MILO STOPPED HER BY SCREAMING the truth. Not too many men use the ‘I’ve been bitten by a vampire!’ gambit to convince a lady of urgent sincerity.
She hadn’t figured out how to arm the concussion grenades but she held one at the ready anyway.
Milo held his wrist for viewing. He pulled the goop bandage away.
“It’s already clotted. I had to keep squeezing it to make the blood come out.”
“The waiter’s voice has stopped,” she said and barely believed she was saying it.
“You’re psychic. Your waiter was what’s called a Djinn. Genie.”
“Bigfoot?”
“Rather not talk about him.”
“UFOs?”
“I’ve got two…but I’ve never been in space.”
Overload finally hit her; fatigue, fainting.
“Got you.” He caught her up and carried her huddled body to shade, cradling her in his lap while he rummaged for his phone. Leaning against a tree, he called Ramses. “Ram…come get me.”
“You sound bad.”
“Come get me. We need to regroup, brother,” said Milo. “I got sloppy. Again.” He rubbed the spot where he’d been bitten. The skin had healed but it was still new…and it itched. He signed off.
Ramses made a snap decision, one he was loath to make but right now there were other concerns. Neon and Yvonne needed the familiarity of a false sense of security. He called in a favor. Normally the worlds of luxury and false senses of security didn’t cross the Jetstreams’ path, but there was a safe house in Arizona known only to a select few, even among the Agents of Change. The personal vertical jet of the billionaire inventor who owned it, Tony Sterk, picked them up on the island Milo had landed on, and deposited them into the safety of walls, rooms, comfort, and respite. The house was underground, shielded both standard and esoteric, and offered enough immediate normalcy that Neon and Yvonne relaxed their suspicions long enough to soak tensed, bunched muscles after Ele, who’d seen to their cuts and bruises during the flight, empathically tended to their emotional needs.
Ele was small and comforting. The world: suddenly too big and screaming.
Steaming water and the low hum of filtration now calmed scattered thoughts for Yvonne and Neon. The feeling of absolute solitude was divine. They’d been told to remain in there as long as they wanted; they wouldn’t be interrupted or disturbed in any way.
The hot tub was big enough that even stretched at opposite ends their toes didn’t touch. Feet bobbed underwater weightless and free.
“Eucalyptus?” Yvonne asked, eyes closed.
“Please,” said Neon.
Yvonne swiped a finger across the whirlpool’s touchpad. A refreshing hint of mint joined the steam.
Those two words constituted an exhausting conversation.
Both women inched their bodies a little deeper into the warm, swirling waters, stretched their arms along the rim, and bled adrenalin off until, either briefly or for quite some time, both went to sleep.
~~~
“Explain this to me.” Yvonne locked the brothers to the spot with the hard set of her jaw.
“A war that’s been going on for a long time got real tiresome today,” said Milo. “Neon saw a vampire, heard a Djinn, saw the true church, and reawakened one of her sleeping chakras.”
Yvonne glanced Neon’s way. “You did all that?”
“Girl, I’ve had a helluva day.”
“Fiona Carel, Luscious Johnson Smoove, Desiree Quicho, Ele,” Milo introduced.
There was something subtly different about Ele now that they were sitting in a responsible, adult group. It wasn’t easy putting a finger on it.
“Ele’s from Atlantis.”
There you go. “Make it a little more outlandish for me,” said Yvonne. “Tell me about Bigfoot.”
“We don’t talk about him,” said Milo.
Yvonne looked at the rest of the crew; their stony silence agreed.
A tray of almonds and shelled peanuts sat on a handmade driftwood table in front of her. Yvonne chewed her cheek a moment, took a handful, and crunched. Loudly. The pin wafted through the silence of the moment, unhurried toward its penultimate drop.
Which came with a hard bite into a hard nut.
“Who are you,” she said, refilling her hand’s supply, “And don’t give me any Twilight Zone Star Trek bullshit. Please.”
“We’re people,” said Milo.
“People.”
He nodded.
“And the rest of that?”
“They’re vampire, Djinn, Thoom and Buford.”
“There’s the world,” said the other Jetstream, “and then there’s the world that creates the world.”
“Roswell?”
“Yes,” said Ramses, nodding her along.
“And those are your real names?”
“As far as we know,” said Milo.
“And you’re from Atlantis?” she asked Ele.
“I am.”
“You are. OK. OK.” Yvonne stood. “One of you crazy bastards is taking us home. If I have to knock every last one of you…”
Ramses pointed to the dog tags around her neck. “I didn’t bring those back to bring harm to you.”
“So you’re saying we’re free to go.”
“Never our decision to make,” said Ramses.
Neon, though, remained seated. She spoke to Yvonne, but addressed the group: “Remember those stories about the Pig Man and Bloody Mary? We’ve had this weird shit in our faces our whole lives, and I can’t pretend I’m on the same level as yesterday. They’re telling us this woman is from Atlantis and we believe them. That should tell you something.”
“Tells me we’ve probably been drugged.”
“All that stuff about Buford makes sense. Who in fuck heard about Kardashians then all of a sudden you can’t piss without hitting their feet?”
“Smoke, luv,” said Smoove.
“Big, thick, nasty, stank-ass stupid smoke,” said Neon.
“Ghetto Fabulous,” Smoove threw out. “Thug Life, Hood Rat.”
“Benifer. Bradgelina, for crying out loud,” added Desiree. “Have you any idea how much money and resources are poured into keeping you on that diet? There is a living, systemic juggernaut that crushes entire towns beneath its feet as it slouches toward born-again Bethlehem.”
“Tragedies?” said Fiona. “The big stuff? War on terror and whatnot? Marketing strategies.”
“The Patriot Act,” said Desiree. “How dumb does a country have to be to wholeheartedly accept something called the Patriot Act? It screams, ‘You’re stupid, jingoistic and easily led!’”
“The world being fucked and stupid is a twice told tale,” said Yvonne, still standing, still challenging.
“There’s a reason the world’s fucked and stupid,” said Desiree.
“It’s called suburbia for a reason,” said Milo. “The layer beneath.”
“Those who fuck the world wear condoms,” said Ramses.
“And the fucked daily wash their faces with the collected jizz,” said Smoove.
“Succinct as hell,” said Neon.
“Call ‘em like they be, sister.”
“This shit is for real, huh?” said Yvonne.
“As my love for my wife,” answered Smoove.
“You’re a simple, sincere brother,” Yvonne noted.
“I try to be.”
Yvonne sat and put the bowl of nuts in her lap. “Then where do we go from here?” she said simply and sincerely.
“You don’t have a life to go back to?” said Smoove.
“We liberated money from a neighborhood drug kingpin,” said Yvonne. “Happened to be my cousin. I know: family’s a bitch.”
“Robin Hood situation,” Neon clarified.
“Long story short: life is what we make it,” said Yvonne.
“That, luv,” said Smoove, “is wisdom.”