Arana’s Visitor
Book 1 of the Vadelah Chronicles
Preview copy of chapter 4
© 2005 by Julie Rollins
www.JulieRollins.com
Science Fiction
February 2005 (version d4i)
4. A Close Call
Glancing at his watch, David rose from the couch. “Time to go. I don’t want to be late for my first class, even if I hate going to school at night. Make sure Gyra stays out of trouble.”
Todd put an arm around Gyra. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
“With you? I worry!” David grabbed his backpack.
“Thanks for the encouragement!” Todd yelled as David headed out.
David shut the door, paused, and hurried down the hallway. Lord, look after them. I can’t be in two places at once.
* * *
Todd waited until he was certain David had left the building. “Come on, Gyra, let’s go cruisin’.” He didn’t have a car, so his idea of cruisin’ meant a ride on the bus.
Once Gyra was dressed in his chicken outfit, they hopped on the local transit, drawing more than a few stares. Getting off at Main Street, Todd and Gyra strolled down the sidewalk.
The streetlights cast a sickly orange aura around them. Todd pointed out the window items on display.
A woman walked by with a bulging belly.
“See that?” Todd whispered after the woman passed by. “She’s pregnant. She’s gonna have a baby.”
“Pregnant,” Gyra repeated.
Walking along the storefronts, Todd spied a hooker standing on a corner.
“The place has sure gone down hill the last few years.”
Gyra cocked his head. “Where is the hill?”
“It’s just a saying, an expression, a . . . never mind. It means the place ain’t as nice as it used to be.”
Todd moved on. “Look.” He pointed to an elderly man using a cane. “That man is an old man. I am a young man.”
“How can you tell?” Gyra asked, wagging his head in an odd manner.
“Easy: the gray hair, his stooped walk, but especially the wrinkles on his face. Old people have wrinkled skin.”
They paused before a smoke-filled bar. “Leroy’s Lounge” proclaimed the rusty sign.
Heading for the open door, Gyra asked, “What is in here?”
“Wait a minute!” Todd grabbed him by the apron. “You can’t go in there unless you’re twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one what?”
“Twenty-one years.”
“How long is a year?”
“Three hundred and sixty-five days. A day is twenty-four hours and an hour is sixty minutes.” Todd didn’t have a watch on so he was at a loss as to how to proceed.
Gyra nodded. “Then I am seventy-three years and forty-three days old.”
“How did you figure your age out so fast?”
“Easy. I fixed it and added. Do you not know how?”
“Yes, but not that fast.” He put an arm around Gyra. “Come on.”
As they entered the dim room a low voice assaulted them. “Wait a minute, birdie. You don’t show a face and an ID, you better not come in here.”
“It’s okay, Uncle Frank,” Todd called.
“Todd? Todd Fox?” The bartender swore. “I haven’t seen you since last year. Where’ve ya been?”
“Keep’n my nose clean.” Todd sat down on a barstool.
Frank stuck his thumb towards Gyra. “Who’s your buddy here?”
“Gyra. He comes from another country, so I thought I’d show him around the place.”
Frank frowned. “Is he a minor?”
“No, but, hey, we’re only gonna order soft drinks, so don’t worry.”
Still frowning, Frank asked, “What’ll you have?”
Todd glanced at Gyra. “How about two root beers?”
“Two root beers coming up.”
Leaning closer to the phantera, Todd spoke in a low tone. “This is a bar. People come in here to order drinks, meet people and have fun.”
The Gyra looked around. “Drinks like root beer?”
Todd winced. “No, drinks like real beer, wine, scotch, whiskey . . . drinks that have alcohol in them. It makes people feel good, forget their problems. Sometimes they get a little drunk like that table over in the corner.”
Gyra followed Todd’s gaze. Two women and two men laughed uncontrollably. One of the girls fell to the floor still giggling.
“Is she sick?” Gyra asked.
“No, just drunk.”
“Why?”
“Huh?” The question caught Todd off guard.
“Why would she want to get drunk? It makes her act sick.”
Todd’s lips tightened into a sad smile.
The phantera’s keen red eyes examined another table. “Why does the female over there have water on her face?”
Turning, Todd saw a young woman staring into her drink, tears rolling down her face. “She is very sad.” He stared at the sticky counter. How could he explain the facts of life to Gyra?
“Water comes out of your eyes when you are sad?”
“Yeah, it’s called crying.” Todd took the two root beers, but he didn’t feel very thirsty.
“Phantera do something like that when they are sad too. Why is she sad?”
“I don’t know.” Todd took a sip of root beer anyway. Setting down his mug, he paid Frank. When he turned back to Gyra, Todd found himself staring into empty space. “Gyra?”
The big bird had wandered off to one of the tables.
Sipping his drink, Todd watched. Let Gyra explore a little. He’d bail the alien out if he got in over his head.
The phantera towered over the seated crying girl.
“Hello, I am Gyra. Todd says you are very sad.”
She glanced up at him and turned away, blushing.
“Why are you so sad you crying water on your face?”
Staring into her drink, the girl winced. “Where do I begin? My boyfriend beats me. If I leave him, he’ll kill me. If I date anyone else, he’ll kill them.”
Gyra eyed the bruises on the woman’s arms and face. “Your boy does not sound like a friend.”
She dried one eye with a cocktail napkin and gave a weak smile. “No, I guess he’s not. All the same, I’m afraid to leave him.”
“I could help you leave your boy.” Gyra put a hand on her shoulder.
Todd realized Gyra was mimicking the way he’d tried to reassure the phantera.
“How old are you?” the girl asked.
“I am seventy-three years and forty-three days old,” Gyra answered.
She smirked. “Are you an engineer?”
“What is an engineer?”
Her smirk turned into a frown. “Where’re you from?”
“Arana.”
“Where’s that?”
Gyra fingered his bill. “Far from here.”
“Must be. Listen, pal, if you want to live to be seventy-four, you’d better leave me while you can. Just forget about me. Besides, you’re too old.”
Gyra cocked his head. “What is too old?”
A tall man dressed in black leather strode into the bar. “Take your creepy claws off my girl, Big Bird.”
Todd leaped off his stool. Now was the time to intervene.
Gyra apparently did not realize that the brooding man was the abusive boyfriend. Turning to Todd, Gyra pointed at the towering enormous beer-belly before him, and declared, “Pregnant.”
“No, no, Gyra, that’s not pregnant; that’s fat.” The words were out of his mouth before he could call them back.
The big man swung around and glared at Todd. “Who you calling fat, runt?”
“Please,” Todd said, “I was only trying to help my friend. He’s a foreigner and can barely speak English.”
“I don’t care what planet he’s from—”
“Arana,” Gyra said.
“Shut up!” the biker shouted.
Gyra looked up at the ceiling. “I see no door. What is there to shut up?”
“He doesn’t understand, Ed,” the girl pleaded in a ragged voice. “Please, just leave him alone. He didn’t do nothin’.”
“He’s still got his paw on you.” Ed took a step closer.
“Is this your boy who is not a friend?” Gyra asked.
The girl nodded slightly and hung her head.
“We’re in trouble,” Todd whispered.
The bar went silent except for the tapping of Ed’s steel-toed boots. He was almost as tall as Gyra. Squinting as he faced the phantera, Ed asked, “You lookin’ for a fight, you big chicken?”
“Oh God!” Todd breathed in terror. It was the closest he had come to praying in a long time.”
Gyra blinked. “What is a fight?”
Ed’s expression went blank. He broke into a hoarse laugh and spit tobacco juice onto the floor.
Cocking his head, Gyra asked, “What is that smell from your mouth? It is new to me.”
“No!” Todd muttered, covering his forehead with his hand.
Ed stopped laughing. “I’ll show you what fight means.” His blood-shot eyes narrowed into a malicious look. “Move away, woman.”
Reaching down, Ed grabbed the girl by the arm and yanked her aside.
“Oww!” she cried through clenched teeth.
“Frank!” Todd whispered to the bartender. “Why don’t you do something?”
“And have Ed’s gang trash my place? No way!”
A righteous anger welled up in Todd, but he didn’t know what to do.
The feathers rose on Gyra’s head as he faced Ed. “I will not let you beat her.”
Face flushing red, Ed wrinkled up his nose like a mad dog. His thick fingers dug further into the girl’s arm. “Just try and stop me!”
Quicker then Todd would have expected, Ed’s right fist shot for the girl’s face.
“No!” she screamed.
Ed’s hand hung frozen a mere inch from the girl’s face with Gyra’s claws firmly wrapped around it.
The biker’s face paled a little, but he recovered and yanked his hand back. Releasing the girl, he spat on the floor. His right hand flew forward again, then veered away as his left fist went straight for Gyra’s belly.
Once more Gyra neatly grabbed Ed’s fist, but this time when the biker tried to pull back, Gyra didn’t let go.
Cursing, Ed swung his right foot for the alien’s knees, but Gyra grabbed the biker’s boot with his clawed foot.
Todd hoped the tables blocked most people’s view of Gyra from the knees down.
Spitting and screaming, Ed squirmed, but he couldn’t break loose. He swung at Gyra with his free hand, but Gyra caught it too. With only one leg to balance on, Ed struggled in vain to break the alien’s grip. “I’m gonna snuff you!”
“What is snuff?” Gyra asked.
“Shut up!” Ed screamed.
“You still have not told me what that means,” Gyra replied in a calm voice.
“Aaaaarrrggghh!” Spitting tobacco juice at Gyra’s vest, Ed kicked at the phantera with his free leg, but found himself flung to the dirty floor.
Todd breathed when he realized Gyra had dodged the booted foot.
The biker rolled to his feet and stood up. Snatching an empty beer mug, Ed hurled it at Gyra.
The phantera caught it and set it down gently on a table.
Ed grabbed a chair and heaved it, but the alien caught it, too, and put it down. The biker stood panting for a moment with brown juice running from his mouth. Slowly, he reached behind and under his jacket. Out came a large knife. A grin spread across his unshaven face.
The people behind Gyra moved away, but the phantera never turned.
With a wild look in his eye, Ed said, “Time to carve up a chicken dinner.” He approached Gyra holding the knife in front of him.
“Look out, Gyra!” Todd yelled. “He’s gonna throw it!”
“Yavana hamoth!” Gyra cried.
In an instant, the biker hurled his lethal missile with deadly accuracy.
Too hemmed in by the tables to dodge the knife, the phantera snatched up a wooden peanut bowl.
The tense moment of silence was broken by the thunk of steel into wood.
“So that is what snuff means,” Gyra said in a low voice. He pulled the large blade from the bowl.
The yellow-toothed grin on Ed’s face drooped into a frown as he panted heavily. With a yell, he charged the phantera, but stopped when Gyra held up the silvery blade to examine it. Beads of sweat ran down Ed’s face and his skin lost its reddish color.
Gyra looked at the biker, looked at the knife, and turned to Todd. “What should I do?”
“Get rid of the knife,” Todd said in a shaky voice.
“Should I put it where he can not reach it?”
“Sure! Fine! Just do it quick!” Todd just wanted to take Gyra and run.
“Okay.” Gyra flung the knife at one of the hefty wooden beams spanning the ceiling. The blade sank two inches into the wood.
Pausing just long enough to see his knife was gone, Ed launched himself at Gyra with hands outstretched to throttle the great bird.
Grabbing both arms, Gyra promptly threw the biker back onto the ground. He rolled Ed onto his beer belly and pounced on him—like an eagle on a rabbit. Seizing Ed’s flailing legs with one hand, and the thick hairy arms with his other, Gyra’s long fingers secured the limbs like living shackles.
Todd crept over to the pay phone, punched in 911, and sneaked back, leaving the receiver off the hook. Now what could he do?
Screaming like a burned cat, Ed issued an unabated stream of profanity until a beer bottle crashed down on his head.
Gyra looked up.
Ed’s girlfriend said, “Thanks, I owe you one.” She tossed the broken bottleneck onto the floor, went back to her table, and sat down.
Todd rushed over to Gyra. “You were incredible.” He stared down at the still body. “Is he dead?”
“I do not know what dead means.”
“Has he . . . stopped completely?” Todd kicked away some of the larger pieces of glass.
“His insides still move.”
“Fine.” Todd glanced around.
The other bar patrons appeared to be getting over their shock and murmured quietly.
The wail of a distant police siren grew louder.
“Let’s get out of here,” Todd said in a hushed voice.
No one stopped them as they fled out the door. They were only a couple of shops away when the police car pulled up to the bar.
* * *
Officer Graham stepped into the dim bar with his partner. “I got a weird call,” he announced. “What’s up?”
A hush descended upon the place and numerous patrons slipped out the door.
“Over here,” a lone girl responded. She pointed to the unconscious biker on the floor. “My name’s Irene. He started it, tried to take me away by force so I cracked his head with a beer bottle. It was self-defense.”
“Steve, call for a paramedic,” Officer Graham told his partner. Turning back to the girl, his practiced eyes noticed the bruises on her arms and face.
Setting his jaw, Officer Graham looked around the nearly empty room. “Anyone else see this?”
The remaining people turned away or stared into their drinks.
“I did,” said the bartender. “She’s telling the truth.”
“Do you want to press charges?” the officer asked the girl.
For a moment, Irene stared in silence at the inert form at her feet. “Yes,” she said quietly.
Officer Graham watched, amazed as Irene uncurled from her cowering position.
She looked at him, face growing firm with resolve. “I’ll tell you about all the beatings and threats. And if you wanna make a bigger bust, just search his place on Eleventh Street.”
She rubbed a bruise on her wrist. “His bike is hot too. You’ll find it parked illegally on the sidewalk just outside.”
Officer Graham allowed a slight smile to break through his professional demeanor. “You’re one brave lady.”
Irene looked away. “No, not really.”
* * *
Down the block, Todd led Gyra onto the bus heading home. As soon as he found a seat, Todd took a deep breath and let out a moan.
Gyra remained standing.
“Finally we’re safe,” Todd said.
Eyeing him, the phantera said, “I do not understand. Were we not safe before we left the bar?”
“Yes and no.” Todd glanced around to see if anyone else was listening. “The way you handled that guy was great, but the police were coming and I didn’t want them asking us a bunch of questions.”
“Did police make sound that scared you?”
Todd smiled. His friend’s perception amused him at times. “The police ride in a car that makes the sound you heard. It wasn’t the sound that scared me; it was what the sound meant. I was afraid of the police.”
“Are police bad?”
Todd noticed an elderly woman peering over her newspaper. “No, Gyra, they are not bad—not usually. As a matter of fact, I called them while you two were fight . . . er . . . figuring things out. I just was trying to save you a lot of unnecessary hassle.”
“Hassle is bad?”
Todd laughed. “Yes, hassle is very bad. Hassle is having to fill out endless forms, standing in long lines, and dealing with bureaucrats. . . .” Todd babbled on and on with his definition of “hassle,” not caring if he left Gyra in the dust on the road to understanding. He just wanted to keep his friend from raising any more suspicions.
As they got off the bus, Todd finally ceased. He was exhausted to the bone.
“That man said many new words when he fight me,” Gyra said. “What do they mean?”
Todd stopped walking. “Gyra, those words should never be used.”
Cocking his head, the phantera assumed his typical “I do not understand” pose.
Okay, try it again. Todd sighed. “The words that man spoke were bad words. He spoke those words because he was a bad man. Bad people say words like that.”
Todd winced. He knew he was being simplistic. Wasn’t foul language a vice he indulged in from time to time? What would Gyra think if he heard Todd cuss later? Even David let a bad word fly on rare occasions.
He continued walking in silence until they reached the apartment building. In the elevator, Todd thought he would collapse from fatigue. Finally the door opened and he plodded down the hall. Almost home. They were out of the woods now.
Once inside the apartment, Todd promptly locked the door and crashed onto the old couch.
David wandered in from the kitchen. “Short class tonight. Just a brief orientation and then we left to pick up our books.”
He walked up to Todd and towered over him. “Are you all right? You look like death warmed over. What happened?”
“Man try to snuff Gyra,” the phantera commented.
Todd moaned and pulled a pillow over his face.