"Happy Halloween! 2" Chapter 2 (Part 1)

            Halloween is approaching quickly! Therefore, after considering the length of my latest short story, I decided to post the next part a few days early.  I still plan to post the final bit on Saturday, October 27th.  I am posting this part now to avoid putting a huge chunk of my work into my blog all at once.  Please take the time to read this piece, which is significant to the story (and possible sequels) and sets up for the epic final scene.  Thank you.

Chapter 2

                  Into the Mountain

The eight companions ascended the first of the foothills, and as they looked back, they saw the long stretch of road dwindling into the eastern horizon.  Jonathan led them, maintaining his balance with a walking stick he had found at the base of the hills, and holding Ms. Unicorn in the other hand.  Awana followed, holding onto the back of his shirt and occasionally glancing at her gauzed and bandaged knee.  Pumpkin was next in line, a yard behind her, carrying his sheathed weapon and struggling up the steep hillside.  Witch seemed to enjoy the journey, for once they had reached the foot of the hills she had whipped out a hovering broom, and having mounted it, she floated after Pumpkin a few feet off the ground.  Ghost huffed and puffed every step of the way, his head constantly sulking under the weight of travel.  Frankenstein’s monster took strides large enough for three of the group, and it did not appear that their miles of walking had made an effect on him.  Bat winged his way above the tall grass that rose from the earth, and Cat followed as best she could, sometimes getting off track when a tempting butterfly or bee wandered in sight.

Patches of dark trees blotted the rising landscape, rising up like ominous sentries forbidding further passage.  At first they were inconsistent and widely scattered; but as the friends neared the crest of the first hill, the trees clustered together and transformed the scenery from hills to rolling woodland.  The trees cast long shadows across the earth, shrouding the group in an unholy darkness even in the middle of the day.  Their hearts were heavy, not only because of the shadows, but also from being clueless as to the difficulty of the upcoming battle.  Jonathan was restless.  He gritted his teeth and tapped Ms. Unicorn.  He looked back and forth and gripped his walking stick with all his might.  For years he had daydreamed about embarking on some epic quest to conquer evil, but now that the dream was being fulfilled, he could only feel dread.  Arriving at the foothills, and being what was likely a short walk from the professor’s camp, brought an extra dose of reality to him.  He might have to kill someone before the day was over.

Once they reached the peak of the first hill, Bat rose above the trees and scouted out the mountain range to the west.  The Halloween friends sat on some boulders and peered out of the woods at the town far below.  Awana scooted close to Jonathan.  “So, Johnny boy,” she said, “any women in your life?”

“Good old Ms. Unicorn is always here for me,” he replied.  “She accepts me for who I am.”

“I accept you for who you are, too!” she exclaimed, hitting him lightly with her elbow.  “No one else has a shrine to you.  Believe me.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.  “What?”

“Oh, nothing.  But seriously, don’t you think I accept you for who you are?”

“Mostly.”

“What am I doing wrong?”

“Awana,” he muttered, bringing Ms. Unicorn close, “we’re on a journey.  We don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, but you have time for her, don’t you?” Awana gestured at the toy in his hands.  “You always have time for her.”

“Well, yeah,” said Jonathan matter-of-factly.  “Of course.  She’s my pride and joy.  On a rainy day, when I’m upset and curled up in a corner, holding myself for warmth, Ms. Unicorn helps me through it.”

“I could be the one to do that, if you just gave me the chance!” Awana was almost hysterical.  “I could be your Ms. Unicorn!”

Pumpkin smacked his palm against his face—er, himself.  He looked at Cat.  “Can you believe these two?”

“Meow,” said Cat.

“We’re close!” came a whiny screech from above.  Bat darted down between the colossal, golden leaves of fall.  “I saw some smoke rising up from what looked like tents a couple miles to the west.  It’s in a valley between the end of the foothills and the beginning of the mountains.”

“Then we shan’t linger here any longer than we need to, shall we, dearies?” Witch addressed the group.   “I say we chase down a moose, pluck three hairs from his hiney, squish a toad and collect the remains, extract the beak from an owl, gather the feces of a bear, and throw it all into a cauldron.  Then we add the brain juice of a skunk and two-thirds of a cup of water, stir, and chant the Ancient Occultist Creed of 794 over the concoction.  We put it all in a dozen vials, get on our flying brooms, and bomb Professor Apo’s camp into oblivion.”

“Yeah!” Awana cried, leaping off the boulder and running to her side.

“Or…” said Pumpkin, “we could play it sneaky and split into two groups.  One group can approach the camp from one side, while the other can edge the camp and approach from the opposite.  The first group can scout out the area by physically going into the camp and searching for the professor.  If they run into trouble, and are forced into battle, the second group can flank the enemies and take them by surprise.” Pumpkin jabbed the end of his sword into the earth and stood in a rather proud stance.

“Just remember, I’m the leader of this expedition,” Jonathan reminded them.  He slid down the side of the boulder and walked up to the group.  “Ultimately, what I say goes.  But until we actually reach the camp, we don’t even know what the area looks like.  We should wait to get there before we make a plan.”

“Just so you know, Johnny boy,” Pumpkin cut in sardonically, “anyone who calls himself a leader must listen to the opinions of those beneath him.  Arrogance is one of the first signs of bad leadership.”

“Then from what I’ve read and heard,” Jonathan retorted, “you must be the king of arrogance.”

The Halloween friends gasped, looking at Pumpkin.  The squash was silent for a few seconds, tapping his sheathed sword with one hand.  “What have you read? What do you mean? Kids don’t read.”

“Some do.  Writers do.”

The group gasped again.  “He’s just like Kory!” Bat whispered to Cat.  “Just like our master!”

“Jonathan’s not our master,” said Pumpkin.  “Jonathan didn’t create us.  We don’t need to follow him.  Not now, and not ever.”

“You’re right, Pumpkin,” Jonathan admitted.  Then he did something that surprised the group.  He knelt down before them and set Ms. Unicorn on the ground.  “I’m sorry if you thought I was trying to control you.  I’m not.  I just want to dress up in a stupid costume and get a major sugar rush tonight.  Won’t you please help me?”

Pumpkin gazed at his friends, whose countenances appeared to be resolved about something.  He then turned back to Jonathan.  “Well, we already vowed to help you.  We’re not going to go back on that promise.  But I have to tell you, that if I feel like you’re trying to control me and stop me from making my own decisions, I might have to rebel.”

“Fine.” Jonathan rose and smiled at everyone.  “Thank you.  You know, we were doing just fine before we got here.  But it felt like we were almost splitting up just now.  That’s not normal.  What happened?”

“I’m acquainted with many magics, my sweet,” Witch explained to him.  “And whatever Professor Apo is doing, it’s like magic…but much darker than anything I’ve known.”

“But he’s a professor, right?” asked Awana.  “It’s not like he’s a magician.  He’s a scientist.  And science isn’t dark magic.  It’s not capable of changing our feelings about each other.”

“Little one,” said Frankenstein’s monster, “the faculties of science would astound you.  Do not underestimate it.  Its capacity for good is no greater than its capacity for evil.  And this, I can well assure you, falls under the latter label.”

“Personal experience, I’m guessing?” Jonathan inquired.

“I thought you said that you read,” the monster answered.

It took them an hour to reach the camp.  Tan tents were mottled across a clearing in the trees, and a few smoking fire pits lay here and there.   Many of the golden leaves from nearby trees had fallen into the clearing, serving as a decorous, shining floor for the bivouac.  Jonathan was so inspired by this natural carpeting that he began to piece together ideas of how to give his room even more of a glimmer.  Ms. Unicorn seemed to read his thoughts, for she was getting a little excited, too.  Although the camp was spacious, and could potentially keep fifty people comfortably within its bounds, there was not a soul in sight.  In fact, it almost appeared as if a large group had fled hastily from the area, leaving behind most of its goods.  But if this had happened, where had they fled? The Halloween friends examined the area closely and noticed that, built into the steep side of a mountain situated at the western edge of the camp, was the mouth of a cave.  This mouth was shaped as a broad, upside-down  “V” and was decorated with diamonds.  Into the darkness beyond a road of diamond trailed and disappeared.  Professor Apo had to be in there, and others were with him.

Pumpkin looked at Jonathan.  “I get the feeling that his lab is in that cave.”

“Yeah.”

“We should send someone to scout it out, don’t you think?”

Jonathan sighed.  “I don’t know.  The entrance is so narrow.  The scout would probably have to travel far before seeing anything worthy of reporting.  By that time, he could be trapped—or worse.”

“I really think we should send a scout.”

“Pumpkin, just hold on!” Jonathan placed a hand on his head.  “Just let me think for a second.”

They sat there, on the outskirts of the camp, for some time while Jonathan considered every possible plan.  Pumpkin stood close to him, having a staring contest with the cave entrance.  Witch drew lines between the leaves, and she and Ghost began to play hopscotch.  Ghost was particularly terrible at it, probably because of his lack of legs.  Awana was doing some pretty intense stretches, releasing cries that could only be compared to those of some sort of dying land animal—perhaps a hyena, or an ostrich.  Frankenstein’s monster sat on a rock, deep in thought; he had one fist planted beneath his chin, and he stared off into nothingness.  Bat was practicing his diving attacks, flapping around trees and suddenly plunging toward the earth, only to snap back up an inch away from the ground.  Cat took a nap.

Jonathan had almost settled on a course of action when they all jumped at a loud sound nearby.  Pumpkin abruptly screamed, “Leeroy Pumpkin!” and dashed out of their hiding spot.  He charged across the empty camp, and within moments he had disappeared beneath the cave entrance.  The Halloween friends immediately went after him, but Jonathan threw out one arm before them and yelled, “Stop! He made his choice, guys.  Maybe he’ll be successful and return to us with some useful information.  But one thing’s for sure: if we all run into the dark at once, frantically searching for him, we’re going to get slaughtered before we know what hit us.”

“But I didn’t know his first name is Leroy!” Ghost declared.

“It isn’t, my pretty,” said Witch.

The group mumbled and scattered among the leaves and foliage, each member finding a place to sit.  The next few minutes were tantalizing.  Every now and then, someone would get a wild look in his eye and wander clandestinely toward the entrance.  Jonathan would warn him of the danger, and the person would return to his spot.  They waited.  Soon the silence of the valley made the town’s silence earlier seem like a joke; the only noise was a light, shrill, and biting wind that seemed to carry with it ice from the mountains’ distant summits.  Leaves coiled around their ankles and barrel rolled across the glade until they were out of sight.  The longer they waited, the more clearly they could hear sounds from the foothills and farther into the mountains: the caws of crows perched in trees, struggling to stay warm; the crunch of tires against a nearby private road; the rustling of curious animals drawing close enough to see the strange company.  They were all filled with anxiety, but they all realized that remaining here was paramount to the group’s safety.

To ease some of the stress, they began to speak in hushed voices of things bearing little importance.  They talked about their favorite food, favorite breed of dog, favorite soap, and favorite hamburger commercial.  But as the minutes drew on, the conversation became more interesting.  They spoke of their various adventures, and it turned out that the Halloween friends had far more stories to tell than Jonathan and Awana.  Jonathan had read most of the stories, but it was refreshing to hear them from an actual character.  Bat explained how, had it not been for him and his connections to some friends of the sky, none of them would be there at that time.  A bear once found them in town and knocked them unconscious; he then dragged them into his cave and was presumably preparing to eat them.  They managed to escape with Ghost’s help, but ended up on a cliff with nowhere else to run.  Seeing birds high above them, with whom he was well acquainted, Bat called out and the winged wonders lifted them from their quandary.  Of course, they dropped the group in the back of a truck heading for Alaska, and shortly thereafter the companions had been trapped in their neighbor’s house; but at the end of the day, everyone was alive and well.

Their voices dwindled into little more than whispers, and then vanished completely.  Jonathan looked up between the branches and persistent autumn leaves and noticed that the sun had not moved since the last time he had looked at it.  They felt that hours had passed, but it had only been six or seven minutes since Pumpkin’s flight into the cave.  He was beginning to consider a new course of action.  Just as he was about to give the order for them to sneak out from their hiding spots, Pumpkin stormed out of the darkness, dropped his sword, and hopped into Jonathan’s arms.  He babbled incoherently about many things as he buried himself in the boy’s chest.  The group closed in around them, each person’s face fallen and pale with concern.  Jonathan held up his short friend and looked at him.

“Pumpkin,” he said, “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s terrible!” screamed the squash.  “Terrible!”

“What is, dearie?” Witch asked.  “What’s terrible?”

“It’s a massacre in there!” he cried.  “It’s—they—I can’t explain it.  It has to be stopped.  You need to see it for yourselves.  Then you’ll understand.  Come on, come with me.”

He wriggled out of Jonathan’s arms and sprinted back toward the cave entrance, taking up his sword along the way.  Before Jonathan could stop them, the Halloween friends rushed from the area and into plain sight.  They had almost reached the cave when Awana came to the boy’s side and touched his shoulder.

“We can do this, Johnny boy,” she whispered.  “You can do this.  I believe in you.  Pumpkin looks up to you, though he might not like to admit it.  Why do you think he ran to you when he was afraid just now?”
            “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jonathan replied, his heart racing as he watched his friends disappear.  “What do you suggest we do?”

“I think we should go after them.”

“Yeah, ok, let’s do that.” He faced the cave and took a deep breath.  “For death and glory!”

“Well,” Awana said meekly, “let’s just say ‘for Halloween!’ for now.  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Right.”

“By the way, Johnny.” She gestured over her shoulder.  “Did you notice that he didn’t go with them?”

Jonathan turned back around and saw Frankenstein’s monster posed as he had been before, sitting thoughtfully on a rock.  He stared toward the diamond-encrusted doorway, but it was obvious that he did not plan to move.  Jonathan approached him and said, “Frankenstein’s monster, aren’t you coming? Don’t you care about your friends?”

“You know I do, Jonathan,” the creature responded.  “I love them as only a genuine heart may.  But as I reflect on the nature of our quest, I see that it can only result in battle and perhaps death.  I have killed before, young friend.  I have killed many times.  And I am not eager to do it again.  I will wait, and I will watch.  Rest assured, nothing will come to surprise you.  Now go.”

"Happy Halloween! 2" Chapter 1 (Part 2)

            After a very thorough search around my house, I managed to dig up two pages of "Happy Halloween! 1."  Rather than rewriting the two pages, however, I will simply include here a description of Jonathan's love interest, Awana Humphfree (as she soon becomes an integral part of the story) from the original 2005 manuscript:
            "He soon came to the house of his former girlfriend, Awana Humphfree.  When he rang the doorbell, she answered the door, and he was taken aback by her beauty.  Her spiked hair had been dyed as red as blood.  Her face was long and furry like that of a Cocker Spaniel.  Facial hear [sic] jutted from above her upper lip.  One of her eyes was green, the other blackish-hazel.  Her ears were festooned with heavy earrings shaped like Christmas trees.  She was extremely emaciated, not weighing a pound above 75 pounds."
            I hope you enjoy the second installment of "Happy Halloween! 2."

            The only remotely fitting description of his parents’ countenances upon the arrival of the group at their home is incredulous.  Jonathan’s mother, who sat with an open book in one hand and a mug in the other, looked at the six strangers, blinked, and checked her coffee for potential defects.  His father was changing a light bulb when they burst through the front door, and at the first sight of them, he stopped twisting in a new bulb and stared.  Jonathan ignored them and approached his room.  He heard the scuffing of someone’s shoes on the floor behind him, and as he turned around, he realized that his new friends were standing awkwardly near the door. 

“Oh, duh, I’m sorry, guys.  Mom, Dad, these are my new friends: Pumpkin, Witch, Ghost, Frankenstein’s monster, Bat, and Cat.  I’m sure you can figure out who’s who.  Guys, these are my parents.”

There was a muddle of uncomfortable sounds exchanged between both parties, and then Jonathan’s mother looked at her son, her eyebrows furrowed.  “Jonathan, can you please tell me why you brought a bat into my house? Do you know the kinds of diseases those things carry around?”

“Yes.  Rabies, histoplasmosis, the croup, elephantitis, et cetera.”

“Exactly.  You seem to be well informed.  Knowing this, you still brought one of these beasts in here?”

“Come on, Mom.  It’s Halloween.  Where’s your holiday spirit?”

She looked at him quizzically.  “What does its hollow wing have to do with a holiday?”

He sighed and looked at the floor.  “I guess it’s true.  Apo really has taken away the holiday spirit.” His gaze returned to her.  “I’m sorry, Mom.  I need to grab something really fast, and then I’ll get it out of here.  Ok?”

She mumbled something in response and continued to read.  The companions then noticed that Jonathan’s father had disappeared from the room.  He appeared moments later, wearing a flowery apron and holding a tray full of muffins.  As he offered them to the group, Jonathan made his way to his room again.  Pumpkin followed.

“You know, Pumpkin, you can stay out there with them,” Jonathan offered.  “I get the feeling that things might get uncomfortable out there, so maybe you can help.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Pumpkin smiled at him.  Of course, as he was a pumpkin with certain features carved into his face (some might therefore call him a “jack-o-lantern,” which would be a bad idea), he always smiled.  “Ghost will have them rolling with laughter by the time we’re ready to leave.  He’s good at that sort of thing.”

Jonathan opened his door, and Pumpkin was shocked by the first thing his new friend did once they entered.  The boy swept a few feet across the floor and, like an elegant swan rising gracefully from a stretch of water, threw out his arms and soared through the air.  Though he may not have sworn on it in later days, Pumpkin was fairly sure that he let out a high-pitched honk in the middle of his ascent.  He came crashing down on the bed in the middle of his room, causing blankets and pillows to scatter in his wake.  Initially, Pumpkin thought that he was just showing off—and doing a poor job of it.  He changed his mind when he found that Jonathan was paying no attention to him whatsoever; in fact, once he had landed, his eyes ignored everything except a toy unicorn on top of a side table next to his bed.  He seized the item, slipped off the edge of his bed, and held his beloved high in the air.  As sunlight fell through an open window on the other side of the room, it soaked the unicorn in a golden splendor and brought forth sparkles, the likes of which Pumpkin had never seen.  Jonathan was clearly awed by what was taking place, but Pumpkin shook his head—er, body—and turned to the side.  To his chagrin, he discovered that the walls were pink and just as sparkly as the toy.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Pumpkin?” the boy asked, his eyes reflecting the unicorn’s many sparkles.

“She’s…stunning, Jonathan,” said the squash.  “And I’m glad to see you so…happy after hearing the bad news about Professor Apo only a few minutes ago.  But I have to say, shouldn’t we grab your weapon and get out of here?”

“Are you hitting on me, Pumpkin?”

“Believe me, if I wanted to hit on someone, I’d do a much better job than that.” Pumpkin crossed his arms.  “Come on, my fearless leader, get your weapon and let’s go.”

“Oh, but this is my weapon!” Jonathan finally stopped holding the toy unicorn in the sunlight and cradled it in front of him.  “Don’t let her undeniable wonder fool you!”

“Right.”

“Ok, almost ready!” The boy grabbed a backpack and started throwing junk of all sorts into it: a hat, small bags of potato chips, deodorant, body spray, a toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, motor oil, a plunger, a paper airplane, a ukulele, some dusty records, his pet lizard Steve, and a trophy from the year he took ballet.  Not sure of the length of the upcoming journey, he thought it would be a good idea to pack some clothes.  Pumpkin came to his side and was about to ask him how much longer he would be, when he pulled open the bottom drawer of his dresser.  What Pumpkin saw there stopped him dead in his tracks and interrupted his words.  At the back of the drawer, lying across neatly folded clothes of all colors, was a sheathed short sword.  Jonathan mumbled something about the sword always getting in the way, and he pushed it farther back into the drawer as he searched for clothes he fancied at this time.  Pumpkin tried to kick him but failed, his legs far too short to complete his goal.  Instead, he tapped Jonathan’s legs a few times.

“Yes, Pumpkin?”

“Are you insane?”

“Why do they ask that all the time? Crazy people.” Jonathan grabbed a bright orange shirt and some black jeans.  “Ooh….Perfect!”

“My friend, that’s a perfectly good sword.  A perfectly good weapon.  And you’re just leaving it here?”

“Oh, it has nothing on Ms. Unicorn.  Just some useless relic.”

Pumpkin tried to conjure a look of annoyance in his face, but there was no hope.  He should know by now.  “Fine, can I use this ‘useless relic,’ then?”

Jonathan gestured toward the blade.  “Be my guest.”

Pumpkin jumped into the drawer, took out the sword, and hopped back onto the ground.  He drew it, and the shredding sound it made as it left the sheath satisfied him.  He had anticipated a ringing sound, but apparently all of Hollywood was deceiving the world with its fake sound effects.  The sword was quite heavy, especially for a pumpkin several inches shy of two feet, but he expected that his arms would adjust the longer he used it.  The blade was thin but sharp; it was obviously built for speed rather than brute strength.  Not a blemish marked its surface.  He swung it around, his first few moves quite clumsy, but he seemed to pick it up quickly.  Before long, he was leaping around the room, twirling through the air and slicing left and right with brilliant finesse.  Jonathan finished packing and watched him for a minute or two, cheering him on with many a “Whoa!” and a “Yeah!” and “I’ve never seen anything like that!” and “Watch out for my dresser!” Pumpkin realized that he had a spectator, and so he quit his fine display of swordplay.  He looked at Jonathan and asked, “So, are you ready?”

“Yuppers,” the boy answered.  “Let’s do this thing.”

They returned to the family room and found Jonathan’s parents at separate parts of the room, lying on their sides on the floor.  At first, Jonathan was worried that they were hurt.  Before he could check on them, however, he saw that they were laughing uncontrollably.  The Halloween companions were still standing awkwardly by the door, and they looked at Jonathan and Pumpkin, urging them with their eyes to leave as quickly as possible.  The room brimmed with laughter, but somehow Jonathan’s mom managed to squeeze in the words, “Oh my goodness, Ghost, Ghost, you have to tell them the one about the cup and the water.  It’s hilarious!”

“Um...ok,” Ghost said, scratching his immaterial head.  “Uh…may I please have another cup of water?”

“Pffft!” Jonathan’s mom exclaimed, continuing her fierce chortling.  “Oh God, Ghost, where do you get this stuff?”

Jonathan palmed his face and shook his head.  “Ugh.  Ok, Mom, Dad, keep doing your thing.  I’m going on an adventure, and I don’t know when I’ll be coming back again.  So bye.”

“Ok, son!” his father replied.  “Don’t get lost, now.  And if you need a cup of water, we’ll be here!”

“I’m sure you will.” Jonathan turned to his friends.  “Everyone ready?”

“Yep, nice to meet you guys, you have a beautiful home, thanks for the water and muffins!” they yelled, their voices collecting in a nearly incoherent jumble as they shuffled quickly out the front door.  Jonathan and Pumpkin followed, and once they had shut the door, Bat said, “I gotta admit, your parents are freaks.”

“Oh, I know,” responded Jonathan.  “How we’re related, I have no idea.”

“I know, right?” Pumpkin joined it.  “It’s not like you’re weird.  Not at all.”

The sun was already falling through the western sky, untouched by clouds that had traipsed across its eastern expanse most of the day.  The small town, wedged between verdant mountains in the west and rolling hills to the east, was quiet.  Save for the seven companions, the streets were empty.  They took the main road north toward open country, and each member felt the silence covering the land like a blanket.  Jonathan, though hopeful about his quest with his weapon now in hand, and with the knowledge that a proficient swordsman partook in the company, could not help but feel dismal.  There was nothing remarkable about the yards of the homes around him; it seemed that, once people had lost their holiday spirit, they had all taken down their festive Halloween décor and left their yards in their usual state.  Jonathan remembered the many years of trick-or-treating that lay behind him.  His parents used to guide him around the neighborhood on that night every year, bringing a bag with them that could only fit a few handfuls worth of candy.  Of course, they finally stopped this two years ago, finding it difficult to let go of their “little boy.”  The following year Ms. Unicorn accompanied him, but for some reason, she did not seem too interested in candy.  Last year he had gone with Awana, and they had a wonderful time.  He could not bear to think of the children in this town, or in any other, living without something so integral to the culture and growing up in general.

They traveled at an unhurried pace, talking little, except for the occasional screeches and meows exchanged between Bat and Cat.  Jonathan also asked them how it felt being storybook characters brought to life, but they seemed confused by the question.  Frankenstein’s monster was rather offended after hearing it, and he grew even quieter after muttering something about having been just as alive as any normal human for the entirety of his existence.  The green haze of the northern fields drew near; at that point they would take a left turn and follow a country road west until they reached the foothills.  From there, they would have to scout out the professor’s encampment, as even Kory Labarga himself had had no clue as to his exact whereabouts.  Jonathan imagined that this task would not prove difficult, for if they did not see the camp itself, he imagined that the experiments conducted in the mountain lab would give off some signal of its presence.

When they had come within a hundred yards of the country road, a strange sound pierced the air to their right.  The Halloween friends imagined that Professor Apo had conjured some foul beast from the deep abyss of his lab, and had now loosed it upon the innocent town.  Pumpkin gripped the handle of his sword with both hands.  Jonathan smirked.  He knew that voice.  They turned to the right and saw Awana sprinting down the front lawn of her house with a smile as large as the sun, waving her arms in the air.  Along the way she tripped on a tree root and fell on some rocks lining the outer edge of the yard, scraping her knee severely and bruising various other parts of her body.  She rose almost instantly, none of her excitement depleted from the unfortunate accident.  Then she limped her way to the group and, holding the bloody mess that was her left knee, she said, “Hey there, Johnny boy” in a voice that one could almost consider seductive.  Almost.

“Hey,” he replied, running his finger over the toy unicorn.  “Is your knee ok?”

“Oh.  My.  Gosh.  You are such a sweetie for asking!  It’ll be fine.  Though I might need stitches…or some complicated and expensive surgery.”  She wiped her running nose and looked at the confused faces behind her friend.  “Who are they?” Her voice swelled with jealousy.
            “Oh, um….” Jonathan sounded guilty.  “Awana, these are my new friends! Of course, they’ll never be as close to me as you are.” He was relieved when he noticed that his friend almost swooned at his words.  “This is Pumpkin, and Witch, and Ghost, and Frankenstein’s monster, and Bat, and Cat.  Guys, say hello to Awana!”

“Hey, Awana.” The tone of their voices betrayed their lack of excitement.

“Great,” Ghost whispered to Pumpkin.  “Another mouth to feed.”

“Ghost, you don’t even eat!” Pumpkin looked at him.  “As a matter of fact, I don’t, either! And our journey is only a couple miles.  It’s not like we have to trek across a vast country and scrounge up rations so we can survive just one more day.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Pumpkin.”

“So, Johnny boy,” Awana addressed the boy, swaying in a romantic fashion.  The blood from her knee was now pooling on the street.  “What are you guys up to?”

“We’re going on an adventure!” he told her, thrilled to be able to say it to someone whose opinion mattered so much to him.  “We’re traveling to the mountains and stopping an evil man from destroying something that is very precious to me…and to you.  And to millions of kids and childish adults everywhere!”

“And what would that be?”

“A holiday.  Did you know that there is a holiday today?”

Awana sighed.  “Johnny, didn’t we talk about this earlier? You know, in part one of this story? No, I would know if today was a holiday.  I’m all about holidays.  Go…Thanksgiving! Woot!”

The Halloween friends shook their heads and continued their northward march.  Jonathan laughed.  “No, today is supposed to be a holiday called Halloween.  But no one in this town knows that.  On this holiday, you dress up in a wild costume and go door to door….”

“Like a traveling prostitute?”

“Um…no, not quite.  You dress up like something spooky.  A ghost, a demon, a dead cheerleader, et cetera.  Then you go door to door, and adults give you candy after you say, ‘Trick or treat!’”

“That sounds like a good way to get kidnapped.”  Awana looked worried.  “And if not, then can’t adults easily poison the candy?”

Jonathan looked thoughtful.  “Maybe that’s why I had symptoms strangely similar to food poisoning after trick-or-treating a few years ago….Anyway, you have to trust me.  Kids everywhere dress up and go out together at night, and have an awesome time walking around and getting candy.  It’s been a part of our culture for so long, and now this evil jerk has stolen the Halloween spirit from everyone in town! I need to stop him.  Are you with me?”

She drew close to him and touched his arm.  “Johnny boy, you’re making me all…excited with your brave words and talk of such a dangerous holiday.  Of course I’m with you! Let’s stop this guy and get Halloween back!”

“Yeah!” Johnny cried, holding Ms. Unicorn high in the air.

“You brought Ms. Unicorn? Good God, Johnny, you mean business, don’t you?”

“You know it.” He grinned, and then brought the toy back down to waist level.  “Well, if you’re going to come with us, we need to get going.  My friends are already at the field.”

“One second, please!’ she exclaimed, and she ran back toward her house.  “I’m just going to grab a band-aid and a first-aid kit.  And maybe a cast.”

            “I’ll be here,” said Jonathan.  “And when you’re done, we’ll take the fight to Professor Apo!”

"Happy Halloween! 2" Prologue and Chapter 1 (Part 1)

"Happy Halloween!" was originally a story I had written when I was six years old.  It told the story of a group of characters fitting for the holiday--Pumpkin, Witch, Ghost, Frankenstein's monster, Bat, and Cat--and how they went on an epic journey.  This short story was followed by two sequels that have now been lost (however, archaeologists digging in Winters and Vacaville, CA, swear that they are homing in on the ancient documents).  Ten years later, as a nod to one of my earliest stories, I created a new short story called "Happy Halloween!" This time the plot focused on a boy named Jonathan, as you will read below.  But the characters from my original story made an appearance, as well.  Unfortunately, the "Happy Halloween!" redux I wrote seven years ago has also been lost, so until further notice, I will not be able to post in on this blog.  The good news is that I remember most of the story, and it is explained in the prologue of the following tale, "Happy Halloween! Part 2." I plan to post this fun and not-too-serious story in three parts, so the last part should be ready a few days before Halloween.  It should serve as a nice break from my normally dark plots!

Prologue

The Doomed Holiday

Nearly ten years ago, I captured the hearts of millions (not really; it was more like four) with a heartwarming tale about an semi-pubescent boy by the name of Jonathan.  In this tale, readers fell in love with Jonathan, his family, his love interest (an ecstatic girl named Awana Humphfree, with hair unnervingly similar to that of a boy’s and a nasally voice), and his toy unicorn (to whom he confided many of his dark secrets).  While the story was mostly fun and games, however, there was a twist to it.  It described the life of an ordinary boy on Halloween, but it was far from your average holiday story.  It was much darker.  Jonathan did not do that which is expected of children his age; he did not grab a colorful pillowcase from his overly decorated room and beseech grumbling adults for a morsel of candy.  In fact, he did not trick-or-treat at all.

After visiting Awana, he made his way back home when an unusually agile old lady blocked his path.  He tried and tried again to get past her, but she was like a swift cougar (note that I do not use the word “cougar” here as it is typically used to describe certain women in today’s society), unwilling to let him pass.  There was no avoiding her.  Finally, he asked what she wanted, and after quite a bit of pointless banter, she pointed him toward an eerie mansion on the side of a hill overlooking Jonathan’s small town.  She also briefly mentioned that Halloween would not be as it should that night—that was, unless he entered the mansion and discovered for himself what was going wrong.  He summoned his courage and followed her instructions, but what he found was not as scary as he had anticipated.

There was only one man there, sitting in a chair on the top floor, looking out at the city.  He was somewhat dark of skin and rather short.  He was old but not elderly, and yet it appeared as if much care weighed on his brow.  Although seemingly frail, Jonathan noticed that a hidden strength somehow emanated from him.  It might also be fair to say that man was rather handsome.  He introduced himself as Kory Labarga, but whether or not that was his real name is up to you to determine.  After his introduction, he proceeded to explain to Jonathan the nature of the dark forces threatening Halloween.  He had written so many books throughout his life, and they had always remained just that—books.  But now he had gone too far.  He had finally written a story so tangible and convincing to readers that its chief antagonist, Professor Aponowatsomidichloron, actually leapt from the pages and materialized in time and space! 

By using wicked methods yet to be revealed, the professor stole the Halloween spirit from everyone in the town, and the holiday as they had known it no longer existed.  Soon he would lead an assault on the entire world, pilfering that same spirit from all people in every land.  Indeed, he would then move onto the Thanksgiving spirit, and the Christmas spirit, and alas! even the birthday spirit! Fortunately, however, Kory told Jonathan that Professor Aponowatsomidichloron had set up a bivouac at the foot of a nearby mountain range.  Knowing him better than anyone, Kory surmised that the professor had also constructed a lab deep within the heart of the mountain by now.  What foul potions he now concocted, and what grotesque experiments he now performed, the old author did not dare to guess.

He encouraged Jonathan to defeat the evil professor, and the young man agreed with some very understandable fear in his heart.  Before he set off, however, he was given a pleasant surprise.  It was true that the most wicked character of Kory’s book had come to life, but the good characters also appeared in the real world.  Pumpkin, Witch, Ghost, Frankenstein’s monster, Bat, and Cat, characters from one of Kory’s earliest stories (called “Happy Halloween!” which he had written at the age of six), walked into the room and came to Jonathan’s side.  They vowed to fight to the last breath, following him and defending him on every stage of the quest.  And so Kory Labarga sent them off, and they began their intrepid trek toward the western mountains.

Chapter 1

A New Companion

     “My legs hurt!” Ghost shouted as the companions clambered down a grassy slope leading toward the street.

            “Ghost,” Pumpkin said with a groan, “we’ve only gone thirty yards from the front door.  And what the freak? You don’t even have legs.”

            “Well that’s just racist,” Ghost replied, crossing his ethereal arms.

            Pumpkin continued to hobble a few feet behind Jonathan, but he managed to turn to the side somewhat.  He glared at Ghost.  “Racist? That’s not even—you know, whatever.”

“Ghost, my sweet,” Witch croaked, trailing Pumpkin by a yard, “you’re already bothering our fearless leader.  And as we know, after that, you start to bother the rest of us.”

“I’m not the fearless leader,” Pumpkin responded, “at least, not on this escapade.  It’s Jonathan this time.  But thank you for the sentiment, Witch.”

“Anyway, Ghost,” chimed in Frankenstein’s monster, “do you not find it the epitome of irony that you, the disembodied one, should be the sole member of our original comradeship who is adequately clothed? Pumpkin is bereft of all clothing; Witch is draped in loose, dark cloth; I am still garbed in naught but the rags with which my creator dressed me (the disgusting oaf, how I love him); and Bat and Cat I have never seen don garments of any fashion.  Yet here you hover along, clad in a plain light-blue shirt of fine material.  And as you are a spiritual being, and carry not the thorns of the flesh, you no longer feel the pangs of mortality.  But you complain beyond any of us.  Have I not aptly described the situation at hand, Bat?”

“That you have, you lumbering nerd,” Bat answered in a screechy tone, his wings flapping frantically.

“That just shows how little you know, Frankie!” Ghost exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at Frankenstein’s monster.  “The other night, when I was sleeping, some fool put my hand in warm water.  I still don’t know who it was.  Anyway, you know how that turns out.”

Witch looked at him, her face contorted in deep thought.  “No….The tooth fairy comes?”

Ghost shook his head, and the expression on his face made everyone in the group think he had lost hope in humanity.  “No, Witch.  You pee in the bed, ok?”

“Ghost, my friend, please don’t take this the wrong way,” Pumpkin implored him, grabbing Jonathan’s leg as they came to a particularly steep part of the hill.  “Why in the world do you sleep? You don’t need rest; you’re already resting.”

“Pumpkin, have you tried sleeping on memory foam? No? Then keep your mouth shut.  Cat knows what I’m talking about, right Cat?”

“Meow,” said Cat.

Ghost nodded smugly.  “See, there you go.  Cat always has my back.”

They came to the street, and Jonathan immediately made a left turn, toward the south.  He walked along the sidewalk on the left of the road, and the others followed closely behind.  Pumpkin’s tiny legs churned as he hurried to keep up with Jonathan, and once he did, he poked the young man in the leg multiple times.

“What is it, Pumpkin?” he asked the living squash.

“You should know that I completely trust your leadership abilities,” Pumpkin said to him, struggling to sound sincere.  “But I have to wonder…why are we heading south? Shouldn’t we edge the town’s northern borders until we reach the mountains?”

“Yes, if we’re planning to take the fight to Professor Apo.  That’s what I decided to call him.  Why Kory would give him such a freakishly long name in the first place is beyond me.  Crazy old man.”

“So…wait a minute.  We’re not taking the fight to the professor?” Pumpkin was obviously feeling uneasy.

“Oh no, of course we are,” Jonathan told him, “but there’s no way I’m going into battle without a weapon.”

“You just made me a little weak in the knees there.” Pumpkin grinned.  “If I were not a squash, and if I were a woman….So anyway, what kind of weapon are we talking about?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” A confident smirk stretched across the young man’s face.

White Fox--Chapter 3, Part 1

Chapter 3

Something Between

Part 1

            The sun, alone and unobscured in the east, shone against Renardo’s right shoulder as he walked through the city three days later.  The sounds of tires against asphalt, honking horns, bellowing words spoken into cell phones, and gliding light rail combined to form the unnoticeable thrum that ever draped the city’s background.  It was somewhat early in the morning, and so hurrying pedestrians peppered the crosswalks, concerned primarily with reaching their destinations in a timely manner, and secondarily with sating the impatient drivers longing to make a right turn.  Dark colors were everywhere; after all, fall was in full swing and winter was approaching, and warm clothes were always accompanied by the less vibrant shades of the spectrum.  The buildings loomed over all, scattered in apparent randomness but seeming to gaze toward the swerving Sacramento River in undecipherable expectancy.  And below, lining the sidewalks and mottling the numerous parks, and hugging themselves with thoughts of spring’s warmth, sat the city’s homeless; but the workday was starting, and they were not noticed.

            Renardo, garbed in a dark blue jacket, black jeans, and tennis shoes, looked up and saw the diner in the distance.  Some would call his return to that place courageous, and more would call it stupid; but out of respect for Nathan, he decided to comb the area for the redheaded woman.  He doubted that anything would result from his search, even if he did find her.  In fact, he was not even sure that he wanted anything to result from finding her.  However, after three days of deep thought, he remembered that he had not been in a relationship for years, and weighed the pros and cons of being in one at this time.  His mission to stop Malvin was critical, but he was aware of the dangers of making it his only purpose.  Having one focus, even one as important as saving the city, could do more damage than good.  Furthermore, after so many years of hunting this evil man, something inside of him was weary.  Perhaps there was someone else out there who could help him carry the burden.

            As for the first favor his friend had asked, he had not completely shut his ears to it.  Over the course of the three days, he had managed to remove himself as best he could from everything that he knew about Malvin and the criminals beneath him.  He had effectively put himself in Nathan’s shoes, and received the revelation that such heavy news—even if backed by solid claims—was not easy to hear.  It would have been better to spoon-feed his friend the information on a gradual basis until Nathan had comprehended the significance of each report over time, and pieced everything together on his own.  Instead, driven into a frenzy by the realization of Dr. Wiles’ scheme, he had poured everything out at once with overwhelming force.  He was no longer upset with Nathan’s reaction, and planned to apologize for the deliverance of the news—not the news itself—as soon as possible.

            The bell chimed above him as he opened the door to the diner and stepped in.  To his relief, Mustache Man was nowhere in sight.  He had also feared that regulars from the diner might have seen the scuffle a few days back, and would reach for their phones or flee once he entered; but the few couples and families who were there took no notice of him.  He requested the same seat in which he had sat before, and before long he was sipping a cup of French Vanilla in his chair, watching the front door.  He had acquired neither contact information nor a name from the woman, and these facts pained him.  She had been so nice despite his obvious uncaring demeanor, and he had been so engrossed in his mission that he had thrown aside all manners.  If she stopped by today, she would get nothing less than his undivided attention.

            After drinking three cups of coffee and reading many pages of a graphic novel he had brought with him, he began to wonder if he should go home.  The odds that she would return to the same diner, on the same day, at the same time that he did were not in his favor.  He reached the end of the page and shut the pages of the book, but just as he began to rise from his seat, he glanced out a window at the front of the diner and saw the woman nearing the front door.  He smiled at her, but she walked with her eyes centered on the ground, and for a moment he thought he could see a tear marking one of her cheeks.  Once she entered the room, however, her face brightened and she beamed at employee and customer alike.  She did not see Renardo until she had come within a few yards of him, and then she stopped walking and seemed surprised by his presence.  He looked at her and was taken aback by her beauty.  Her hair was straightened rather than curled (as it had been the day before), and she wore a stylish brown trench coat and heels.  He made a valiant effort to avoid betraying his attraction to her, but he was certain that he had already failed, and that she had noticed.

            “Hey, it’s you!” she exclaimed.  “How are you?”

“I’m doing ok, considering I was almost officially an icicle by the time I made it here,” he replied with a laugh.  “You?”

“Just another day,” she said, the corners of her mouth falling.  She hugged herself for warmth.  “Did you drive here?”

“No, I walked.  I don’t really like cars.”

“Oh, I see.”

Renardo shuffled his feet and looked forlornly at his empty cup of coffee.  The woman smiled and asked him, “Was the coffee black again?”

“No, not this time.  Mustache Man hasn’t shown his furry mustache since I got here, so I wasn’t distracted.”

“Mustache Man, huh?  Interesting….”

“Yeah.” Renardo brought the cup closer to him and patted the table.  “You can go ahead and take a seat here, if you want.  I mean, you don’t have to.  There are plenty of other good seats here.  But it’s available…just so you know.”

She laughed and accepted the invitation, setting down a small purse she had carried in with her.  Although he had promised himself to give her his full attention, Renardo could not help but look out the front window from time to time.  He imagined Dr. Wiles, or even Malvin, standing outside the diner, staring at him with a wicked smirk.  Before his thoughts went too far, he returned his gaze to the young woman.  “I highly recommend the French Vanilla coffee, fair lady,” he remarked in the first accent that came to mind.  “Good stuff.  Not good for you, but good stuff, indeed.”

“I just might try that, sir, and thank you,” she responded, adopting the same accent.  “So, are you a regular here now?”

“No.  Well, maybe.  I didn’t come here today just for the coffee.  I came to see you.”

She was silent, and she avoided meeting his eyes.  He realized that such a statement might sound forward, and so he immediately continued: “I mean, I came in hopes that you would be here, because I wanted to apologize for the other day.  I was a jerk.  There’s no other way to look at it.  While you were trying to make conversation, I was distracted, and you probably felt that whatever was holding my attention was more important than what you were saying.  I was just freaking out a little because of that guy.  But ‘freaking out’ is no excuse for running out of the diner when we were in the middle of talking.  I’m sorry for that.”

“Wow,” the woman said, nodding.  “That’s surprising.  In my experience, guys find it difficult to apologize.  Um…don’t worry about it.  It’s ok.  I just figured that whatever was going on was very important, and you needed to get out of here quickly. In fact, I was a little worried that something bad had happened to you.  Is everything ok?”

“Everything is fine.  I’m just glad I could apologize.  Hey, you can go ahead and order if you want.  I might just get another cup of coffee.  My bladder will hate me forever, but he’s a jerk, anyway.”

She burst into laughter.  “My gosh, you are so funny!”  She grabbed a menu from the center of the table and opened it.  “It’s been a tough morning, and it’s really good to laugh.”

“I’m sorry it’s been tough.  Um, if you want to talk about anything, I’ll listen.”

She looked at him warmly, and he noticed the sparkle of tears as they rested in her eyes for a moment.  “Thank you.  That’s nice of you to offer.”

Renardo did not have a clue as to what she was facing, but he felt an unusual aching in his heart once he sensed her pain.  She seemed so strong externally.  Upon her entrance to the diner, she had walked with confidence and authority.  Now that she was at the table, she sat with her shoulders held high and a flawless posture.  As he looked more intently at her, however, he was reminded of popsicle stick crafts he had constructed as a child.  No matter how small or large the craft was, and no matter how much glue held the various pieces together, all it took was one firm touch or a gust of wind to topple it.  She was obviously emotionally strong, but it looked as if she fought to keep all of her pieces intact, so as to avoid collapsing completely.  Though his heart ached, and though he pitied her, he felt that he should praise her for her durability in the face of the trauma that presently assaulted her.  Whether it was a death in the family, a feud with her parents, or the loss of a friend, he did not know; but whatever it was, it did not overcome her.  

White Fox--Chapter 2, Part 3

They took their seats on the couch, and as Renardo put his thoughts in order and prepared to explain them, the coffeemaker ended its growling.  He looked at his friend with studious eyes, wondering how much he could tell him.  It was not as though he feared his trust being betrayed, but he was aware that the average person would not readily accept a story such as his.  He opted to tell it in its entirety, deciding that if Nathan were a true friend, he would hear it first before judging.  He cleared his throat and said, “Do you remember those crimes that happened in Sacramento five years ago? And I’m not talking about the everyday crimes.  You know, the string of high-profile robberies and murders that happened at the end of the year?”

“Yeah, it’s hard to forget.  That was the worst crime this city has ever seen.”

“I know.  Well, do you remember what happened with all of that?”

Nathan stared off into space as the memories returned to him.  “They caught most of the guys, but some got away.  People feared that the attacks would continue since not all of them were arrested, or that copycat crimes would start up.  But nothing else happened.”

Renardo affirmed the information with a nod.  “You’re right, not all of the criminals were arrested.  But that doesn’t mean that some of them weren’t known.  On the news, they showed pictures of the men who had eluded police.  One of them was named Victor Valdez.  Do you remember him?”

“Can’t say that I do,” said Nathan.  “But you know, that was a while back, and there were quite a few names floating around.  If you showed me a picture or video or something, I might remember.”

“I don’t have anything on me to prove it,” Renardo admitted, “but yeah, Victor was one of them.  Now I’m going to need you to believe me here.  I know it might be difficult.  This guy, Victor.  Well, I was at a pub here in Sac, and I saw him there.  I know, you might think that since I was drinking at a pub, I got drunk and thought I saw him.  The thing is, I hadn’t even touched a drink yet.  And there he was, sitting at a table in the corner; he had one arm around some lady friend of his, and two guys—friends, I guess—sat across from them.  Now I was looking at him from a distance, and even though I was pretty damn sure it was him, I wanted to be certain before I called the cops.  I got a little bit closer, and one of his friends noticed me.  The three men walked over to me and asked if I had a staring problem, if I was lost, et cetera—all that sort of nice stuff.  I grabbed my phone and tried to dial 911, but they knocked it from my hands and forced me outside.  This is where you’re going to just have to trust me.”

He went into the kitchen again and came out with two cups of coffee and a handful of creamers.  He handed one of the cups to Nathan, set his own down on the coffee table, and continued:

“I was pissed as I thought of what they might do to me.  I couldn’t stand the thought of Victor getting away with severely injuring me, or worse, after being part of such heinous crimes.  So right as we got outside, I broke free from their grip.  Instead of running, I fought.  I didn’t even know what I was doing.  I just started swinging my fists like I was crazy, and somehow, I managed to knock Victor’s two friends to the ground.  I hit them so hard, I thought I killed them.  Then I came to Victor, and all the anger I had from hearing about his crimes came out.  He was a mess when I was finished with him.  Toward the end a bunch of words came from my mouth, and at some point I asked him, you know, ‘How could you kill those people? Think of their children, who are left behind without parents, knowing that they could do nothing to save them.’  And then he told me, ‘I had no choice, man.  It was Centius.  It’s all on him.  He made us do it.  He made all of us do it.’

“I was surprised by so many things at that point.  I mean, I had never even heard of Centius.  I guess in my moment of shock I just froze up, and I didn’t notice Victor reaching toward his pocket.  He pulled out some kind of knife.” Then Renardo stood up and lifted up his jacket and dress shirt.  Across the bottom left region of his abdominal muscles was a rather dark scar, about the size of a thumb.  “He stabbed me here.  Hurt like hell, but luckily, he was so weak by that point, and I caught on at the last second.  If not for those things, I might be dead.  Anyway, yeah, he stabbed me, and I just fell on the ground, thinking it was the end.  He stumbled away.  Some people found me and called the police, and not long after I was in the hospital.  You probably remember that.  I told you I was drunk and fell on a broken bottle outside a pub.  I told you that because I thought you’d never believe what really happened.  And I didn’t even know what I thought about it, myself.”

He proceeded to tell Nathan about the time he had spent tracking Centius, and how he had soon discovered that the man’s first name was Malvin.  He was interrupted only by the occasional sip of coffee and Nathan’s rare and brief questions.  He finished the story with his embarrassing fight earlier that day, and lamented the fact that Malvin was aware of his reconnaissance.  He was about to book a flight to Philadelphia, he remarked, when Nathan so sweetly disrupted his plans by ringing the doorbell.  Wiles was now the only one who could tell him the truth of Malvin’s whereabouts, and this would probably not come out without a struggle.

By now they had both finished their coffee, and it seemed that Nathan’s eyes would burn a hole in the empty cup he held.  He did not speak for a while.  As he awaited a response, Renardo glanced frequently at his front door; he realized that he had become far too comfortable and careless in his vigilance during his storytelling.  It was impossible to tell whether Malvin was miles or feet away, especially in light of his new evidence.  Whenever his eyes returned to Nathan, he could not discern the young man’s thoughts.  It appeared that he was considering all of the information before making any decision or judgment, at least.  Most people would not have been so patient.  But after a couple minutes he said, “Renardo, my friend….”

“Yes?”

“Renardo….” He sighed.  “Man, do you know how crazy all of this is? I mean, really.  You’re my best friend, and I’m on your side no matter what.  But…ok, let’s look at what you’re telling me.  Almost five years ago, you happened to be in the same bar with one of the dudes who committed those crimes.  You fought three criminals and won, and got stabbed.  After you healed, you began your own personal quest and tracked down this Malvin Centius guy, who is a crime lord behind all those crimes five years.  The police have no idea about him, but you have tons of information.  You flew to Philadelphia just so you could get info about Malvin from a professor.  He gave you bad info, and you beat the living crap out of some random guy because of it.  Now this major crime lord knows who you are and is trying to thwart your plans.  Man….I don’t know.  This is just crazy.”

“Check my facts, Nate,” Renardo replied, his voice calm.  “Check them.  See if there was no Victor Valdez.  See my fists? They’re cut up from my fight this morning.  I can even show you the many pages of evidence I have, but it’s all in a different room.  This isn’t something I’m inventing, man.”

“It’s just….I don’t know.  Something’s not right.  It seems like you have a lot of your facts straight, but I don’t know.”

“Look, Nate.  I am fully convinced that Malvin isn’t finished with Sacramento.  And I can’t bear to see a repeat of what happened five years ago.  I’m going to stop him, even if it means the end of me.”

Nathan looked closely at him.  “What happened to you, man?”

“What the hell do you mean, what happened to me?”

“Never mind.” Nathan set down his cup on the table and rose to his feet.  “Hey, I need to get going.  I have a lot to think about.  Thanks for the coffee and everything.  It was really good.  I just have a couple of favors to ask, ok?”

Renardo did not look at him, fearing that he would launch a fist into his face at the first glance.  “What?”

“First, I just ask you to really rethink everything you just told me.  Pretend you’re not you for a few minutes and try to imagine hearing that.  Maybe it’ll give you some perspective.”

Renardo grunted.  “Fine, I’ll try.”

“Second, dude,” said Nathan, “talk to that girl.  I know there wasn’t much between you, but maybe you can find something.  You might need her more than you know.”

“Yeah, sure, fine.”

“Ok.  Well, thanks again for everything.  I’ll see you soon, all right?”

Renardo watched as he left the house.  Once he heard the sound of a car starting up, he returned to his basement and sat at the computer desk.  Although it was still somewhat early in the day, he was weary of it, and he desired that he could somehow rewind it.  Pummeling Mustache Man and informing Nathan of such an enormous situation had not been his wisest moves, and he felt that he might pay dearly for both.  Sancho sauntered over to him, rose to his back paws, and again threw his front paws on his master’s lap.  Renardo grinned a pensive, sad grin and lifted the dog into his arms.

“Some people only know how to hide from the truth,” he said. 

The dog said nothing.