Nikolas and Company: The Merman and The Moon Forgotten (11 page)

“Grab his feet, Nick,” Haley
ordered.

But Nick couldn’t look away
from the door. Something like the belly of a boa constrictor with
two slits edged its way in. The slits pulsed,
grung, grung, grung, grung, grung, grung.

Grand stood full length. “Gahh!” His
fist hammered the slits.

It screamed.

Everyone stopped. They’d never heard an
animal scream like that before. Not the holovids, not the VR zoos,
not even the history records. It sounded . . .
other-worldly.

“What was that?” Daniel’s eyes
grew.

“I told you. A scucca,” Xanthus
whispered, while slowly tucking his bestiary away. “The forces of
darkness have descended upon us all. Are we ready?”

“Reihhhhh!”

“To the truck, already!” Grand reached
for the bodies and flung them over his shoulder.

Nick and company exploded through the
doors. Daniel leaned on Xanthus while Brandy kicked her platforms
down the steps, choosing survival over Louboutins.

“Reihhhhh!”

Men and women poured out of windows,
doors, and any other escape route. The boys scrambled onto the
truck bed, and the girls squeezed inside the cabin.

“Here!” Grand rolled the mimes over the
lip of the truck.

The Erik-mime landed on Xanthus.
“There’sadeadbodyheadonmylap!There’sadeadbodyheadonmylap!There’sadeadbodyheadonmylap!”
He tried to squirm away, but the bed gave no place for
retreat.

“Where’s Brandy?” Haley jumped out of
the cab.

“Aiih!” Brandy was sprinting across the
lawn, clutching her shoes.

“Brandy. Forget the shoes!” Haley
barked. “Are you insane?”

Brandy had changed her mind.
Louboutins
were
more important than life itself.

Glass showered over the lawn. A blur of
lizard skin and dog teeth rolled over. Nick saw them for the first
time.

It is a strange feeling to
look upon a predator. All chaos quiets itself. Your blood doesn’t
know whether to boil or freeze. Without turning your gaze, you ask
yourself, “
Should I move? Can it see
me?”
Inevitably, the predator
answers
“Yes.”
And
it delivers its answer the same way: the eyes.

“Reeiihh!!” Membranous fans whipped
from behind the creatures’ ears.

Brandy scrambled into the cabin. Grand
hit the close and lock button. The hovertruck’s thrusters kicked
from the ground, whining upward and above the tree line. The
tracker covered in chains turned to a red sports car and stuck its
head into the window. Nick looked back to Daniel, whose fingers
were curled over anything that would keep him from tumbling
out.

Nick laughed, “Crazy,
isn’t—?”

A red blur flew past.

“Woah! Woah!” Nick covered his
head.

Metal crashed a beat later.

Nick pounded on the glass. “They’re
throwing cars at us, Grand!”

Grand glanced back. “Get your heads
down, now!”

The boys wiggled into any position that
would keep them below the wall of the bed. The truck pitched right,
and then left. Black and green flashed over. Nick shoved his
fingers into the small lip of the truck bed. All he could do was
stare up at the wind whipping around the bed, and wonder
what—

A police’s hovercycle rolled over. The
truck spun.Everyone screamed.

Nick pushed himself up. White smoke
fanned over the grill. Grand’s forearms crowbarred against the
steering wheel, but he couldn’t keep the hovertruck from losing
altitude.

The truck slammed. Pavement shot it
back into the air. Bodies lifted from the bed. It slammed again.
Nine hundred pounds of fiberglass and metal skipped across Parsons
Ave and 1125 Farmers Market. Once the hovertruck found road, ground
wheels took over.

Grand didn’t even consider
brakes.

Everyone sat up this time. Nick saw the
chained tracker standing in the distance. It lifted onto its hind
legs, waiting. . . .

Crack!

The truck spun. Nick’s head smacked
against the tailgate. Barely coherent, he looked around with fogged
vision. Having just rammed the passenger side door, two trackers
rolled over a street meter. They found their legs and sprung to
their feet, but didn’t pursue.

Still, Grand found little use for
brakes.

Ten • The Truth

Having just been downgraded
from
hover
, the
truck tore through the first floor of a newly constructed highrise,
two gated communities, and the Colorado City summer parade. The
drum major grabbed her skittling baton and yelled after them,
“Antique cars will just get someone killed!”

Nick didn’t care. He was just happy to
put some distance between them and what Grand called
trackers.

Eventually, they took the I-45 highway.
Since the transportation industry could not afford hover
technology, the old highway had been reserved for transport
vehicles. Grand was able to zip quickly past the compact trains and
eighteen wheelers.

Once they passed Dickinson Bridge,
everyone’s leashes began to spark. They shook their wrists, trying
to stop the electrical jolts, but it didn’t seem to help. BioFarm’s
properties were moving outside of the assigned fifteen mile
perimeter.

Grand followed the signs to Sion Park.
Once there he smashed through the guard arm, ignoring the
attendrone’s request of payment. With little visibility and a
waning Moon to guide the way, they crept along an old service road
for another hour. Finally, the truck drove into a forest
clearing.

Grand launched from the cab, leaving on
the remaining headlight. “This should do for now. Tried to be as
unpredictable as I could,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He
grabbed the mimes and let them fall like sacks of beef. “Everyone,
out.”

A blue arc leapt from Brandy’s arm.
“Ow! These really hurt!”

“Have to figure out how to turn those
off,” said Nick.

“Don’t worry about that. I have a
halter.” Daniel held a flat object, the shape of a dime. “Saved it
for such a time. Brandy.”

“That’s high security stuff?” said
Nick.

“Yes. I know,” said Daniel. “Brandy.
Your leash, please.”

“But the cops don’t even have those.
Where did you get it?”

Daniel didn’t respond. Instead, he held
the halter until Brandy’s leash clicked and slid to the ground.
“Who’s next?” Several more wrists raised into the air.

“Where did you
get
it, Daniel?” Nick
repeated.

“I have my sources,” said
Daniel.

Nick watched the leashes fall to the
ground one by one, their read outs still projecting the refugees’
bio-rhythms and life expectancy. Everyone automatically rubbed
their wrists, while exchanging looks of elation, concern, even
wonder. Nick considered the leashes on the ground. He really didn’t
understand what it meant to be the property of someone
else.

“You and you.” Grand pointed to Tim and
Xanthus. “You’ll be storing the bodies into the pressers. This is
how it’s done.” Grand grabbed the pinky of the Sonya-mime and
shoved it into the presser’s tip. He stepped on the presser and
bounced his leg up and down like a one-footed jig. Xanthus’ mouth
fell open as the Sonya-mime began to shrivel. It was like watching
fruit dry.

Tim slowly put one shoe onto the
presser. The Sonya-mime’s finger slipped out.

“Just shove it back in,” said Grand.
“Try the tongue if it gives you trouble.”

Tim looked at his grandfather like he
was seven kinds of insane. He went to his knees, grabbed the red
fingernail of the comatose Sonya-mime, and slipped it into the
presser. The knuckle crack-popped and slipped out again. Even in
the moonlight one could see Tim turn pale. After a few more
attempts, the finger sealed into place. Tim stood to his feet and
began slowly pumping the presser with his foot.

Phfit. Phfit. Phfit,
the presser blew and sucked.

Grinning at his Erik-mime, Xanthus
raised his massive leg and barreled down.

PHFIT!
The Erik-mime jumped a foot.

“Not too hard, now, boy!” Grand yelled.
“It’ll just make a mess if ya go and pop ‘em . . . Very good,
that’s more like it. Should keep ‘em for the time being,” Grand
sighed. “Have to see about an antidote Monside.

“Now—” Grand prodded the inner lining
of his coat. “—a world of explanations and an hour to give them, if
that. The trackers are mighty slow by land but know how to ge—Ah,
thought I had a bit of stardust left over.” He pulled out a purple
satchel. He tore it open, iridescent dust flying everywhere. Grand
stuck his hand into the dust and motioned several complicated
gestures.

“These be the wretched scuccas.” Three
monstrous images appeared.

Phfiiiiiiiit . . .
Both pressers stopped sucking.

“Keep pressing, boys,” Grand ordered.
“We’ve very little time before the real scuccas are upon
us.”

The combination of dust and headlights
produced a ghostly replica of the trackers. This version moved with
their necks to the ground and let out an occasional cry.

“I’m afraid your friends are about to
get a mouthful,” said Grand. “Our family has been on the run these
fourteen years.”

Their grandfather’s expression shifted.
The fatigue of running for years appeared around his cheeks and
brow. With a sigh, he stepped toward the stardust. “They poisoned
your true parents, killed my wife, and drove us from my fair city,
Huron. I forsook my stewardship of Huron to bring us here,
thousands of years in the future.” Grand wrung his hands.
“Nevertheless, they followed me. It seems that even time and space
cannot bind such darkness.

“They are an unnatural kind, filled
with dead magic and all its trappings. Scuccas cannot die until
they’ve tracked down and brought their prey to their master. Like a
dog or wolf, they can pick up one’s scent, but what they do with it
is quite wicked. A dog can only smell the trail one leaves behind,
but a scucca can smell you, your habits, your passions, your very
decisions, present and future. And they will use it against
you.

“That’s why I kept to the hovertruck
all these years. Made it difficult for them to pick up a fresh
scent. Staying away protected you and your mime-parents from them
until . . . until I got sloppy. For the first time in fourteen
years, I let my passions take hold when my archaeological team
discovered Ludwig’s message. Foolishly, I came groundside, touched
Ludwig’s chronomessage and then left it there with the Peruvian.
They must have found the artifact and smelled my intentions.
Learned of you and your mime-parents. And so the scucca poisoned
them, knowing I would be forced groundside again to fetch
them.”

Phfit. Phfit. Phfit.
The pressers beat slowly.

Nick scanned the faces of all his
friends. Daniel tilted over his cane. Haley had her arms
crossed.

Did they believe Grand? Do
I?

Phfit. Phfit. Phfit . .
.

“I told you it was real!” Xanthus
performed a frighteningly good drop kick. “I told you, I told you.
I told you, I told you. No one believed me. No one.
Redemption!”

Haley rolled her eyes. “What do they
want with you?”

“
Bet he’s torn between love
for his family and duty to his country,” Caroline
offered.

“Dude. It’s gotta be the Lord of Fire
and Ice,” Xanthus said. “He wants to conscript Grand into his elite
warrior guard, but Grand works for no one.”

“What do they want with you?” Nick
repeated Haley.

“It’s not what they want with me,” said
Grand, “but what they’re trying to keep me from. Chasing me away
from Huron has left her and her citizens vulnerable. The Dujinnin
have now openly attacked the Merrows. While Merrows . .
.”