Perchance to Dream 5

The things we saw in our escape from downtown still give me nightmares. At one point we drove through a section of Hwy. that turned into sound into taste. No words in English can possibly describe being able to taste the spin of rubber tires on street asphalt, the displacement of air around the minivan, or the sharp spike of spice and sour when Ellie started startled, and asked, “What the fuck?” My ears got none of that, but the words settled onto my tongue with perfect clarity. Every once in a while since then, I hear something and thank whatever power controls fate or destiny or random chance in the Wyrd Frontier that I didn’t have to taste it. Since I don’t like talking to people in general, I can’t imagine the moment by moment torture life would be if I had to taste every conversation. Anyway, what would polka music taste like? Christmas songs would probably need a supply of insulin. The sound-as-taste lasted only a few minutes, but the impact would last the rest of my life. Ellie and I used to poke at each other about it. It became one of our post Armagodden Day bonding things. We’d occasionally ask each other what we thought a sound would taste like.

At the beginning of Armagodden Day, North Highlands remained as it was rather than the Highlands Rise as we know it today. I drove following at least following Ellie’s directions to the charter school several blocks off Watt Ave. Things got crazy a couple of more times. Gravity stopped working for about twenty feet. Luckily, the rest of physics didn’t stop, so we coasted back to where gravity was working, and the fall didn’t break the minivan. We drove past a church where people were fighting to get in, and the people inside were fighting to get out.

I took the last corner slowly, making sure that nothing was going to jump out at us. With the day we were having, the charter school could have easily devolved into one part Lord of the Flies, one part Hunger Games, and one part Mad Max.

The charter school was an island of normalcy amidst a sea of bizarre chaos—at least, it seemed like that at first.

The parking lot had plenty of empty spaces, but I parked on the street. No need to risk getting trapped there. While the minivan could probably drive over the grass, I wondered about the curbs. I pushed the vehicle pretty hard, and even without the drop after the anti gravity zone, no need to take unnecessary chances.

Parents had gathered at the doors to the main office where an officious looking lady with short, curly gray hair looked over a clipboard, checked off something with a pen, and let the man in the front row inside the school.

Ellie and I were partway across the parking lot when we heard someone call out, “Ellie!”

That was the first time I saw Tony. He wore jeans below his hips, and boxers puffed out above his beltline. His light green T-shirt was stained at the armpits. Seeing that made me notice the sweat beating on his face in between the rows of his tight braids. He jogged up to us, looked me up and down, and asked, “Who’s the vanilla wafer.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“This is Em,” Ellie said. Between clenched teeth. “She drove me here.”

“How do you know her?” Tony didn’t take his eyes off me.

“Sometimes we have lunch together,” Ellie said.

“Oh.” Tony’s eyes sparkled with little-brother malice. “Is this the one from the pub you go on and on about at Sunday dinners?”

“Tony!” Ellie cried.

“What?” Tony asked in overly sweetened innocence. “Just trying to wing man you.”

I couldn’t help but snicker. Even in this surreal end of the world, a teenage boy couldn’t help being a dick to an older sister.

That was the beginning of our tumultuous back and forth. I didn’t want to like Tony, but even as abrasive as he was with a zero BS attitude, I somehow developed a soft spot for him. He could do with a little less of the backhanded bigotry and sexism, but he was seventeen. I hoped he’d grow out of it. Not sure I was ready to hold my breath just then.

Elli took a big sister don’t strangle my brother breath. “Let’s get Brianna, then get Mom, and then find someplace to go until this ends. If it’s the real end, then at least we can all be together.”

Tony opened his mouth.

“Don’t,” Ellie snapped.

Tony closed his mouth.

Somewhere from the west came the sounds of cardboard tearing, only with the volume of a thunderclap.

"What do you think that was?” Ellie asked.

“Hopefully Walmart getting sucked into hell?” Tony said.

The three of us hurried toward the line at the office door.

“Please, everyone,” said a man of ambiguous ethnicity in a sports coat. “I know things are really weird, but we’ve decided to keep things by the book.” He spoke firmly, raising his voice just enough for everyone to hear him. “All your children are inside and safe. It’s our job to make sure they stay safe.”

The lady with the clipboard frowned and nodded.

“Who is that?” I asked.

The man impressed me by remaining so calm and collected given the circumstances.

“Mr Hernandez,” Ellie said. “He’s president of the PTA and volunteers at the school a lot.”

“That’s cool of him,” I said.

“He’s married to the principal,” Tony said. Then, under his breath, he added, “She’s a scary bitch.”

“Tony!” Ellie snapped. “You only say that because you were in her office at least once a week when you went here. Now hush before you get us in trouble, again.”

It was my turn to snicker.

Tony glared at me in a way that indicated I might as well have openly declared war. We definitely weren’t going to be friends after that. Still, he looked pretty adorable sulking there.

Surprisingly, the line moved pretty quickly. Mr. Hernandez let in forward time. The lady with the clipboard kept checking off names. A teacher or school staff member escorted each group of parents. I thought the yardstick rulers each one carried was a bit much, but respected the psychological impulse of those classroom implements had on everyone. Whoever thought of arming escorts with those rulers was an inspired genius.

Closer and closer our trio got to the front of the line, the more and more the skin on my scalp grew tighter and tighter. Over the years, I learned to never ignore that feeling.

Ellie caught me trying not to look like I was craning my neck to see past the teachers and staff blocking the door. Her elbow nudged mine.

“What is it?” she asked through her teeth without moving her lips.

I rested my head on her shoulder, and muttered, “No one is coming out with any children.”

“Huh.” Ellie nuzzled her head as an opportunity to look around, and repeated, “Huh.”

Tony caught our vibe, and asked, “What’s up?”

“Come on,” I said to Tony.

“Where are you going?” Ellie hissed.

“I’m a little sore from just standing here,” I said in a normal tone. “Tony’s looking a bit fidgety.”

Tony started, “I’m—” I stepped on his foot, grabbed his arm, and led him away.

When we reached the parking lot, Tony turned to me.

“What the fuck, Vanilla Wafer?” I couldn’t tell if he was mad-mad or playing-mad. I explained about no one coming out.

“Oh Shit.” Tony looked back at the school. “You’re right.”

“So, Mr. Troublemaker,” I said, “you know another way to get into the multipurpose room?”

“What?” he asked before I could reply, his head lowered towards his shoulders, his eyes grew narrow, and he smirked like a chaos goblin. “Yeah. I know a way. Come on.”

Tony hustled away from the school. I almost said something, but this school had been his realm for years and years. I followed after him, knowing his pace would make me regret my lack of cardio and coordination.

We crossed the parking lot and a bit of grass to the sidewalk. A chain link fence marked the edge of the school property. About two feet past the chain link was a row of wooden fences behind the backyards of houses that butted up against school property. Tony easily squirmed his way through the gap between the fences. I deliberately did not sigh. Nor did I groan. I sucked in a deep breath of air and my gut as best I could and followed Tony as quickly as I could, which wasn't very quickly at all.

Maybe a hundred or so feet later, we came to the end of the parking lot and a place where another fence attached to the chain link fence and stretched to the main school office building, effectively cutting off the black top and playground from the parking lot. A short way beyond that, blocked by a trio of dumpsters (one for garbage, one for recycling, and one for green waste), Tony stopped at a hole in the fence. A once-over told me someone had gotten happy with some bolt cutters.

“They try fixing this every summer and winter break,” Tony said. “But it became too expensive, so they just leave it.”

“Lucky us,” I said, not having anything else.

The hole in the fence was definitely made for bigger elementary school kids, not for someone like me at the time. Once through, Tony helped me by pulling one edge of the opening. Still, it took a bit of wiggling and squirming to work my way through.

“One word,” I preempted whatever jab Tony's mind was working out, “and I will punch you in the dick.

Tony’s face contorted into the semi-joyful smugness idiot men without a fully formed prefrontal cortex get when they’re about to say something to a woman that they believe with all their rushing and surging hormones will be witty and clever.

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Just, don’t.”

Tony clamped his mouth shut, turned to the back with a multipurpose building, and strode across the blacktop. I followed him at a fast walk. It only took a few seconds to reach the back door.

Taking stock of all I’d done that day, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done so much in so short an amount of time, and my body had begun to let me know in no uncertain terms that each sore spot and every ache was nothing compared to how I’d feel in the next week or so. Then my brain tried to make me feel better by reminding me that, considering everything I’d been through already, I probably wouldn’t make it through the rest of the day, let alone the week.

That’s my brain... always looking on the darkest bright side of things.

“You think the door will open?” I asked.

“Why not?” Tony opened the door the tiniest crack and flashed a teenage boy smug smile.

“It seems too easy,” I said.

Tony let out a single chortle of laughter. “Right, because on this day, everyone is double and triple-checking the door after taking the garbage out. “

I paused a second and begrudgingly agreed with him. “Okay, fair,” also keeping my voice low.

Tony put his ear up to the sliver of open space between the door and the jamb. His eyes looked up at a diagonal, and his neck craned a little more toward the door, but he was already pretty much up against it, so the movement pushed the door open about two inches. I held my breath, waited for someone to shout or cry out. Nothing. And then someone said something from behind another door or something loud enough. Something loud enough to hear but muffled enough that I couldn’t make out the words. At that, Tony stuck his whole head past the door. I’d seen enough horror movies that, given everything I’d already experienced that day, I totally expected something terrible—claw or tentacle or worse to reach out, grab Tony’s head, and yank him inside where he would suffer a loud and grotesque death.

“It’s clear,” Tony said, and pushed past the door.

I followed him into the school kitchen. The voice I heard came from the other side of a wall with those metal gates that only took up part of the wall where the lunch ladies served children trays heaping with helpings that resembled food closely enough that it wasn’t illegal. Even to this day, I believe somewhere, in some school that’s a cross between Hogwarts and Lord of the Flies, a lunch lady is serving slop to children that squelches discordantly with each ladleful.

Tony and I crossed the kitchen. The voice droned on. Tony put his hand on the door leading to the cafeteria multipurpose room.

“How do you do this?” Tony asked in a whisper.

“What?” I whispered. “I followed you because I thought you had a plan.”

“I had a plan for getting us in,” Tony hissed. “It was your idea to get here.”

“Let’s listen for a second,” I whispered, totally not stalling. “See if we can figure out what’s going on.”

We both leaned our right ears to the door.

“Libby Hollister,” a woman called, “do you have a guardian present?”

“Yes, Ms.Hernandez,” a girl's voice called. “My mom.”

“Then you may move on,” the woman, Ms.Hernandez called. “Watch the edges of the portal.”

I turned around to face Tony.

“Portal?” I said.

“Move on?” Tony said.

A pause followed.

“Billy and Mary Island,” Ms.Hernandez called. Do you have a guardian present?”

“No, Ms. Hernandez,” a pair of children spoke with the elongated syllables children use when speaking as a collective to educational authority figures.

“Alright,” Ms. Hernandez said. “Let’s hope someone gets here for you before the end of the school day.”

“Yes, Ms. Hernandez.” Again, they spoke in sing-song.

“Brianna Jackson,” Ms. Hernandez called. Tony stiffened. “Do you have a guardian present?”

I mouthed, Your sister?

Tony nodded.

“No, Ms. Hernandez,” a voice, presumably Brianna's, replied.

“I believe,” an adult male said, “she has a guardian waiting outside.”

“Well, go get them,” Ms. Hernandez said.

“Oh, fuck that,” Tony snapped, and pushed through the door.

I followed him.

The cafeteria or multipurpose room or whatever looked as if it might have for any other school-wide assembly on any normal day. But because this was Armagodden Day, the big room had one glaring difference than any normal school on any normal day.

All the children sat in perfect little rows. The smallest children sat in front, and the biggest children sat in back. All of them faced away from us. I noticed gaps, some big, some small, in the rows of children. All told, I think one-quarter of them were missing. Teachers and faculty lined the walls.

Tony even startled one man who had been leaning against the wall a few feet from the door. His surprised cry caught the attention of others in the room, including a well-dressed blond lady holding a clipboard and standing on the stage on the opposite side of the room. Most of the children faced her. Some of the back rows had craned their necks and twirled their backs twisted their backs to look at Tony and I.

“What the fuck is that?” Tony pointed at the one not normal thing in this room.

An oval-shaped portal of blue, pink, gray, and lavender swirled on the stage next to the lady I presumed was Ms. Hernandez. A portable stairway led from the tiled linoleum floor right up to the portal. A series of faintly snapping noises reached my ears, like Pop Rocks going off outside of someone’s mouth.

“Brianna!” Tony yelled and moved towards the center of the gathered kids. “Time to go.”

A girl stood up about where the third graders were.

Not knowing what else to do, I followed. What if someone tried to stop us? I sure as hell couldn’t fight.

“Mr. Jackson,” Ms. Hernandez snapped in that public educational authority figure voice. “You are not a legal guardian for that child.”

“Fuck you!” Tony's growl gave the impression that he’d been waiting an awfully long time to say those words to that Lady. “You ain’t getting either of my sisters, you demonic slag.”

I kept watch on everyone around us. The children scatter-crawled away from Tony so they wouldn’t get trampled, and I totally believed he would have kicked them out of the way or stomped on them to get to Brianna. At first, the adults blanked in surprise. This interruption was not part of the program, so they probably hadn't come up with a contingency.

“Stop them!” Ms. Hernandez yelled.

That brought the adults out of their stunned in action. Most of them headed for Tony.

I don’t know what came over me in that moment, but the inspiration may have been my smartest moment ever. I grabbed Tony’s shoulder. He tried to pull away from me.

“Wait, I said. “Just wait.”

Brianna reached Tony. Tony scooped her up. The adult staff closed in on us but didn’t rush. Why would they? They had us surrounded, and why panic all the already worried kids? But that’s exactly what needed to happen.

Ellie came into the multi-purpose room escorted by a male teacher. I made direct eye contact with Ellie, drew in a deep breath, and yelled, “Run!”

Every kid’s head whipped toward me at that.

I drew in another deep breath, and screamed, “Fire in the kitchen! Run for your lives!”