Chapter 26
Shocking
Ah, nothing like the familiar scent of toner and coffee to soothe a worker bee. My desk is littered with mail and work to do—go figure. As I sit in my chair and sort through everything, I find I love the normalcy of it. It’s sanity. It makes sense.
“Nice to see you again.”
Evan stands before me.
“Nice to be back.”
“Is everything... You know, okay?” He looks genuinely concerned.
“Everything is just fine,” I state
. “Thanks again.” With a nod, he’s off to his own office, knowing I’ll take care of everything I need to today.
“Well look what the cat dragged in.” Amber of course. Her voice oozes contempt. She’s as beautiful as ever silhouetted in the doorway, but is a bit on the trampy side today, with a low-cut blouse and too-short-for-work black skirt.
“You got a date or something?” I stare at her four-inch heels.
“Don’t be jealous, hon. Just wanted to come over and check up on you, and give you this, too.” She drops a candy apple-red envelope on my desk and blows me a kiss as she leaves. “Oh, and make sure your mom comes.” This was not exactly the “hello” I expected after being gone a bit, but Amber is a fickle girl.
I pick up the envelope, noticing the smell of her perfume on it, and open it up with the tip of my pencil, rebel accountant that I am. But as I read the card inside, my mouth drops:
You are cordially invited for a small ceremony and reception to share in our happiness.
Russell Yu and Amber Hardy to be wed on Saturday, September 23
rd
of this year, 7 p.m.
Bring your appetite and dancing shoes!
I glance at my calendar. “A week and a half?!” I shout out loud, to nobody.
Why do I have to have such a strange best friend?
I can’t decide whether to respond formally or go to her office and squeeze her to death. I decide to do the latter. I almost forget her gift from Meadow’s Edge, but grab it quickly before I head off to her office down the hall.
As I approach I hear stifled weeping. When I peek in her office, her back is to me and she’s wiping her eyes.
“Amber, are you okay?” I see her back stiffen up, and she turns around, smiling at me.
“Yes, I
’m fine,” she responds. “Just a little emotional this morning, for no reason, actually.”
“Must be wedding jitters,” I say. “Why on earth would you tell me like that, you weirdo? I mean, I’m happy for you, but it’s kind of soon, don’t you agree?” I am
so
not wanting to start an argument, but I had to get that off my chest first thing.
“Never satisfied, are you, Kailey? I
’d think
you’d
be glad I’ve decided to get hitched and not continuing my whoring.”
I can’t win
.
She eyes my hand and the small box with the bow cradled inside it. “Presents already?” Instantly, I see the Amber I’ve grown to love before me: the bright-eyed child discovering all her material goods under the tree Christmas morning, yet void of any purity or innocence.
“Sure. Here, happy engagement.” I hand it over to her. She rips the bow off in two seconds flat and opens the box. She stares at the necklace, and I grab it out of the box.
Her eyes well up again, and I can see she’s trying to hold back the tears. She’s quite emotional today.
“Let me do the honor.” I unlock the clasp so I can put it on her.
“I love it
. Where did you get it?” she asks.
“I took a little trip and found it for you. It’s amber.”
“Yes, I know that.” I walk around behind her and grasp the necklace, holding it around her neck. As I move her hair away and attempt to clasp it, she yelps.
A nervous twitch runs through my body, and out of my mouth comes, “Did it burn you?”
“Why the hell would it burn me? You pulled one of the baby hairs on the back of my neck. Be careful!” Then she turns around in her chair for me to see, and the pendant is gorgeous on her chest. She produces a mirror from her desk drawer—quite large, but I expect nothing less. The smile on her face blows my nervous twitch to smithereens. She loves it, and I love that
she
loves it.
“You can go on trips more often, even if they
’re without me,” she says. “Thank you, Kailey. It’s beautiful.”
“You’re welcome. And,
if I can clear my calendar, you can put me down as an attendee for September 23
rd
,” I say.
“One or two?”
Oh, I didn’t think of that.
“Uh, can we do a tentative two? Who else did you invite?”
She smiles devilishly. “I specifically told Russell to not give Conner an invitation. Will it be one or two?”
Evil!
“Ugh. I’ll have to let you know later,” I blurt. “What if I planned on inviting someone else, huh?”
She laughs all too loud. “Yeah, right. Well, spaces are filling fast, so tell me soon, like today.”
The little giggle she tries to hide is so annoying that I stick my tongue out at her. “I’ll let you know
later
!” I say, leaving with a pout on my face. As a female, she knows the pain of having to make the “Would you like to go to a wedding with me?” call. She did that on purpose, which is so selfish—so
Amber
.
I
’ll make the phone call this evening at home. I need to speak to Conner anyway to thank him, so it’ll be like killing one bird with two stones: my death from two very embarrassing topics.
For the rest of the day, I spend some time chatting with coworkers and setting up a meeting with a famous baseball player to play golf with some man who donates his time to organizing Special Olympic events. The day goes by quickly.
On my way out the door, I stop in the bathroom to silence the sudden screams from my lower intestines. I knew the pepper steak I ate for lunch was going to give me trouble. I choose a stall and sit, trembling from the coldness of the toilet seat.
The sound of the bathroom door opening makes me stop before I do my duty. Funny how I can decapitate a meeple, but I can’t even do my business in a work stall when someone else is in the room.
I wait for her to enter a stall, and wait, and wait, and wait. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and slowly, I pull up my pants, listening closely for some kind of noise—anything. My monk’s spade is warm on my back and I feel for its shaft. I try peeking through the gap in the stall door, but see only a faint shadow.
I gather my nerve. “Hello?” I say. “Could you possibly hand me some toilet paper? I’m desperate.” I keep my hand on the blade, for the emotions reaching me
from this individual are strangely ones of revenge. Whomever is here is definitely upset about something.
Delicate footsteps approach the stall next to me, and I hear the person unrolling paper in the handicap stall. Relief comes over me, and I reach my hand down. “Thanks.”
I regret this all too soon. The hand reaching back under is not human, but greble. It grabs me and instantly pulls me under the divider. I struggle with all my might, but I might as well be a three year old. Before I know it, he has me pinned against the wall above the toilet, my feet dangling, attempting to gain footing, somewhere. It’s the same greble who attacked me in my apartment, and as he grins and drools, his stench makes me gag.
“Devoten may be too preoccupied with his ridiculous visions to come visit, but I am n
ot,” grumbles the greble. “Even blessed with sudo-abominor, he
still
has his weaknesses, but I am not weak like you humans. I’m the one known as Tartarin, and I am the one who is going to end your life, so pray to your gods, Kailey.”
His hold on my neck tightens
.
The slimy green arm
weighs down on my neck, smearing its wetness on my skin, as its nose sniffs my skin.
I gather my will to fight and with all my might, I kick him right in the hard-to-miss groin. He doubles over in pain, and I slide down the wall, one foot falling in the toilet. I then slip between two of his legs. Tartarin, quick, grabs my foot, but I can now grab my monk’s spade. It flares, and I stab at the back of his leg.
He
bleeds dark ooze and breathes very heavily, but he does not scream. “I am going to eat your brain with ice cream when I get my hands on you next,” he whispers. “Think that one over while you still have it.”
As he suddenly disappears, I hear two women chattering, entering the bathroom. I stand up as fast as I can and regain my composure. I look to my monk
’s spade, regretting the blood still dripping down the blade, and place it back on my back as it fades from view.
“God
, it reeks in here,” spits Nancy, evidently on a break from the front desk.
I surely don’t want them to think I’m responsible for the smell. I exit the stall. “Yeah, I know,” I say. “They need to
get one of those air freshener-dispenser thingies in here soon.” I leave as soon as I rinse my hands as Nancy complains about the high cost of air freshener-dispenser thingies. I run to my office, ignoring the pleas from my bowels. My purse, sweater, and bag are soon on my shoulder, and then, I’m out the door. I fumble for my smartphone and call Gunthreon. He answers on the first ring.
“So why does this greble, Tartarin, ha
ve it out for me?” I query. “Why is everyone else afraid to travel here and just kill us all?”
“What happened?” he ask
s, worriedly. “Are you okay? Where are you?” It feels like he’s going to jump through the phone and grab me to keep me safe. I tell him where I am and what happened. I ask again why they don’t all travel here.
He pauses. “Advanced technology versus magic.” That’s all he says.
“Huh?” He’s speaking again in that language called ambiguity.
“Renhala is a realm based on magical forces from within
oneself
. This is what they believe in and rely on,” says Gunthreon. “They are not as technologically advanced as we are. They think technology like ours, especially anything electrical, is a magic in itself—something bad, something generated from a fire demon of some sort that we let run our lives. They think that ‘powers’ like electricity, costs us our life energy. Those who live in Renhala
do
live
much
longer than those living here. Who knows?”
I ponder this. “But as our technology advances through the years, life expectancy goes up,” I s
tate.
“Only because we can make machines, that help our bodies live longer. Renhala has spies all over this realm, and they know that we depend on outside energy, rather than our own internal life power, to help us live our pathetically short lives. They watch us microwave our food, send e-mail to foreign countries, and even detonate hydrogen bombs. To most Renhalans, Abscondia is a place of nightmares, both to those who travel, and to even those who know nothing of the actual realm—those in which Abscondia is only an urban myth.”
“It’s hard for me to believe that none of the technology in this realm has been brought to Renhala.”
“Renhala does have
its own scientists, and sort of ‘technology police’ who feed information to the Renhalan public and prevent any imports,
”
Gunthreon says. “I’ve got to say, though, their scientists have come up with some interesting theories regarding negative energy radiation within black holes—something Hawking would be proud of.”
He pauses. “Those who choose to take the risk, like myself, come to live in Abscondia,” says Gunthreon.
“You’re native to Renhala?” I say.
“Yes. I
’ve established residency here to merely watch and protect those I can,” he says. “And there are also those who take certain ‘already produced’ items back to Renhala. Your technology is taboo there, and most do not even want to experiment with it, but there are some risk-takers. I know that several governmental agencies around the world have something to do with items that end up in Renhala,” he finally says. “They know Renhala exists. They’re just good at hiding things. As a matter of fact, I could have sworn I saw Jimmy Hoffa meat cleaver-shopping in Meadow’s Edge just recently.”
I laugh, because part of me thinks the idea is silly, but another part of me thinks otherwise. Gunthreon ignores my laugh.
“But while most in Renhala fear your realm,” he says, “some, do not care and are just set on one thing—like killing.”
“So what you’re saying is that I may be safer carrying around my battery-operated digital alarm clock rather than my monk’s spade?” I
snicker. “Bu doesn’t seem to be fazed.”
Gunthreon
’s voice changes at the mention of Bu, cheering up a bit. “Bu is fascinated with learning Abscondian technology and isn’t concerned about any dangers,” he says. “Bu is actually quite smart for a greble. Just last week, he fixed my stove when the pilot light broke. His ability to pick up on the workings of electronics is fascinating,” says Gunthreon. “I think it’s his gift, and he’s slowly developing it, since he spends little time in your realm.”