Chapter Twenty-Four: His Betrayal

Chapter Twenty-Four

Oblivious to the closet door being wide open, I stood undressed in the closet. My dress was cast away into the laundry chute, leaving me in naked underneath a bathrobe in front of the dresser; my mind reeled with predictions for what might happen that evening. After the excitement we'd had and the love we'd shared, I yearned for Gavin's return so that we might resume whatever we were going to end up doing for the rest of the night.

My morals were firm in their beliefs, that I was determined to never have pre-marital sex; it was one of the virtues my father had instilled within me. Morals aside, I found myself questioning exactly why abstinence was virtuous. When not presented with the most amazing partner of all time, it was quite easy to declare premarital sex an aberration one would never be guilty of but after the euphoric evening I'd had, holding true to my preconceived belief system was difficult. Put frankly, I still held onto my morals, but I wasn't about to stop myself from having sex, if that's what the situation led to. Granted, I wasn't going to throw myself on the ground and open wide at the first sight of Gavin; inviting sex would flat-out contradict everything I'd ever been taught. In my mind however, I could forgive myself if we ended up getting laid because Gavin and I did what felt right at the time. In a way, it was a more innocent approach to what might ultimately erase my desire to remain a virgin until after my wedding day.

Moving on, I decided a bath for two seemed appropriate, besides, if we were clothed, nothing could happen. In search of my elusive bikini top, I rummaged through the top drawer I remembered seeing it in recently. Naturally, because I was looking for it, finding it took longer than it should have; after a few minutes of frustration, my fingertips felt one of the straps in the back of the drawer beneath several other bras.

The bikini bottom was easier to find because I remembered watching Alexia put it away for me after it had been washed. As I pulled it up to my waist, I had an idea. Imaging it might be cute for Gavin to have to search for his swim trunks, I flung open the neighboring drawer and stepped into the slick shorts.

After tying a bow in the drawstring, I sprinted to the bathroom. The tub's push-button controls and digital readouts stumped me for a moment; I knew the exact temperature I liked but Gavin's tastes weren't so clearly defined. Attempting to find a solution to my dilemma, I contemplated turning on a random mixture of hot and cold water; the luxurious controls made me reconsider for fear of being uncivilized. Because it never occurred to me that what I liked would probably satisfy Gavin as well, regardless of his personal temperature preference, I leaned against the sink to learn patience in silence. It proved arduous.

If I listened carefully and ignored the whisper of my own respiration, I could hear his thumping footsteps coming down the hallway outside. His clunky feet were so large, there was no doubt it was him; since moving to McLeod Manor, I'd heard many people walk up and down the hallway my room was on and Gavin's footsteps were the only ones to ker-thump the way his did.

When I recognized the sound of his approach, my heart skipped three and a half beats but instead of Gavin sauntering into the bathroom, I was met only with confused disappointment. It was Gavin coming back—there was no doubt about it—but he didn't seem to be returning to the correct room.

A twinge of anger dripped into a silent puddle of confusion although I suppressed my exasperation and listened to the echo of two voices on the other side of the bathroom mirror.

"This is the bathroom?" Gavin's voice asked, presumably bored. "Wow, this is a spectacular view!"

"It is, isn't it?" It sounded like Alexia, which made sense if she lived next door, like she claimed.

A toilet flushed behind the wall.

"That was odd," Although I agreed with it, this statement sounded like Gavin was talking to himself as he often did. In light of what he said next, I couldn't be so sure anymore; he could've been talking to Alexia.

"What exactly did you need help with?"

"Come here you," Alexia cackled. "Oh, I, uh, needed you to help moi get my dress off."

What?! Lucidity boiled in me; Gavin had one chance and one chance alone to answer her correctly.

"You're doing a fine job yourself," Gavin commented impatiently, inadvertently sealing his fate.

"Am I?" Alexia sounded like a purring cat. "Then let me help you!"

The thudding clash of two bodies coming together rattled the mirror on this side of the wall between myself and the primal behavior going on in Alexia's bathroom.

I wanted to vomit.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Tell me, what do you think of the view?" Alexia's sickening tone was drunk with lust. Her tone was sickening because it was a carnal omen foreshadowing sexual activity. More than that, it sickened me because Gavin was involved.

"I told you already, it's marvelous. I'm going now." Gavin would have used the same monotonous tone if I'd been the one making the passes, as it should've been. He was so fascinatingly dull, not that I'd ever tell him so after what I'd heard.

"You're so intriguing," Alexia mused; I could just see her caressing his bare chest. How I wished for a double-barreled shotgun.

"I'm ready to get it going whenever you are," She continued, "Love."

"Get down!" Gavin commanded forcefully; he'd never spoken to me with that much passion. "NOW!"

"Oh yes!" Alexia cheered as the gut-wrenching noise of two huddled-together bodies impacting the floor preceded a deafening shattering sound. My first thoughts overflowed with utter disgust; how violent could two people screw each other?!

Literally milliseconds later, McLeod Manor's sprinkler system cut on followed immediately by a recording of Sir Harold's voice over the intercom.

"Attention residents and guests of McLeod Manor, do not be alarmed; the sprinklers have come on because McLeod Manor has come under siege. I, Sir Harold McLeod, assure you McLeod Manor is perfectly safe. The activated sprinkler system and the self-locking doors are a precautionary measure designed to resist all attacks of this sort, and that in a matter of hours, you will be free once more to roam McLeod Manor. If you have any questions, the Servants will be glad to assist you and until the siege has ended and the doors unlocked, please remain calm and stay where you are."

On cue, the bathroom door swung closed, latched, and locked. Panicking, I leapt at the door and pounded my clenched fists on it, having reached the door after hearing a deadbolt slide into the doorframe. As I turned, I saw a greasy ear print smeared on the bathroom mirror; I hadn't realized that I'd had my ear pressed against the reflective glass.

Realizing the hopelessness of my situation, I leaned against the door and slid to the floor where I sat crying tears hidden in the icy downpour from the bathroom's only fire sprinkler. According to the ticking clock on the wall next to the toilet, I sat there for three hours weeping until my nose was clogged by the build up of snot.

It was Sir Harold who rescued me from my prison. Sir Harold, and Jade to be precise.

They unlocked the door and pulled it open, causing me to tumble backwards onto their feet.

I didn't care the sopping bathrobe I wore was untied, nor that Jade and Sir Harold saw pale white cleavage beneath a black bikini top and an inward-facing navel three or four inches above a neon orange male swimsuit. I didn't even care about the clumsy weight stretching out the bathrobe and making it uncomfortable to wear. All I cared about was finding that damn bastard whom I had deigned to kiss.

Apparently Sir Harold was intimidated by the drops of water coalescing at the end of my bangs and rolling off my cheeks; he surrendered his keys the moment he understood I was taking them.

Padding across the soft carpet, I seethed in cold, silent rage. The door to the room next to mine creaked open and I took my time finding the bathroom; this was the maddest I'd been in a long time, and I was expressing it my way. Most people were consumed by rage but unlike them, I didn't need to become a wild boar to express my frustration. All I needed was a scowl; the angrier I became, the calmer I appeared.

The door to the cursed bathroom of that harlot's revolved on its hinges at a snail's pace but still it wasn't slow enough to satisfy me. Even the fumbling of the keys in the lock happened too fast for my liking.

An all-too-familiar concrete, the color of a mutt's urine spot on an otherwise blemish-free yard crunched beneath my bare feet. The heinous decoration covered every surface the original toxic gas had touched; the moldy shower curtain straind beneath the concrete's added weight and as I stood there, it stretched off its rings and crumpled to the shower floor.

The repugnant locks of the degenerate Alexia Davis were nearly concealed beneath the evidence of a Catrion attack. Apart from a pink thong, she was clad only in her concrete shell; decadent evening wear, two gloves, and a bra were on the tiled floor nearby.

Gavin was diagonal on top of Alexia. One hand looked like it had firmly grasped her bare breast before death walked by the shattered window. His other hand was on the ground next to Alexia; his pinky was kept warm beneath the waist strap of Alexia's garment. Her thong was tugged beneath her waist and a butt cheek by Gavin's lifeless hand; as a result, the skimpy triangle covering her crotch revealed a few curly hairs.

I'd seen Gavin lay his head the way it laid many times before, only then he'd been asleep on my stomach, not some wench's. One ear was smashed into Alexia's soft side; I imagined Gavin, in his infidelity, found pleasure out of the position. That pervert probably had laid that way on me so he could stare beneath the elastic of my pants and underwear as he was doing with his mistress.

As if Gavin's hold on her wasn't enough to torment me, the toilet rug at his feet was scrunched up like he'd made a mad dash to scoot close enough to Alexia to insert himself. I pictured the wrinkled carpet beneath the balls of his feet as a feeble attempt to gain leverage.

Not hearing Sir Harold note the broken window and remnants of a glass orb, I leapt farther into the bathroom and delivered a kick so hard to Gavin's side, he rolled, and Alexia's thong stretched down another two inches.

"Come here Sruun," Sir Harold coaxed. My response was to hurl his keys at his head.

Because there wasn't anything else I could do, I stepped out of the bathroom but that was the only reason I did. Sir Harold had nothing to do with it.

Jade touched my shoulder as I stormed past. Little did she know her attempt to calm me had backfired.

"Please refrain from touching me with those unholy appendages of yours. I don't know where they've been and I sincerely doubt you wash them as much as you need to."

Jade slowly withdrew her hand. "Sruun?" She sounded hurt. Good for her.

"Don't make a cliché out of my name—I happen to like it." I snapped over my shoulder while marching to my room.

She didn't answer me, which was probably for the best.

Gavin's audacity was appalling. I thought I could trust him, that I was his alone, but there it was, out in the open, that he didn't mind keeping concubines.

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made; he'd always fancied that garden tool. I saw it in the way he looked at her. I could even hear his voice quiver when he talked to her! In my opinion, he got off easy.

Slamming the door to my room and locking it shot behind me, I kicked Gavin's pile of junk off my bag and rummaged through it for my knife. Gavin didn't like my use for the blessed knife, but that made my use of it this time so much sweeter. Anything I could do to anger him was worth more to me than every ounce of happiness I'd ever felt. For his betrayal, he deserved whatever my irreparably heart could conjure up as vengeance. My only regret was that he was dead before I could stab wedge hundreds of splintering toothpicks into every single hole his body had.

He really was dead. The realization alone was more painful than the curved lines forming on my arm. I wanted to die if only to be with him.

Gasps of shooting pain and unrelenting grief escaped the same lips which had once savored the putrid slime secreted by Gavin's kiss. All I could do was concentrate and cut ever deeper. My incisions were so many, my blood drained freely.

Sorrow seeped from my tired complexion as the oxygen-rich vein juice dyed multiple white washcloths crimson; for the first time, I was afraid of what I'd done. My physical pain slowly replaced my emotional pain, but I was too dizzy to appreciate it. My world bobbled up and down, side to side, and along the diagonals as complete blackness consumed me.

Though I could barely see straight, I was conscious enough to realize this time I'd cut too much…every other time, I took breaks from the cutting to bandage the wounds, but this time there was too much blood too fast…if I didn't patch myself up fast, it was entirely conceivable that I'd get my chance to murder Gavin before the night was over…my hands…weren't working anymore…I couldn't stop the bleeding…yet I wasn't done cutting…I still had so much more emotion to let loose…but too much blood…no…it's…not…fair…job…not…done…

And then there was darkness.

Chapter Twenty-Three: What Can't You Do For Me?

Chapter Twenty-Three

The gala was being held on two floors of McLeod Manor’s basement. The lower level was for the older guests, but the one above it was reserved for the teenagers. Having never explored the mansion, I didn’t realize it had two ballrooms concealed within its walls.

Gavin and I waltzed down to the floor our age group’s dance was being held on. Just as I was about to admire the ten-foot-tall mahogany doors leading to the dance floor, a voice stopped me. “Sruun! Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s you!” I looked up. In front of me was a girl just a year or two younger than me. I’d seen her face before but I didn’t remember her name. “It’s a small world, huh?” She chirped; I’d met her at the president’s speech before the Arlington Massacre. She’d been the girl sitting next to me, but I couldn’t find her name anywhere in my memory banks.

“Yeah,” I chuckled a fake chuckle, even so, it was convincing. “It’s a small world. So, who’s this captivating stud you’ve wrangled?” Names were so last season.

“He is, isn’t he?” She sang dreamily. “This is Lenny! He’s my boyfriend!” I looked at the fellow. He had broad shoulders and his hair was spiked, making him appear taller than he was. He wore a white tux, but unlike most people in one, it seemed natural on him.

“Enough with the chit-chat, let’s go in!” The girl whose name was lost took my hand in the one not occupied by Lenny’s and ran into the ballroom.

Live music was playing, punch was bubbling, and party-goers were queuing up along the snack tables. It was a pleasant image.

Within thirty minutes, the party became lively and jubilant. After the band sang a rendition of “I Wanna Be a VIP”, to which Lenny (who was more reserved than even me) hummed along, Sir Harold clambered onto the stage. Holding the mike firmly in one hand, Sir Harold began speaking.

“Het there, Ladies and Germs, this next song is pretty self-explanatory, so here it goes!”

Sir Harold began to sing; “It’s my party and I’ll sing if I wanna, sing if I wanna. You would sing too if you had my total net worth!” The last, out of rhythm part was thrown out on the last note, which became flatter and flatter.

For his next song, Sir Harold began a pattern of stomp-stomp-clap; most of the audience joined in. “We will, we will poke you!” The crowd came to love this version of another old song, even inventing a simple dance for it. Gavin and I however, moved to the punchbowl, bored. I started to dip me some into a red disposable cup but upon catching a whiff of it, I decided otherwise; it smelled spiked. Instead, we opted to share a can of cola.

“You aint nothin’ but a kitty cat!” Sir Harold swiveled his hips remarkably well for an old guy. “Purrin’ all the time. You aint never caught a rat and you aint no friend of mine!”

A few minutes later, I heard the scratching of a roach, or maybe a beatle. “Hey Jade, don’t make it bad.” My gut instinct told me Sir Harold was just trying to warm up to Jade, sort of like a friend her own age. The problem was, Jade didn’t particularly like Sir Harold, and they were no where near each other in age.

Leading into his next song, the four guitarists, drummer, and a few other instrumentalists began playing energetically. This one had a faster tempo and was a different style of rock than its predecessor had been; from the accompaniment, the song sounded a lot like Skater Rock, or maybe some form of Pop. Then, before I could analyze the song any more, Sir Harold was singing again. Although he didn’t refer to her specifically, I had a feeling he was still singing about her; he stared passionately at her.

“Aidyn’s mom has got it going on! She’s all I want and I’ve waited for so long! I know it might be wrong, but I’m in love with Aidyn’s mom!”

From a few tables ahead of Gavin and I, I heard Jade voice her confusion about the song. “Who the—” Jade used the religious term for where bad people went when they died. ”—is Aidyn?”

Having decided that moving to Sir Harold’s poorly-done karaoke parodies wasn’t my niche, I led Gavin to Jade’s table, where she sat watching Leon.

When we sat down, she exploded in laughter. “I can’t believe he actually did it!” She pointed at Leon and covered her mouth.

“Did what?” Gavin asked.

“I didn’t think he would, but he did!” She choked out in between her laughing fits.

“What did he do?” Gavin asked again.

“He went and talked to them!” Jade spluttered. Why this was funny, Gavin and I would probably never know.

After a few more obnoxious solos of Sir Harold’s, he finally got off the stage, allowing the professionals to play and sing again. Sir Harold disappeared into the crowd of people and reappeared moments later, sitting down in a chair at our table with a glass of punch in hand. Stradling the chair, he sighed contentedly.

“Erma and I agree that that was fun.” He placed his cup to his lips.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.” I warned.

“That’s all fine and dandy, but I’m going to quench my thirst.” He threw his head back and drained the clear plastic cup. After one glass, he coughed violently for several minutes and when he regained the ability to breathe, his eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. He turned to Jade and wheezed hopefully “Erma and I don’t like peach preserves but we wonder if they would taste swell if we slurped them from your armpit through a bendy straw.”

“Is that a pick-up line?” I joked.

“What-hic-kind of-hic-question is th-hic-at? Of course it-hic-is a p-hic up line!” An inebriated Sir Harold McLeod wagged a finger in my direction.

“At least he’s honest,” Gavin shrugged.

“Hey hot lips, lay-hic-one on me.” Sir Harold dazedly instructed while puckering up.

Jade socked him, spinning the poor fellow around in his seat. Like a swan with a cinder block tied to its neck, Sir Harold landed on the floor.

“Oh-hic-bartender, I-hic-want another. Make it a-hic-double.”

The band stopped playing because they didn’t know the next song. Instead, an electronic DJ started the classic slow-dancing ballad “One Real Kiss.” The song was about a single kiss worth more than whatever could be offered for the taking, including one’s life. The version playing was a duet between a male and a female singer, which from a musical standpoint, was only spectacular when one noted the eight minutes and fifty-three seconds the song played for.

Gavin stood up and I took his hint; he wanted to slow dance. Truthfully, I kind of liked the prospect even though I was nervous at having never done it before.

Considering this was my first time slow dancing, I worried about how close I was and where my feet stepped but once the song got going, I’d put all that stuff aside. Slow dancing was an overdramatized ordeal, I soon discovered. There really wasn’t all that much to it; it was simply the rhythmic swaying of two close bodies while staring into each others’ eyes.

The most amazing part about it all was the emotional intensity swirling around Gavin and I. As we swayed back and forth, Gavin’s warm hands stayed on my hips; his long fingers felt like their tips could almost touch behind my back. Meanwhile, my arms draped down from his shoulders, only held up there because my fingers were intertwined.

At first, we were only as close as we could be while my arms were taught. Slowly however, our distance lessened; the less space between us, the sweeter the experience became. Pretty soon, it felt like we were genuinely hugging each other although we’d get closer before the song was half over.

And oh what that heavenly closeness was like. Never before had I moved with another individual as if we were one body bound together until every star in the sky had melted into a cascading ripple of ethereal magic.

Oblivious to our surroundings, Gavin and I enjoyed a tasty public display of affection. To our hormonal teenage minds, it had been a while since we’d had a kiss so passionate and deserving; in reality, it had probably only been a day or two since we’d made out for such a romantic reason—young love jumped at every chance to play tonsil hockey. This particular French kiss practically belonged on the dessert table at a five star restaurant.

Our lips parted a second or two after the song concluded; when I finally looked away from Gavin’s breathtaking face, I saw Alexia clambering on stage to request a song from the band; the slit in her dress and the sheer height of the stage almost caused her to tilt her full glass of punch, but somehow she didn’t spill any of it. It came as a surprise when the band leader announced the request he’d just gotten.

“This next request is a special one.” He smiled charmingly; his charisma made him a gifted party host. “Miss Alexia Davis asks Miss Sruun Borealis and Mr. Gavin Weylin to perform their composition of ‘What Can’t You Do For Me?’ so if they could please make their way to the stage, our next song will begin momentarily.”

Both jaws in the relationship I was in flopped open.

I snapped out of it first. “Come on!” I took Gavin’s hand and skipped up to the stage, making it through the crowds faster than I would’ve expected.

Polite applause welcomed us to the stage although every face on the dance floor wondered what to expect of us.

Despite my jittery nerves, I slid a microphone next to the piano and took my time adjusting it for me to sing into; I could take my time because Gavin couldn’t start the song until I’d started playing.

Making eye contact with Gavin, I stroked the keys of the beautiful grand piano. I was glad for the prelude I’d written in before the singing started; it gave me a chance to forget the number of ears turned my way.

As I began singing, I was captivated by the experience of seeing hundreds of couples dance to a song I wrote.

“You’ve opened my eyes

So I could visualize

What it took

To take a look

Beyond the norm

Of my established form.”

Next, Gavin and I both sang the chorus.

“You’ve provoked my thought,

Cooled me when I was hot,

And after all this,

I must take the risk

Of asking explicitly,

‘What can’t you do for me?’”

Gavin’s first solo came a few measures later after a short echo by the piano.

“You helped me to smell

Every red rose petal

And to take the time

To recognize the sublime

None of it could be true

Without you.”

After we both sang the chorus together again, it was time for my second solo.

“The grass is always greener

And the streets are always cleaner

Since you’ve entered my life.

There used to be struggling and strife

In your former absence.

I’ve not been the same since.”

Finished with the chorus, Gavin started his second solo.

“When you’re not near,

All I can hear

Is the buzzing of bees

And the torrent of angry seas

Rather than hummingbirds

And harmonic chords.”

For the fourth time, Gavin and I sand the chorus, only this time it was before my third and last solo.

“The hope you bring

Entices me to sing

You saved me from my tyranny

And inspired an epiphany.

Before, upon people I was a curse

But now the world spins in reverse.”

We sang the chorus for the last time and Gavin had his last solo.

“I was hopelessly lost

Garbage to be tossed

My name had been rejected

Along with my dream to be accepted

But I digress

Without you, I’m a mess.”

This time, we went into another duet but it was the conclusion of the song.

“Show me every possibility

That could form between you and me

I ask that you grasp my hand

And by you, let me stand

Will you be mine,

Or will you decline?”

With a few last fancy movements by my fingers, we finished.

Tumultuous applause filled the air, as did jubilant encomiums. Those who had been seated were standing and those on the dance floor were in awe. Blushing, I walked onto the apron of the stage and stood next to Gavin.

To my surprise, Gavin wrapped his right arm behind my back and his strong fingers on my waist. The next thing I knew, my world was spinning and the crowd cheering wildly.

I had to admire his bravado—and talent—for lip locking.

The longer we kissed the louder the crowd’s roaring got.

After parting, our excuse to leave was that it was getting late and we were starting to get tired but I was confident every soul in the room knew we wanted to hide our embarrassment. Thus, as soon as we got through the dozens of cheering people and their gauntlet of back-slapping congratulations, Gavin and I snuck out and up to my suite.

The combined magnificence of our epic slow dance and the exuberance of our first performance sent chilly goosebumps down my spine. Gavin, though with reddened cheeks, was beaming triumphantly. It seemed I was experiencing the same euphoria.

I opened the door to our room, and with a sweep of my arm, I invited him in. Mimicking the blissful spiral we’d danced earlier in the night, we pranced to the pulse of our own song.

Humming the chorus every time we came up for air, Gavin and I danced and kissed until the back of my calves married the bedside. Tossing off his jacket, Gavin began kissing me. Smiling, I remembered how idiotic I found the dating rituals of other males, yet at the same time I loved the way Gavin lowered me to the bed as my knees bent and our kisses overflowed with romance.

“Oh,” Pausing mid-kiss, Gavin’s face scrunched up in frustration. “I agreed to return the tuxedo as soon as I finished using it tonight.” He looked quite sad. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Throwing his jacket over his shoulder, Gavin trumped from the room.

“No, don’t go.” I whimpered.

The door was about to click shut behind him when all of a sudden it flung back open and Gavin ran back in, much to my delight. Seizing me with his free arm, he laid a wet one on me.

“I love you and I always will, my little teddy bear.”

Beaming, I kissed him again. “I love you too.”

He stood there, transfixed by something he saw in my eyes. I too marveled at how radiant he looked; it was like he’d seen the face of God. Thrilled he was mine, I accepted the fact he had to go.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” I teased, spanking his butt. “Go, take the tux back.”

He kissed me one last time and left. Sighing to myself, I didn’t from where his seductions had left me for several minutes. After the night we’d shared, he was definitely getting something special…

Chapter Twenty-Two: Erma Tinks

Chapter Twenty-Two

A week had passed.

Jade rarely ventured out of her room. I hadn’t seen her since the second day after Krystal’s abduction, when she came to ask if she could borrow either mine or Gavin’s laptop. Then, she was unusually quiet; it was a trait of my father’s when he was upset or overworked.

While Jade hid from the world, I’d spoken with Sir Harold.

“Do you think there’s anything we can do for her?” He asked me, twirling his long beard around his finger.

“She needs some time to herself, but I think if you give her that time, and then offer her a chance to come back to the real world, she’ll be less likely to hit you again.” I based my judgment off my father’s behavior more than my knowledge of Jade, mostly because I hadn’t known Jade long enough to predict her actions. She acted so much like Joseph Borealis however, imagining what my father would have done seemed logical.

Sir Harold massaged his bruised chin. “Erma thinks that not getting punched is desirable.” He chuckled for no apparent reason other than to laugh.

I took the moment to ask something that floated into my head. “I’m pretty sure Erma is your boot, but why do you depend on her guidance as much as you do?”

Sir Harold continued smiling but his voice sounded serious. “For starters, Erma is not a ‘she’; Erma is a female who can only be described by a pronoun so rich, our petty human understanding of language cannot comprehend, so Erma is Erma.” He nodded once. “That being explained, I will now proceed to answer your question.” He waited to see if I was listening. “Erma, being a female, is infinitely wiser than all men, but Erma is also superior to your kind, except perhaps one famous woman from history.”

“Joan of Arc?” I teased, remembering how she was burned at the stake for hearing voices.

“No, Ellen DeGeneres.” Sir Harold would’ve made a good history teacher. “Anyways, I met Erma back in my days as a television psychic, while on a fishing trip. It was sort of an accident really, but Erma and I met in the Florida Everglades; I’d gotten my leg stuck in the mod up to my hip and Erma just happened to be close enough Erma could pull me out. Erma grabbed my unburied foot, which was position on top of the mod. Since then, Erma has always been my loyal friend and companion; she’s even been there for me when women refused my charm.”

“I see,” Entertaining Sir Harold’s wild story was captivating and humorous.

“Erma one night deigned to place the ultimate honor on me, but after we’d slept together, I wanted to wed Erma, but Erma would only marry a virgin.” That tidbit of the story was a tad more than I cared to hear, no matter how amusing Sir Harold’s story had been thus far.

“Erma’s right to feel that way.” I shrugged. “It’s how a married couple should be when they’re married.”

“You’re probably right,” He shrugged. “I’ll just tell the next hopeful a little purple lie.”

The next hopeful? He had to be delirious. Still though, his statement inspired another inquiry. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

“Hmm, there’s a dilemma.” He murmured. “I’ve forgotten but Erma concludes, via a formula tabulating the number of eclipses seen in a lifetime, along various values of pi, a few absurd exponents, and a square root, that I’m either three and seven thirty-fourths, or one-hundred and forty-three, but I’m leaning towards the latter because my family traditionally has very good doctors.” He said this while still tying his beard in knots. I wondered if he knew he looked seventy at youngest; it was entirely possible he was a hundred and forty-three however, since after a certain age most people’s bodies stopped showing the signs of further aging. Considering Sir Harold’s state of mind, it was just as feasible that he wasn’t a day older than seventy.

“So you’re old then?”

“That’s a preposterous question!” He roared. “I’m just a bachelor for crying out loud! I haven’t even gone through my mid-life crisis!”

I apologized, stifling a laugh.

“Just see if you can find a way I might be able to cheer Jade up.” He mumbled.

That chance made itself known after another week. Jade brought Gavin’s laptop back, saying she’d used the currency card Sir Harold had given her to buy a laptop of her own with every frivolous accessory she could find. After she’d left Gavin noticed some of the conversations she’d had stored on his hard drive.

Jade had inadvertently saved several juicy conversations with Leon Gonzago. They weren’t juicy like a fresh orange but rather like a soap opera. Even though Gavin deleted the conversations without reading them, we could both see Jade had a boyfriend who was sorely missed.

I passed this information on to Sir Harold in such a way that I wasn’t guilty of gossiping. I also suggested Sir Harold permit Jade to visit the boy. Sir Harold was thrilled by the news and began planning something extravagant.

I found out later, Sir Harold had sent a letter on stiff decorative paper that invited Leon back to McLeod Manor to attend a gala event on the seventh of July. The letter told Leon he was to arrive promptly on the thirtieth of June, and that after the gala, he would be invited to remain at McLeod Manor as a Servant if he met the qualifications required. He was also told that if he so desired, he could begin tuition at McLeod Manor University.

Gavin’s hacking skills were how learned about the letter to Leon but his skills also showed me details on the gala.

Sir Harold was inviting nearly everyone at McLeod Manor. Also on the guest list was anyone between the ages of thirteen and thirty who could speak French, and could prove their intelligence, generosity, or efforts spent promoting French fluency. Gavin’s digging revealed Sir Harold’s ball prompted envious talk over everyone who was going.

The media treated the party as a topic comparative to the Oscars or Grammies. Rumor had it, those who attended were likely to leave a few thousand dollars wealthier.

As a result of all the hype, an enormous push for French fluency exploded across the globe. I didn’t really understand why Sir Harold required the French language so heavily, but Alexia speculated it probably had to do with Sir Harold’s heritage or his recent public announcement that the Catrions couldn’t understand French. Whichever it was, it was a brilliant play on Sir Harold’s part.

Gavin and I had two weeks to spare until the gala, which we both agreed might be fun; beneath my optimism, I felt the event could just as easily be a waste of time. With only two weeks, Gavin and I had scarce time to spend looking for formal attire, especially with nearly everyone living at McLeod Manor raiding nearby dress and tuxedo shops. Thankfully however, help came via the Servants.

It turned out, Alexia was a fair seamstress. After shooing Gavin out into the hallway, I stripped down enough so Alexia could work without error. She sat up a sewing machine and a large table in the Paraplegic Recovery Suite. When she wasn’t comparing her work to me, I never redressed, except for a bathrobe so she could work quicker.

I’d chosen the materials, and with some of the leftovers, Alexia made Gavin a matching vest and bowtie; he’d found another of the Servants who was a similar height who had a black set of tails Gavin could borrow.

On the thirtieth of the month when Leon Gonzago arrived without Jade’s prior knowledge, Jade cheered up significantly. It was almost like she forgot all about Krystal Nicholson; I was glad to see her moving on.

I didn’t know what Jade and Leon were doing about Sir Harold’s party. Pretty much all I knew was that they were going, but everything else eluded me.

When the seventh of July finally came, Gavin was again banned from the room he and I shared; Alexia and I were going to help each other prepare. This time, Gavin went to the room of the Servant lending him a tuxedo.

Alexia and I spent the day primping and pruning ourselves. Alexia astounded me when she managed to shape my hair different than my usual ponytail with the sides dangling. She made my hair, which was barely more than shoulder length, wavy and full of body. What surprised me more was how she kept it mostly down with my bangs retaining the long sharp point they normally had; if I liked any part of my normal appearance, it was the katana-shaped locks of hair in front of my face. Except for the tips, which were dyed to match my dress, Alexia expertly left my favorite part of my personal hairstyle alone, with the rest of my hair pinned back and combed beautifully.

I sat on a stool in the large bathroom looking in the mirror. The girl looking back wore an elegant black satin dress with streaks of silver dashing across it. Her neckline dipped low, but not so low cleavage shouted at those who came too close. No bra straps were seen near the girl’s collar bones, but the dress was engineered so that while hugging her now graceful curves, it could support them too. Other than the imperceptible tightness of the dress, how this form was maintained was a mystery.

At the bottom of the dress, knee-length ruffles skated around her ankles. The silver stripes were less subtle here, as shimmering thread spiraled in abundance. The few narrow angled streaks of black only highlighted the majestic path of the silver figure skater.

“Here,” Alexia pushed a tube of lipstick in my face. “It’s a cross between lipstick and lip gloss; it will match your dress, but will stand out more than lip gloss.”

I eyed Alexia suspiciously but accepted the tube. It was strange enough having an inch of dyed hair on either side of my face but applying an accessory as close to make-up as this was made me uneasy.

Gavin knocked at the door, causing me to jump and almost smear the lipstick; I couldn’t believe so much time had passed. Checking in the mirror to make sure I hadn’t smeared anything, I quickly answered the door, growing more nervous by the second.

Behind the door, I gasped in silent awe because there stood Gavin, more hansom than I’d ever seen him before. Likewise, his lips formed the word “Wow,” as he realized he should offer me his arm.

Grinning, I tied myself to him and off we went.

Chapter Twenty-One: Grieving For A Friend

Chapter Twenty-One

“Look!” Gavin exclaimed pointing out at the ocean. Afraid, I followed his index finger. Jade was standing in the surf she was up to her shoulders in water. Joy filled my heart, but my eyes didn’t understand they could stop leaking so with a weak laugh, I wiped away the river flowing down my cheek.

Jade trudged through the water onto the beach; she looked shaken, but fine. The men who tried to save us walked down onto the beach. Many inspected the crash sites and collected blood samples. Some however went to Jade. “Are you hurt?” Jade shook her head. “Where is this girl, do you know?” The man talking to Jade held up a picture. Panting for breath, Jade pointed our way. One of the men stopped digging in the sand and jogged over to Gavin and I.

“Are you Sruun Borealis?” He asked; he had a deep, raspy voice.

I wiped snot from my nose with my bare arm. “Yes, who are you?”

“I’m Sergeant Cortez of the McLeod Militia. We’re mercenaries hired by Sir Harold; he claims we’re a branch of the Servants.”

“Why are you here?” Gavin asked.

Sergeant Cortez glared at Gavin. “Who’s he?” He jabbed his thumb at Gavin when he asked me the question.

“He’s my boyfriend.” I thought Gavin’s hands on my sides would have been an obvious enough clue. “Why are you here?” I stressed the word ‘are.’

“Sir Harold ordered us to stalk Jade Cataye and Sruun Borealis so that we could protect them from the Catrions. That’s our exact mission.”

“You make it sound so impersonal.” I commented.

“I just do my job ma’am.” He replied. “Now, if you would, please come with us. Our orders were to take you back to McLeod Manor if an attack happened.”

“No,” I stated.

“Pardon? We’ve got to return you to McLeod Manor.” He didn’t appear happy by my refusal.

“I’m not going anywhere until I’m dressed.” I answered.

He sighed. “I don’t have to bring you clothes, do I? I’ve heard how the Servants operate.”

“No, but I do want you to tell Jade to come over here.” I instructed.

He left, and then he, Jade, and the mercenary talking to Jade walked to the mouth of our artificial cave. I tried conversing with Jade when she approached but she was speechless.

Gavin didn’t turn around as Jade and I dressed. He didn’t seem to care anymore. The three of us pulled our clothes on in silence, astonished by what we’d just seen.

When Jade had put on her shirt and zipped her pants, she picked up Krystal’s loosely folded clothing. Walking to Sergeant Cortez, she deposited the pile in his hands, perhaps because he seemed to be an official authority.

Sergeant Cortez was bewildered by the gift, and I was oddly embarrassed. It was probably the thong and baby blue bra sitting on top that embarrassed me, but these were simply the things Krystal had worn before Jade lent her a bathing suit.

Jade pocketed Krystal’s necklace, and when I saw her searching for something, I asked what she was looking for. “The diary—you know, the one she always wrote in! It’s gone! She must’ve had it with her.” Jade croaked out.

“Are you ready?” Sergeant Cortez asked, still holding the pile of clothes with the thong in plain sight.

“You have to let us go to our apartment to pack a few things first. We weren’t expecting to have to leave.” I said after my thoughts came in rapid succession.

“It sounds reasonable enough. We’ll follow you to your apartment, and give you enough time to pack some clothes and things.”

Back at the apartment, Gavin and I dumped the contents of our bookbags onto my bed. My laptop bag was the smaller of the two so I put my laptop in first, then his stacked on top. We decided to use Gavin’s bag for my clothes. “This section of the dresser is mine. Could you cram as much of my junk in your bag as you can get?” Although I asked him if I could use his bag, I expected him to let me regardless.

Meanwhile, I dumped Jade’s backpack on the bed also and rummaged through its contents to find any personal items she might want. After that I tried to recall where she put the stuff which usually fought off her boredom. Gathering everything I thought she’d want proved difficult; most of the time I took her for granted, so remembering what she did during the day seemed impossible.

Gavin stopped packing a few minutes into it. Unsure of the reason and still traumatized by the morning’s tragedy, I asked him why. “What’s wrong? Is your bag full?”

“It’s your underwear drawer!” He hissed as if he didn’t want anyone to know he was going to pick up my underwear.

“So?” I replied, beginning on Jade’s sock drawer.

“So, I’d feel like a pervert if I went through your underwear drawer!” He whispered the last two words quieter than the rest.

“Then imagine I’m wearing them, that way you’ll be looking at me, not picking through my dresser drawer.”

Gavin opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and said nothing. I didn’t understand what the fuss was; Gavin and I’d been together a few months and in that time, he’d seen me in a bikini, the one-size-fits-all underwear at McLeod Manor, and he had even shared a bed with me when I had worn little more than a bathrobe. I’d have thought he’d be fine packing up a few panties and bras but my assumption was wrong. Boys were so weird.

For the second time in forty-eight hours, Jade, Gavin, and I were on a train beneath the Atlantic. I was getting tired of travelling.

My fatigue could also have been emotional exhaustion. Only hours before, I’d witnessed another Catrion attack and thought I’d lost Jade. A girl who I barely knew had disappeared to who-knows-where, and to top it all off, the Catrions had reminded me of their existence only a few weeks after waving hello at the Arlington Massacre. I was beginning to feel as if something wasn’t right about their behavior.

My thoughts shifted to Jade. She’d just been smothered beneath a bone-crushing black object, not to mention she’d lost a good friend. She seemed to be taking it well, other than the stoic silence she clung to. Plastered to her face was a scared haunted look; her glazed eyes were the worst. Though I’d seen it all, I couldn’t comprehend the terror she’d felt when the Catrions came out of the sky.

“They knew she was pregnant.” Jade’s tone never flickered. She spoke like the emergency broadcast signal.

“They couldn’t have,” I tried to sound convincing but when it came to these beings, I was never sure. “She-she didn’t look pregnant yet so how could they have known?”

“I don’t know but they did; they just did. They go after pregnant women—we’ve seen it in the news!” Jade was in shock, as were Gavin and I.

“Don’t tell yourself that,” Gavin was also trying to calm Jade. “They went after you too.”

“But they took her.” She was so composed, she frightened me.

“They were trying to take you though.” I pointed out.

“I kind of wish they had.” Jade whispered. “She was my best friend; since I’d started attending that—“ Beavers made a homonym of the word Jade used. “—school, I’d talked to her and eventually got to know her.”

“You hadn’t known her long, had you?” Gavin asked.

“We didn’t know it at the time, but we’d gotten to know eachother very well through the integrated networks of our two schools. Her username was Crystalline Thoughts.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Gavin patted her shoulder, trying to be a friend. “We don’t know for sure that she’s—” Gavin croaked like a frog, so he was unable to say the last word.

“That’s what bugs me. I don’t know.” Jade turned in her seat so she wasn’t facing us and pretended to go to sleep.

None of us talked the rest of the trip. Before I knew it, the train had stopped in the garage dedicated to Sir Harold’s nephew; I was so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t remember ever stopping to switch cars.

Sir Harold greeted us at the exit ramp, as if that was all he felt might lift our spirits. Gavin and I got off first, then came Jade, and the mercenaries got off last. To say Jade welcomed Sir Harold’s presence would have been similar to saying the Catrions didn’t kill people.

“Don’t say another word.” Jade commanded in a harsh tone. Upon finishing her thought, she pulled her tense left arm back, clenched her teeth, and socked Sir Harold on the jaw before storming into the house.

An egg in a cushioning contraption being chucked from a third-story roof, Sir Harold plummeted to the ground. He twisted in the fall rapping his forehead against the wood floor with a comical “Oy!” and a subsequent palm clapping to his head before he rolled under the train car. As he tried to come up, he conked his head on the underside of his personal monorail.

Having learned his lesson, Sir Harold lay sprawled out melodramatically beneath the car when he voiced his mind. “Erma thinks Jade’s upset about the events of the day, but I blame the Catrions for my headache.”

Chapter Twenty: The Terrific Nephew's Schooling Garage

Chapter Twenty

I hobbled after Alexia, Gavin, and Jade. I‘d tried to use the cane to be polite, but I was inexperienced with it, which my made my trek burdensome. On top of that, I had already learned to walk without it.

When I caught up with the troupe, I discovered how pointless rushing had been; Alexia wouldn’t let us leave until someone else arrived. It turned out we weren’t the only ones leaving. A girl by the name of Oken was also travelling afar.

In the wait for the girl, I read the plaque I’d seen earlier.

“Terrific Nephew’s Schooling Garage

“Sir Harold, like many with his charm and net value, has a large family. The family members with an actual blood relation, Erma believes are unsuitable for Sir Harold because of their inebriated appearance at festive holiday tables, but alas, one has captured Sir Harold’s spleen enough for Sir Harold to ensure his well being.

“Charles McLeod is the beloved son of Clarence McLeod. Clarence McLeod is the spoiled prodigy of Jimmy McLeod. Jimmy McLeod must be the ugliest daughter Ghengis McLeod ever had. Ghengis McLeod is the spawn of Nancy McLeod and the devil whom Sir Harold is unfortunate enough to have as an in-law. Nancy McLeod is the dorky sister of Sir Harold, making Charles McLeod the great, great, great nephew of Sir Harold.

“Charles McLeod was born and lives on Mars but Sir Harold loves him even without having met him. Sir Harold feels that any nephew that great must be terrific, and so, Sir Harold has dedicated this room and Account Number 72459001 to his med-school education.”

Around the time I finished reading, a girl a few years older than Gavin approached. She was wearing a hair-piece that looked strangely like cat-ears. “Hi, my name’s Oken. I like bloody gore, death by asphyxiation, and compulsive torture.” Cat ears weren’t all that peculiar; in fact they suddenly looked good on her! “What’s your name?”

“I forgot.” I stammered.

“I know what you mean. I’d forget my name too if it meant my identity was safe!” She laughed. “I’m on my way to a space port. I’m taking a two-week vacation to Mars; I heard the weather’s great there at this time of year.”

“I’ve…” I paused. “I’ve heard that too.”

Once we boarded the train car, Alexia pushed the button to start the train’s movement. The girl called Oken sat just in front of Gavin, Jade and I. To say the least, I worried about how we’d be dismembered before reaching the train station.

“Speaking of travelling, I’ve always wanted to go to England, you know, to see the grassy fields and what not.” She mused. “Perhaps I’ll stop by when I get back to Earth; I could call in sick or something to go.”

“Oh, yeah, everyone does that, so surely you of all people could get away with it.” I fidgeted in my seat.

“Hey, what’s a matter?” She had a look of concern pop up on her face. “You look squeamish, like you’re watching some lucky soul crank the wheel on the Rack.”

I just forgot to use the restroom before we left.” I lied.

“You should’ve gone before—oh! We’re here! Bu-bai!” She darted off the train and disappeared into the dense crowds in the train station.

“Who was that?” Gavin asked; he and Jade had been inside the train car already when Oken introduced herself to me.

“Just some girl who enjoys long walks on the beach and compulsive torture.” I muttered.

“Really?!” Jade exclaimed. “Did she tell you her name? I’d like to meet her!”

“You did.” I mumbled. “Come on, let’s go. I want to get a train to the states as quickly as possible.” I led the way into the train station, eager to put Sir Harold’s as far behind us as possible.

Getting a ticket had been easy enough, so had the beneath the churning waters of the Atlantic. Some time during the long ride, Jade got up and used the phone. Twice actually, but that wasn’t any of my business. Then again, corporate espionage could be profitable, if not fun.

I was sure one of the two calls had been to Leon Gonzago, whom I suspected hadn’t returned to McLeod Manor after running away with Jade. The identity of the recipient of the other telephone call was a mystery, unless Leon Gonzago got two for the price of one.

Around noon, the train arrived in the sky scraper city I had come to accept as a home. First, before going anywhere else, Jade and I marched to the apartment; this time it was Gavin who had to work to keep pace. Fumbling around in the bookbag on my back, I found my keys and pushed the apartment door open.

The sad little two-bedroom, two-bath apartment was as derelict as ever, only now it had a cold hollowness to it. That may have been caused by the absence of life, but the cranked-up thermostat might have contributed to the effect as well.

Jade walked through the house in search of our grandparents, but seeing Jade’s handwriting on a note on the refrigerator was more than enough proof for me. They really were gone.

Everything was exactly as we’d left it. Deep in my stomach, a glob of vomit began rolling over and over. I didn’t want to spew, but my body had other plans. A compromise was reached when my stomach agreed not to dance the hunky-chunky in exchange for my remaining nauseous.

I picked up my bag, only to grab my laptop. Sitting on one of the old sofas in the den, I busied myself putting the song Gavin and I wrote onto my hard drive. It was the only way I could avoid crying; my grandparents, the only connection I had left to the man my father had been, were done. Dead, at the very worst.

Gavin saw my distress but there was little he could do to help me. He tried stroking my hand but it did about as much as a missing spare tire.

By nightfall, the weight of the silence among the three of us still hadn’t lifted but it bad been placed on a barbell during a weight-lifting competition. It was a start.

Jade sat in one of the tall armchairs our grandparents had had. She tucked her legs beneath her in a way that seemed comfortable not only to her but to many others; every now and then, I found myself resting the ankle of my right foot below my left knee. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to spend tomorrow hanging out with Krystal Nicholson. You two are welcome to join us.” At that point, I felt so much like my mother as I offered similar options in my early teens that I wanted to cry.

Responding took some time, and when I finally did, it was only a nod at first. Eventually, I choked out a few words, which weren’t all that brilliant anyways. “I want to go.”

The nervous line in Jade’s lips bent into a wry smile of her approval. She was tired, I could see it, but she was also relieved. When walking by, she clapped a hand on my shoulder. I guessed to say “Hang in there.” I only wished it were that easy.

Shortly after Jade’s departure for bed, I made a role model out of her. The kiss goodnight I gave Gavin was more a habit than anything really; I didn’t glean much if any affection from it, not that it was lacking in that area. After inviting Gavin to sleep wherever, I trooped to the bedroom where intended to sleep flat on my back beneath the wooden slats supporting Jade’s constant tossing and turning.

For a moment, I thought I could pull the plug on my rising emotions, so I scrounged through me bag for the knife that had done so much for me. Once I’d clicked it on, the realization came to me that I couldn’t carve another wound into my arm; Gavin wouldn’t like it. He was the only reason I wasn’t carving into myself, but was he worth it?

Instead of scarring myself, I flicked the power off and rolled over for a restless night’s sleep. Though I had wretched nightmares all night long, I woke up feeling somewhat rested; I also felt like an empty shell.

The next morning, Krystal Nicholson met us at the front door, and we were off. We didn’t know where to go and Krystal almost suggested we go to the mall, but she silenced herself just in time. Gavin had the idea that we could go to the beach. He said he thought it would be fun, but I sensed he wanted to visit his special spot to sit and think in peace. Jade and Krystal agreed to the idea, so we were off.

Before leaving, Jade and I put on our bathing suits. That left Krystal and Gavin still without bathing suits, well, Gavin without one. Jade lent one Krystal one of her two extras. We could have technically lent Gavin one also, but if he had decided to wear it, I think our relationship would have been in trouble; the mere thought of him squeezing into a bikini bottom was enough to make me shudder. I imagined him possibly getting into it, and then after bulging for a minute or two, I visualized the bathing suit bursting apart at the seams and fluttering to the ground. Needless to say, I would have been traumatized if my kissing him provoked such a humbling popping of threads.

Jade, Krystal, and I redressed and took Gavin to a department store to pick out a cheap pair of swim trunks prior to going to the beach. I wondered what kind of looks we’d when people saw three teenage girls each telling an attractive young man which bathing suit looked best on him.

The department store was on level twenty-one of a neighboring building, so after a quick elevator ride, we were there. The store had done well to convey a natural sense of being despite the floors above and below it; the front of the store had glass paneling and a decent sized courtyard. As soon as one left the elevator, aside from a color-coded map, the first thing one saw was the cheerful curb-appeal of the department store; I knew it was only an illusion created by an overpaid landscape designer.

Gavin chose a pair of swim shorts from a brightly-colored selection. While he sifted through the different colors and styles, I held those that had possibility. Curiously, I poked the soft white fiber mesh inside most of them. It seemed strange to me, but also provoked thought; it had to feel weird down there, but then again, I didn’t really know. I gathered its purpose was to act as underwear but not all the swim trunks had the liner, so I couldn’t be positive. Really it was just confusing.

After paying for the shorts, Gavin changed in a public restroom and from there the four of us took a public transportation vehicle to the beach.

Gavin and I managed to convince Krystal and Jade to walk as far out as the sewage pipe. Using the back of the concrete pipe as our little hovel, Jade, Krystal, and I all shed our outer clothing. Gavin being the gentleman he was, turned his back to us while we disrobed. I told him he didn’t have to, and Krystal even told him to turn around and face us because we didn’t like talking to the back of his head, but we had little success in our endeavor.

“We’re going to go for a walk.” Jade surprised me by not commenting on her leaving Gavin and I alone on the beach; my only explanation was that the Arlington Massacre, as it had been called by the press, had affected her.

Gavin and I relaxed on the wet sand. Listening for no other reason than just to do it, I waited for the voices of Krystal and Jade to disappear. As soon as they were gone, Gavin and I were deep in conversation.

It felt like we’d been talking for an hour when Gavin scooped up a handful of wet sand and dropped it on m belly. I assumed that he was going to try to bury me in the sand since I was already stretched out on it. Instead he only began working with his tongue clasped between his teeth. “You’re always wearing black. Even when you have the opportunity to wear something different, you choose to wear white’s polar opposite.” He’d been sitting next to me, but when he started speaking, he gave me a soft kiss and moved to sit on me. With one leg on either side of me, he straddled my thighs while his fingers tickled and touched my belly. “I’m beginning to think there’s something different about you.” He brushed the sand on my belly lightly with his pinky. Several minutes passed before I could see what he was doing but when I saw it, I wondered why he had molded the sand into an hour glass with the center of it over my belly button and the bottom of the hourglass extending to the line formed by my bikini. “You’re my little black widow.” He smiled a sweet romantic grin.

Seeing how hard he’d worked to reach this one moment of love, I smirked and motioned with two fingers for him to come closer. Gavin puled his legs back and leaned forward while he brought his hands around my back. At first, our lips barely locked, but the moment was so passionate that soon our tongues began to tango.

A scream stopped our speaking French almost as soon as it had started. Gavin lifted his head and gazed over his shoulder and I propped myself up on my elbows. Not hearing anything further, Gavin mumbled “It’s nothing, now where were we?” I began twirling his hair around my finger tips when I heard Jade shout the s-word.

“Move Krystal! It’s the Catrions!” A splash followed. That was enough for Gavin and I to leap up running. We just barely made it to the edge of the pipe where the water caressed the sides of the pipe when I had to watch a wavy black square bag the size of a compact car dropping over Krystal Nicholson. It was the same type of thing the Catrions had dropped at the mall before killing everyone. I felt sure the Catrions were following me and this time, I wouldn’t be so lucky.

Standing near the shore, perhaps even in the foamy water, Krystal Nicholson tried to remain standing, but the weight of the bag toppled her over. Jade had jumped into the water, missing the first black mass that covered Krystal, although two more Catrions were chasing after her. Between their dragonfly-shaped flying machines was another black bag. I was going to have to watch Jade die!

I tried to run to her but Gavin clamped onto my arms so tightly I would have bruises later. He yanked me back into the sanctity of the pipe even though I fought him every step of the way; I had to see what was happening.

The second bag dropped over Jade—I screamed her name, pleading with her to live a little longer.

On the boardwalk, I saw a brief shimmer and then two dozen or so armed men stood with antique XM8 assault rifles. These men had been wearing cloaked camouflage. They weren’t important to me, not with the dark mass on jade sinking lower and lower in the frothy salt water.

As I stared in horror, thunder erupted over and over again; the men fired their assault rifles. Their aim was true, for seconds later, the five Catrions that had been flying around crashed into the yellow sand, making what were either giant dents or small craters. Those craters soon became shallow pools for the thick pink liquid I’d seen when Hubert had attacked that one Catrion just before his face melted away.

I stared, dumbfounded, at both the craters and the black thing hiding Jade. It was all too terrifying to be real, but almost exactly like in my nightmares, I was witnessing another Catrion attack.

This was attack number three and was like the second in that he Catrions attacked without warning and dropped the black tarp things. Thankfully, attack number three wasn’t like attach number one in that a ball of boiling acid didn’t melt any flesh; I couldn’t have stood to watch that again. There were similarities among all three but there were differences as well, particularly between the prime numbers greater than one.

Like what had happened at the mall, the black objects vanished in less time than an eye needed to blink, but unlike the Arlington Massacre, the body under the black stuff vanished. When I saw Krystal Nicholson gone, I began to sob for Jade. I didn’t dare look her way, choosing instead to concentrate on the missing Catrions; I couldn’t bear the notion of my only living relative being gone.

When Krystal Nicholson disappeared, so had the Catrions, leaving behind puddles of their pink blood and also the wire contraptions they flew in.

Chapter Nineteen: Permission Granted

Chapter Nineteen

Gavin and I woke up abruptly; we had been asleep hand-in-hand on the bed. You can’t keep me here!” A door slammed in the corridor outside our room. The voice that had shouted was enough for Gavin and I both to creep to our door. I knew we could only watch from the doorframe, but I was curious.

Miraculously, the bars that had held us in place were gone. Gavin and I both stepped out of the Paraplegic Recovery Suite to see what had transpired.

Sir Harold banged on a door; he seemed as defeated as a losing sports team. When he saw me, he perked up. “Sruun, maybe Jade will listen to you!”

Jade! Had she come back or had she been taken back? On second thought, I realized that Jade wouldn’t return on her own.

Sir Harold’s guess had been right, though it took some time for Jade to come out of her room. Only after she made Sir Harold promise to let Gavin and I join her did Jade agree to let Sir Harold talk to her. Sir Harold led the three of us, Gavin and I still in pajamas, to his office.

“I believe I owe you an apology.” He started. “I may have been too sudden in my approach.”

Jade nodded, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t.

“I think what Jade’s getting at is that neither of us anticipated being adopted by a complete stranger so soon after such a tragedy.” I explained. “We really don’t know anything about you.”

“Fair enough,” Sir Harold shrugged. “I’m Sir Harold McLeod, billionaire clairvoyant extraordinaire. I-”

“Save it,” Jade snapped. “Sruun’s right but first we have to set things straight.”

“What sort of things?” He wrinkled up his nose.

“For starters, you can’t expect us to obey your every command, and being our guardian, you have to give us time, but until then, we need some freedom.” Jade didn’t look at him as she spoke; she focused on two paperclips she tied together.

“Very well,” Sir Harold propped his feet up on his large beautiful desk. “I agree to your demands. I give you free roam of the castle, and provided a few conditions are met, you may leave McLeod Manor.”

Jade looked at him without moving her head. I didn’t think she wanted Sir Harold to see her interest. “What kind of conditions?”

“If you’re to leave McLeod Manor, you will agree to a tracking chip, you will return to McLeod Manor in time, and you will not leave the planet.” He instructed clearly. The next thing he mumbled as an afterthought. “You leaving the planet would surely spell death with a capital K.”

“Why all the precautions?” I asked.

“Not only am I your legal guardian, but also your protector. Erma claims the two of you are of great importance to the war.”

“What war?” I didn’t think Gavin liked being excluded from the conversation, hence his prodding question.

“A war you will never know.”

Ignoring Sir Harold’s mysterious answer, I looked at Jade. Seeing her tired exasperation, I spoke on her behalf. “We agree to your terms.”

“Good,” Sir Harold commended my words. “I’m pleased.”

“How long will it be before we can leave?” I prodded. “Do we see one of the Servants to get our tracking chip?”

“In such a hurry to leave?” His tone changed to smug. “Very well,” He withdrew a two-inch high green plastic pill bottle from a desk drawer. The pill bottle’s contents rattled when Sir Harold slammed it on the semi-reflective surface of the desk, making a soft “chink”. The noise also made Jade look up without twitching her rigid neck muscles.

With two fingers and a thumb ready to grab the translucent cylinder, I leaned forward and reached for the bottle. Before it was in my grasp, Sir Harold spoke again; I froze where I sat with my nose dangerously close to the decrepit boot Sir Harold wore to complement a blew sports cleat on the other foot.

“Only take two from the bottle; one for you and Miss Cataye—Erma only knows how much the CIA would want for another bottle.”

“Don’t I need one?” Asked a confused Gavin.

“No, I’m not going to waste any on you or that Gestapo fellow. Besides, technically I’ve abducted you, so why would I want the authorities to have traceable proof?”

“Fine,” Gavin leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t really want one anyways.”

The pills were tiny as pills went. They were transparent capsules that each had a miniscule electronic device in them. Probably because I didn’t have my glasses on, I had to squint at the pills when holding them up to the light to see any of what was inside.

Handing one to Jade and the bottle back to Sir Harold, I rose from my seat to leave.

“Excuse me, but those pills aren’t leaving this room unless you’ve swallowed them.” Sir Harold scolded.

I popped my and barely felt it slip down my throat. Jade glared at Sir Harold before putting the capsule in her mouth, swallowing, and thrusting her tongue out for Sir Harold to see the pill was gone.

Jade followed Gavin and I back to our room. It was still too early for Alexia to deliver breakfast, but that didn’t stop me from telling Gavin to summon her. He sat down at the desk and fiddled with the radio Alexia had given us while I brought Jade into the closet and shut the door.

“I’m glad to have you back.” I admitted. “I almost thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I wasn’t.” Jade chuckled. “I wanted to apologize though so it’s kind of convenient Sir Harold dragged me back.”

I shook my head because of her apology. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, I still feel bad though.” She stretched her arms. “He hasn’t done anything to you, has he?”

“Who? Gavin or Sir Harold?” I was having trouble forgiving myself for platonically sleeping with Gavin after I’d decided not to. It just sort of happened during the night; I remembered waking up groggily and Gavin hugging me, accepting a kiss, and laying next to me.

“Sir Harold, has he raped you or anything?” Jade questioned.

“No, why would he do that?” Bewilderment was a state of mind that described me well at that point.

“You heard what the old pervert said as we left his office! My earlobes have sex appeal! I’m surprised you didn’t wake up one night to find him brushing your teeth with his tongue and baking soda!” Jade inhaled quickly. “I’m glad to see you again.” She hugged me out of nowhere. I wasn’t quite sure what to do but figured it out eventually.

After a moment, I suggested a few things. “Lets at least change clothes, and you could get a shower if you wanted.” Jade desperately needed both things done; she was wearing baggy male jeans and an oversized tee-shirt that barely covered purple plaid boxers that were revealed by her sagging trousers. For her to stand—let alone walk—she had to clutch the bottom of the pockets of the plus-sized pants. On top of that, she was beginning to smell like a duffel bag in a gym locker. Needless to say, it wasn’t pretty.

“I’d like that.” Jade concurred. Before I let her go to the shower I would miss, I handed her an assortment of the clothing I had. Our being nearly identical in shape and size made life easy.

Alexia arrived the moment Jade shut the bathroom door. I wasted o time in giving my demands. “Forget about breakfast; bring us a bag to put some stuff in. We’re going on a trip.”

She blinked twice, rubbed her eyes, and yawned before being conscious enough to comprehend my statement. Ten minutes later she rushed back with a cherry red two-strap backpack with two large pockets and a smaller one on the front. Snatching the bag from her hands, I dashed into the closet and accidentally slammed the door.

I’d been in such a hurry, I started changing and packing at the same time. If anyone had seen me, I would’ve looked really silly standing in a poor lighted closet with my pants a crumpled ball at my feet and my pale legs bare. I stuffed all of Gavin’s clothes , all of the adjustable underwear, and three day’s worth of clothing for Jade and I into the bah. I wasn’t sure where we were going but I knew for sure that we’d stop by the apartment where Jade and I could get more clothing. Finally, I packed every trinket Jade, Gavin and I’d had with us at the mall in the smallest pocket of the bag.

I touched the door handle, so lost in thought, I almost showed Gavin and maybe Jade and Alexia my lower half. Hurriedly, as if Gavin were going to barge in at any second, I pulled a pair of jeans on and slung the bag over my shoulder so I could stroll out of my privacy.

Jade and Gavin were both ready to leave, so I picked up my glasses and followed Alexia out of the room; she was going to take us to the train car garage. During the walk, I couldn’t help but be a little high-spirited.

Alexia turned a corner with Jade and Gavin right behind her. I was at the end of the pack but wasn’t worried until a predator attacked.

A pair of strong hands seized me and yanked me into a dimly lit room. One hand covered my mouth and the other jerked my shirt so hard, I was afraid it would tear off.

At the other end of the hands, was an old face with scraggly white hair. It was Sir Harold; all of a sudden I remembered what Jade had said about him raping me. If that was what was coming, then if he could still have kids, then he wouldn’t be able to when I finished.

“Shh!” He placed a finger to his lips. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” It took him a few minutes to get me to calm down, yet he couldn’t slow my pounding heart rate. “Erma told me about your leg when I asked Erma why you favored one leg over the other. Erma also told me you won’t see a doctor for it, so I wanted to help.”

“How did you know I hurt my heel?” My injury had healed enough to walk on, but that was after changing the way I walked; walking like I did before bashing my heel at the beach aggravated my foot to no end.

“I just said Erma told me.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Here, take this cane. I pray it will benefit your health in more ways than one.” He winked at me and handed me a cane.

By the looks of it, I expected the cane to be heavy but it wasn’t. On the top of the walking stick was the figurine of a spider monkey leaping. The figurine contoured to my palm and arched over enough, I could hang the cane on my arm. The tail of the monkey seemed unusually long as it swirled down around the first eight inches of the cane. The monkey, along with a decorative four inches covering the bottom of the cane, was silver. The rest of the cane was a burnish black metallic substance.

“It’s made of carbon nanotubes, so it’ll never break, rust, or deteriorate. You can have confidence in its strength.” It was like Sir Harold had read my mind when he told me what it was made of. “Even in the sculpture there are carbon nanotubes but the sculpture itself isn’t made of carbon. The sculpture and that bit at the bottom are made of platinum.” He explained. “The sculpture does have carbon in it, but not only in a manufactured form; some of it is crystalline. Do you see the eyes of the monkey? They’re natural diamonds.” I looked at the monkey’s face. Apart from a snarl portraying unfittingly sharp teeth two profound blue eyes twinkled.

“Thank you” was all I could find to say. Sir Harold kissed my forehead; I winced but decided that after such a generous thoughtful gift, he deserved to kiss my forehead—that was his last one for the year.

I sort of felt weird accepting such an expensive gift, but I tried to interpret it as an act of attempted love. I wanted it to be a token of good will or a type of house warming present. In that mindset, accepting the gift was almost easy. Almost.

Chapter Eighteen: The Paraplegic Recovery Suite

Chapter Eighteen

Flaky croissants and a sweet French espresso were the breakfast we had two days later. I’d never really liked coffee but I marveled at the brilliance of the tantalizing liquid that was making energetic sparks on my tongue.

This time, Alexia was too busy to join us. The break was a welcome and perhaps unwanted change; I was beginning to appreciate her perky nature. Her sweet charm always helped me forget the horrors of the night before.

The day after Gavin and I had ordered clothing, we found pants and shirts tucked away in the drawers of the dresser. All the tee-shirts were the same, except that mine were black and Gavin’s were all shades. The pants however came in four styles; sweats, jeans, casual trousers, and pajama bottoms. Like my shirts, I’d asked for all my pants to be black. Gavin had an assortment of blue, black, and khaki pants.

We’d spent nearly all our time working on the song and after only two days, we had the first half of the song done, including the chorus. That morning we were going to try running through it as far as we could get. It took a while to organize the jumbled scraps of paper into a playable composition but as soon as we were ready, we started.

Gavin sang the words he wrote beautifully; I’d known the song was romantic and about our love but I was stunned at the beauty of it. Perhaps I just loved it so much because Gavin was singing about me for me. Regardless of why I liked it, Gavin received a loving prize. I was so amazed by the far-from-perfect composition, I gave Gavin a big kiss.

To my embarrassment, we were caught making out; Alexia snuck in to deliver lunch. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll just be going now.” She backed out the door.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gavin rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“You, uh, you sounded really good; both of you.” She mumbled. “If I were you Sruun, I’d kiss him too, just for how cool it was.” I wasn’t quite sure what she meant but I nodded. I kind of felt like she was making an excuse that justified our kissing but if that were the case, she had no business giving us permission to kiss.

Instead of voicing my opinion, I asked an assertive question. “Being the Servant assigned to us, you have to bring us anything we ask for within an acceptable time frame, correct?”

My forcefulness surprised Alexia. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“Then let me speak with Jade Hisui Cataye. She came here with us.” My gaze was going to get me tried for murder one of these days.

Alexia was taken aback. “I-I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Th-they told me not to say—they told me to lie or something.” She stumbled in her wording. I didn’t like it.

“Then you know.” I scolded scathingly.

“What?”

“They wouldn’t have told you not to tell if you didn’t know.” I explained. I wanted to see Jade but people like Alexia were standing in my way.

“Please, just don’t ask about Miss Cataye.” She pleaded.

“Then what about Leon Gonzago?” Gavin asked; he was the only one in the room to care about that sporting goods store employee.

Alexia clapped her hands to her ears. “I can’t hear you! Laa-laa!”

“Fine, don’t tell me why I can’t see my only living relative.” I sneered. “Instead, take us to Sir Harold. I’m sure your boss would like to know of your breach of confidentiality.”

“But I didn’t say anything about where she is!” Alexia defended; her efforts only hindered her more.

“You said enough that I know you’re hiding something, and you just told me she’s not here.” I took a moment to glare. “Now if you’re willing to cooperate, I’ll reconsider telling Sir Harold.”

Alexia was starting to cry. “Miss Jade Cataye and Mr. Leon Gonzago have run away.” She sniffled. “That’s why you can’t see them, and also why you’re locked in this room.”

“What does Jade running away have to do with us being locked up? Are we being disciplined for Jade’s flight?” Gavin wondered.

“Sir Harold didn’t want you to escape also.” She turned her eyes to mine about halfway through her sentence. “He says you’re too important to the war to lose, whatever that means.”

“So, we’re stuck here, but for how long?” Gavin inquired.

“Until the Servants find Miss Cataye,” Alexia replied.

“Thank-you” I startled her. “Sit somewhere and calm down.”

“Excuse me?” She asked, dumbfounded.

“You’re crying and I won’t let you return to work in tears.”

Alexia moved to the edge of the bed; the curtains stretched taught under her weight. For a moment, I thought they’d tear beneath her too-pretty ironed skirt but they held strong.

“I’m not going to tell Sir Harold, but I do want to know why we haven’t seen him since we arrived. I’d have thought he’d want to speak with us.”

“He’s a busy man,” Alexia explained, wiping a tear from her cheek with the tip of her pinky. “He’s probably out promoting a bilingual world.”

“What do you mean?” Gavin felt for my hand, marched forward, and sat down on the bed next to her after sliding the curtains out of our way and tugging the strained curtains out from under Alexia’s posterior. Alexia stood up to help Gavin adjust the curtains; she smiled weakly when she did so.

“Sir Harold is Canadian, so he’s always trying to get people to speak French as much as they do English.” When Canada joined the government being established during the Unification, they insisted on keeping their two national languages. Other countries just agreed to speak English since it had been a common language as far back as the late twenty-second century. Canada however wanted to maintain their connection with a language other than English. As a result French was one of the few languages other than English, that was spoken by a large enough percentile to be worth learning.

“Sir Harold frequently travels the globe on expeditions to promote ‘Frenchyness’ as he calls it. Most of the time, when he’s away, he’s doing that, although for the past two years, he was being a hermit in the North-American wilderness.” Alexia finished telling her story about Sir Harold.

“Sounds almost typical of what people expect Canadians to do.” Gavin pointed out.

“It does, but this is the first time I’ve ever heard of someone doing it.” I agreed.

For the next two hours, the three of us nursed a conversation. Every time our discussion came close to flat-lining, somehow it was resuscitated.

Though I didn’t trust Alexia, it was comforting to interact with her. Gavin was a bit more open to her than me, but we were both able to enjoy her company.

Alexia had asked about Gavin and I, what our lives were like, and many other hospitable topics, but thankfully she avoided mentioning the Catrions. If she hadn’t, I might’ve fallen off the high-and-mighty throne I had established; being reminded of what had happened days earlier would have been an emotional plane crash.

By the time our conversation began concluding, we were all sitting cross-legged on the bed. Gavin and I leaned against the headboard while Alexia was hunched over at the foot of the bed. It was when she started to get up, that I noticed something. Above our heads on the underside of the roof of the bed, was a plaque similar to the one I’d seen in the train car garage. It read in bold letters “Paraplegic Recovery Suite”

Beneath that, the script was as follows.

“Tamina Jamieson was born without the use of the lower half of her body. Erma determined when she was born, in the hospital she was born in, that Tamina Jamieson would play an integral part in the War, so before the child was even an hour old, Sir Harold began paying for her health. He and the girl’s parents constructed a plan to combat the disability.

“Rather than cure her paralysis with super-human abilities, as is common for the type of treatment in cases of paralysis, Sir Harold and the Jamiesons agreed to only bring her to the level of a regular human being. Even so, some super-human capabilities were necessary.

“To help her with the ‘new’ legs, she had several micro-computers implanted in her brain and various other parts of her body. Apart from controlling the billions of nerve receptors in her legs, the micro-computers could connect to the internet and interface with most electronic devices so that the doctors could help her more efficiently. These micro-computers gave Tamina calculate enormous quantities in milliseconds and also remember word-for-word whatever she was taught.

“This room in McLeod Manor is dedicated to Tamina Jamieson because Account Number 0072214 has donated all the money the Jamiesons needed for the medical bills of their only daughter, provided that Tamina has a good home and is encouraged to follow her dream.”

Alexia left with a cordial wave good bye. Once again, Gavin and I were left to combat boredom with few weapons at our disposal. As it was getting late, our bout with boredom didn’t last long.

Gavin showered first, then I did. In the time that had passed, I’d relaxed a little about being away from Gavin; it was only a little. Unlike the first night, I managed to close the bathroom door so I wouldn’t come off as so much of a slut. That was about as much as I’d relaxed.

I came out of the bathroom wearing a pair of pajama pants and a tee-shirt over top the resizable undergarments. Gavin was waiting for me when my bare foot left the steamy bathroom.

“Sruun, where are you sleeping tonight?” He was kind but his message could be interpreted in at least two ways.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m not that comfortable sleeping in the same bed as you—it’s nothing personal, just my morals—but sleeping next to you is all that stops the nightmares.” In truth, it didn’t even do that, but it minimized Gavin’s appearance in them.

“So what do we do?” Gavin hoped, I thought, for me to decide.

“If it’s alright with you, I know I’m, going to go to you when the nightmares come.” I didn’t think my answer was all that helpful.

“Then,” He gulped. “Do you want to go ahead and, you know?” He drew a breath in through his nose. “Like you, I’m not the most comfortable sleeping so closely but I want to help you if I can.”

“Part of me says for us to go ahead and go to bed together, but if it’s okay, can we not?” My own morals were forcing me to watch Gavin die over and over again. What joy.

Chapter Seventeen: Life In Captivity

Chapter Seventeen

Gavin and I trooped back to the bed. All of a sudden, the few hopes I had were dashed. I sat on the bed with my hands in my lap. Gavin sat down next to me, hoping to calm me down. “So we’re prisoners?” He shrugged. “What’s going to stop us from escaping?”

“I don’t know,” I looked around. “Maybe the absence of windows?” It was true, the room had no windows.

“Is that all?” Gavin prodded.

“What are you getting at?” My pointer finger brushed the scarred tissue on my arm; I had a strong urge to relieve the building pressure. Sadly, several things stopped me from my sanity; namely Gavin, but the lack of a suitable knife also placed a damper on things. I had a plaintive wish that if I could find a blade, I’d be able to convince Gavin that in light of recent events, he would accommodate my needs. In reality, it was just a fantasy.

“Sure, we may not have an obvious way out, but we have,” He tried to be confident but his tongue was articulating words faster than his brain could fasten ideas to the speck. “Um,”

“You’re a genius.” If my tone had been a person’s skin, it would’ve needed half a bottle of moisturizing hand lotion.

“We could look around for an air-conditioning vent to crawl through, like in spy movies.”

“Gavin, I hate to break it to you, but spy movies don’t involve tool-using monsters who made a four level shopping mall the scene of a massacre nor do they have antiqued billionaires with a fetish for birthday suits!”

“But sci-fi war movies do, and aside from the heroes likely suffering from PTSD afterwards, they always have a shimmer of hope when the plot’s got them down.” Gavin had a knack for optimism. “I saw a laundry chute in the closet, isn’t that a shimmer of hope?”

I looked deep into his eyes, mostly for the shimmer of hope I so wanted. “We both know we couldn’t escape from this place through a laundry chute.”

I saw a glint sparkle in his eyes. “Maybe we don’t need to escape, at least not yet.”

“Are you saying we should just sit here, as prisoners?”

“No, but if we hide our concern for a while, maybe we could escape later, when it would be less noticeable.” Gavin explained. “Sir Harold said we could exploit his servants, perhaps that’s enough to get us through until we have a chance to escape.”

Gavin was beginning to succeed in lifting my spirits, although the progress was slow. Thankful for his efforts despite my pessimism, I hugged the boy.

“Let’s see if we can contact the servants so we can get some food.” Gavin suggested. “We slept through breakfast and probably lunch.”

Finding the way to contact the servants was difficult; there weren’t any bells or intercom systems in the room. Gavin and I scoured the room to find an attention getter for the servants. The solution came through technology but not before nearly an hour of searching. We found a way to contact the servants on a thin laptop hidden beneath the cover of the desk.

Almost as soon as Gavin pressed send on the message, a person knocked at the door. I answered the door to see a sixteen-year-old, blond-haired girl smiling standing in front of me.

“Hello, did you need something?” She asked pleasantly. She wore a short-sleeved light blue blouse, similar to the blouses waitresses wore at casual restaurants. Her blouse wasn’t tucked in, but instead it hung loosely over a long flowing skirt of the same color. The skirt she wore stretched to her ankles and looked like it would dance on its own if she did a pirouette. Overall, it was a good look for her but the most interesting that caught my eye was at her shoulder level; the energy beams holding Gavin and I in the room had turned off in order to let the girl in.

“Yes, we were hoping someone could bring us some food.” I stated.

“Sure thing!” She chimed. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank-you.”

She turned on her heel and started out the door before spinning around the other 180 degrees to face me again. “I almost forgot!” She reached behind her and unhooked a hand radio from her waist band. “Here, you can reach me at anytime with this radio; it’s already tuned to my channel and if you need anything, just talk. Of course, you can also use the computer to contact the rest of the Servants, but I’m here to serve you specifically unless you need something I can’t provide.” She winked and tapped her earpiece with a radiant smile. Having delivered her message, she bounced out of the room.

Gavin came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. We didn’t close the door until she left, and not surprisingly, as soon as she passed through the door, the bars reformed our prison.

We sat on the couch; the air had a smug, stagnant feel to it again. Pretending to be unaffected by our confinement wasn’t easy but perhaps Gavin and I could have a better time of it with some company. Doing something I wouldn’t normally do, I decided to invite the girl who’d just been here, into the room, if she had time that is.

I knew that in my right mind, I’d never accept a stranger into my personal space, even if she was near my age but I was afraid; watching thousands die bothered me so much, I wanted to know that there were still living breathing souls in the world. Sure, I’d seen a few dozen police officers sucked into the Catrion ship when Hubert died, and had even watched a man’s face melt off his skull but it wasn’t the same. I’d loathed the space Hubert took up, so his death wasn’t unwelcomed. The police officers didn’t seem to bother me because I didn’t know whether or not they had died; they were still alive when I last saw them. The shoppers in the mall however, I saw them alive, and moments later, dead. I needed to meet someone who was untouched by the macabre game death played.

Within ten minutes, the girl was back with a tray of blueberry muffins and a glass decanter of orange juice. “Here you go, I had the chef save some of the batter from breakfast so you’d have hot, fresh muffins whenever you woke up.”

“Thanks, that was very thoughtful of you.” I tried to be as cheerful as she was, but struggled. “If you’re not busy, won’t you come in and sit for a while?”

“I, uh,” she looked around, perhaps checking for one of the other Servants. “Sure! I’d love to!”

So, we all sat down on the long couch with plenty of room to spare.

“What’s your name?” Gavin asked while I peeled the top off a muffin and nibbled on the sweet crumble topping.

“I’m Alexia Davis. I’d ask your names but I already know them. Sir Harold filled all the Servants in on who you are.” She spoke with her hands a lot.

“So why are you here?” I asked. I was curious about her connection with Sir Harold.

“I live here. I’m working as a Servant because going to school here is free if I do.”

“Excuse-me, did you say ‘going to school here’? I thought this was just a house.” I wondered.

“Oh no!” She scrunched up her eyebrows and shook her head. “Sir Harold keeps this house as his home, but it also shelters the Servants, serves as an orphanage, and a university all in one. Sir Harold invites orphans to live here, people he thinks are significant, and also bright college students. The orphans of course get free tuition, but the college students who live and school here have to pay for it. Most pay by becoming Servants.”

“What about you? You seem a little young to be in college.” Gavin asked.

“You’re right, I’ll be seventeen in November.”

“Me too! What date?” Gavin was more excited than I could have been after the recent events.

“Really? I was born on the twenty-first—what about you?”

“Ha!” Gavin sort of pointed, but not really; he didn’t seem to be acting himself. “I’m older than you! My birthday is the fourteenth!”

“So how do you fit in?” I asked, eager to return to the previous topic of discussion. “You just said you’re too young to be a college student.”

“Actually, I am a college student. I graduated from high school a year early.” Alexia admitted. “I don’t like telling most people because most of them are jealous; they think I’m smarter than them, and that I think I’m better than them because of it.”

“It makes sense.” I ceded.

“So where are you staying?” Gavin asked. “Are there special rooms for the Servants?”

“I’m actually living just next door to you in the Honeybee Suite.” She responded.

“The Honeybee Suite?” I was in disbelief over such a dorky name. “You named your apartment the Honeybee Suite?”

“No! Of course not!” She defended herself. “Sir Harold did! Every room in McLeod Manor is dedicated to something Sir Harold has spent a large sum of money on.”

“Then what’s this room dedicated to?” I wasn’t all that interested, but it continued the conversation, hence my reason for asking.

“I believe it’s the Paraplegic Recovery Suite, but I’m not entirely sure. You’d have to find and read the plaque on the wall. It would say.” Alexia saw Gavin and I were finished eating, so she gathered what was left. “I’ve stayed long enough. I really should be getting back to work. Thank you for inviting me to sit with you.” She left.

Entertaining ourselves for the rest of the day was dull. Gavin spent most of the day stretched out on the couch reading a novel he’d found in the closet. I tinkered with sound waves on the piano to appease my boredom.

One would have thought that with both of us waking up at two-thirty in the afternoon, we would have been up all night afterwards, but I went to bed after a quick shower at nine. I heard Gavin plop down on the couch moments after I’d pulled the bed curtains shut.

Nightmares haunted my sleep. I watched Hubert die over and over again, only the man dieing transformed into Gavin half the time. Bodies littered the ground like dandelions on a green hill in the spring. Uncountable times did I trip over the body of the shoplifter to fall into the stroller containing the twins. Horrified, I always jumped up and kicked the stroller; I never intended to but I couldn’t avoid it. As the cycle of dreams started over, the wind pulled my hair across my nose and face; every time I’d turn my eyes away from the stinging wind, the truck I was in would roll over and dozens of men in uniform rocketed up into the almost human ship.

Gavin shook me awake. “Sruun! Sruun! It’s okay! I’m here!”

I blinked awake; cold sweat drenched my hair and torso. Almost as soon as I woke up, the images of the dream left me, except that I knew I’d been in danger and something had been about to happen. Not knowing what had frightened me was worse than knowing every detail of the dream; I couldn’t rationalize the images and found myself imagining the worst scenarios my mind could conjure. That alone was terrifying since I could create a graphic depiction worse than the dream, or because my imagined worst wasn’t as terrible as the dream had actually been.

“Sruun, are you alright?” Gavin scanned the depths of my eyes for an indicator that might help him determine my status.

“I’m,” I exhaled all of the air in my body, until my diaphragm was tight and my lungs empty. “Fine.”

Gavin was sitting on the edge of the bed; he was backed up to my hip and leaning over me. His eyes shimmered with concern and his lips were pressed tightly against one another.

Not sure what else to do, I propped myself up on my elbows. “I’m fine, it was just a bad dream.”

Gavin nodded. He knew it was a bad dream but he didn’t believe much else I’d said. “Would you feel better if I slept here again?”

Would I feel better? Of course I’d be at peace with Gavin so close! “No thanks, I’m fine, really.”

Gavin walked back to the couch and fell asleep. I didn’t bother to close the curtains and rolled onto my side to go back to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I was on top of Gavin on the couch. My ear was flat on his chest listening to his heartbeat and both of his arms were wrapped around me keeping me warm.

Alexia stopped by again that day, and again, I invited her in to talk. I found she was the best distraction I had, even if taking advantage of the distraction required I attempt to be social.

The breakfast she brought was delicious, although the words “out of place” also fit in the sentence. Fresh buttermilk biscuits and homemade orange marmalade were on the platter; I felt as if I were eating in a diner in the southern states of North America. The scrumptious cooking had the same welcoming aroma and hearty texture as the soul food served in a set-in-place trailer in a small county in Mississippi. All that was missing were the savory strips of greasy bacon or the other slices of happy, unhealthy cholesterol.

“Again, a continental breakfast, I see?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s not a problem, is it? I can bring something else if you like?”

“You don’t need to go through the trouble; this is fine, I was just wondering if I was seeing a pattern.”

She laughed; I could tell she was relieved I wasn’t going to make her go out of her way. “Continental breakfasts are Sir Harold’s wish. He hasn’t forbade other breakfasts but he did tell the Servants to serve baked or once-doughy things for breakfast and also to keep a variety of different foods coming to the inhabitants of McLeod Manor.

“So Sir Harold wishes for his guests to get a warm continental breakfast? What do those who want something else do?” Gavin asked.

“They just ask their assigned Servant for whatever they want and the Servant informs the chefs and it’s delivered to the guests exact specifications as quickly as possible. Just let me know if you need or want anything.” Alexia winked.

Before the conversation could continue or die off, I startled both of the other living entities in the room. “Would it be too much to ask for one of the servants to get our things?” I was thinking of my knife but they couldn’t be allowed to know that. “I’d like my laptop and maybe some clothes.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but that’s an abnormal request.” Alexia answered. At the perplexed looks of Gavin and I, she elaborated. “I don’t mean it’s strange, just that it’s not normal and requires a specially trained Servant to accommodate you.”

“It takes a specialist to go to an apartment to retrieve a sack full of clothes and two bookbags?” Gavin inquired.

“Yes, because it’s a specific item that isn’t available locally. If you want, I can get you some clothes.” Alexia suggested.

“That’s better than nothing.” Gavin commented and I nodded in agreement.

“Let me run next door to get another hand computer so you both can order what you want.” Alexia darted out of the room, leaving our door wide open. I saw the bars holding Gavin and I captive vanish when Alexia came near them, and then reappear the moment she veered to the right. Moments later, she was back with a computer and booklets of glossy paper. I thought the books were magazines Alexia wanted to show us, but contrary to my thoughts, they were shopping catalogues.

Alexia handed me everything she’d been holding and gave Gavin a second computer from her back jeans pocket. “Just type on the computer your basic sizes and a color preference, if you have one.” She said with a cheerful flash of her white teeth. “The catalogues are so you can order a special item. You could also describe special items on the computer but anything other than the basic clothing will take time.” Alexia spoke like an infomercial host; she was quite good at it. “Basic clothing will either arrive this afternoon or tonight, and if tonight, we’ll put them in the dresser for you.” Alexia took a seat at the desk.

Trying not to smear the glob of sticky jelly on my thumb onto the soft buttons, I typed in everything the computer asked for.

Gavin finished just before I did and so he collected my computer to give back to Alexia. She departed soon afterwards, taking with her our leftover food.

Having little better to do, I sat down at the piano; I was fortunate to have it with my laptop in my bag on another continent. Without this piano, I would’ve gone crazy from cabin fever. Gratefully, my fingers skated atop the keys; the reverberating chords improved my mood.

“Play that thing you just did back again.” Gavin stood up from his position on the couch and walked over to sit next to me on the piano bench. “That was really cool what you just did.”

“What, this?” I flexed my fingers in rhythm on first a white key, then a black one, and then three more white ones in succession.

“Yes! That was awesome!” Gavin enthused. “If I can write the lyrics, would you want to write a song together?”

“I’m not that bad of a lyricist myself, so we could both work on it.” I admitted realizing a flock of butterflies had entered my stomach. “But yeah, I’d love to write a song with you. Who knows, it might even keep us busy while we’re confined here.”