Authors: Darcy Town
“Why?”
Tracy cranked on the wheel blindly.
“I’m lucky!”
Behind her two cars crashed into one another, but avoided them.
Celeste pointed.
“Only by making everyone else
unlucky
!”
Tracy yawned.
“So?
They’re all humans right?”
Celeste scoffed.
“So that’s it?
You change over, grow some fucking horns, and now care fuck all about anyone else?”
She looked out her window.
“How can you tell they are not like us?
Maybe they’re mixed like us?”
Belial handed Tracy a larger t-shirt.
“Take a good look at them.”
Everyone in the car gazed outside.
Jacob pointed.
“We glow and they don’t.”
He looked at Belial.
“You really glow!”
Celeste grumbled.
“Great, now everyone’s part of the special club except for me!”
Belial smirked.
“Now that everyone has special gifts you want to join too,
typical
.”
“You’re wrong.”
Celeste glared at her.
“That’s not it at all!”
“Ooh!”
Belial turned in her seat.
“Let’s fight about it!”
“No!”
Jacob and Tracy looked over at the pair.
Tracy pointed at them both.
“You two are so alike!”
“We are not!”
Both women went silent and stared out of their respective windows.
Belial took Tracy’s old shirt and blocked off the portion of the window she’d cut out.
Jacob searched for something to eat.
He opened one of the bags that contained their junk food and pop.
He grinned.
“Someone bought MadLibs!”
Tracy bounced in her seat.
“Hells yes I did, we’re on a road trip!
I want to play!”
Belial smiled.
“I get to pick the verbs.”
Jacob read aloud, “Okay, it’s called The Big Date.
Pick the name of girl in the room.”
Celeste smiled a little.
“Belial.”
Jacob wrote it in.
“Name of guy.”
“Andy!”
Tracy and Celeste answered together.
Belial scowled.
“
No
.”
Tokala opened his eyes and grinned weakly.
“You only get to pick verbs.”
Jacob looked at the next entry.
“Okay, verb.”
Belial slashed at the air.
“Killing!”
“And another verb.”
“Stabbing!”
Celeste closed her eyes.
“I think we can see where this is going.”
Jacob smiled.
“Noun?”
***
A dispatcher took down a message at one of the Canadian Solomon Soldier centers of operation.
He pressed a button that would relay the message.
He waited for a superior officer to come.
Within minutes, a man joined him.
“Explain.”
“One of our sweeper teams reported a group matching the description.”
He pointed to a fax printout on the wall.
Two girls were described along with two males.
“They are travelling together.
They now have three Lilliam companions.”
“Are they currently being tracked?”
“We have a scout following them.”
The man nodded.
“Contact the headquarters.
We’ll need the lamin before I send anyone out to intercept.”
***
Paimon walked down the side of the Burnside Bridge, pushing a shopping cart in front of him.
Furcas slept inside it, cradled between cushions.
Paimon had covered him in flowers and leaves that he’d picked up along the walk.
Furcas was either going to throw a fit or be pleased when he woke up.
Either way, it would take Furcas’ mind off his injuries.
A breeze picked up over the water.
Paimon inhaled and smiled.
He loved Portland.
Furcas hated it, too many teen runaways and homeless vets missing their limbs.
Paimon looked down at Furcas and smiled.
He whistled as he stepped off the bridge.
He wished it were Saturday…he loved perusing the local farmers’ market.
Car horns went off, reminding him of their situation.
He picked up his pace, uneasy about being in the open.
He eyed the shotgun and the bottle of whiskey he kept in the cart.
He hadn’t had to use either yet.
Furcas sneezed.
The plants rustled as he moved.
“Why are there flowers all over me?”
Paimon patted his head.
“Because they make you so pretty.”
“Where are we going?”
Furcas uncovered his face and looked around.
“Going?
We’re here.”
Paimon handed him the bottle of whiskey.
Furcas bit the top off and drained half the bottle.
He sighed.
“We made it.”
Paimon nodded and leaned over the shopping cart.
“Yup.”
A car swerved at them deliberately.
Paimon raised his modified shotgun and fired at the driver.
The car careened into a wall.
People ran by screaming.
Paimon picked up the cart and set it on the sidewalk.
He reloaded his shotgun and scanned the road.
“We’re going to run into more of that now that we’re in a city.”
Furcas looked around blurrily.
“They can see us?”
“Somehow they can yeah, not sure why, haven’t hung around to ask.”
Paimon looked around.
Another car crossed the bridge and unnervingly knew right where they were.
He fired and missed.
He sighed.
“Hang on.”
Paimon ran, pushing the cart in front of him.
People dodged out of their way, confused.
The cart bounced on the uneven pavement.
Furcas closed his eye.
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Hold it in.”
Paimon weaved between pedestrians; the crowd on the sidewalk grew thicker.
The pursuing car slammed on its brakes.
The road ahead was closed and packed full of people.
Furcas pointed.
“There’s a crowd ahead.”
Paimon looked up.
“I can see that, I don’t have depth perception problems, one-eye.”
He pushed into the crowd of onlookers.
The Solomon Soldiers parked up on the sidewalk.
Two men jumped out, costumed as maintenance workers.
They ran to the edge of the crowd and split up.
Furcas looked back.
“They’ve split up.
One is gaining.
We need to go faster.”
“Running isn’t my thing!
Get out of the cart.”
“As if
that
will make us go faster.”
“We can’t blend in if you’re in a cart!”
Furcas pointed to a homeless woman with a cart.
“She has a cart.
Why can’t we?”
“We are not arguing about this, Furcas!”
Paimon lifted Furcas out and set him on his feet.
Furcas went limp.
Paimon stayed on Furcas’ good side and wrapped his arm under his shoulders.
Paimon walked for the both of them.
Furcas’ feet dragged on the concrete; he winced, but held back his complaints.
They met up with the growing street crowd.
Paimon and Furcas rushed in, stopped, and gaped.
The throng of people moaned and shuffled their feet.
Furcas raised his head.
“This city is fucking insane.”
“Isn’t it great?”
Paimon bit his right hand.
He splattered the both of them with his blood.
Furcas scowled.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Paimon bit Furcas in the shoulder.
Furcas scratched Paimon’s face in retaliation, leaving three bloody gouge marks.
Paimon left the wounds open and bleeding.
He pulled back the glamour that made them both invisible.
He made a moaning sound.
The nearest humans looked at them.
“Awesome makeup!”
Paimon grinned.
“Brains!”
Furcas closed his eye.
“We’re in a
zombie
walk?”
The pair shuffled with the crowd.
Paimon looked behind them, no Solomon Soldiers in sight.
He held out one arm.
“Brains!
Come on, Furcas.
Say it!”
“No.”
Paimon bit him on the shoulder.
“Say it!”
Furcas bit him back.
“Stop it!”
Paimon laughed and shuffled over to an impressively made-up zombie.
“Great walk!”
“Thanks, we had a record showing.”
The man smiled at Furcas.
“Who did your makeup?
That stitching is cool.
Are you a steampunk zombie?”
Furcas grumbled, “Sure.”
Paimon raised his shotgun.
“I tried to kill him, but he got me first.”
The man grinned.
“Nice replica!
I didn’t see you guys at our breakfast, but we’re having a party afterwards in Powell’s Books.
Well, we’re
invading
, it’s our destination for lunch.”
The man laughed and went back to moaning.
Furcas sagged.
Paimon took more of his weight.
“How’s your wound?”
Furcas winced.
“Killing me.”
Paimon squeezed him.
“We’re almost done.”
Furcas stared at the storm clouds gathering overhead.
“Done with what?”
“The plan, dumbass.”
“What plan?”
Furcas’ head rolled to the side.
“Plan?
Plan?
I just want to sleep.”
Paimon put his cheek to Furcas’ forehead; he was feverish.
“Great.”
Furcas held his stomach.
“It burns.”
He twisted in pain and fell out of Paimon’s arms.
Paimon caught him before he hit the ground.
He swept Furcas off his feet and carried him.
He shuffled along with the movement of the crowd.
“Just a bit longer and we’ll get to rest.
It’ll be all right.”
Screams rose over the crowd.
Paimon whirled around.
Tourists pointed at zombies, pretending to be terrified.
He sighed.
“False alarm.”
Furcas nuzzled up to Paimon’s chest and bit at his ribcage, tearing through his shirt.
Paimon clenched his jaw.
“Let go.”
Furcas sank his teeth in further and drew blood.
Paimon hoped no one was watching.
He glanced down.
“Furcas, what are you doing?”
Furcas bit down until Paimon’s rib cracked.
Paimon staggered.
“Okay fine, keep biting if it makes you feel better.”
Furcas smiled and bit again; he broke through bone, crunching and snapping.
Paimon gritted his teeth.
“Everyone thinks
you’re
the normal one and
I’m
the weird one.
So fucking wrong, you’re a
freak
, Furcas.”