She found them, regardless of their age, loud, obnoxious, foul smelling, and irritating. Not to mention they talked too much. But above all else, they never listen, especially to her. Perhaps she could smile, maybe a song and dance, or even attempt to crack a joke to get them to know her and establish a relationship. But relationships don’t complete assignments. Despite her feelings, she found herself escorting two boys to the top floor of the Amesworth building that oversaw all of Empire City—for a birthday party of all things. Brandon Amesworth was a good friend of her employers and he wanted to make sure there would be no uninvited guest for his son’s big day. She knew there was more to it than that, however she couldn’t care less.
‘Last time. Then, no more of this nonsense afterwards.’ she thought. It kept her going, setting a goal for herself.
As she stood in the elevator waiting for their floor, she decided to relish the peace and quiet before the festivities.
It didn’t last long.
“Anastasia, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Gus said. He quickly fixed his hair and turned back at her, his head tilted, “They call me, Gustave Amesworth, but my friends call me—”
“Gus!” Xole tried to whisper without getting her attention, “What’s wrong with you? She’s like, twice your age!”
“And?” Gus replied in a low yet casual tone, “My dad told me old ones are easier to bag anyways—”
“Whoa! I did NOT mean she’s a hag. She’s probably like thirty…something.”
“Ha!” Gus chuckled, “C’mon man, she look like a spring chicken but acts like an old cat. Tell you what, if me and gorgeous don’t hit it off, I’ll put in a good word for you”.
“W-wait, HUH?” Xole shuttered, stunned by his friend’s bluntness. “Dude, I’ve been assaulted by enough over age women. Besides, it looks like she hates me.”
“What? Nah! You just gotta come off as cooler, maybe let your hair grow out so it hangs close to your face. Chicks love that—”
“Girls,” Xole corrected.
Gus raised an eyebrow. “Geez, now your staring to sound like Sam and Mitch.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing! I already miss those car rides with them. They always had good insight.”
“Except when it came to babes.”
“GIRLS!” Xole exclaimed.
“Xole, it’s the SAME SHIT at the end of the day.” Gus responded with a hint of annoyance, “Wouldn’t be surprised if you called them ‘queens’ or something goofy.”
Now Xole was determined to prove a point.
“Excuse me miss…” He did his best to examine Anastasia. “…shaved head lady, but do you consider yourself a queen?”
At that moment Anastasia couldn’t tell what bothered her more; their conversation or the foul odor that had been manifesting itself since the elevator doors shut. She was about ready to put them to sleep but before she could the doors finally opened after what felt like hours. Freedom, she could hardly believe it.
She took the two by the back of their necks and dragged them at an astonishing pace towards the reserved penthouse. The boys scrambled to keep up but ended up being dragged through the crowded hallway of stares until they reached the end. She kicked open the door and ushered them aggressively inside.
“Sir,” Anastasia folded her hands behind her back. “Your son and friends have arrived”.
Brandon turned around from the group of business people he was talking to. When he saw the three he gave a big smile.
“My son!” Brandon exclaimed giving Gus a hug before turning to Xole. “And his trusty partner in crime! I do hope you haven’t been getting into too much trouble.”
Anastasia could see Xole laugh nervously while rubbing the back of his neck. He was clearly uncomfortable. She made a mental note to keep an eye on him as she went to the back of the penthouse. It was a large bright white and black checkered room with windows all over the front with a full view of the city. Along the left side were stairs leading to Brandon’s office where the Gus boy’s birthday gift was being held.
“Miss Rooosa!” Brandon strolled up to the Red Collared woman, rolling the ‘r’. He grinned and offered her a glass of aged wine.
“Just Anastasia, I don’t like being referred to by last name,” she replied, declining the beverage. She hated when her employers tried to get friendly with her, especially this guy. She leaned against the wall and began to file her long purple nails while keeping watch on the crowd. Gus was trying to keep Xole at ease, and the rich business people were just laughing while toasting to their own achievements
Brandon straightened his tie. “Well since you don’t seem to be the type for small talk I’ll cut to the chase. The machine will be fully charged in about an hour. You are to ensure that no one enters or leaves the premises from now until then once the process is complete.”
“Process?”
“Yes,” Brandon replied pompously. He adjusted his thick lensed glasses. “The purpose of my machine is to transfer one Talent to another. My son was born at around eight a clock pm, so we’ll place him inside at seven fifty-five while I hook myself to prepare the transfer.
“You’re cutting it close.” Anastasia said finishing her nails while keeping up her stare. “Your little experiment hasn’t even been tested, let alone on a Talent as rare as this one.”
“Well I don’t have the time now, don’t I?” Brandon snapped with a slight shake in his voice. “I’ve taken every precaution to ensure Gus isn’t harmed. All I need is his Talent.”
“Why? You care for your son so much so why take this rare opportunity away from—”
“I’m sorry are you being payed to patronize me, Miss Roosa?” Brandon tone quickly turned spiteful, glaring at shorter woman. “Don’t think too hard, it’s NO. Now I’m going to enjoy myself for the next fifty-one minutes and you are going to brood in the back until I say so. Do not forget, YOU listen to ME!”
With that Brandon spun quickly and walked back to the group of businessmen, now laughing amongst them again.
Anastasia dropped her head, a smirk forming on her lips. This is why she hated children.
________________________________________________________________________
“This is it!” Xole said looking out the gated police window. “This time, I know it!”
After an hour and a half of searching, the busted police car pulled up to a one-story house on the south-most end of Empire City’s suburbs. While it wasn’t known for having the best conditions for living, it wasn’t the worst place for low income earners.
“You’d better,” Mr. Holdover grumbled, kicking his door open. “’Cause I’ve been driving your asses around this whole damn town for hours waiting for you to get some bullshit ‘feeling’, and right now I really don’t feel like being chased off some gun-toting lunatic’s property again.”
“Oh don’t worry!” Xole said, hopping out his door, which fell off its hinges. “I’m really feeling it this time!”
The older man groaned as Shakar stepped out the car with a smile. “The last house, who would’ve guessed!” he said.
The three made their way to the front door with Xole jogging ahead. He grabbed the door handle and yanked it open, expecting Yesfir to burst out from a warm bright interior and embracing him in a choke-inducing hug that while he usually disliked, he could definitely use right about now.
The door fell open, revealing a dark interior that was as cold as it was quiet.
“Shit, we got the wrong place again!” Mr. Holdover exclaimed, angrily kicking the wall.
“Y…Yesfir? Hello…?” Xole whimpered. He stepped inside to survey the house. The place was untouched from the living room, the kitchen. Even the outside laundry was still hung up. He listened, sniffed, spun his head—but even then there was no sign of her. “…You can stop joking now,” he spoke, feeling his stomach drop to his knees.
Shakar let out a breath. “Well, Xole, what is it then? What are we doing here in this dark, empty, abandoned—?”
“It’s NOT abandoned!” Xole angrily cut him off, “This was our laundry, living room, kitchen where she cleaned me up. It was this place! Yesfir wouldn’t abandon me!” He slowly began nodding to himself. “Yeah, yeah I’m sure of it!”
He started to franticly search the house starting with the kitchen, knocking things over as he ransacked the cupboards, cabinets, and anything else with a door.
“She likes to play hide-and-seek with me sometimes!” Xole’s voice cracked as he turned the kitchen table over, sending it crashing to the floor. “Usually when I fail to find her within the first sixty seconds, she’d drop from the ceiling or something and almost knock me out! Oh the good ol’ days!”
Mr. Holdover scratched his head. This was getting complicated. At this rate they didn’t have many options left.
‘We’re sitting fucking ducks here,’ he thought. He turned to Xole, who’d moved to tearing apart the living room. “Hey, boy, I should’ve asked earlier but who IS this Yesfir spook? She supposed to use some special privilege to get us out of this shit or what?”
Shakar giggled for some reason.
Xole put his hands behind his head, his face scrunched. He twisted his body back to the kitchen. “Maybe I missed something in here!” He said to himself.
“What the—?” Mr. Holdover followed him back. “Kid, you really think she wouldn’t’ve just popped up by now after all the damn racket you’ve been making?!”
“That doesn’t matter!” Xole said. He yanked open a cabinet door so had it broke off the hinge. “The point is we find her!”
The older man scoffed and glanced over his shoulder to see Shakar had moved to the living room and was reading a book. He was sitting on the only piece of furniture that hadn’t been destroyed, and old copper colored recliner. Xole looked over, his eyes widened with anger.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, storming over to him. “Get out of her chair right now!!”
“Then perhaps if I use her ‘chair’ she’ll finally reveal herself,” He replied, turning the page. “Think of it akin to that old children’s book, except in this case we’re in goldilocks house—”
“ARRG SHUT UP!” Xole shouted, kicking the wall so hard he left a hole. “Of course you people don’t care! NO ONE EVER SEEMS TO!”
Mr. Holdover grabbed Xole by the shoulder and slammed him against the wall.
“THEN GIVE US ONE!” He shouted back at the stunned older boy, “Where’d you come from? Why were you bloody half dead in a dumpster?! Where are your parents?! And for God’s sake, WHO THE FUCK IS YESFIR?!!”
“…”
“…”
“…I didn’t know you had a way with children, Mr. Holdover,” Shakar spoke up.
Mr. Holdover let Xole go as he slumped to the floor, sitting there with his head down. His hands went to the sides of his head, trying to think as hard as possible about what he was missing. He let his hands fall to his sides before letting whatever he knew spew.
“She was…she was my caretaker. She and Gus were all I had since my parents…” His voice trailed off. He cursed to himself at his garbage memory. Despite that, he kept trying.
“We had a fight and…and I left. What comes next was Gus’s birthday party at his father’s building, Amesworth. But he’s…gone now. I was there, his father was, and that…that woman…”
‘A woman?’ Shakar thought, ‘She wasn’t in the footage on the news.’
Mr. Holdover fingers were under his chin, “Huh…”
“What, you know something?” Xole asked.
“Eh? Nah, go on.”
He shook his head. “There’s really not much more to go on. The last thing I remember, or I guess felt, was being angry with Gus, more so than I’d ever, ever felt in my life. It was then when the woman came in, and his father and…” he paused. He then let his head fall. “That’s really all I got this time.”
The house was quiet. Shakar looked over to Xole, watching the older boy’s hands shake. Suddenly, Mr. Holdover started to pace back and forth, stopping in the middle of the room and pointing his finger up.
“Brandon Amesworth,” he said, “That’s the conspiracy!”
The two were puzzled. The older man looked out to the backyard.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“…I attempted to get a job there once,” he began, much to their surprise. He scratched the back of his head, “Though things went south fast and the motherfucker ended up trying to get me killed, lost my house too. Tch, last time I ever try to work for corporate!”
“So you…knew him?” Xole asked.
“Yeah, for like two seconds!” he replied. He groaned, “I know, I know, I was a dumbass once too, alright? But what I’m saying is Bran—er Brandon is a slimy piece of shit. Whatever happened with you wasn’t done unless it he got something from it.”
Xole slowly looked up at him. “So you…don’t believe I killed Gus?”
“What I believe in is the truth,” He replied, “Whatever’s going on we’re gonna get to the bottom of it, understand? Call up that caretaker of yours if you want and tell her you’re gonna be gone for a bit. I’ll wring Amesworth’s neck like a rag if I have to.”
Xole’s face lit up, “Her number…right her number! It was 212…uh…never mind that!” he shifted to his feet. “I think Yesfir keeps her number somewhere in her room. Do any of you guys carry phones?”
“No.” Mr. Holdover and Shakar replied simultaneously.
“What the—ah, never mind there’s a land line in the kitchen.” Xole took off down the hall, “I’m gonna grab her number!” Xole’s voice echoed as he disappeared towards his sitter’s room. It wasn’t even a minute when the two heard his high-pitched scream.
Shakar leaped off the couch, following Mr. Holdover, who got to Xole first. He stood before an empty, cleaned out room.
“She’s-she’s gone!” Xole sputtered in disbelief, eyes wide in shock. “She just-just up and left”
“Well you two did have a fight, a rather vague one if I must say.” Shakar said while walking around the room. Something didn’t seem right with Xole’s story. He wondered if she left anything behind and decided it be best to search from top to bottom. Mr. Holdover, on the other hand, wasn’t too bothered. Not that the woman was even real to him to begin with.
“Huh, well that sucks. Whelp, looks like it’s back to the car—”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Alarmed, He and Xole shot their heads in Shakar’s direction—who was banging his staff against the floor board.
“What are you doing?!” Xole said angrily, “That’s my sitter’s—”
“Hey, HEY, IDIOT THAT KUFI ON TOO TIGHT OR SOMETHING?!” Mr. Holdover yelled. He felt his neck craning
“I grew into it, actually,” Shakar replied chirpily. He tapped the floor more gently. “Hear that? That’s not an ordinary floor board, especially for a so-called ‘one story’ house.”
“What?” Xole gawked, “I’ve lived here my whole life. In fact she moved here! There’s no way anything’s under.”
Mr. Holdover grumbled, stepping towards the floor while rolling up his sleeves. He grabbed the floor and tore it off revealing a locked metal trap door, his brow creased.
“The fuck?”
Shakar smiled prying the lock off with his staff. “Told you didn’t I? Now, who wants to see behind door number one?”
“I hope whatever’s in there blows your ass up.” The older man said, “And HELL NO am I going into some creepy ass basement in a one story house!”
Without warning, Xole yanked the handle open revealing a darkened pathway and a set of stairs leading downwards like a cellar. Slowly, he began to make his way down the stairs with Shakar. Mr. Holdover cursed under his breath and begrudgingly followed. Using their hands to guide themselves along the narrow decline, the dry smell of musk clogged the three’s lungs as they trekked through cobwebs and sawdust until finally reaching what looked like the slight outline of the entrance to another room. Trailing his hand along the wall at his side, Xole felt his palm brushed over what he recognized as a light switch.
“Well, are you going turn it on?” Shakar asked, “It’s rather dark in here.”
“Like I said earlier, I really hope you learn the hard way.” Mr. Holdover said, “Alright, Xole, I’m not saying there’s nothing here, but this all feels too suspicious. We don’t even know what she’s hiding.”
“Well,” he replied, turning to the two. “We’re about to find out.”
“DON’T—!”
It was too late. Xole flicked the switch and the three started in awe. A bright light filled the formerly dim lit room revealing thick, gray blast proof walls lined with racks of firearms, ammunition, as well as knives in all shapes and sizes. There were stacks of boxes piled against the left corner labeled ‘MRE’, and in front of that, a well. The sound of water echoed below. They were in a bunker. A ticking sound could be heard from the middle of the room as a timer sat on a table counting down, currently showing the following:
00:09:50
Mr. Holdover looked. “Shit.”
“Well.” Shakar clicked his tongue, speechless himself. “This was uh…unexpected to say the least.”
Xole didn’t say anything for a moment, opting to roam the room in case there were a few other surprises he wasn’t aware of. He went left. He went right. He went front. He went back. Returning to the center behind the timer, he turned his back to the two while taking a long deep breath, his hands under the table.
“ARRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, DAMIT ALL!!!!” he yelled, throwing his arms up and flipping the table into one of the gun racks. He shoved a rack over, causing it to domino with the ones in front. Weapons rained to the floor in a loud, thunderstorm of clutter. He swung his arms into nearby boxes of MRE’s, and kicked whatever was near him into powder. He continued to thrash and smash anything his hands and feet came into contact with. His chest throbbed and he tasted blood. He stumbled forward, his hands smacked against the wall.
‘Why must you be so pathetic, Xole?’
“Yesfir,” he panted, “just who—no…what we’re you?”
“Hate to interrupt—” Shakar began.
“Then don’t!” Xole snapped.
“—but we don’t have much time left.” he continued anyways. “Before the timer was destroyed in you tantrum—which was completely justified—I believe we had around seven minutes left so…”
“You don’t need to tell me twice!” Mr. Holdover said, grabbing as many MRE’s as he could carry. “Kid, Karl, it’s gonna be alright. She’s probably a bitch anyways. You’re better off without her.”
“It’s in their nature.” Shakar added taking the bladed weapons, shoving them into a bag he found somewhere in the house. “Deceit lies in trust. That’s what people like her thrive on, Xole. A lesson learned is a lesson earned, after all!”
Xole could barely hear anything. Everything sounded like white noise to him. He turned his back and felt his legs dragging him out of the bunker, trudging up the stairs one step at a time.
‘…they were infuriated by your lack of Talents and always spoke about you as if you were some kind of failed experiment…’
‘You always told me they were great people who loved me…’
‘Your parents are dead, Xole’
‘NO! They’re not!!’
Thud!
Xole finally picked his head up to see what he’d bumped into. It was the door to his room. Feeling the handle, he pushed it open, stepping into the familiar space. Pressing his back against the wall, he slid down between his bed and small closet. His head pulsed even harder.
‘Gus, at this rate your life will be tarnished…’
‘Xole…man please…’
‘…all this needless responsibility is gonna kill you!’
‘I just need you to have my back like you always do…’
“So that’s where you went.”
Mr. Holdover stepped in, taking notice of the small space. It was compact, not many posters on the wood walls besides a few brochures and maps taped there. He had a small cluttered desk in front of a window that oversaw the city lights. Besides that there wasn’t much of anything to for him to call his own. No computer, no games, no comics, not even a single toy. He made his way to the cluttered desk before getting a better look at it.
Pictures.
Photos of Xole and the same two others. In one were him and a taller kid, mixed, with green eyes and gray hair spiked up, standing in front of a teepeed house, a smug smile on his face. In another photo were the kid and taller young woman with blonde curls that fell past her shoulders and amber eyes that almost seemed to glow. They stood in front of an old looking green and wood colored station wagon. She held the keys over his head.
‘Huh,’ he thought, ‘the kid’s eyes and hair were brown here.’ His eye caught the friend, ‘but now…’
He flipped through the other images before one caught his eye. The kid, except he looked smaller and fatter, standing up with both his hands being held by two others on each side.
‘Must be his parents. Weird that he’s got a picture for everyone but them.’
Mr. Holdover looked down to see Xole on the floor. His body sat still with his head down, still as a statue. The man looked away, feeling unsettled.
“M-Mr. Holdover,” he spoke quietly, “why did everyone leave?”
The older man glanced to Xole, who lay on his side back facing him. He exhaled and stuffed his hands in his pockets and looking away. “They uh…look, kid, people are complicated. It’s not on you to understand.”
With that he tuned and left for the door, reaching for the handle only to hear,
“Are you…leaving too?”
“…” He chuckled and shook his head. “You know there’s a bomb here, right?”
“…”
“…” The man felt his shoulders slump. “How old are you, boy?”
“Six…six-teen…I think.”
‘You think?’ he thought, shaking his head. “Look, you’ve got nothing to be scared of. We’ll swing by Amesworth, beat his ass, and be back before you know it, alright?” He took the handle. “We’ll uh—get you a pizza in the meantime. What you want?”
“…I want my parents back.”
Mr. Holdover glanced over his shoulder once more.
“I…I want Yesfir back…I want Gus back…I don’t want to be alone anymore…” his voice trembled. “I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry for being pathetic…I-I’m sorry for having no Talent. I just want…”
“To go back to ‘normal’?”
Xole shifted, turning to see the older man standing before him looking down.
“That really it?” he continued, “that old, normal, sweet hunky-dory bullshit life you had before, huh? That make you feel better? Safer?”
“What do you know?!” he shot back.
“Oh, what do I know?! I’m standing! I’m walking! I’m alive and kicking!! You know why, Xole?! Cause it sure as hell beats sitting around getting beat up by folks who aren’t even here. You might as well be dead!”
“…”
Mr. Holdover stood up and made his way to the door, taking the handle, “You should’ve never been involved with these pricks in the first place. Now I’m gonna head back to the bunker with the idiot and we’re gonna take care of Amesworth, alright? Don’t be a dumbass and stay. Meet us outside before this place goes and we’ll drop you off someplace.” He twisted the handle and stepped out.
“You…” Xole began, “you still want me to come with you?”
He let out a breath and threw one last glance over his shoulder. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Xole.”
The door shut and Xole dragged himself up from the floor. Oddly, he felt a smile make its way on his face as he pushed his hair back.
‘A second chance…’ he thought.
‘RRRIIIIIIIIIIINNG!’
The blaring sound of the phone shook him from his thoughts. He left his room and darted for the kitchen. Could it be Yesfir? Is she nearby? Should he apologize? No, he knew he had to cool down until he could get himself straight first. He took a deep breath and answered the phone.
“Who is this?”
“Good afternoon, Xole. It’s great to hear you’re alright.”
Xole paused, it definitely wasn’t her, but it still sounded familiar.
“I’ll only ask one more time, who is this?”
“Oh, you don’t recognize me? It’s Mr. Amesworth, your friend Gus’s father. I tried to call your cell but I couldn’t get through.”
‘Aw crap.’ he thought, ‘great, now he knows I’m here—’
“Xole, I’m not calling to arrest you” Brandon’s calm voice flowed over the phone “You know I have the resources to do so if I wanted. I’m calling because I want you to come back to Amesworth.”
“Not a chance—”
“Listen, I know the last few hours have been awful for you, believe me you’re not the only one who lost a loved one. But there’s still a chance to save him.”
“Save who?”
“Gus.”
Xole almost dropped the phone, gripping it with both hands. He couldn’t believe what he just heard.
‘It’s not too late? I can still fix this?’
“Xole, we don’t have much time. You need to get to Amesworth as soon as possib—”
“How can I trust you? The last thing I remember was the look on your face when he died. You didn’t care at all!”
“Do you really believe that?”
“…”
“Xole, what do you remember before that incident, before the party? After? Are you sure you’re blaming the right person? After all, your memory sounds spotty at best from the sound of it.”
“I-I don’t know—”
“It’s fine if you don’t but I know that to save Gus. I’ll need you to help me restart his Spiritual Talent. Think of it as restarting someone’s heart with your own life. Don’t worry we aren’t in any danger. I’ve even called off the police pursuit to make things easier.”
He contemplated the idea with a sigh. “Like I said, I just don’t—”
“HEY KID!” Mr. Holdover yelled from the bunker “WE’VE ONLY GOT A FEW MINUTES UNTIL THIS PLACE GOES UP! YOUR ASS BETTER BE IN THE CAR!!”
“Mr. Amesworth, I’ll have to call you back.” Xole said, hanging up before he could reply. He completely forgot about that stupid bomb. Why did Yesfir have to blow up the house anyway? In full sprint, he darted back to Yesfir’s room when it suddenly hit him. With a gasp, he bolted the opposite direction to his room once more
“Where the hell is he?!” Mr. Holdover demanded, stuffing the last of the weapons into the trunk. “Also this shit better not destroy the MRE’s. That’s our food source from here on out.”
“I hope not!” Shakar faked a worried tone sitting in the passenger seat of the cop car. “Speaking of which, I do hope this thing still works.”
“Eh? Why you say that?”
“Well, between how many things—or people—you hit, plus the three hundred thousand volts that damaged this car, I’m surprised this thing hasn’t fallen apart on us yet.”
“Tch…Smartass,” Mr. Holdover muttered, slamming the trunk. He glanced over his shoulder to the house. “Hey how much time left?”
“Three minutes exactly.”
Grumbling a few more curse words, he older man returned to the driver’s seat. He glanced at the house through the mirror thinking about what he told Xole earlier.
“You’re thinking about him, are you?” Shakar asked.
“…”
“I also overheard you wanting to leave him. You know, I understand your concern, truly I do. However there are somethings children must do when growing up, even if it means confronting trauma head on.”
Mr. Holdover scoffed. “I’ll be the judge of that.” he leaned back. “Also I told you to stop doing that fake ass mind reading shit.”
“I can’t help it when you’re so easy to read.” Shakar shrugged innocently, “I just hope once Xole gets past this he’ll be free. Free from the stress, trauma, the liars…perhaps even Talent…”
- Holdover tossed him a look. “Are we still talking about Xole here?”
“Oh of course we are! In fact I was just about to mention you.”
He looked ahead again. “Fuck you.”
“No really. The last thing we need is him inheriting your poor habits such as your business skills, let alone vernacular.”
“Stop making words up.”
Shakar blinked.
Mr. Holdover drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, letting out an impatient huff. He glanced at the house, then over his shoulder. He scratched his head.
Shakar pressed his lips together in annoyance. “Can you please try to be still?”
“The hell can I be still when there’s a damn BOMB behind us?!”
“Easy. We have a little less than two minutes. Plenty of time with a working ca—”
“Two minutes—fuck, HELL NO!” Mr. Holdover exclaimed, turning the car on. “I’ll start the engine now and drag his ass out if I have to!!”
The car whined, ‘hrt hrt hrt hrt!’ then, silence.
The two looked at the front engine first, then each other. Shakar gulped.
“One…minute,”
“FUCK! C’MON!!!” Mr. Holdover yelled. He started mashing every button he saw, jamming the keys, gears, radio, even smashing the gas pedal. Finally he slammed his fist on the steering wheel.
“We. Are. FUCKED!”
“No were not!!” Shakar said, “Try the keys again!”
“You think I HAVEN’T?!” He retorted, jamming the key in and out, twisting it until they both heard the sound of a sickening ‘snap’. To their horror, the key had broken off inside the ignition. Shakar dipped his head, forcing a smile full of malice.
“Well great work MEATHEAD!” he said, tossing his head left and right through words. “We’re as good as DEAD in about thirty seconds!”
“FUCK THIS!” Mr. Holdover stormed out the car and began repeatedly kicking the engine over and over again, black smoke seeping from under the hood “FUCK THIS SHIT!!!”
Shakar sat with his fingers to his temples. Sweat ran down his face as he counted the last thirty seconds. ‘To think of all the mistakes made today, the one that got me was letting this idiot drive!’
Suddenly a noise interrupted both of them.
‘hrt hrt hrt HHHRRRRRRNNNNNGGG!’
“HAHA, THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!” Mr. Holdover laughed, tongue hanging while rubbing his hands together. He jumped back in the driver’s seat.
“WAIT! Xole, where is he?!” Shakar asked looking around.
Suddenly they heard the sound of a window breaking overhead, followed by a loud ‘THUD’ on the roof, followed quickly by banging and yelling.
“START THE CAR!!” Xole yelled, “START THE FREAKING CAR!!!”
- Holdover slammed his foot on the gas and the vehicle screamed, speeding through the backyard fencing just as the house exploded in to an enormous ball of fire, shaking the neighborhood.
‘BOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!’
They drove a safe distance away from the house. People could be heard screaming and either running away or towards the blast, phone in hand. Finally, Mr. Holdover pulled to the side of the road and hopped out with Shakar to see if Xole was still alive. Sure enough, he was clinging to the top of the police cruiser, head down, saying what sounded like a prayer.
“Congratulations, Xole!” Shakar greeted with a smile. “I suppose you could call this a gift from abov—”
“What. In. The. FUCK was that?!” Mr. Holdover mustered the words through gritted teeth “You wanna die TWICE?!”
“I’m fine guys,” Xole reassured them. In his hands he clutched a white plastic bag filled with clothes and messy looking green scrap book. “I almost forgot something.”
The older man heaved an exhausted sigh. He noticed people leaving their houses to observe the abnormal sound. “Well, you made up your mind, kid? Cause we’re starting to draw a crowd…and I really hate crowds.”
Brandon’s words echoed through Xole’s head. ‘We can still save him, Gus’
“I’m going.” he said, confidently climbing in through the trunk of the vehicle. “Brandon called me while you guys were raiding the bunker. He said I can still save Gus.”
The two stared at him, then, exchanged glances.
“Look, I don’t completely trust the guy either,” Xole went on, “but If anyone’s gonna confirm it, it has to be me.”
“Hmm,” Shakar gave a pleased nod. He turned to Mr. Holdover. “Well, shall we get going?”
“Yeah, it’s on.” Mr. Holdover turned to the two. “Let’s stop these pieces of shit.”