Tag: Sam

Just in Time — Interlude 18.3

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Sam

Sam took another turn and the wild spinning in his head stopped, lifting like a fog. He was close enough that he could hear Lachlan speaking at the back of the group.

“Seriously? ‘We’ve got company’?” said Lachlan. “I didn’t realize we were starring in a mediocre action movie.”

He waited to hear his own reply of “shut up”, but there was only silence. When Lachlan spoke, his voice was almost too quiet for Sam to make out.

“He’s gone. Sam’s gone.”

“Gone?” came Mrs. Sharma’s reply. “What do you mean gone?”

Lachlan replied, but this time Sam couldn’t make out his words.

So when Sam traveled back to a time he’d already been, his past self would vanish?

He made a mental note to ponder the implications of that later, but now, he had a mission. The important thing was he didn’t have to worry about causing a paradox by having two version of himself exist at once or something.

A shadow shifted in the corner of Sam’s eye, catching his attention. He turned his head. The creature was there, shambling towards the unsuspecting group. Towards Lachlan.

Sam broke into a run, surprised at how light he felt on his feet. Despite being somewhat slight, he’d never been a fast runner. In gym class, he’d finished the mile run in just over 15 minutes. Now, he was moving about twice that speed.

He heard Lachlan cry out as the creature grabbed him, and saw commotion break out among the group. Sam had to act now.

He was armed and ready to fight the monster, but he was so much smaller than it was. If only he could attack from above…

Wait a minute. Maybe he could. He could move in impossible directions, directions that froze time around him as he walked. A mundane direction like ‘up’ was nothing compared to that.

He lifted both feet off the cobblestones and soared upward, fifteen feet above the street.

The group had spotted him now and were staring up at him. Even the monster paused, contorting its head upward to see what had captured everyone’s attention.

Sam took advantage of its distraction, flying toward it and slashing at it with the longer sword in his good hand. It let out a surprised shout and twisted around, snapping a small featureless mouth at him.

“Let him go,” said Sam.

Lachlan’s eyes went wide as he spotted Sam for the first time.

“S… Sam? W-what?”

Sam held the swords up, crossing them in front of him and then slashing the blades downward in a way that he hoped looked cool and intimidating.

The swords were heavy, and Sam didn’t know how to wield them beyond what he’d seen on TV and in movies, but he had enough control over his body that his movements felt smooth and graceful, at least with his left hand. His right hand was a different story; he was able to keep a firm hold on the sword with the bony parts of his missing fingers, but there was an uncomfortable, prickling pain every time he gripped it too hard.

“What, am I supposed to be scared of some loser kid playing with swords?”

The creature unwrapped an arm from Lachlan and swung it at Sam’s head. Sam blocked it with the larger sword, but the impact still shook his body and sent him flying backwards through the air. He stopped a few feet short of the roof of a building and flew back toward the creature.

Behind the creature, Mrs. Sharma retrieved her axes and started forward.

“No,” she said, “but you should be scared of me.”

The creature twisted its head back toward her, whipping out its arm as she approached in an attempt to knock her off her feet. She leapt over the outstretched arm.

While the creature was distracted, Sam slashed at its back again. This time, he drew blood.

Fighting off the mental image of Lachlan lying on the shop floor surrounded by his own blood, Sam held his breath and slashed again.

The creature roared in pain and outrage.

It threw Lachlan, tossing him aside as casually as one would toss a used sock, and Sam’s heart dropped as Lachlan flew through the air toward the same shop window.

Then Sam remembered. Everything was different now.

Now, he could do something about it.

His hands shaking, he dropped the swords, and made one more sickening turn. Time stopped around him and Lachlan hung suspended in midair.

Sam fought off a wave of nausea as he floated downward, wrapping his arms around Lachlan and pulling him to the ground.

He held Lachlan tight as he turned back into linear time, and found himself pushed forward onto the ground by the force of Lachlan’s fall, his back scraping against the cobblestones. An object in motion stayed in motion, apparently, even where time-warping shenanigans were concerned.

The two boys landed side by side on the curb, Sam’s arms still around Lachlan. Sam could feel Lachlan shaking.

Sam looked over at Lachlan, who was looking at him with such intensity it made him nervous. Sam broke eye contact, unwrapping his arms from Lachlan and standing up.

Sam saw the swords a few feet away from him and headed toward them, grabbing the longer sword in his right hand.

The monster spotted him and let out an inhuman laugh.

“Go ahead, loser kid,” it said. “Try it.”

Sam hovered a few feet off the ground, staring the creature down.

“Alright,” he said. “You asked for it!”

He flew swiftly toward the creature and slammed the hilt into its head. It crumpled to the ground.

Sam followed suit, strength leaving his body as he dropped downward toward the street.

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Change — Interlude 18.2

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Sam

Sam had always considered himself clumsy and uncoordinated, and it had never really bothered him. As far as he’d been concerned, having a sharp mind was much more important than sharp reflexes.

Until now, he hadn’t known what he’d been missing.

His reflexes had been a little sharper before when he was catching the chip bags, but it hadn’t been anything like this. He walked onward in a direction that didn’t make sense to him, monitoring and adjusting his gait without even having to think about it, stabilizing himself as easily and naturally as breathing, even with the dizzy, heart-lurching sensation that should have overwhelmed him.

When he’d been a kid, he hadn’t been able to walk without looking down at his feet. Once, his fourth grade teacher had misinterpreted it as a sign of a ‘bad attitude’ and demanded Sam lift his head. He’d obeyed, and promptly turned his ankle and tumbled to the ground.

Even at his current age, he’d always had to look periodically at the ground as he walked to make sure there were no obstacles and his feet were in the right place.

Now, he walked with his gaze straight ahead, without so much as a glance downward. He’d never felt so confident, so comfortable with his movements, and he was moving in a direction no human should have been able to go.

Somehow, he was walking through time.

He could see his destination as plainly as he saw the houses and shops around him, a point a few minutes before the creature had come up behind them.

He thought about warning everyone, but he’d already tried that and it hadn’t worked.

His reflexes were so sharp now, and his movements so precise. He thought of his conversation with Lachlan earlier, of Lachlan’s very unscientific hypothesis.

“Something very weird is going on with you.”

He thought of Mrs. Sharma, an average-height, slightly malnourished-looking woman, and how she was able to swing fire axes around as easily as if they weighed an ounce.

He didn’t understand it, but Lachlan had been right. This place could change people. It had changed Mrs. Sharma, and now it was changing him.

Not being able to wrap his head around what was happening to him made him feel unsteady in a way that had nothing to do with the violent spinning in his head. But he didn’t need to understand it right now. Now, he had to save his friend.

He’d be able to fight the monster on his own; he knew it. He didn’t feel much stronger, but he was faster, more alert, with total control over his movements.

Mrs. Sharma and the Stanleys or whatever they were called hadn’t been able to save Lachlan. But they hadn’t had the element of surprise on their side.

Sam just needed a weapon.

His stomach heaved as he changed his course, making a right-angle turn in another direction that didn’t make sense to him, moving through space perpendicular to time. He could just make out his companions down the road, standing still, as though frozen in time.

He turned back toward Mrs. Sharma’s house, moving as quickly as he could, though he supposed the word ‘quickly’ didn’t apply here. If his speed was the magnitude of the rate of change of his position with time, and he wasn’t moving through time, how could he really be ‘quick’?

Despite his missing shirt and jacket, he didn’t feel cold anymore. He hadn’t since he’d made that strange turn and frozen time around him. He didn’t feel warm either; he felt a complete absence of temperature.

Since temperature was the kinetic energy of particles, if time had frozen, temperature would have frozen too. But if no energy was being moved from the matter around him as heat, wouldn’t the temperature be absolute zero? Shouldn’t he have frozen to death instantly?

For that matter, how was he breathing? How was he still alive independent of time? If time was frozen around him, how was air moving in and out of his lungs and blood pumping through his veins?

He shook his head. Right now, he had to focus. He could worry about all the laws of physics he was breaking later.

No, he corrected himself. ‘Right now’ and ‘later’ weren’t concepts that applied anymore.

He reached Mrs. Sharma’s white stucco house and entered, heading down the hall to the weapon storage room. He picked up the two discarded swords, effortlessly this time even as heavy as they were, instinctively knowing the precise grip to use with his right hand. Holding them up the way he’d seen a character do on TV once, he left the house and headed back the way he’d come.

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Don’t Close Your Eyes — Interlude 18.1

Anna B.3 Comments

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Content Warning: Death

Sam

Mrs. Sharma looked up from where she was leaning over Lachlan, and Sam’s chest lurched at the sadness on her stoic face.

“What is it?” he said. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’s stopped breathing,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Can’t you do CPR or something?” said the girl with brown hair. “Can’t you help him?”

“He’s lost too much blood,” said Mrs. Sharma. “I’m sorry.”

“What… what do you mean?” said Sam.

“Your friend is gone.”

Gone?

Just like that, he was gone?

How was that possible? Just a few minutes ago, he’d been walking around, making fun of Sam, talking and complaining about being stuck here…

No. Mrs. Sharma was wrong. Lachlan wasn’t gone; Sam could feel it somehow. He was dead here, in this time and place, but that didn’t make him gone.

There was still something Sam could do to save him, though he didn’t understand it exactly.

Sam prided himself in being able to understand the logic behind most everything he encountered. On the rare occasion he couldn’t wrap his head around something, he usually liked to step back and analyze a situation before he acted.

He didn’t bother analyzing this time.

The sounds around him begin to blur and overlap–talking, arguing, and at least two people crying–until they sounded like distant white noise.

Sam took a step in a direction he didn’t understand.

On the first day of his internship, he’d been forced to do a trust fall; to stand on a picnic table and drop backwards, to hold his breath, close his eyes, and entrust his safety to a bunch of morons standing below him. He’d lost his nerve standing on the table, refusing to move to the edge and fall, and the orientation leader had told him he was too hostile, too belligerent. He hadn’t argued, because somehow being labeled difficult was less embarrassing than admitting he was scared.

Finally, Chad from marketing had convinced Sam to turn around, to move a little closer to the table’s edge and see how he felt. If he still wasn’t comfortable, he could always get down, but he should at least try being a good sport.

As soon as Sam had moved close enough to the table’s edge, Chad had winked at the orientation leader, and Sam had found himself pushed from the edge of the table, airborne, tumbling backwards as his heart lurched into his throat and spun around.

The whole exercise had done absolutely nothing for his ability to trust strangers.

The sensation Sam was feeling now, as he took that first strange step, reminded him of falling off that table, if that heart-lurching feeling had been multiplied a hundredfold. It was all the worst parts of riding a looping roller coaster; Sam fell backwards, forwards, and down at the same time, his sense of equilibrium setting off blaring alarms in his head.

All the while, his feet were still on the ground, moving one in front of the other.

For a moment, he turned to his side–though which side, he wasn’t sure–and saw one of the girls in their group. It was the dark-haired girl with some kind of European accent, the one who was friends with Chelsea.

The girl looked at him, her eyes wide with panic and confusion, then stumbled, falling to the ground, blurring, and vanishing from view.

Sam continued walking, following his instincts because he had nothing else to go on.

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7.12

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Content Warning: Blood, graphic description of injury

Lachlan

Few feelings can compare to the feeling of being in immediate mortal danger, and being completely unable to do anything about it.

It was a feeling that Lachlan had experienced only once before, after he’d been carried from the truck into that clinical white room, as the gravity of his situation had finally hit him. He felt it again as he struggled against the creature, but this time, there were no drugs to dull the sheer, all-consuming panic.

Sure, his life had been in danger more times than he could count over the past few days, but this felt different. He was unable to move his arms or struggle, powerless to defend himself.

He thought of being paralyzed in the back of that truck, not able to fight back or cry out as he was lifted into that room with no idea what would happen next, and his panic grew. The more he tried and failed to move his arms from his sides and break free of the creature’s grip, the more paralyzed he felt.

He felt detached again as his legs swung a meter above the ground, but this time, there were no drugs to explain it. His friends’ speech blended together more and more, until he couldn’t tell who was talking.

“–thought you said they weren’t dangerous–“

“–usually aren’t, but they can be very strong and sometimes–“

“–just standing there! Why don’t you help him?!”

“–holding him in front of its weak point. I just need to get behind it–“

“–if we can knock it over, I can kick it like I did before–“

The creature lurched, and Lachlan saw the largest skull squid had wrapped an arm around the creature’s leg. More of Falcon’s brothers reached out, prying at the creature’s long arms, trying to free Lachlan. The creature kicked, swaying back and forth toward a shop building on the side of the road.

The creature stumbled, and its arms gave way, losing its grip on Lachlan and sending him flying.

Glass shattered as he hit the shop window, nicking his arm and chest as he fell through. He rolled over onto his back, feeling weak and lightheaded as the panic subsided.

Mrs. Sharma ran toward the creature, axe brandished, but one of Falcon’s brothers dispatched it first, wrapping a tendril around its neck, then twisting until there was a snapping sound. The creature crumpled.

Lachlan tried to stand, but he felt too weak.

His friends rushed to the shop, crowding around him.

“Oh, my god,” said Naomi. “Oh, my god, Lachlan.”

“Oh, my god, yourself,” he said.

He looked up at his friends, noticing their expressions of wide-eyed horror.

“What?” he said. “What’s everyone looking at?”

“Shh,” said Chelsea. “It’s okay. Don’t try to talk.”

“Everyone move over,” said Mrs. Sharma. “Let me through to him.”

“No, he needs air,” said Chelsea. “Give him some space.”

“Unless one of you has a master’s degree in biology I don’t know about, I’m the most qualified to help your friend. If you care about him at all, you’ll move out of the way.”

“What are you talking about?” said Lachlan. “I’m fine. Well, as fine as can be expected, considering… you know…”

He still felt so weak, and the feeling was getting worse instead of better. He felt colder than he had before, and there was a strange, empty feeling in his head that made dark spots flicker at the edge of his vision.

Lachlan’s friends moved out of the way, and Mrs. Sharma approached him crouching down at his left side.

“Naomi,” said Mrs. Sharma. “Come lift his left arm above his heart.”

Lachlan looked down at his left arm, and realized why everyone was so worried.

When Sam had lost his fingers, Lachlan had thought there had been a lot of blood. Now, he realized he hadn’t had any baseline for what ‘a lot of blood’ really was. His blood was everywhere, bright red blood spurting from his arm and dark blood flowing from his chest, soaking through his glass-shredded clothes and pooling around him.

“I… oh, fuck,” he said. “Oh, fuck…”

How was this possible? The glass had only cut him a little. Even now, he hardly felt any pain as he bled out onto the shop floor.

How had he not noticed that sickening copper smell?

Naomi held up Lachlan’s arm.

“What are you going to do with that knife?” said Naomi.

Mrs. Sharma cut away the torn pieces of Lachlan’s sleeve at his shoulder. She examined his arm, then pressed down on the inside of it. Whatever she did seemed to ease the bleeding.

Sam pulled off his jacket and removed his undershirt, handing it to Mrs. Sharma.

“Here, maybe you can use this to make a tourniquet or something.”

“A scarf would be better for a tourniquet, but I can use this to bandage his chest. Chelsea, give me your scarf.”

The cold dizzy feeling was starting to overwhelm him as his vision begin to blur.

“Quickly, Chelsea. Unless you want your friend to die. Someone, find me a stick.”

Lachlan fought to stay alert, but he couldn’t stop himself from slipping into unconsciousness.

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7.11

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Lachlan

Lachlan was getting really tired of this place.

He couldn’t make sense of anything here. Where had the snake man come from? Why did Mrs. Sharma, Angelina, Chelsea and the bat thing all seem to know him?

Why were Chelsea and Angelina carrying around a little Italian-speaking bat creature in the first place?

An empty flower pot vanished from a porch with a ripping sound, and Lachlan sighed.

At first, he’d been enjoying the mysteries of this place and debating with Sam how things might work here. But that was before the mysteries of this place had gotten completely ridiculous.

Maybe his initial theory had been right. Maybe everything here was just a drug-induced fever dream.

Or maybe the mad scientist who had Lachlan’s brain in a jar was feeling particularly sadistic today.

The group split to walk around the snake man, and the two sisters followed, just outside their group’s perimeter. Lachlan accidentally made eye contact with one and she reached out a strange, toothy hand and snapped it at him, then winked.

“Oh, fuck off,” he said.

Sam echoed his thoughts as they stepped over one of the snake man’s massive arms.

“I hate this place.”

Before Lachlan could agree, Sam froze, glancing behind them.

“What is it?” said Lachlan.

“There’s something following us.”

“Of course there is,” said Lachlan. “Because the Donner sisters and the fucking snake man weren’t enough trouble.”

“We should probably tell Mrs. Sharma.”

“Probably,” said Lachlan. “Somehow, I doubt she’ll take us seriously until whatever it is actually starts trying to have us for a delicious afternoon snack.”

“Afternoon doesn’t actually exist in this place,” said Sam.

“Eh.” Lachlan shrugged, looking back over his shoulder.

He could see what Sam was talking about now; a tall, humanoid shape shambled toward them, its neck bent at an unnatural angle.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Sharma,” said Sam.

“What?” she said.

“I think we’ve got company.”

“Seriously? ‘We’ve got company’?” said Lachlan. “I didn’t realize we were starring in a mediocre action movie.”

“Shut up,” said Sam.

Mrs. Sharma sighed.

“This had better be worth my time. What kind of company?”

“Company of the… monstrous persuasion,” said Sam.

“Great.” Mrs. Sharma sighed. “Just great. This is exactly what we don’t need right now. Everyone, stop walking, slithering, flying, or whatever your preferred method of locomotion.”

Everyone obeyed, even the sisters. The group turned around to face the creature.

Lachlan realized with a jolt that the creature was only a few feet away now, stretching its long, thin arms toward him. Before he could react, it was right in front of him.

He cried out as its arms tightened around his body, jerking him away from the group.

A girl shouted his name, probably Chelsea or Naomi.

He could hear his companions’ panicked voices overlapping, blending together and fading into the background as he fought to get away.

His feet left the ground as the creature lifted him into the air, swinging him back and forth. He kicked backwards and pulled at the arms holding him, trying to free himself, but the creature was too strong.

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Interlude 17 – The Collapse

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Zogzhesh

Zogzhesh flicked his tongue out and tasted the scents–the many unremarkable human scents, the strange and artificial scents of the creatures surrounding the humans. In the midst of all those unexceptional smells, four of the humans stood out–a strange, otherworldly edge to their ape pheromones.

There were two more humans with the power of the terrible ones?

It didn’t matter. There were more urgent things to focus on than that. The mature female human had pulled something from her bag, and the metallic smell made him think it was a weapon.

She was puny, but size could be deceiving. More importantly, dozens of the artificial creatures stood behind her, some nearly as large as him.

Zogzhesh felt his mouth begin to yawn open involuntarily as the unfamiliar sensation of fear crept in.

Oh no. Not this.

He had to make his retreat. He would go back, find Angelina Bianchi before she’d accumulated the entourage, and she would help him get home. He had to get away from these dangerous creatures before–

It was too late. He felt his head bend backward, his body convulsing as he dropped to the ground.

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Mona

Mona watched the snake man writhe around on his back for a few seconds, then grow still, tongue lolling out of its mouth. A few drops of blood trickled onto the cobblestones. Moments later, a rancid smell filled the air.

“Um,” said Jen. “What the heck just happened?”

“Is he okay?” said Angelina.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not,” said Sam.

One of the sisters poked the snake man with her foot.

“I think he’s dead,” she said. “Why don’t we eat him?”

“It’s no fun if he’s dead,” said the other sister. “I like my meals screaming in terror.”

Mona did her best to ignore them as she looked down at the snake man. She walked behind him, and leaned down to look at the top of his head. His eyes moved, following her as she walked around him.

“Hm,” she said. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is one word for this,” said Lachlan.

“What’s with the smell?” said Sam. “He died two seconds ago. Why does he already smell like roadkill?”

“He said he was a time traveler,” said Angelina. “Maybe it has to do with that?”

“He’s not dead,” said Mona. “He’s in a state of thanatosis.”

“I remember that word!” said Jen. “Thana-whatchamacallit. You said it to that monster right before I met you!”

“If you’re calling it ‘thana-whatchamacallit’, then you don’t remember the word,” said Mona, “but yes. The Dave fabrication you saw was in a state of partial thanatosis. This is a much more elaborate deception.”

“What is thanatosis?” said Jen.

“It’s an adaptive behavior in which animals take on the appearance of death,” said Mona.

“Oh!” said Jen. “So basically he’s playing possom.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” said Mona. “Virginia opossums do something similar.”

“Is he trying to lull us into a false sense of security?” said Jen. “Should we be like, running away?”

“No,” said Mona.

She sheathed her axes and leaned down at the snake man’s side. She pushed, rolling him over so he lay face down. Tongue still hanging from his mouth, he flopped back over onto his back.

“Um, what are you doing?” said Jen.

“Heterdon platirhinos,” said Mona. “The eastern hog-nosed snake.”

“Okay then,” said Jen. “I’m still totally confused.”

“It’s a species of snake with an expandable neck, sometimes mistaken for a cobra by idiots who don’t realize cobras don’t live in North America. It’s known for its very convincing ability to play dead when threatened. It spasms, flips onto its back, and even emits a foul-smelling glandular secretion.”

“Ew,” said Jen.

“Wow,” said Sam. “That… is actually really interesting.”

“It is,” said Mona, “and pretty funny for something that claims to be all-powerful.”

“What should we do?” said Angelina.

“We do nothing,” said Mona. “We pretend he’s not even here.”

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7.10

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Chelsea

Chelsea looked up at the shadow shifting between the two houses, suddenly glad that Angelina hadn’t let go of her hand after they’d stopped singing. She squeezed Angelina’s hand tighter.

Jen turned to Chelsea and Angelina with a bright smile.

“We’ll be fine! Look how many of these guys we have on our side.” Jen gestured toward Falcon’s brothers.

A nearby brother who still had hands gave them a thumbs up. Chelsea gave him a smile and wave that felt awkward.

Mrs. Sharma was still facing down the two sisters. Chelsea couldn’t see her face, but Mrs. Sharma’s posture was almost too rigid, to the point of making her look afraid.

“You expect me to believe that you have no idea what’s back there in the shadows?”

“Someone’s flattering herself. We don’t expect you to believe anything,” said the taller sister. “You’re not in charge of us anymore. We don’t care enough to lie to you.”

“I’m not flattering myself, and I’m not under any misconception that you care about me. You’ll lie to anyone. Whether or not you care has nothing to do with it.”

There was another movement in the shadows between the two houses. Then a humanoid figure about three meters tall rose up.

She heard Belfry sniff the air, then felt him begin to tremble.

As the figure approached, she could make out the silhouette of four massive, powerful arms.

“What the heck is that thing?” said Jen.

“That’s definitely not one of our sisters,” said the shorter sister.

“Hey,” said Angelina. “We know that guy!”

Zogzhesh walked toward them, his tongue flicking in the air.

“You know a giant snake monster?” said Lachlan.

“I’m not even gonna ask,” said Sam.

“Probably a wise decision,” said Lachlan.

Mrs. Sharma’s body grew even more rigid, folding her arms defensively in front of her. Chelsea wondered how she managed the defensive position while still holding onto the knives.

“It’s you.” Mrs. Sharma’s voice was small, with a subtle tremor.

“We meet again, Mona Sharma,” said Zogzhesh.

“What do you want with me?” she said.

“You think I’m here for you? I see you’re still as self-important as ever.” Zogzhesh stroked his chin with his scepter. “Then again, your ego was what allowed you to escape my judgement.”

“If you’re not here for me, then why are you here?”

“Angelina Bianchi stands behind you, correct?”

“One of the kids behind me is named Angelina,” said Mrs. Sharma. “She said she encountered you before, but I’m not sure why you’d be looking for her.”

“Hi!” said Angelina. “What’s up?”

Angelina let go of Chelsea’s hand and started forward, pushing her way between Naomi and Mrs. Sharma with her shoulder so she stood in front of Zogzhesh and the two sisters. Chelsea was surprised Mrs. Sharma didn’t scold Angelina for shoving her.

Chelsea wished Angelina wouldn’t stand so close to three very dangerous creatures. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the two sisters seemed to be eyeing Angelina more hungrily than Chelsea was comfortable with.

“You promised to help me return to my home,” said Zogzhesh. “It would seem you’ve forgotten your promise.”

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7.8

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Lachlan

Lachlan could just make out the dark shape against the building wall. After a few moments, another shape joined it.

“Pardon me for speaking up,” he said, “but our shadowy friend appears to have company.”

“I’m more than capable of looking for myself, thank you,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Well, excuse me for graciously trying to give you a little heads up,” said Lachlan. “Next time I’ll just let you get torn to shreds by the monsters.”

Mrs. Sharma ignored him, turning to face the two dark shapes that approached them from the shadows. They were roughly human-shaped, but it was hard to make out the details.

“Everyone stay behind the Stanley fabrications,” said Mrs. Sharma. “I’ll handle this.”

The two shapes moved closer, and Lachlan froze as he saw their faces.

The sisters.

“Not again,” muttered Sam.

The sisters focused on Mrs. Sharma, stalking toward her. Mrs. Sharma stiffened, shedding her air of confidence.

“Aw, look who it is,” said the taller sister. “Our old friend.”

“It’s been a while, Mrs. Sharma,” said the other, putting a mocking emphasis on Mrs. Sharma’s name.

“Leave me alone,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“But we haven’t seen you in so long,” said one of the sisters. “Don’t you want to catch up?”

Both sisters took a step closer.

“Don’t play games with me,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“But you make it so much fun, doesn’t she, sister?”

“So much fun.”

The sisters took another step, their eyes falling in unison on the knife in Mrs. Sharma’s hand.

“How cute,” said one of the sisters. “She’s too afraid to use that knife, even with a dozen Stanleys backing her up.”

“She’s definitely not afraid to use the knife,” said Jen. “I saw her take down this big giant monster, and it was so cool–“

“I don’t need your backup, Jen. And I am not afraid,” said Mrs. Sharma. “I’d just prefer not to harm you if I can help it. Don’t force my hand.”

“Aw, poor thing,” said the taller sister. “It looks like she’s still sentimental about us. Even after we tried to poison her.”

“It would almost be sweet if it wasn’t so pathetic,” said the shorter sister.

“Why are you bothering me?” said Mrs. Sharma.

She sounded as though she was trying to adopt her usual stern tone, but she couldn’t stop an edge of fear from creeping into her voice.

“We were just curious, really,” said one of the sisters. “We’ve never seen you with so many friends before.”

“I wonder what she’s up to. What do you think, sister?”

“I bet she’s still trying to find her little girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” said Mahender. “Wait, what?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, and it’s none of your business,” said Mrs. Sharma.

Lachlan couldn’t tell whether she was talking to Mahender, the sisters, or all three at the same time.

“I’d give up on that if I were you,” said the taller sister. “I’m sure she’s dead by now. I bet she’s been chopped up for parts.”

“I bet she was awake when they did it,” said the shorter sister. “I bet she screamed. I bet–“

In a single fluid motion, Mrs. Sharma pulled a second knife from her bag with her free hand and lunged forward, holding a knife point to each sister’s chest.

“If you want to die, keep talking. Otherwise, I highly recommend you leave us alone.”

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7.7

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Naomi

“She’s more than a piece of biotechnology?” said Sam. “Does that mean she’s really advanced or…?”

He trailed off as Mrs. Sharma whipped around.

Naomi couldn’t see Mrs. Sharma’s facial expression, but it was intimidating enough to make Sam look at the ground and say “Okay, shutting up now.”

“I mean that she’s a person, not some tool or piece of technology,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Oh,” said Sam. “Sorry, I just thought…”

“Have I given any indication in the short time we’ve known each other that I cared about what you thought?” said Mrs. Sharma. “If I have, I did not intend to do that.”

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” said Naomi, “How do you know Sarah, exactly. One of the… fabs said you created them. Did you create her too?”

“I didn’t ‘create’ anybody.”

“Yes, you did,” said Angelina. “Don’t you have kids?”

Mrs. Sharma sighed.

“That’s obviously not what I was referring to.”

“I thought you did create the fabs,” said Mahender. “I thought that was part of your job.”

“As usual, you were wrong,” said Mrs. Sharma. “No one created the fabrications. It was more complicated than that.”

“Then where did they come from?” said Sam.

“They were grown from a kind of genetic template,” said Mrs. Sharma. “It’s very complicated–definitely not something I’d expect you to understand.”

“Get wrecked,” said Lachlan.

“Try me,” said Sam. “I have an IQ of 140.”

“Who told you that?” said Mrs. Sharma. “Did you take a quiz online?”

“No, I–The test was administered by a professional!”

“Quizilla.com is not a professional,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“My IQ is 152,” said Angelina.

“Bullshit!” Lachlan mock-coughed into his hand.

“Wow, mine’s only 106,” said Jen. “Is everyone here but me like, a genius?”

“I can assure you the answer to that question is no,” said Mrs. Sharma.

Naomi glanced back at her friends again, but as her gaze swept across the alley beside them, she saw a dark shape duck into a shadow.

She thought about alerting everyone, but she didn’t want to alarm them if the dark shape turned out to be her imagination.

“I don’t know my IQ,” said Lachlan, “but I think we can safely estimate that it’s over 200. Quite possibly even 300.”

“And you’re calling my IQ bullshit?” said Angelina.

Naomi glanced back at the alley. Something stirred in the dark.

“Um, guys,” said Naomi.

“How do so many of you even know your IQs?” said Mahender. “I wouldn’t even know how to get a test for that.”

“My brothers and I all have IQs of 130,” said the fab with the tentacle hoop skirt.

“Guys,” said Naomi.

“What is it, Naomi?” said Mrs. Sharma.

“I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think there might be something in the shadows between those buildings over there.”

Naomi pointed to her left.

Mrs. Sharma looked over, reaching over her shoulder into her bag and removing her knife.

“How do you do that?” said Angelina. “How do you just reach into your bag and pull out the exact thing–“

Mrs. Sharma shushed her.

“I shouldn’t even have to say this,” said Mrs. Sharma, “but everyone–be quiet!”

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7.5

Anna B.1 Comment

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Lachlan

“Stop that noise this instant!” said Mrs. Sharma. “Are you trying to let every creature in this town know we’re here? You’re far too old to be acting like unruly children anyway.”

“There it is,” said Lachlan.

“It’s not noise,” said Angelina. “It’s ‘Insieme andiam da Mago,’ a cinematic classic.”

“I don’t care what it is. Stop it. Now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m telling you to.”

“That’s not a reason. Why are you telling me to?”

“I already gave you my reasons. You’re too old to be acting like little kids, and if you keep being so loud, you’ll attract something dangerous.”

“Neither of those are good reasons.”

“Excuse me?”

Angelina put her hands on her hips, which ended up looking awkward because she was still walking.

“I said neither of those are good reasons.”

“This oughta be good.” Sam whispered, probably more loudly than he’d intended.

Mrs. Sharma’s gaze fell on Sam.

“What?” he said.

“You’re shit at whispering, that’s what,” said Lachlan.

“Are none of you capable of shutting up and walking quietly? It’s bad enough I have to deal with my idiot nephew. One ill-behaved child is more than enough.”

“I’m 25,” protested Mahender.

“Then act like it.”

“I wasn’t even doing anything! I was just walking quietly! I’m not even the one you’re mad at right now! Besides, it’s not as if they were even doing anything wrong. They were just having fun. Just because you hate fun doesn’t make it inherently wrong.”

“I don’t hate fun. I just have very little tolerance for immature people and immature behavior. Do you know what I was doing at 25?”

“Yes, because I’ve heard your ‘what I was doing at 25’ speech a thousand times. It never gets more interesting, by the way.”

“I was actually making something of myself. I was working hard, taking care of my family and furthering my career.”

“And how’d that career work out for you?”

Mrs. Sharma clenched and unclenched her fist.

“That’s beside the point.”

“Is it, though?”

“I’m not going to have this argument again,” said Mrs. Sharma. “Not now.”

“This whole conversation is really making me appreciate my family,” whispered Sam.

“And just what do you mean by that?” said Mrs. Sharma.

“Here’s a suggestion, Samurai,” said Lachlan. “You might want to stop whispering things about the scary axe lady.”

“You know nothing about my family,” said Mrs. Sharma. “And do not call me the ‘scary axe lady’. I’m not some horror movie villain.”

Mahender signed something to his brothers that made Falcon hold back a laugh with his hand. Mrs. Sharma shot them both a look.

“I’m making a new rule,” said Mrs. Sharma. “No one except me and Naomi are allowed to talk until we get to the town’s outer wall. That includes signing. And singing.”

“Me?” said Naomi.

Mrs. Sharma’s expression softened a fraction when she looked at Naomi.

“You’re the only one in this group who hasn’t pissed me off today. If there’s danger or anything important I need to know, you can be the one to tell me.”

“Oh, um, of course,” said Naomi. “Sure.”

“So if the danger is noticed by anyone other than Naomi, we’ll all just have to die, then?” said Lachlan. “Makes sense.”

“Lachlan’s a butt, but I agree with him,” said Angelina. “If there’s something dangerous, I’m saying something, and I don’t care if you get mad.”

“I could have done without the first part of that statement,” said Lachlan, “but your support is appreciated nonetheless.”

“When I said no talking, I meant starting now,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“So you’re just not going to address our extremely valid concern then,” said Lachlan. “Wonderful.”

“I’m not going to say it again,” said Mrs. Sharma. “I want total silence until we get to the outer wall. Do I make myself clear?”

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