=BEEP BEEP BEEP… HEY! WAKE UP!=
“Ugh…”
The bumbling hand of a teenager reaching for his PET on his bedside table knocked an old carbolate can to the traditionally hardwood floor of his bedroom. One of his ears lifted from its floppy and tired slumber as the can rattled on the floor, working as more of an alarm than the alarm on his personal hand-held, causing the boy to shoot upright into a sitting position.
“I thought I cleaned…” He grumbled, scratching an itch on the side of his face. After a quiet moment of contemplation, he shrugged a shoulder and tossed the covers off of himself. He threw his legs over the bed and cautiously pressed his toes against the floor… He felt no liquid, meaning the can hadn’t spilled any of its contents. That was good – he didn’t want either of his fathers giving him hell for a messy room; he just couldn’t afford the time.
He pushed his eyebrows up, lifting them high as he could to stretch out the tired muscles in his still-closed eyes. His hand reached for the end of his bed, where a single bed-post stood high with a hangar for a navy-blue hat. He only failed one grab for the garment before snatching it up and all but tossing it onto his head. With a few tugs and gentle presses, the boy pulled his hat down to cover his shut eyes, leaving only a little of his bangs sticking out from beneath the hat, and the messy locks that tickled the top of his nape.
“Oral Code eight-two-five-nine-five-one. Activate STOP.”
It was then that the life of Daxton Kemberge, the Pembroke Welsh Corgi, came into focus. As if opening his eyes, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his bedroom – the familiar cabin-like wooden walls, the familiar slant of his ceiling towards the top center of his home, and the familiar hardwood flooring. He turned his fabric-covered gaze downward to the floor, nudging the flashy brown can of carbolate with his foot to roll it slightly before simply reaching down to pick it up. With a toss, it clattered into a waste bin near his bed instead.
He dragged himself off his bed, snatched his PET from the nightstand, and grabbed a towel from his clothes hamper. It passed a smell-test of cleanliness, so he took it with him as he made his way to the bathroom to start the morning ritual. His bare feet pitter-patted on the floor with every step as he went, and he cast a curious glance over the banister that looked down upon the front lobby of his home. He could hear commotion in the kitchen – odds were Edward was making breakfast.
“Nice buns there champ!”
An older buck passed by, grinning at the under-sticker wearing pup and his mostly exposed, fit, young body. Daxton gave the fully dressed man a flat look. “Eat me, Dad,” He responded flatly, but with a tone of playfulness rather than resentment.
“Don’t talk to your father like that,” The buck said, stopping at the top of the stairs, “And don’t tempt me either! I’m a happily married man! Wash up quick, your mother’s making breakfast.”
“You mean my other Dad.”
“Same difference!” The buck waved his hands as he slowly disappeared down the stairs.
If he could, Daxton would have rolled his eyes. The best he could manage is a slightly screwed smirk and a ‘tch.’ Shaking his head he continued into the bathroom where he closed the door, hung his towel on a hook on the inside of the door, and then set his PET to play “GO!” by the Snapping Turtles and set it aside. To the beat of the decidedly up-beat music of quick percussion and joyful guitar scores, he brushed his teeth and straightened out his somewhat messy fur of snow white, ash brown and caramel colours.
“The kid’s been really working on his glutes,” The buck muttered as he stepped into the kitchen. He froze in his tracks and a smile spread across his features as he observed the scene of his beautiful husband cooking breakfast. He couldn’t resist watching the beaver’s flat tail whip around as he whistled to himself, and he had to admire how his denim jeans imprisoned the other’s girlish frame tightly, and how the strings of his apron clinched his waist a little.
“Cooking isn’t a spectator’s sport!” The beaver called back. Before he could get another word out, he felt the buck’s arms circle around his waist and his body pushed in against his back. “Mm… Eddie…” The beaver muttered in a sultry, but sunny purr.
Eddie, the male deer, smirked and planted a deliberately loud smooch on the side of the beaver’s neck. “Edward,” He murmured back. The two shared a knowing smile, still amused that their first names were so similar, even after all the years they had been together. It was as fun to them in the present as it was to them in high school.
“Are you going to grab an apron or what, mister?” Edward purred.
“I’ve got my hands full right now.”
“And where’s our boy?”
Daxton needed to remove his hat to shower. As he washed up, he drummed his fingers along with the beat of the music blaring from his PET, and beat-boxed along as well. The lack of focus along with his lack of vision made it almost natural that he would turn and catch his ankle slightly on the edge of his tub. The slight, rounded, wet curve of the edge caused him to slip. Unable to see, he felt his body falling, and he yelped as he tumbled out of his tub, bringing the entire shower curtain down with him.
“H’oh shi--!”
*THUD*
“Sounds like he’s just getting out of the tub,” Eddie answered without a hint of worry for the well-being of his son.
Edward tsk’d and shook his head. “Ohhhh dear… go and scrape him off the floor sweetie,” Edward fretted, “See if he’s alright.”
“The only thing he’s going to bruise is his pride,” Eddie chuckled, giving his husband one last kiss on the cheek before parting to go gather his son.
Edward counted the seconds before he’d hear his son yell.
“DAD! LET ME PUT ON MY STICKER FIRST! GET OUT!”
The beaver rolled his eyes and sighed, but couldn’t help but smile all the same.
…
Daxton straightened out the collar of his shirt, a mostly navy-blue tee with a logo of one straight line down his sternum, and two feather-like wings on either side. It resembled something of a golden moth. Beneath he wore a thin, white long-sleeve that was only noticeable by how it covered what would be his exposed arms to nearly his wrists.
“Can you believe this stuff?” Eddie huffed, tapping a few buttons on his personalized, and rather clunky gray PET. The holographic projector burned on, sprouting an image into the air of what he had been reading. “A few of the Arbitrators are still pushing for weapons manufacturing,” He continued, “They sure don’t make it hard for us to work on getting them replaced. Who would go for that stuff? There’s no way they could get a unanimous vote – the people on the Ring wouldn’t even laugh at something so stupid.”
“Well we did get attacked by aliens,” Daxton commented between mouthfuls of egg.
“Locksmouth got attacked my aliens,” Eddie corrected.
Edward took his seat, his cushioned, denim-encased rump spreading out over the chair a bit. “You know that could have just as easily been us,” He said.
Eddie sighed, sipping a hot beverage out of his mug. “It’s a slippery slope,” The buck grumbled, “And they haven’t gotten any support aside from a loud minority… that stupid Amendment Party. They want to bring back heavy assault weaponry, real army stuff. That’s just asking for trouble.”
“Well, that’s why they have you and your big antlers,” The beaver smiled, “The arguments you make against them are incredibly convincing.”
“Well, the more they use Locksmouth as an excuse, the harder I have to work at making them look like idiots.”
“Don’t worry about it, buckie-doe!” Edward leaned over and smooched his beau on the cheek, and then once again on the lips, “You just work hard and none of us will have to be conscripted. I have full faith in you!”
“Hey if you guys are going to be kissy at the table, at least let me take off my hat,” Daxton commented from behind his PET, thumbs working away at the controls. By the sounds of it, he was playing a game.
Edward gave the boy a snide smirk and settled back down to dig into his breakfast. “Oh I’m sorry, are you too macho to watch your parents get all lovey-dovey? I didn’t think you could see it past your screen,” He commented back as sassy as could be, “Eat your breakfast or you’ll grow up to be as tiny as your lemming friend.”
Daxton lowered his PET and leaned in to tear into his toast with his fangs. “I can’t shrink you know,” He muffled past a mouthful.
“And you’re not too big for me to tan your hide,” Edward shot back, “Eat, or I’ll feed it to you.”
“Y’know, you’re more of a gobbler than a feeder,” Eddie chimed in. All he got for his trouble was a smack upside the head from his husband.
…
“Come on, champ, I don’t want to miss the train!”
Daxton tugged the second of his green sneakers onto his socked feet and tapped the toe against the floor. He straightened his khaki chino pants, and shouldered his backpack before joining his father Eddie at the door. The older buck stood dressed in a fine workplace-appropriate white shirt and tie, and some classic business slacks. The laid-back parent looked out of place drawn so professionally.
“Alright, we’re outta here!” Eddie called back into the house.
Edward’s sassy tone called back, “Love you! Be safe!”
“Love you too babe,” Eddie smiled, and nudged his son.
“O-Oh, yeah, love you too Dad!” The boy fumbled.
Eddie stifled a laugh, “Come on, macho-man, let’s go.”
Closing the door behind him, Daxton stepped out with his father. Their house was nestled in a rather solitary spot nestled in a little clearing surrounded by pine trees whose scent wafted in the air. Needles had begun to shed from their branches as autumn had set in upon Harbington’s dome. Compared to a larger city like Locksmouth, Harbington was a little smaller, more close-knit, and decidedly very rural. It was more an aesthetic than anything as every building held the same modern conveniences of larger cities. Everything just appeared more old-timey, and it was very… green. Even outside the protection of the dome, trees surrounded the city – real trees, not regulated by gen-gineering or a Climate Control Center.
Daxton’s gaze wandered, as it always did. He rarely took the gift of sight for granted and enjoyed taking in the vibrant colours of Harbington whenever he walked. Autumn was a particular treat, the leaves on the trees varying from the lush green pine needles around his home, to the golden and red maple leaves of some of the other trees. The sky was usually clear enough to see the Ring, and there was even a sugarbush between his house and the more crowded downtown area. Daxton could almost always smell syrup whenever he passed by. With his nose as keen as it was, it amazed him how he managed to keep from drooling.
“Daxton!”
Just like every school morning, a pig-girl stood waving him down not far along the road towards the tram station. She was a round little thing, chubby, freckle-speckled, with red hair in a bob cut. Most of her thick body was covered securely by a creamy-yellow sweater, as to down-play the size of her body. She wore it over what looked to be a white shirt with a folded collar, and had a red neck-tie tucked under the sweater. One could only really see the knot of it at her collar. A red skirt kept her fairly modest and only showed off a handful of inches of thick porcine thigh before her legs were swallowed up by high-rising white socks. Her dainty feet were in mary-janes.
“And there’s your sweet little honeyed ham,” Eddie grinned to his son, “Go give her a big kiss.”
“Dad, jeez,” Daxton blushed, walking ahead to meet with the girl, “Morning Quincey.”
“Hello Miss Abram!” Eddie said as he approached, “How’s our fine flower today?”
Quincey nearly threw herself at Daxton with a heavy impact. She nearly hung off his neck as she hugged him, one leg lifted. She gave a little snort and a giggle. “You used Edward’s shampoo again,” She grinned, stepping back and turning her attention to Daxton’s other father. “I’m doing okay Mr. Kemberge. How is everything this morning?” She turned to walk along-side Daxton as they talked, holding the corgi’s hand tightly in her own.
“Ugh, just terrible!” Eddie waved his free hand, the other carrying his suitcase, “It was hectic this morning. I hear a ruckus and what do I find? Poor Dac-attack has fallen out of the shower. It was quite a sight!”
“Really?” The pig giggled, making Daxton just groan and slump his shoulders.
“Oh yes,” Eddie sighed, resting the back of his hand to his forehead. He tilted his head back in over-dramatized agony, “Full. Frontal.”
Quincy gasped, her hand nearly covering her mouth, but not quite, “Not even an understicker?”
“Dad, c’mon!” Daxton finally broke into the conversation, “And stop encouraging him!”
Quincey broke into a snorting giggle-fit, and rubbed her face against Daxton’s shoulder. “I’m sorry~ You’re okay, right?” When she resumed normal walking posture, she had to push her glasses straight again.
Daxton adjusted the shoulder strap on his backpack. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had worse than a fall out of the shower,” He answered.
Quincey grinned bright, looking up at Daxton as he continued to simply look straight ahead. A moment passed where she admired his jaw structure and giving an enchanted sigh. “Of course,” She simply said.
A silence fell over the three. Daxton and Quincey, school-going teens, kept tight-lipped around Eddie, an adult, a father. It made sense that kids had their secrets, and few felt so comfortable as to let an adult in on their lives, even if Eddie was more like a big older brother than some old man. For his part, the buck understood that kids will be kids, and didn’t mind the silence. If nothing else, it allowed him to tend to his own thoughts. If they weren’t going to tell him what was on their minds, he wouldn’t tell them what was on his – everyone was just happier that way.
The subway station nearest Daxton and Quincey’s homes was actually an above-ground station. During the day, it was a strange mix of a place, surrounded by comforting nature and yet standing metallic in defiance of the world around it. Many from the nearby countryside would gather there to ride deeper into the city where their places of work or schools were located. There was just a large enough collection of passengers at that stop – Walker’s Way – to fill the entire platform on a good day. Cluttered murmurs of conversation made the platform bustle with activity, though it would all quiet down when the gentle chimes sounded the train’s arrival. It would emerge from a nearby underground tunnel at a brisk pace.
The hum of the train’s kinetic thrusters was so gentle that the sound was lost in the breeze. When the doors opened, no one stepped off. With no reason to venture out into what could be called “the boonies” so early in the morning, it was uncommon for anyone to disembark. Instead, those who had distanced themselves from the bustle of Harbington’s more populated downtown would pile into the train.
Daxton found a seat quickly, sliding his backpack off his shoulders to rest it in his lap. Quincey immediately backed herself into the seat next to him, though she let out a surprised little squeal as she found herself sitting somewhat on Daxton’s hand. A quiet glance to the corgi’s small smile made it obvious that it had been no mistake. His thumb caressed slightly over his friend’s backside, and rather than shy away, she gave a wiggle of her hips and relaxed – though her face almost resembled a tomato with how hard she blushed. Eddie, who had chosen to stand with a firm grasp on a brass top bar, shook his head. A knowing smirk played along the old buck’s features.
The inside of the train hardly resembled the outside. While the outside was a silver bullet of modern construction, the inside had wooden paneling, crafted from what appeared to be mahogany. The car was squared, despite the rounded outside of the train, and the floor was red carpet with a rather exotic, flowery design embroidered into it. The seats they settled in where red-cushioned benches with soft backs, the legs curved and ornate. The lighting, had it been on, were wall-mounted, rounded fixtures; the sunlight pouring through the windows served that purpose for the morning however, the red curtains pulled to the sides. It was comfortably warm within, enough to make some doze off in their seats.
The train had started to move. Its track lead back underground, but looking outside the window only revealed a lovely country scene, which would pass through trees, go through tunnels, and ride along cliff-side tracks that over-looked a stretch of ocean.
During the quiet ride, Daxton leaned towards his beet-red friend. “You’re wearing them…” He muttered, moving his arm just slightly to stroke over the fabric underwear that hugged the piggy’s soft butt.
“W-Well you asked…” Quincey whispered back, “It’s so… strange wearing something over my sticker… W-Where did you find these?”
“I might’ve picked them up the last time we went to Anchorsway,” Daxton grinned, “They feel nice… Really nice…”
A goose to her rear made Quincey squeal… like a pig, after which she blushed furiously and balled her hands into tight fists in her lap. She pressed her back, and thus her backpack, against the seat tightly. “Daxton!” She almost hissed a whisper.
The groping corgi couldn’t help but laugh a little. He tried to calm her obvious embarrassment by giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. It didn’t seem to help, but her smile was cute.
At some point the train had stopped. The shuttle glided so well along its rail that it was difficult to tell that it had stopped moving or when it had started. Only a voice-over indicating what stop was coming, and chimes whenever the doors opened, alerted the passengers to the destinations reached. With only two stops between Walker’s Way and the Harbington High stations, it was a short ride, but Daxton and Quincy waited, knowing that one of their friends was due on the train before they reached the school. The shuttles rarely ran late outside of technical complications, so it could almost be timed down to the second.
“Well if it isn’t pork n’ beans!”
The door at the front of the passenger car slid open, and a young man stepped in with eyes locked on the corgi and pig pair. He was short, most noticeably. While Daxton stood moderately tall, and Quincy only slightly shorter, the boy that approached them was scarcely up to Quincey’s shoulders. Despite being nary taller than a young child, he had mature and proportioned features with a gray coat and a darker streak down the bridge of his nose.
“Kenny,” Daxton simply nodded towards the lemming as he approached. The corgi removed his hand from beneath the girl at his side and resumed a casual manner. The only implications toward anything… untoward were the red burns on Quincey’s cheeks.
With a cursory glance, Kenny the lemming found his seat across from Daxton. He took his backpack off and let it sit resting against his legs as he sat down, looking the corgi in what would have been his eyes. “You abandoned me last night, ya jerk,” He started off simply. That was as close to morning pleasantries as Kenny would tend to get. “Right in the middle of a flag capture, too! I needed you, man,” He continued, “What the hell happened?”
“Uh,” Daxton barely blushed, “I didn’t finish my math homework.”
“Wha? You idiot,” Kenny simply shot back, “I’ve told you a million times, get your homework done before you slack off!”
Daxton would have glared if he could. “Oh yeah tough guy? You finish yours?” He asked.
Kenny grinned proudly, going so far as to clench his blue eyes shut just to be even cheekier. “I did,” He spoke, his words tapering off for a sort of reveal. He reached inside his crimson red jacket and checked the inside pocket. He then took pause. The cocky expression faded from his face as he patted the small jacket all over… But since the jacket wasn’t even long enough to cover his naval or lower back, there weren’t many places for homework to hide.
“Shit,” He quickly cussed, checking the pockets of his loose orange shorts next. He turned them inside out to reveal them as woefully empty. Lastly, he practically tore open the zipper on his backpack to quickly rummage through it.
“Fuck! God damnit!” Kenny’s temper flared, “Where the…?! I fuckin’ left it at home.”
Quincey couldn’t help but giggle. Irony held a special place for humor in her heart.
“I guess you didn’t put it on your PET,” She said.
Kenny huffed and crossed his arms – and his legs – and slumped backward into his chair. “Had it separate to hand in, I wrote it all externally,” He grumbled. His cheeks puffed out into big, fuzzy spheres.
“Oh just copy Daxton’s,” Quincey belted out in slight annoyance of Kenny’s near constant pouting, “Don’t get all huffy.”
“Mine? Why mine?” Daxton responded in surprise, Kenny’s gaze acting to reflect what would be his own towards the piglet, “Yours would probably be better.”
“Too much better,” The porcine brainer responded matter-of-fact, “Daxton’s average grade doesn’t deviate far from yours, Kenny. That’s why copying his homework would be better – Mr. Rosling won’t suspect a thing.”
A grin spread across Daxton’s lips, “Devious.”
“Nu-uh, no way,” Kenny shook his head adamantly, much to his friends’ surprise, “I lost it. I’ll just tell him that. I’m not copying anyone’s work.”
“You’ll get held back after school if you do that!” Daxton immediately protested.
Quincey leaned forward, chiming in as well, “Then you won’t be able to come to the Burger Dictator after school! It’s Thursday, Kenny. Thursday.”
“Double Dics day, I know. Doesn’t change anything. Gotta take responsibility, and that’s that,” Kenny stubbornly declared, “You’re not gonna miss me while you scarf down a couple burgers.”
Quincey snorted, “Daxton, he is ruining the spirit of Thursday Double Dics.”
Daxton sat back with a slight sigh, “Well, when he sets his mind to something, you know we’re screwed.”
~(_)~
Kenny departed from the train car at Downtown Station still fuming. Normally he would have enjoyed the way Quincey’s skirt flipped around her fat thighs as she walked, but he was far too absorbed in his brooding to take any delight in it that day. From the station, one only had to cross the street to reach Harbington High, and each step he took was counted in his head as he mulled over getting detention.
The building itself was standard for a high school. A similar building could be found in any of the nearby city domes. In fact, Locksmouth’s high school was an exact duplicate. With the education system and curriculums so well-tended, no school needed more or fewer class rooms than any other school. Class sizes were roughly the same, dependant on dome population, which was just as well looked after. Every school had a library, and every school had a cafeteria. In short, Harbington High was no different than any school… well, aside from Locksmouth’s having a recent history of alien invasion. But sometimes being just like everyone else was a bad thing.
Kenny looked up when a shadow loomed over him from high above. Looking slowly upwards, he saw the antennae-complimented figure of another student eclipsing the sun. A shift of their body caused the light to shine directly into Kenny’s eyes, making the lemming wince and quickly try and shield his gaze. More details of the figure were made out as his eyes adjusted to the light, namely that she was a giraffe, with the golden fur, and the brown spots, and the long neck and all. A healthy shelf of giraffe bosom threatened to bump into Kenny’s face from how close she was standing. Seemingly aware of this, she took deep breaths to strain the large buttons holding her knotted flannel fabric in place.
“Now what’s eatin’ him this morning?” She would ask, turning her attention instead to Daxton.
“He didn’t finish his homework, and he won’t copy mine,” Daxton said simply, knowing the giraffe understood the consequences of the situation.
Her attention returned to the lemming halted in her path. “And miss Double Dics? Kenny Baxter, I will toss you over my shoulder and carry your little self there if I have to!” The giraffe answered with a mirthful grin.
“Laila, I--”
“Gotta take responsibility, I know, ya broken sound-bit,” Laila, the giraffe, cut off Kenny’s protests, “But it don’t hurt to lie a little. Just for the sake of being able to come hang out with your friends after school, you know? What’s it gonna hurt?”
“It’s the principle of the thing!” Kenny spat.
“And you’re stomping on the principle of double-stacked burgers!” Quincey immediately chimed in.
“You’re really gonna sizzle Quincey’s bacon if ya don’t go,” Laila added.
Tiring of the argument, Daxton spoke up, “Alright, if he doesn’t wanna copy, then he doesn’t have to. Just let him do what he wants.”
There was a long sigh from the girls. Laila’s eyes drifted out over the street in a huff, looking right over her friends’ heads and several other students dragging themselves onto the school grounds. That’s when she saw it. A vehicle at break-neck speeds, swerving about the road. Her expression sank into confusion, but her thoughts stumbled on a startling realization: it was heading straight for the school! At the speed the driver was traveling, there was no way they’d stop in time. A wave of discomfort washed over her that sent a shiver up her spine. Very suddenly, she was poised to bolt in any direction.
Daxton’s ear twitched as a scream sounded out in the distance, and the hum of the vehicle’s thrust grew louder.
Laila cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted.
“Watch out!!”
Daxton threw his weight around to turn in a flash. The scene that played out before him seemed to do so in slow motion, like a moment in an action vid where such alarming and sudden situations needed to be slowed down to be fully understood. The driver clearly had no control. Citizens crossing the street scrambled to clear a path and get out of danger. Other vehicles halted abruptly as the veering trans cleared the three-way intersection. Panic erupted around Daxton as it became clear the shipment truck would barrel right onto school grounds. Everyone ran.
Save for one girl, frozen in place, petrified by fear.
There wasn’t even time for a double-take.
“Quincey!!”
Daxton darted from where he stood like a sprinter, sucking in air through grit teeth. Every inch of his body fought against his reaction, but impulse drove him to run. He ran faster than he knew he could towards the pig girl. His entire side felt strange, as if feeling the impending death by metal. He was in danger now, risking his life. He felt like his fur was standing on end and his heart might explode from his chest. Even so, he ran.
Quincey’s legs turned to jelly in the face of the speeding metal bulk, her wide eyes staring into its front-mounted lights as if they were the eyes of a demon. Her body twisted as if to run, but her feet faltered. Instead, she could do no more than tense her body, pull her arms in, and brace for the inevitable. Her scream was one wrought with terror.
She closed her eyes and waited for the last thud she’d ever hear.
What she felt wasn’t what she expected. In her mind, she expected to feel the weight of something much larger than she, tearing into her form, the air force ripping her to shreds. Unimaginable pain of the likes her mind would hardly register. Instead, the air was driven out of her as something struck her gut not head on, but from an angle. For a moment, the rushing air of her movement deafened her to all sound. She was taken off her feet, embraced in a tight hold, and felt a gravity rush as she was knocked to the ground.
There was a screech, and a crash, and the whirring sound vehicular thrusters. It got quieter, and then a louder crash. Glass shattered and students screamed.
“Shit! Daxton! Quincey!”
That was Kenny’s voice. That was her name. Was she not dead?
She gasped for a breath, her stomach flaring in pain to cut the breath short and set a strain beneath her sternum. A burning pain poured over her back and shoulders from where her body had dragged. Finally, she opened her eyes to see the blue sky and fluffy clouds above. The sun even shined down upon her, in a stark contrast of serenity. She blinked a few times, getting feeling back in all her limbs as the crippling fear of death washed away. There was a warm weight on her legs and stomach; a body’s weight and feel. Then she remembered that her name wasn’t the only one called for.
“Daxton…?”
There was no answer, though Laila had rushed to Quincey’s side and looked down on her from above. The giraffe blotted out the sun with her worried expression. “Quincey? Are ya alright, piglet? Can ya hear me?”
“Daxton?!” Quincey finally gathered her senses and pushed up on her elbows to look down over the boy who lay prone on top of her lower half with his arms clutching her waist tightly. With his face buried in the cushion of her stomach, she saw a very familiar, messy mop of blonde hair. It was a position she was very familiar with as Daxton commonly made use of her pudgy middle as a cuddle-cushion.
Kenny was knelt down on Quincey’s other side, shaking Daxton by his shoulder. “Hey, Daxton! Get up! Daxton!” He shouted time and again.
Daxton was still for a moment longer. Then he dragged his face back and forth on Quincey’s stomach, nuzzling into her sweater-covered fat. A few strokes of his nose across her middle, and he would lift his head. For a moment, Quincey saw his perpetually closed eyelids, so oddly shaped, just so slightly sunken into his head, having no weight behind them to give them proper shape. He wasn’t looking right at her. His head was angled just slightly in the wrong direction.
“… You okay?”
“Daxton!” Quincey squealed and threw her arms around her savior, falling back to the pavement where she held him desperately. She clung to him with all the feelings of relief and joy her body could reasonably contain. The rest of her feelings came in tears. She was alive! She was sore, her glasses were bent, but she was alive; and it was all thanks to Daxton.
Their friends let out heavy sighs, releasing their held breath as they allowed relief to wash over them too. Their postures sunk and slumped as their muscles, rigid with worry, went lax. “God,” Kenny huffed, “What… What the hell was that?!”
“I’m okay,” Quincey sniffled, cupping her puppy’s cheeks and lifting his head to look at his face once more, “I’m fine. Are you hurt?”
“No, nah… I had a soft landing…” Daxton smiled, “I’m all okay.”
Quincey’s expression went silly, a mix of being overjoyed and about to cry. “Good!” Her voice cracked, and she started to sob once more.
“Oh, piglet, it’s okay, everything’s okay,” Laila soothed her friend. With Kenny’s help, she got Quincey to sit up while the lemming got Daxton at least up to his knees, but the porcine girl just wouldn’t let him go entirely. She kept him all snug against her, allowing him to rest his chin on her shoulder.
“Can you go find his hat…?” Quincey finally asked, keeping Daxton close so he wouldn’t experience the disorienting feeling of being in such an open area without any sight, “Please?”
She stared right at Kenny as she pleaded.
“Yeah, okay,” Kenny simply nodded, “Stay put.”
Kenny did a quick look around. The hat wasn’t hard to find, a dark blue fabric against almost black asphalt, so he was quick to locate it and make his way over to retrieve it. He turned his attention to the crashed trans. It was a familiar truck, the same that commonly delivered the lunches to the school cafeteria. Several things were wrong with that however. The truck was early, for starters; too early. Second, to Kenny’s knowledge the TranSafe should have kicked in and stopped the vehicle once it reached such speeds in a civilian area - unless Mr. Gurtur, the driver of the school’s lunch truck, had specifically overridden it. But then, that wouldn’t have made sense either. Clearly the trans had been out of control.
Kenny’s attention was still focused on the scene of the accident, even as he pushed Daxton’s hat back over his head. School staff had rushed out to contain the scene and keep the students moving, calling for emergency services, and checking on the driver. Accidents happened, but with everything that could have prevented such a thing, it just didn’t make sense. Kenny shook his head and reached down to grab hold of Daxton and help him to his feet. Laila helped Quincey, and the two of them got upright with little more than shaky legs and pounding hearts.
The four of them shuffled with some unease towards the wreck. The trans had driven up the front steps and hit a pole that supported the canopy over the building’s entrance. The driver was worse for wear, left unconscious but unmoved from his seat. The school’s principal, Mrs. Ross, had her feathers in a bunch over what to do until help arrived. Seeing Daxton and his friends, the duck instead set her sights on them. She smoothed her proper business attire and fixed her hair, calming obviously for their benefit.
“Keep your distance now,” She said, “We can’t have anyone touching or disturbing anything. Help is on the way, so please try to go about your business. You have classes to get to, do you not?”
“Hey!” Kenny shot the older woman a glare, “Daxton and Quinn nearly got creamed by that thing!”
“What?” Mrs. Ross looked from Daxton to Quincey and back again, studying them more closely. Quincey was quivering, she could see it clearly. “Oh my, are you hurt?”
“Nope,” Daxton grinned a little, though he was clearly shaken, “I’m good.”
Quincey’s legs gave out, and her weight took her to her knees on the ground. She snorted as she gasped, and her face flushed red in embarrassment. “I-I’m okay! I’m fine, nothing’s wrong I’m just…” She let out a sigh as Laila knelt down to hold Quincey’s shoulders and gently rub them to try and calm the girl down.
“Had the daylights scared out of her,” Laila explained, “She woulda ended up a freckled hood ornament if Daxton hadn’t pushed her outta the way.”
“What the heck happened anyway?” Kenny asked.
Turning her attention back to the scene, Mrs. Ross rest a hand to her forehead and sighed heavily. “I can’t tell, and with David unconscious behind the wheel, I can’t ask. He’s not responding, but he is breathing,” She said, “And until help arrives, it’s unwise to move or touch anything.”
Kenny approached the side of the trans, and rested his hand against the side of the haul. Like any good transportation vehicle, most of the trans was still intact, but the front was obviously dented from the high-speed collision. He understood the mechanics of a truck well enough that he knew a repair for it wouldn’t be cheap, but some things still boggled him. “Why didn’t the safety kick in? It should’ve. Maybe the sensors are busted?” He muttered to himself.
“Maybe they don’t keep the trans very well maintained…” Quincey theorized, “Could be it’s needed to be fixed for a while.”
“Least the air bags worked,” Laila nodded, “Thank goodness.”
Daxton kneaded his head, rubbing the fabric of his hat against his scalp. His friends were doing so much thinking; he really had nothing to add. He and Mrs. Ross shared a look – neither of them had any valid points to offer in regards to figuring out what went wrong. But, being that it wasn’t a student’s place to fret over such details, Mrs. Ross cleared her throat and quickly took charge.
“Well, we’ll be looking into that, no question,” She nodded, “I won’t be having any repeated incidents like this endanger my students. With all the screaming I almost thought the sky was falling on our heads.”
“Aw, ew,” Laila looked towards the ground where Quincey sat. Silver, viscous fluid was leaking out of the trans and down the steps. “Piglet, let’s get on up off the ground. Darn thing’s sprung a leak.”
The teens all recoiled, stepping cautiously to avoid the fluid that leaked from the smashed up truck. Quincey had risen from her spot, hauling her bag up off the ground and holding it to her chest with Laila right by her side to help her along. The emergency response teams arrived just at that moment, with medical teams, firefighters, and police to contain and assist.
“I’ll tell you what,” Mrs. Ross took them all aside to get out of the various teams’ way, “Go to the cafeteria. Lunches may be a little late this afternoon, but tell Fendel I gave you permission to get a snack before class. Nothing too big though!”
Quincey’s eyes lit up, “Really? Thank you!”
“After a stressful day, I like a big bowl of ice cream,” Mrs. Ross grinned, “I can only imagine a snack would be good after nearly getting hit by a truck. Now go, get going, and then get to class!”
They were shooed away by the principal, moving quickly into the building and forced to push the event towards the back of their minds.
As the medical teams rushed to the driver’s aid, they began their routine check for response, and began pulling out their stretcher. The police ushered folks along, including spectators on the street, and the firefighters inspected the scene for any sort of hazards. They worked quickly and professionally.
“It’s all clear!” Shouted one.
“Nothing’s leaking? No chance of a fire?”
“No! Ground’s dry!”
Mrs. Ross scrunched her brow and turned towards the scene. “Dry? But… Certainly not, something was…”
Looking on, the principle saw no fluid running down the steps. Whatever silver chemical that had been leaking out was simply gone.
“… Hm.”
-
--
-
“Let today’s Town Meet come to order.”
A hefty, fish-lipped amphibian of a man stood front and center in front of Harbington’s town hall, standing before a podium with his fleshy whiskers dangling off his flabby cheeks. He spoke as if his fat lips muffled his words, and looked as tired as he did aged. However he dressed professionally, formally, with an air of importance all around him.
“I will be your moderator. My name is Winston Farcris,” He continued, “I apologize that this Town Meeting was called on such short notice, but at Mr. Mason’s request…”
“We NEED to discuss this alien threat!” A voice broke in. A male stood, canine in form, with black hair shaping a mohawk on his head, and dark spots in his grungy brown fur that would mark him as a hyena, “We can ignore it no longer, we MUST defend ourselves against the alien menace.”
“I would advise you not to speak out of turn, Mr. Mason,” the moderator huffed.
Straightening the tie on his tacky purple suit, Mr. Mason continued, “My stance remains the same as it always has. We need weapons. We’re fools to think a problem like that would just go away.”
“If I might speak,” A slightly younger, but no less determined voice rose. Eddie Kemberge stood from his seat near the podium. He was in line with a handful of other men and women.
Mr. Mason scoffed, “The young Arbitrator. What a surprise.”
“It needs to be said, Mr. Mason. Weapons are simply begging for trouble,” Eddie’s eyes never left the man standing amongst the crowd, “Do I really have to remind you why?”
“Oh, please, do go over it again,” Mr. Mason crossed his arms.
The crowd that had gathered hunkered down for another debate. It had been so long since a Town Meet had seen such a thing – two men who simply would not give up. Mr. Mason had been pushing tirelessly to address the Locksmouth Incident and the implications an alien invasion posed. Humanity was not alone in the universe. Creatures from another world could have at any time invaded once more, and it wasn’t a certainty that they would escape as luckily as Locksmouth had. It was a miracle that they were saved, and it felt like the victory lied completely out of humanity’s hands.
To that end, it was Mr. Mason’s belief that humanity needed to be equipped to repel an invasion. Many people supported him. They had developed a political party to help sway the Arbitrator’s decisions called the “Amendment Party.” It was named in reference to a long-standing right that Pre-Splice humanity had been granted – the right to own and operate a firearm. Such a concept had died out long ago with The Great Disarming that had happened one hundred years before. People had rarely even had the need to raise a fist since.
But there was a new and terrifying danger the likes of which even a civilization with force field technology hadn’t anticipated.
“We stand atop a civilization that operated on perpetual war. In doing so, they developed a violence culture. Have you read any old books? Seen old vids? Or even those comic books that pre-splicer in Locksmouth supposedly comes from?” Eddie addressed not only Mr. Mason, but the crowd, “Every conflict was violence. It seemed as if society could not thrive without it. We decided that fighting violence with violence was ineffective, and after populations declined tremendously at around the year 2441, stripped every standing nation of their militaries in the interest of preservation.
What you are proposing, Mr. Mason, is not simply defending ourselves from the alien threat. You are not proposing that we develop a harshly regulated task force designed for such a purpose. What you, Mr. Mason, are proposing is the open distribution of weapons and the full renewal of an army. You wish for there to be gun stores once more, where nearly anyone can buy guns. You want to inject violence back into society.”
“I want no such thing,” Mr. Mason returned-fire, “I do not want to inject violence into anything. I want to be able to go to sleep at night knowing that if the time came, I could have the means to protect the people I care for. Is that so wrong?”
“There are other ways,” Eddie sighed, “There are other ways to help the people, yet you choose to put all this time and investment into putting weapons in the hands of the people.”
There was a pause, and with a deep breath, Eddie continued.
“Putting your wishes into place would perpetuate a circumstance that we may one day not be able to contain. It would only be a matter of time before someone did something stupid, and we’d find ourselves with the blood of an innocent victim on our hands. The moment it becomes apparent that we are just as likely to turn on one another, could you safely say you can protect your friends and family then? If we were to do this, regulations would have to be so immensely strict that I theorize over half the population in Harbington wouldn’t even be able to own a gun.”
“That would be unacceptable!” Mr. Mason growled, “If only half the population could stand up and fight against a threat- -!”
“There are other ways,” Eddie reiterated harshly, “What we should be focusing on is our space programs. If other worlds are out there, we should be attempting to reach them, we need to be able to classify a threat before we can even think about facing it. If there are other people out there, other races, we need to communicate.”
“We cannot communicate! We still face a threat, you fool!” Mr. Mason shouted.
Eddie was stunned, and the silent crowd began to murmur amongst itself in confusion. “What threat? The ‘Inklings’ are gone,” Eddie narrowed his gaze towards the hyena, “What we face now is a need to rebuild. Locksmouth needs our aid, we should be thinking less about ourselves and more about each other.”
Mr. Mason straightened up with a smug grin on his chops, “I think you’ll find we need to worry about ourselves more than you think, young Arbitrator.”
“What are you getting at, Mason?” A feline woman who was seated next to Eddie spoke up.
“My men discovered an alien presence in the dome,” Mr. Mason answered with a narrowed gaze, “Earlier this week we encountered a beast in the industrial sector. It was unlike anything we had ever seen.”
Expressions turned panicked and grim all amongst the crowds, and gasps rose up. Many words floated amongst the crowd in hushed whispers, but one that appeared more often than not was ‘aliens.’
“Out with it, Mason.”
“Very well,” The hyena grinned, “The creature made the unfortunate mistake of encroaching upon my private property. A small squad of security personnel was dispatched when the creature attacked one of my staff. While we managed to secure the beast after several neurod applications, we suffered a casualty.”
“And you didn’t bring this up to the authorities?!” Eddie shouted, “Are you stupid?!”
“Anything but, I was merely cautious,” Mr. Mason replied, “I just wanted an opportunity to examine it. Observe.”
Fishing a PET out of his suit’s inner breast pocket, he accessed a file. All at once, a large-scale projection appeared in the air, big enough for everyone to see, and far enough to be between the podium and the crowd. What was displayed boggled the mind. It was clearly alien, with several limbs. It resembled a sort of insect, though the measurements recorded it as being the size of a house cat. A cut-away image displayed the beast from top to bottom. It seemed to have a mouth, or some orifice lined with sharp teeth-like protrusions at the very least. Its skin was a sickly-looking colour, a bruised purple, with blemishes of off-putting blacks and reds that blended in.
“What the hell is that?”
“Is that real?”
“Look at its teeth!”
“That… killed someone?”
Eddie Kemberge stared in silence at what had appeared before him. It was as if his worst nightmare had come true. Not only did Mr. Mason appear to have the exact thing he needed to really drive his argument, but the aliens of Locksmouth had made it as far as Harbington. They were the same aliens claimed to have disappeared when the reported ‘Inklings’ went to… wherever they came from, the same alien creatures that helped level a once impressive city and render it inert. The buck was not alone in his feelings of dread, nor was he the only one whose thoughts turned to their family.
“The creature has been incarcerated of course, and I’ve had my men studying it ever since,” Mr. Mason spoke up, breaking the tension by making the projection disappear.
“You moron!” A woman, an officer by her uniform, stood quickly from the crowd, “You should have reported it immediately! How did that… that thing get in here?! What if there’s more?! We should have shut down all the entrances!”
“That would have cut our support to Locksmouth entirely. We’d be stranding our own citizens outside the dome,” the feline Arbitrator answered for that, “But… I do admit, this is most pressing.”
“Well, I’m issuing a plea to recall all support. Get everyone back into the dome before we shut it down and then try to weed out any possible lingering… creature-things!” The officer growled – the Rottweiler woman was recognized from her badge as the chief of the police force.
Then the crowd was really buzzing with chatter and murmurs that the moderator finally stepped in to try and control. Eddie, still stunned, turned his attention to his fellow Arbitrators, who seemed to be in hushed discussion over what course of action to take. Seating himself, he tried to listen, but he had been so spaced out that they had reached a decision without him.
“It is obvious we must grant this request,” The feline Arbitrator spoke, “For the safety of our citizens, we must lock down the dome so that any outside threats are barred entry. We are also permitting the full extent of our law enforcement to engage in a dome-wide sweep. If there are more creatures like this, we must discover them before they can harm anyone.”
“And what if we encounter the creatures?” Mr. Mason chimed in.
The feline shook her head, “Even if we had the weapons, Mr. Mason, we could not possibly arm all of Harbington. The protection of our citizens will fall to our capable law enforcement.”
The hyena male did not look impressed by the decision, but the Chief of police took the reins of the discussion quickly. “Then I’m calling a dome-wide curfew effective immediately,” She declared, “To give my men the time and space we need to conduct the sweep and to keep civilians off the street.”
All the Arbitrators shared a look of concern. Finally Eddie sighed, “Then… make it so.”
-
--
-
“… I repeat: all citizens are to be in their homes by sundown. Anyone caught outside past the allotted curfew time without explicit pardon will face punishment.”
Kenny stared at the screen of his PET as the announcement broadcast ended. Looking up, Mr. Rosling sat at the head of the empty classroom, just staring back at him. The old goat had actually kept him behind for forgetting his homework again, but looked absolutely exhausted. Kenny hadn’t said a word though throughout his entire detention sentence. It was just one big, awkward silence.
The teacher broke the silence while he cleaned his glasses off using his sweater-vest, “A curfew? How strange.”
“Yeah. Kinda stupid,” Kenny pocketed his PET and slouched in his seat. He pushed his legs out far and crossed them, and folded his arms with the intent of appearing stand-offish.
Mr. Rosling sighed, “I’ll tell you what, Kenny. I don’t really have any desire to stay here any longer either. This one time, I’ll let you go. But from now on, you ought to remember your homework.”
Kenny uncrossed his arms and pushed out of his seat then, gathering up his things to leave. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” He said, “You don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll be more prudent next time.”
Standing from his own desk, Mr. Rosling shook his head. “Kenny, you’re hard enough on yourself I almost don’t need to punish you,” The kindly old man said, “But perhaps if I keep you here a little while every time, you’ll realize that sometimes you don’t need to punish yourself. I will be more than happy to punish you for you when the time is right.”
The young lemming furrowed a brow at that, “Uh… thanks Mr. Rosling. I think.”
Kenny made for the door, but before he could escape, Mr. Rosling grasped his shoulder. The boy stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the old goat’s smiling face. “You have enough problems just being a young man,” The teacher nodded sagely, “Don’t be so quick to create more difficulty for yourself. Most students would have simply copied their friends’ homework – I heard Miss Lavinia attempting to persuade you to do just that.”
“You heard that?” Kenny asked, surprised.
Mr. Rosling simply nodded, “I did. And I would have allowed it. I knew, however, that you would rather face your punishment.”
Kenny looked away from his teacher. He wasn’t sure what to say in regards to that, but he felt proud that someone recognized that he would do the responsible thing.
“I appreciate your honesty,” Mr. Rosling continued, “But… please, don’t let your responsibilities get in the way of enjoying yourself. No boy needs the weight of the world on his shoulders, least of all one so small.”
Kenny brought his gaze back to Mr. Rosling’s face in a sort of slow drag. “Uh… thanks, Mr. Rosling… I think,” Kenny half-smirked. Was every compliment that man made wrapped in some sort of jab?
“Go now,” Mr. Rosling gave a nod and his blessing.
Kenny nodded back, departing from the classroom quickly to take off through the school’s empty hallways. He aimed to catch up with his friends at the Burger Dictator, though he couldn’t shake a feeling of… sentimentality over what Mr. Rosling had said. Was it really okay to cheat? To shirk responsibility? It just didn’t feel right. To ignore responsibility was just asking for trouble. One oversight could turn into something far worse. No, when he had to do something, he simply had to do it. Mr. Rosling was just plain wrong. The only reason Kenny was out of class was because of the curfew.
“Yeah, first I almost lose Daxton and then I have to be in bed on time,” Kenny rolled his eyes and waved his hands erratically, “This day is the best day ever!”
The front entrance of the school had been completely closed off thanks to the morning’s earlier accident. Exiting the side entrance, Kenny looked to the sky. There hardly seemed like there was any daytime left before the new curfew would come into effect and everyone would have to go home. He let out a breath as he looked down the street, considering his options while taking note that what little evening traffic the streets saw was already gone. It wasn’t even night, and yet the town seemed deserted.
For a moment he thought there was hardly a point in meeting with his friends. Even if he did, he’d only be there for a short while. But on the other hand they had really wanted him to join them. Quincey especially was rather miffed he didn’t go. He didn’t like disappointing his friends, he truly didn’t, but at the same time he wouldn’t have felt right not owning up for his mistakes. It was a sort of delicate balance, and his friends just seemed too… childish to really understand it. It made sense though – he was seventeen and they were sixteen. Sure, it may have only been a month before Laila would also be his age, but… he was the oldest.
As the oldest, he had responsibilities. He had responsibilities for them. He had to look out for them, make sure they were alright.
“… Alright, alright,” Kenny let out a drawn sigh, and then he made his way through the quiet streets.
Burger Dictator wasn’t too far away. A handful of blocks from the school and he’d find himself there. It was close enough that students skipping classes would often go there, and if anyone had a free period they would often do the same. It got a rush of business after school every day, so it was a great location. No doubt the new curfew would put a bit of a damper on that, Kenny thought. But at least he didn’t have to worry about it much – it wasn’t like he worked there anymore. All the better, too… that stupid uniform was embarrassing.
He remembered taking the job two summers before. He worked plenty of hours and got plenty of money, but spent very little. Once again, his friends would chastise him for “being a stickler,” for commonly taking hours at work when he should have been relaxing and spending time with them. But they didn’t understand! Those trips outside the dome didn’t pay for themselves, and it was never too early to save up money for a car and a nice apartment. Meanwhile his friends always seemed to be caught short-handed for money – and they wondered why!
Such endless frustration they were.
But then, they provided plenty of joy too.
Because of that job, he’d never forget the look on Quincey’s face when he bought her an expensive compilation of Ancient Egyptian Myths for her birthday. He was always able to afford going to holo-tag and boxing matches with Laila as well. That was also the summer that he and Daxton went out to several... well, Kenny always called it ‘just going to get something to eat,’ despite Daxton’s insistence that it always seemed like more of a date. Kenny denied it until he was blue in the face, but it got more difficult to do so when they started catching movies afterward.
In the end, that was why he bothered to catch them at the Burger Dictator. They were his friends, no matter how frustrated they sometimes made him. They’d be there for him whenever he needed it, in whatever capacity they could provide… He knew it was fair to do the same for them. His father always told him it was right to stick by your own. He always said that Kenny’s mother used to think the same way so long ago as well.
Kenny wasn’t so lost in thought that he couldn’t hear something hit the ground behind him. Maybe if the streets were more lively he may have missed it, but in the dead silence of Harbington under curfew, it was unmistakable. He stopped and turned to see what it was. Maybe something fell from a window higher up or something. What he saw however was not some kind of discarded litter like he expected.
It was a creature. The sight of it froze Kenny in his tracks as he considered for a moment that perhaps some genetic experiment had escaped some lab somewhere. It was a vile thing, with blotched skin of a purple hue, with black and red… It looked like some big, skittering bruise with six legs and a most unusual array of movement. It resembled a big spider, and Kenny couldn’t say he was overly fond of looking at it.
“What the hell’re you supposed to be?” He asked, as if the creature could answer.
It turned towards him, or at least he thought it did. With no noticeable eyes, it was difficult to know just what the creature had its attention on. But it had a mouth – oh, it had a mouth. Rearing up on its two back legs, it splayed out its four remaining limbs and produced a piercing shriek from its angular, tooth-filled maw. The loud sound made Kenny cringe. His ears wilted and he clutched the sides of his head while shutting his eyes tight. The sound rung in the back of his mind and produced an inner pain. Kenny just barely opened one eye to see the thing flying through the air right at him!
“What the--?!” He ducked aside quickly, and the creature flew over his shoulder to land on the midwalk behind him. Twisting his body, he stepped swiftly to turn to keep it in sight. It landed deftly, and scurried its limbs in an awkward, crawling fashion to turn and take another run at him again.
As it leapt, Kenny stumbled backwards. The creature had begun its aerial lunge too quickly for the boy to do anything more than just let himself fall. He worked with his backward momentum, catching himself with one hand on the ground, and thrust his leg into the air to catch the creature on its backside, just between its two back legs. The force of its leap was redirected immediately, sending it hurling through the air instead where it landed on the midwalk on its back. Kenny didn’t even look back as he pushed himself onto his feet again and started to run.
He heard it screech at him again, and knew it was chasing him. He didn’t have to look, he just knew. The way his heart pounded in his chest and his hands got all sweaty; it couldn’t have been for nothing, after all. So he tore down the street like a sprinter, adrenaline pumping into his system to make it seem like he was squeezing fear out of his pores. Eventually he’d have to look. A nagging in the back of his mind was just screaming for him to look. Was he getting away?
He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that the creature had been keeping pace with him the whole time. In his moment of uncertainty, he slowed, allowing it to take another lunge at him. By luck, he tripped over his own foot, sending him into a stumble that saw him scrambling with his hands out to catch him before he fell. The creature launched right over his back in his bent-over position, and landed in front of him.
“Ah… AH!” He pushed back with his legs and lifted his body up straight to reel backwards as the creature turned and lunged again. The boy sidestepped his assailant, but ran into an old vending machine. He hit his back off it far harder than he would have ever expected to, sounding as if he may have crushed something in his backpack. He didn’t have time to cringe however, taking off into a dash once more with a sudden turn into an alley. At least the vending machine told him where he was – it was the one out front of Future Fashions. He wasn’t far from the Burger Dictator.
He looked back as he took off down the alley, and the creature was in hot pursuit. It leapt around the corner, turning itself to latch onto the wall with its grubby little claws and continued chasing him… sideways. Just seeing it perform such a feat filled Kenny with dread, and distracted him enough that his knee struck a garbage deposit tucked away between the buildings. He hissed and cursed, stumbling frantically out the other end of the alley where he spotted his goal, the Burger Dictator building.
“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck!” He shouted as he ran, “Worst day! This is the worst day! I hate you, purple spider! I HATE YOU!”
He outstretched his hand as he barreled towards the Burger Dictator, that piercing screech ringing in his ears again. Tears welled up in his eyes, but if he just ran a little further… just a little further, he’d make it! The glass doors of the retro burger joint were right there!
-
--
-
“Piglet, you’ve never looked so sad while stuffing your face with a Double Dic before.”
Quincey looked up from her burger to Laila, who sat next to Daxton across from her. The giraffe was right, Quincey was always happy to go out and eat with her friends. Always. But this time she was admittedly a little bummed. She looked at the bite she took out of her burger, lifting it so she could study the way the cheese had melted between the two patties. It was just to give her an excuse not to look her concerned friend in the eye, really.
“Why does Kenny always do these things?” She asked, “It’s like he doesn’t want to spend time with us.”
Daxton’s lips parted in slight surprise from around the stray of his drink. “That’s not true, come on,” He said, “Kenny loves us. You know he does.”
“That makes it all the more perplexing,” She said, “If he loves us so much, why can’t he ever blow one thing off just to be with us?”
Laila pondered the question a little bit while straightening out her ponytail. “There’s something to be said for a fella who always owns up to his mistakes,” She said, “That’s a mature man. Maybe he’s just trying to be all grown-up.”
Quincey chewed on another bite of her burger, and spoke before she swallowed, “Being grown up doesn’t mean abandoning us.”
Daxton took a deep breath and sighed, leaning against the window next to his booth seat in a slump, squishing his cheek against a propped up fist while slurping down some Carbolate. He hated when talks turned to Kenny behind the boy’s back. Daxton wanted to defend Kenny as much as he could, but he could never find the words. Every time he insisted that the lemming was there for them, Kenny would go off and get wrapped up in something else and blow them off. He had homework to do, chores to do, work to do, or just things to do, so the girls always had ample reason to doubt.
What was worse was that the reasoning was so simple. Kenny was the way he was for one reason. But he couldn’t tell them. It was a touchy subject, and Kenny hated it when people felt sorry for him.
“Can’t we talk about something not Kenny related?” The pup asked, “Y’know, at least for a little while?”
“Uh, no, actually,” Quincey blinked a few times as she looked around Laila towards the restaurant’s front door, “Because here he comes.”
Daxton lifted himself up onto a knee to look over his booth seating, and Laila turned her head to catch their friend as he barreled through the front doors. Kenny slammed into them with his little body to send them flying open, and he collapsed onto the floor in a desperate struggle with a creature that was clutched to his back. Everyone in the restaurant found their attention locked on to the scene as Kenny reached behind his head to grasp the creature and desperately try to yank it off, all while keeping his face low to the floor.
The strange, alien creature let out its piercing shriek, and everyone in the restaurant broke into a screaming panic.
“GET IT OFF!” Kenny screamed, his voice cracking, “HELP!”
Some people stood, but froze half-way out of their seats in fright of just what was attacking the poor boy. Quincey had recoiled, covering her mouth in fear she may scream too loudly, and Laila was too stunned to make a move. It was Daxton once again who jumped to attention. He pushed up further, hesitating only a moment to register what he was seeing, before he lifted a leg up to climb up onto his seat, and jump off in a rush to help his friend.
Daxton quickly stepped over his friend and reached down to grab the creature and give it a mighty pull. He grunted, as did Kenny, as he struggled to force it off. It shrieked again, and clutched to Kenny with as many of its little claws as he could. The claws ran over his face, scratching him a bit, but the creature simply couldn’t hold on. It eventually parted from the lemming, its legs flailing to get some footing as Daxton stood up straight and held his arms straight out to put distance between it and himself.
“Someone call the police!”
“Do something!”
“Someone help them!”
The dining area was hysteric as Daxton stumbled back. The creature was really struggling, trying to throw what little weight it had around to wiggle free of Daxton’s grasp. Kenny scrambled out from beneath Daxton and turned to lock eyes with the other boy, who was simply… yelling. He didn’t know what to do, and the creature was really freaking him out, so he was just screaming as some kind of coping mechanism in regards to just what he was doing. Kenny was no less shocked, and getting another look at the thing, he started yelling as well. With the creature also shrieking, it was an utter plethora of various-pitched screaming.
“AHHHH! WHAT DO WE DO?!” Daxton barked.
“I DUNNO!” Kenny squeaked back.
People darted out the door, running around Daxton and Kenny as they piled out in a panic. But it all stopped as the strange alien was struck by a serving tray – and hard. It was knocked right out of Daxton’s hands, and plunged to the floor, cutting off its screeching for only a moment. Daxton and Kenny watched in utter surprise as Laila lifted her tray, and slammed it down on the creature again. She repeated this a few more times before standing and crushing the tray, and the creature beneath it, under her boot. She continued to stomp and stamp on it without mercy or remorse.
She continued to do so until the ungodly screaming was over, and she was certain it was dead. It started leaking some dull gray, funky slime when it finally went quiet. Still, she gave it a few hard flattenings under her boot just to be absolutely certain before she stopped.
“There! Dead!” She announced, turning to Kenny and immediately taking him into her arms. He pulled the little guy in against her body, where her chest pressed tightly against his face and head. “Are you alright lil’ guy?” She asked.
“Mrph!” Kenny exhaled a sort of muffled response in against Laila’s chest, shaking his head furiously to free himself. All that managed to do was jiggle her around, but eventually he got wise to plant his hands on her and push to work his face free.
He gasped, “I’ll be better when you stop smothering me!”
Daxton squat down to lift the food tray and lifted the odd creature somewhat with it. Whatever goop it was leaking, it was stuck to the tray by it. He dropped it again and shook his hand off, stepping back to make sure he distanced himself from the rather gross sight. “Man, what the heck,” He muttered.
Quincey peeked up from the booth, shaking in fright. Once she saw the coast was clear, she eased herself out of the seat and tip-toed over to her friends. When she heard a squish under her shoes however, she squealed and stepped back, lifting one of her sweet Mary-Janes to observe the gray viscous goo that now stuck to it. “Oh gross!” She yelped, “You really squashed it!”
“Quit stepping in that! And don’t play with it!” Laila barked to her friends, “We don’t even know what it is!”
“It sure isn’t from around here, that’s for sure,” Quincey remarked as she looked at it from above.
“Hey, you don’t think it’s an alien, do you?” Daxton asked. The quizzical looks he received from all three of his friends assured him they didn’t, so he continued, “No, I mean, like from Locksmouth.”
“How in the heck did it get all the way to Harbington then?” Laila asked, willing to believe such a crazy theory, “I mean that’s no brisk walk.”
Each of them looked from one to the other, and soon they all simply put their attention on Quincey. Rather than have an answer to such a thing however, she simply shook her head. There was no way she could tell, not with alien species being rather new. They weren’t even supposed to be around anymore! With the aliens repelled from Locksmouth, they were supposed to just be gone… that’s what the broadcasts said!
“I don’t like that thought,” She said.
Kenny leaned around Laila, pushing away from her to step over to the creature and give it another stomping for good measure. “It’s dead now!” He declared, “So screw it! Tell your Dad we don’t need weapons, Daxton, we just need to kick their ass.”
He stomped it again, “Literally!”
-
--
-
What a day.
What a day.
If almost getting hit by a truck wasn’t bad enough, Kenny’s encounter with an alien was no better. A brief talk with the police revealed that curfew was set into place in order to search down monsters like the ones that chased down the lemming boy. It was a terribly frightening thought, especially for poor Quincey. She couldn’t run like the others could. What if something chased her? It was enough to give her the jitters and keep her up later into the evening.
Of course, it had to be the aliens from Locksmouth. What else could it be? The only logical conclusion was that… something made its way, miles and miles, from their shore-lining sister-city and into Harbington. The police said there may even be more, and told her to be very careful. It was a nightmare. Nothing in human history seemed to compare, and Quincey would know, she checked. She had been reading her old files most of the night after trying to calm herself with her homework. Nothing seemed to work though, the girl still laid awake in her bed for what felt like hours.
Her eyelids felt heavy as she flipped through the last little bit of a tale between a man named Odysseus and a beast she came to know as a Cyclops. Before it seemed as if monsters like that only existed in legends and myths spun by civilizations passed, and only could live on in her wildest of dreams. Tales such as how Odysseus tricked a Cyclops to escape its cave and avoid being eaten were simply wonderful to her, though at that moment she felt it only served to remind her that monsters were indeed very real – not simply in the hearts of men, as her stories would have her believe, but real, live monsters and terrifying beasts.
She yawned, and decided it was best to try and sleep, to ignore the fact that somewhere out there, some skittering creature was stalking the woods. She pushed from her bed, and stood on her bare feet to give her toes a wiggle and then make sure the window was locked and the curtains were drawn. She just felt safer knowing there was no way for anything to get in. At the same time she felt awful – she hadn’t been scared of the metaphorical monsters under the bed since she was five years old and slept with a night light.
When she reached for the window however, she took pause at something on her hand that caught the moonlight. She gasped and reeled in disgust at the strange viscous liquid that dripped from her fingers, quickly shaking her hand to throw away the silver slop. She felt it sling off her hand and did not know where it landed, but it quickly became apparent that she hadn’t succeeded in ridding herself of it. It was stuck to her fingers, seeming to surround them like a strange skin. It only took a moment of clarity in her fright for her to realize that she felt it on her foot as well, and her gaze shot down to see the same thing occurring there.
“W… What?” Quincey whimpered in confusion. It seemed as if being noticed simply spurred that slime into action. It began to writhe and move on her flesh, spreading to cover more of her flesh in a strange silver coating. She squealed aloud in shock, and immediately set to running. In the dark of her room and the blurred world of sight without her glasses however, the girl couldn’t see. She heard the familiar sound of her foot hitting her desk chair before she felt it, and she tripped and fell onto the floor.
She tried to get up onto her knees at least, but her chunky legs got caught in the loose fabric of her sleeping shirt – some really old and over-sized number she had from her younger days. She struggled, for a moment, until she managed to spy more of the silver slime in the dark. It caught the light, shining with a sort of glossy look. Quincey’s expression sank to one of horror as she saw it was oozing out… from her backpack!
She tried to scream, but the oddly sentient mess stuck to her face. It covered her mouth like glue and silenced any sounds. She set to struggling; trying to tear it off her face, but it was as if she were simply pulling on her own skin. Nothing seemed to work, and she rolled and thrashed to do her best to free herself. Alas, it was for nothing. The last thing she’d remember is it covering her eyes, and feeling started to slip away as the stuff covered her entire form…
… Then her world simply went dark.
