.” It took a couple tries, but I was able to push myself up to a standing position. I took a few steps. My motor functions were online, it seemed. “Looks like… it wasn’t so bad this time.”
The tension in her body seemed to diffuse. “That’s good. If you’re feeling okay, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Is it... time already?” I was sure I’d passed out in the morning. “How long was I out?”
“Not too long.” Xylia reached behind me, grabbed her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. “But it’s almost noon, so let’s go.”
We exited the station and walked up the street. It was very cold. Perhaps it was the overcast sky, but the city seemed to be painted a layer of grey. Masses of people shuffled around us, in and out of shops, and up and down the winding street.
“Hey, this looks like a nice place.”
If it was good enough for her, it was good enough for me. Xylia entered the small corner coffee shop and held the door open for me.
The contrast was immediately apparent. The cafe seemed to glow with a faint orange-yellow. There was, somewhere in the shop, a heater running. I appreciated it immensely.
The shop didn’t seem like the type that got a lot of customers. There was only one other patron, a girl in a green jacket, with long black hair almost concealing a headset.
“Welcome the Other Coffee House.” A barista hurried over to the register and tapped a couple buttons. With a grin, he said, “I can take your order whenever you’re ready.”
“I’ll have two croissants and two muffins!”
“Sure thing,” he said, and turned to me. “And for you? Will that be all?”
I nodded. I doubted my sister would be able to finish four pastries like that in one go. And I would stop her if she tried. Not healthy.
The barista rung up the order. “Are you two new to this city? I haven’t seen you two around before.”
There’s no way you can say that about new faces in an urban environment. Come on. It’s the luggage that gave us away. But Xylia just replied, “Yup!”
“In that case, welcome to Privid City. My name’s Jacob. I’m the owner.” Only then did I look seriously at him. He had somewhat long hair. Though, not long enough to be strange. There was a relaxed air about him. Perhaps it was the perpetual half-smile. It was a little difficult to place his age, anywhere between twenty-three or thirty-two, if I had to guess. Certainly not old enough to be owning his own cafe, I thought.
In any case, normally in such a situation, you’re supposed to reciprocate and hand out your own name. But I didn’t. Stranger danger.
“I’m Xylia! And this,” she looked at me. I might not be one to hand my name out to strangers, but she had no such reservations. “is Xavier. Nice to meet you.”
I sighed. “Likewise.”
Jacob handed me the receipt and extended a hand. I had no choice but to take it. He laughed and walked over to the side, grabbing our pastries with a set of tongs. “Are you both… passing through, or moving in?”
“Moving in,” Xylia said. “We’re gonna be staying with our uncle.”
He nodded. “In that case, spread the word. Best darjeeling tea in the Haight district. And, you won’t find better ice cream in Privid, anywhere. It’s all handmade by yours truly.”
Jacob turned to the other barista, a girl about our age. She was almost hidden from view, so I hadn’t noticed her at first. “Isn’t it, Kotone? Back me up here. You order it all the time, don’t you?”
“Only because I get an employee discount. It’s not that good,” she said.
“Oh, I’ve been wounded!” Jacob laughed. “You forgot to mention, because someone’s got a sugar addiction.”
She whipped her head around and narrowed her eyes.
“Kidding, kidding.” He chuckled and handed our order to us. “Feel free to have a seat anywhere. See you around, alright?”
Yeah, sure.
I found a seat away from the girl in green and divided the portions. Xylia followed a moment later, still texting someone.
“Pray tell, who is it that demands such undivided attention?”
“Michelle and Karen.” She munched on a muffin. “From the last school.”
I only vaguely recalled people by those names. “What about that other person? Er… not from the same school as Michelle and Karen. The one before that.”
“Lily?”
“Oh, yeah, her.”
She took another bite. And another. And a third. “I dunno. Just kinda… fell out of touch.”
I nodded, slowly. Even if I could empathize, I couldn’t truthfully say that I’d been through the same. Unlike her, I see to it that I don’t have anyone on the other end to text to.
But, speaking of texts, there was one that I was expecting.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and flipped it open. Nothing.
“Hey, Xylia, have you heard anything from Uncle Nutzlos?”
She looked up from her phone. “No, why? Have you?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked,” I said. “Well, at least we don’t actually need him to be there.”
“That’s fair.” She looked at her phone a little bit longer. “You know, what kind of name is ‘Nutzlos'?”
“It is a weird name. Besides, you have a decently unusual name, too.”
“Yeah, well, at least ‘Xylia’ sounds like it should be a name. ‘Nutzlos’ sounds like someone just mashed letters at a keyboard, added vowels and bam, that’s their kid’s name.”
I picked up one of the croissants, tore off a small piece, and ate it. “Whatever. Eat quickly. We should get going soon.”
She looked at my food. “Hypocrite. You’ve barely touched your food.”
That was true. “I’ll eat and walk. I’m not that hungry right now.”
“Whatever you say.” Xylia raised an eyebrow. “As long as you don’t starve.”
Uncle Nutzlos’s apartment was a fourth story room in the heart of the Haight-Ashbury. The building was a run-down old place tainted with the smell of government meddling and rent control.
About a month ago, our parents had been so ‘kind’ as to mail us the key to his apartment in advance, just in case. I suppose it speaks to their judgement of the kind of person Uncle Nutzlos was, that we would need a key this far in advance. And I suppose it speaks further that they wanted us to live with him anyway.
The door hinges were partially rusted shut. I tried the key and turned the knob to no effect.
“Let me try.” Xylia tackled the door once, twice, before it flew open, bashing against the wall behind it. The resulting bang echoed in the empty room.
It was completely dark. There was a crunch as Xylia stepped into the room. I looked down to see a pile of envelopes. She felt around in the darkness and flipped a switch.
A couple of light bulbs flickered to life. More than a few did not. I half expected to find a dead body. But no, rather than blood and gore, the apartment was covered in a layer of dust.
I picked up the mail; the oldest dated back to March. They were all addressed to ‘Nutzlos Uzual,’ so he was here, at least five months ago. Aside from one letter, it was all promotional garbage.
That one letter, it seemed, was hand-delivered. It was almost properly addressed, but had no stamp. I hesitated for a moment. It’s a federal crime to open mail that wasn’t addressed to you. But, again, it didn’t didn’t have a federal stamp, nor did I think Uncle Nutzlos would care. I tore it open.
Rental agreement… extended by a year? This was pretty recent, too, dated about a month ago. It seemed that someone had been sending in monthly rent checks, even in the five months that, clearly, no one had been here.
I set the letters down on the table. “Xylia.”
“Yeah?”
“It seems like Uncle Nutzlos is one of those legal guardians.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Can you start wiping down the counter and the coffee table? Are there paper towels? Or a rag, or anything?”
She scanned the bathroom and around the kitchen. “Nothing.”
Great. Add that to the shopping list. I opened up the cabinets. There were a few cans of non-perishables. The stacks were all of varying lengths, but I did noticed that one of them had markedly less dust than the other. Presumably, the last time our erstwhile uncle was here, he’d eaten a meal, and taken a can from that particular stack.
I noticed Xylia pulling the luggage into the sole bedroom. I grabbed the rest of the luggage from the walkway and did the same.
Not counting the closet space, the room itself was not much bigger than the bed frame that occupied it. I’d expected the apartment to be bigger, since it was supposed to house three people, but no, it was a kitchen that comprised of a stove and a sink, a bedroom--as in, a room that happened to have a bed--a bathroom, and a small living space (with a couch, thankfully).
“Hey, do you think we should call mom about this?”
There wasn’t even paper I could use to write a shopping list. I’d resigned myself to doing it on the back of my train ticket.
“Xavy…” she tapped my shoulder. “Should we… call mom, or dad?”
“Would it change anything?”
“You’re right.” Xylia lowered her gaze. “It’ll just be like when we were with Aunt Ophelia.”
Make the best out of a bad situation. It builds character. It’ll be a learning experience. Yeah, I’ve learned plenty: Xylia and I just aren’t important enough for them.
“It’ll be alright. We have each other.” I ruffled her hair and managed a smile. “It’ll be okay. Nothing we haven’t handled before, right?”
“Yeah… yeah.”
I shoved the train ticket into my pocket and made sure my wallet was still there. Aside from the (relatively nice) furniture, this apartment was barren. “Go and set down your stuff. We’ve got some shopping to do.”
Sunday, August 22, Afternoon
“If I had to guess,” I said, pushing a shopping cart, “Nutzlos is someone with some money who uses that apartment as a retreat, for whatever reason.”
“Oh? Did you notice something?”
I grabbed two loaves of bread off the supermarket shelves. One of them was more expensive, but it was healthier. “Well, he’s obviously at least a little rich. The furniture is pretty decent, and It’s not exactly cheap to rent an apartment in Privid City. Even if it is run down like that.”
“I wonder how he makes his money,” she said.
Sometimes, I wonder that about our parents. But then, I decide that I don’t want to know. “And there’s the mail,” I said, “It didn’t have anything that was addressed to that apartment. The rest of it was like, promotional stuff that probably gets distributed to everyone. There weren’t bills or anything, either, despite the fact that he’s been apparently absent for five months.”
“Makes sense.” Xylia ran through the aisle and grabbed a bottle of soft drink. Giggling, she thrust it into my hands. “For when friends come over.”
And I don’t have any, no matter where we are, so that meant she got to decide when that was served. My sigh morphed into a slight grin. “Sure, sure.”
Beaming, she said, “Sorry, continue?”
I decided on the healthier bread. Something had to counterbalance the bottle of soft drink in the cart. “The mail, and the fact that all the food in the apartment was nonperishable, leads me to believe that the apartment isn’t his main house.” Or, he ate everything else, set all his mail to redirect elsewhere, and skipped town for whatever reason.
“Oohhh…” she clapped. “Impressive as always. Hey, would we go over budget if we got whipped cream?”
“You know what,” I said, “Why don’t you go make a list of what you want, and I’ll decide if it goes over budget?” I couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. This was going to be a bad idea. It was always pretty difficult for me to say no to Xylia. But honestly, sometimes I couldn’t help it.
“Sounds good!” Xylia trotted off, stopped, and spun around and glared. “Stay away from flashing lights.”
“I know, I know.” Two attacks in one day would be pretty unusual.
And then, of course, just as she turned the corner and disappeared, I felt my vision fading.
Two attacks in one day was unusual indeed.
There was a falling sensation.
I opened my eyes to the shopping center. My legs felt unsteady. My knees buckled; I slumped down and leaned against a shelf.
Another attack? I placed a hand on my chest and remembered to breathe. It was quiet. I closed my eyes and took in the silence.
Was it really just another attack? What if it’s my condition getting worse? Two attacks in one day, one of which involved hallucinating. It might really be getting bad. Would I still be able to take care of Xylia? Would I be capable? What I ended up in the hospital and social services got involved?
What if Xylia and I were split apart? Oh, god, please--
My breathing was picking up. Calm down, Xavier.
Just another attack. As inconvenient as it was, it was just another one. I sat down and rested my head against the shelf. It’d be over soon, anyways. At least for now, it was quiet--
“You’re… with them, aren’t you?”
I froze. Someone was here. Again, like at the train station. But… how? I poked my head around the corner and saw two figures staring each other down: a boy in red, and an older man. Unlike the person in robes at the station, they didn’t seem to notice me.
“Them?” The boy cracked a smile. He shrugged. From what I could tell, the boy was obviously build, but not bulky, kind of like a gymnast. “That’s not very specific.”
By contrast, the man was as lanky as they come. He had a slight hunch, as if the world had bent, but not broken, him. In the midst of wondering what the heck was going on, I felt the slightest pang of sympathy for him. The man put up thin fists. “The Officers.”
The boy stretched his arms and put them behind his head. “Yup. One and only. Agent Reiss, at your service.”
“Heh.” The man backed away slowly, slowly. “When I first heard about the Officers, I assumed you were like, the Men in Black or something. But it’s really just a bunch of kids, isn’t it?” The man’s eyes darted around the room. When it seemed like he was going to catch sight of me, I ducked my head behind the shelf again, and waited a bit before continuing to watch the scene.
“Well, going around dressed like the Secret Service isn’t exactly inconspicuous, don’t you think?” Reiss laughed. I didn’t hear the man say anything in response. Slowly, I poked my head out from behind the shelf again.
“Open Inventory.” Reiss waved his hand and pulled a wallet out of thin air. “Hey, we’re pretty legit, you know. I’ve even got a badge and everything. With my name and face. See? Agent Reiss.” Reiss held it out for a moment, but seeing that the man’s obvious disinterest, Reiss snapped it shut and returned the wallet to whence it came. “Besides, if it matters-- not that it does-- but my superiors are, in fact, adults.” Reiss looked directly at the man. “Just like you, Mister Cade Watson.
“How do you--”
Reiss pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen. “Cade Kyle Watson. Born November 12th, aged 34. Major Arcana: The Chariot. Prefers the Air element. Lives in… Noe Valley. Do you want me to read out your address?”
Cade sighed. “You got it all figured out, huh. Look, I don’t know what you want, but--”
“I’ll tell you what I want,” Reiss said. “Mr. Watson, you’re under arrest for unauthorized use of Arcana powers, abuse of NPCs, and several dozen counts of supernatural fraud. Sorry you had to go down to ‘just a kid,’ but it is what it is.”
The area was very quiet for a moment. The hair on my skin was beginning to crawl. I felt like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to. But…
Cade shook his head, and continued inching back. “Tell me, Rice? Was that your name? Can I call you Rice, son?”
“Reiss, if you would. Please don’t call me Riceson.”
“Well, Reiss, I get it. You’re not that old yet. You’re not, you know… exposed, I guess, to the world. I get it.” Cade held his hands up in a palms-up gesture. “You don’t look like a college kid. You still in high school?”
Reiss kept grinning. “I go to Mendax, yeah.”
“Ahh… Mendax. Tough school. You doing well?”
“Heh. Good enough.”
Cade nodded. “I got a daughter, about your age, going through Mendax, too. You might know her. Heh. But you know about that, don’t you? You’ve done your homework on me.”
Reiss let out a curt laugh, but let the man keep talking.
“And my boy, he’s in Privid Middle School right now.” He smiled. “Look, son. I got a family I gotta look after. I’d do anything for them. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”
Cade exhaled and lowered his hands.
“Five of Swords!” The air around Reiss flared to life, forming a sort of shield of wind. The wind knocked over a display, ripped items from shelves, and deflected something-- Behind Reiss, I noticed for the first time, a pair of gleaming, thin silver strings, creeping behind him. Those too, were blown away.
“Those people you conned had families, too. The one you grabbed with those strings and used like a marionette had a kid, was married, too. So don’t try that on me.”
The con man laughed. “I guess it’s no use, huh.”
Cade whipped his hand around. Those silver strings grabbed signs and flung them at Reiss. The wind in front of Reiss twisted, and knocked them away. I ducked back behind the shelf to avoid getting hit. Something slammed into my shelf. It clanged. Loudly. I almost jumped out of my skin.
Slowly, I raised my hands to my lips and covered my mouth. Don’t make a sound. Don’t let them know I’m here. It was only then that I noticed my hands were shaking, and breaking into a cold sweat.
What… was happening? Who are these people? I wanted to stay hidden, but I couldn’t look away for too long. I had to see what was happening.
The air around Reiss was spinning faster now, deflecting the objects and sending them in all directions. I wondered what the people in the ‘real world’ must be seeing.
Would they be seeing anything? No, of course not. This was just my delusion. My seizure-induced delusion. It’s all in my head.
I’m just seeing things, r-right?
“Seven of Swords!” Cade thrust his hand outwards, seeming to throw a glowing ball of air. It cut through Reiss’s shield.
Reiss jumped back. But it seemed, Cade wasn’t aiming at Reiss. On contact with the ground, the ball of compressed air exploded; the force of the blast sent Reiss flying into a display of soda boxes.
“Later, son!” He turned heel and sprinted away.
It took me a moment to register what exactly hit him next. From the collapsed soda display, a red blur cut through the air, propelled by the wind. It slammed into Cade’s retreating back.
Reiss kicked off of Cade’s back and flipped. The wind around Reiss flowed; Reiss seemed to hover for a bit as it gently let him down on his feet.
“Kgh… Reins of the Chariot!”
Those silver streaks burst from Cade’s fingertips, enclosing Reiss like two massive hands around a throat.
Reiss jumped. The wind shot him straight up, and against the ceiling with a crash. Reiss pushed again, propelling himself directly at Cade. His foot slammed into a box of kitchen supplies. Cade stirred his own wind powers, flinging anything and everything from the shelves at the incoming teen. All the while, the silver reins circled around towards Reiss.
Reiss’s arm swiped; a blade of air deflected the debris as he continued to push himself towards Cade. His foot slammed into Cade’s shoulder.
Reiss landed and reeled his fist back. “You’re not going anywhere!”
Then, Reiss froze.
Those thin, silver, barely noticeable reins, had circled around and wrapped around his wrist several times over.
“You did your homework. You know what happens when the Reins take hold for more than thirty seconds, don’t you?” Cade stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled over to Reiss. “Game over, son.”
“Open inventory!” Reiss extended his free hand into that hammerspace and drew a longsword. He swung it behind him, slicing through the silver strands, and in the same motion, thrust the back of the sword into Cade’s chest.
“Kuh!” He fell back, but pushed himself back to his feet with the wind. “Y-you… what the hell?”
“You hate to see that happen, huh?” Reiss struck again.
Cade projected the streaks, to no effect. Reiss’s sword cut through them; they disconnected and dissipated.
“Can’t throw stuff if I’m right here, huh?” Reiss yelled. Cade turned and ran backwards, but the wind from behind flung Reiss into the air and closed the gap.
Reiss swung. The sword pierced Cade’s arm. He yelped.
But, instead of blood, a shimmering-blue substance burst from his side. Now that I was looking closely, Reiss’s wrist was dripping with that same liquid, too, from where those (presumably sharp) streaks had grabbed him.
Blue… blood?
After a moment of screaming, Cade cursed and sprinted. At the last moment, he copied Reiss’s move, pushing himself with the wind.
“No, you don’t! Nine of Wands!” A ring of fireballs appeared around him. He thrust his hand out; the fire bolted forth and hit the ground in front of his foe, spreading into a wall of flames as it came to a halt.
Cade planted his foot and stopped. He turned around, to see Reiss pounce and slam him into the ground.
“Decree of the Emperor,” Reiss canted, “Your king commands you: Do not move!”
It was silent.
What… what was it that I had just witnessed? A fight? Police action?
Whatever it was… it must’ve been something I shouldn’t have seen. I was in over my head.
But, what the hell was it? I was having a seizure! That’s always what happens whenever I’m in ‘this world.’ This world… where I’m always alone.
But why?
Reiss brushed his hair back a bit and tapped on an earpiece. “Em, it’s me. I’ve captured the target.” He paused. “Alright, got it.”
“What’s going to happen to me?” Cade asked.
“We wait,” he replied, “until my superiors get here. I’ve done my job.”
“That’s you. But what about me? Magical slammer? Supernatural gitmo?”
Reiss paused.
“Dunno. Police officers aren’t judges,” he said. “You lost before it started. We knew everything about you. Including your fighting habits.”
He chuckled. “So that’s how you knew.”
“About the reins sneaking behind me, yeah. It was in the briefing. I was waiting for you to lower your hands.”
“Lost before it began, huh…”
“That said, you made me get serious at the end there. You made me switch to fire. If anything, that much is a moral victory for you.”
Cade lay on the ground, incapable of moving a muscle. He struggled a little bit, to no avail. The slightest grin crossed his face. He sighed. “Two elements. You are an impressive kid. Two elements and an Emperor Arcana. I assumed you were a Temperance healer, or something.”
“Do I look like a Temperance to you?”
“Nah, not really.”
“Damn straight.” Reiss took a seat on a toppled display shelf and breathed. “Besides, of course I’m not going to go all-out from the start. What, do you play poker with your hand face-up on the table?”
To that, Cade laughed. “Heh. I get you.”
“If anyone, I’d expect a con man to.” Reiss stiffened. He placed a hand on his earpiece and jumped to his feet. “Another one? Where?” His eyes shot around the room, then turned to my direction. I slunk back down and kept hiding. “You sure about this, Zack?” He paused. “I know you’re there. There’s no point in hiding. You saw my power just now, didn’t you?”
Was… he talking to me?
“In a couple minutes, the rest of my squad will be here. You’ll have nowhere to run. In fact…” I looked up. Several fireballs soared overhead and landed, about twenty feet in front of me. “You’d better not try anything.”
I froze.
“The longer you wait, the closer the rest of them get. If you’re going to surrender, it’d better be to me. I’m much nicer than my captain. Trust me.”
Trust him? I didn’t even know him. Nor did I know what was going on. I just wanted to get out of here.
Get out of this… vision? Seizure? What was it?
“I want to get out of here,” I muttered, involuntarily. “I…”
There was that familiar falling sensation.
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