thought would be the driving theme of this brunch; instead of talking about finding my friends, their escaped prisoner, or the potential bid Leonid brought up—insinuating my future involvement with this brotherhood—we talked about girls. I did learn the escaped prisoner’s name, so I guess that’s a plus. I’m not one to complain about the topic of girls but no delicate matters Zorian teased were touched upon whatsoever. And while the lack of women here is alarming, I’ll see and talk to plenty once I’m out of this web of blunders. Or so I thought.
If not the biggest wakeup call that I’ve got to get the hell out of here, I don’t know what is. Sure, I smiled and conversed, clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth as if what they discussed out on the dome was childish prattle. Completely delusional is this gang I’ve asininely stumbled upon. Where to begin as these thoughts are being juggled around in my head.
“So, let me get this straight. Everything that was said out there is true?” I ask David disconcerted.
Out of necessity I ought to take everything he says at face value. We’re alone now, inside a locker room underneath the health farm. He’s getting ready, slipping into a fulvous and white striped spandex clown costume. It has a wine ruffled collar, white ruffled jester cuffs, and candy apple red pom–pom accents.
“Collectively, no. Broken apart between speakers, yes. Truth is just a gravitational pull you can bend.”
“Fibbing is still a whopper whichever way you dissect it. How can anyone be scared of a child? This isn’t just a spoof on a playground horror film, is it?”
“I’m more into rom–coms. Don’t focus so much on the details of it all. Worry more about the next step. Then again, I’m not the one who chooses where you go from here. God does.”
“Please stop calling him that. It’s discomfiting,” I beg with a wistful smile. Knowing that in some measure Lucas and Ramze are being scouted is on par with having a warm purring cat resting atop my lap. It’s de–stressing.
I is maika`i.
“Don’t take umbrage in my remarks,” he chortles.
He pauses as he notices I’m on the verge of a full–fledged panic attack. I divest this facade of composure. I cough and wheeze as though this locker room’s been bulldozed, buried in ash. His spandex clown costume is halfway on when he grabs onto me by the shoulders. He reminds me to breathe. The best exercise to unwind is to take a deep breath. He takes one with me to calm our brains. David’s counsel is to relax and have fun tonight. Reassuring me things will be better tomorrow morning.
“I’m not exactly thrilled to be spending the night.”
“Well, you don’t have much of a choice there do you. Now zip me up Kamikaze.”
He finishes putting on his costume and I zipper him up from the back. I struggle and tell him he needs a bigger size. Committed to it fitting, he readily sucks in his stomach. The mass force I pull the zipper up with causes the zipper to snap. The skinsuit would’ve covered his face had it not been down–market sourced. At least he’ll breathe easier now without it bestriding his face. He doesn’t appreciate my insight on more air coming in through his nostrils being a good thing. I guarantee him I can fix it as though I’m the salesperson that sold him the wacky getup.
I snatch a random white towel in the locker room that’d been thrown over a butterscotch yellow microfiber bench. The standard towel of this castle. An ultra–soft, super fluffy white bath towel with the golden profile of a top hat within a circle at a corner. I tie the towel around his neck, just under the wine ruffled collar so that it falls over his back like a cape, covering the unzipped portion of his spandex suit. I tuck the head portion of his skinsuit from the front, at the neckline, within the skinsuit itself, puffing out his chest but a tad. “You don’t need a clown mask. You already have Siberian husky eyes and red hair.”
“Clowns don’t wear capes,” he says so naturally.
“Didn’t know you had a bachelors in clown school, but your god might. He sure does know how to tell jokes. For all the bullshit he spews, his jokes are horrifyingly elaborate.”
“Hey, you’re getting the hang of this. Starting to call him God too.” He wags his finger at me with a sly smile.
“Look, I’m about as freaked out by the idea of cults as I am by the fake smiles on clowns. You’re throwing the word god around to describe a man who can read minds. That’s by far the single stupidest claim to divinity I’ve heard since Krishna Tusshar said I am God because I walk on water.”
“You’re smart enough to know that we don’t use the word in the much more macro sense the church does.” David opens my eyes.
The narrative of using god as a word without any rationale behind it but to label someone in command, unfiltered for people who might take offense, is quite audacious. A lot of people hide behind their god but never question their interpretation of God as personal and therefore strikingly different from someone else’s, even in their own faith. I don’t respect this fraternity’s decision to use the word god in the manner they have but does it bother me? No. When so many people do the same worldwide, across every religion, why should it?
Today the Immortal Jaguars celebrate Halloween. The brothers follow a different calendar from the others. Anyone who’s not a jaguar is called an other and their lives carry on in the otherworld. David told me this. When I asked if I was considered an other, he replied craftily with, “Not for long.”
On the white picnic blanket we’d sat. Four male servers in synthetic light–aqua wigs and full glamourous makeup looks arrived dressed as women. A playful French maid came with ruffles and lace around the neckline, shoulders, and hem. Complete with the classic maid dust wand. A green–skinned woodland fairy with tiny gold wings and a black wand arrived shortly thenceforth, gracing us with his presence.
Accompanying him was an enchanting witch in a slinky black corset fixed over a black tee with draped long sleeves. A slit skirt put on view his skinny thigh muscles. A studded zip accent leather belt kept it from falling. Scanty in its crack at keeping the skirt above his waistline. To top off his imitation, he donned a pointy black hat with a green buckle and clasped a thick branch, brandishing it like a sword. One I’d advise be best left to a cavalier.
Behind the witch, a circus ringmaster appeared splashed in cardinal red from the tuxedo tailcoat to the oversized top hat. His white bra, red metallic spandex pouch shorts, and silver wand—gripped tightly near his crotch—were the only incongruities posed to the vivid red.
Each carried out a plate of food hidden by silver dome plate covers with finial. The sophomoric humor in their costumes should only appeal to prepubescent teenagers but I couldn’t help but giggle. I wasn’t alone. David and Zorian let out an inescapable chuckle. Baba turned to look at the men capering about the grass. At once, his jaw dropped, in sync with the inner corners of his eyebrows.
At first it seemed he was mortified. Then I got an odd hunch of what was going on. Leonid paused, abruptly got up, and escorted the man dressed as a witch away. The witch left his issued platter on the grass. David was eager to fetch it.
I thought they’d dressed up as women to amuse me—the guest, but they’d only done it to amuse themselves. When David got back to the picnic blanket, he’d let me know the day—All Hallows’ Eve. I was charmed, breathing in the air of befuddled unworldliness that fenced me in. I knew it wasn’t Halloween, but I felt a rapport with the jaguars for they’re as kooky as my dog. That explained Zorian’s wrestling singlet and the Roman soldiers downstairs.
I asked to anyone who’d answer if women here also found it comical to dress as men for Halloween. Baba, at a glacial pace, replied, “Negative. Women aren’t allowed in Neptune.” From my understanding he doesn’t like witches, women, or flying children. I stopped myself from thinking so and thought up a slim apology.
Sorry. Just a thought.
Baba either read my mind and didn’t respond or was too busy reading someone else’s. After dropping off the platters of mystery, the three crossdressers retreated to a zone of the castle left of Baba’s cottage. I wanted a costume now that I saw everyone but David and Leonid garbed in droll textiles. Baba, I reckoned was playing cowboy, but I quickly remembered Leonid’s tale. He’d met him as he is now. A cowboy–esque cellmate with a blue beard. No longer in chains.
“The white eyes. They’re contacts. Am I zombie enough?” Baba asked, looking at me with a rueful grin.
He was back at it again, prying into my personal thoughts. I couldn’t help but think, what a dumb costume. He didn’t respond to that private insult. He did, however, nod. Figures he’d agree with me. It’s dumb. It’s a middling act most elderly put on for Halloween. At least he’s making an effort.
From what I discern, he’s the oldest man here. Baba’s probably tired of his followers’ carouses. I anticipate there’s alcohol somewhere to be had. Men need it to forget there’s no women. What a sad decree. I’d volunteer to be exonerated if I was a brother knowing it’d mean I get to see Abeni again.
“Who’s Luciana?” Baba grilled me.
The French maid outfit patently evoked unpleasant memories of my family’s caretaker. Yup, he’d brought up the nasty woman who murdered my father and evanesced when convicted. I told him who she was in my life. Unafraid to hide from the past. I knew he’d pluck it from my mind regardless of if I spoke.
He accused me of being wildly overemotional. Whilst I didn’t show it, I did stockpile tears. I had them set at liberty in my mind’s eye. I sought to confute his view, telling him at least I’ve the balls to sit through a parody of someone who arouses in me negative thoughts. On the other hand, I’d said, you can’t bear to be served lunch by a witch. I’d asked Baba, “Where’s the poignant reminder of a witch present on your face? It sure is easy to call someone out for being emotional when you can inquire impertinently their innermost thoughts. I wonder what you’re hiding. Having had a brother of this fraternity leave just because he was dressed as a witch.”
Baba raised a brow. If upset, he hid it well. No one in the fraternity dare speak to him in the manner I’d done. Zorian and David decided to eschew from talking and opted for looking bovine instead.
The conversation ceased until Leonid got back. When he did, Baba lied. He’d told Leonid I thought it’d be rude to start eating without him. Leonid thanked me under the first alias I was given since entering Neptune—K. A nickname I’ll never get used to yet can dote on more so than Kamikaze.
Leonid had brought back five champagne flutes as an insouciant bride would carry out a bouquet. An unlabeled green glass champagne bottle was in his other hand and a carton of orange juice, pressed tight against his ribcage, was being held in by his bicep.
In concert we lay bare what hid under the silver dome plate covers. It was a neat and fishy surprise. Chili lemon octopus alongside cucumber salad. What I’d wanted before I zonked out in the company of crocodile statues under the tree of mint green leaves. This welcoming gesture on part of Baba is relatively disconcerting. How long this man has been reading me is forevermore going to beleaguer me. Only he could’ve known I was daydreaming about this platter.
Coincidences aren’t an element of a great story. My story is being manipulated. Access into my safe space—my mind—gives Baba an edge. He’s making things I want come to me. The doyen of persuasion. He’s going to do everything in his power to precipitate catching this boy he’s after. If I’m the one to do it, he’d better start playing his cards right. The Luciana, trying to break me down affair wasn’t a good start. What’s his hand? He clearly instructed someone to cook this dish for me.
Everyone else had a slice of pizza with cut pineapple and sliced ham. My favored pizza—Hawaiian. This can’t be coincidence. His tactic’s working. I felt comfortable eating amongst strangers because I’m accustomed to eating Hawaiian pizza amongst friends. The scenario captured the warmth of the dog days when Lucas, Ramze, and I were strangers in cahoots to pass time. Through detention, pizza, and surfing we fared.
“Great food. I wanted this dish back in the rainforest. Though I’d be just as content with what all of you have on your plates.”
Baba chomped on his pizza. Irregular in size. One slice was the length of my two hands, one at the fingertips of the other, and the thickness of a good stack of money. Being the only misfit that didn’t get pizza, I was the only one given silverware. Of course, I was mannered enough to use it.
“Does everyone agree it’s not actually Halloween or am I the only one?” I posed an inconsistency with their calendar.
“The holiday is contingent on people’s acknowledgement and approval of the day,” Zorian replied serenely. The excess melted cheese on his pizza slid from his hand and plopped on his plate.
“I like it here because we have our own rules. One pertaining to the order of days. It just so happens you found us on the day we celebrate All Hallows’ Eve,” David briefed me.
He grabbed four of the champagne flutes Leonid had brought out. The champagne bottle had previously been opened. Otherwise, there would’ve been an audible pop when David twisted the cork off. David filled the glasses with three quarters of champagne and a quarter of orange juice. Then passed them out to all but Zorian.
“Found? I didn’t find you guys. You found me. Leonid, you brought me here. Baba, you’ve admitted why. That boy you’re after. I’ll be ready to look high and low for the boy once I’m done with my plate. I expect my friends will be waiting for me here at the castle when I get back. Shouldn’t be a hard find with your drones rummaging the place.” I glimpsed Zorian, patently challenging his drones’ effectiveness.
Zorian reached for the last champagne flute which’d fallen over the blanket when David grabbed the four. He filled it to the brim with orange juice. I chew the tender meat of an octopus done right. I’ve had bad octopus before. The overly tough and chewy meat ruins the taste which is similar to that of an overcooked lobster.
“I’m afraid you won’t be helping our search for the boy tonight. We won’t stop looking for your friends but, in the meantime, you’ll be prepped to help our team,” Baba let know.
“How so?” I countered.
“By partying with the fraternity. It’s clear you don’t trust us, and trust is imminent if you’re going to help us catch prisoner 1313. What better way to establish some trust between us than by joining us in the festivities!”
Baba knows I find myself at a crossroads. I can’t leave yet. The uncertainty of finding my friends alone is too great. Yet to stay and party seems irresponsible. “What’s to stop the boy from getting beyond reach and can someone please give me a name to identify this boy? Four numbers aren’t going to serve me. I need a handy duck call. To attract the boy when in my proximity, I’ll need his name.”
“Tommy. He won’t get far. He forgot something back in his cell. He’s bound to return sooner or later for it.” Baba’s certain.
“In my life I’ve lived in five cities before Jacó but only here do I feel the sun,” David randomly professes. A goose strapped for food approaches him. David blandly feeds it a piece of pineapple.
That city we’re in—Jacó. It’s a resort city Ramze spotted on the map of light because of its vicinity to Jacobi beach. The closest city to our first destination on the map of light. A place I’ve been to in my previous life. I can’t imagine a city being nearby. This forest is boundless. I marveled at this castle having divulged its existence when it seemed no man had stood where I stood.
I focused on what mattered. To get my friends back I need Tommy. The name jogs my memory. In the gray hall there’s an open door barricaded by a brick wall. A barricade was nothing out of the ordinary in that dimension. But from beyond the wall came a crying puppy. And on the wall came the arrangement of foreign letters and symbols ordering me to kill Tommy. There’s an uncanny feeling I’d got that whoever or whatever was telling me to kill is sinister. No other brick walls had markings. For me to kill someone is unfathomable.
“But you already have killed or at least showed us you’re culpable of intent.”
What’re you talking about?
“Your friends, the truck, the cliff. Ring a bell?”
Baba was goading me onto more daring revelations about my inner psyche. This was his way of punishing me for calling him out in front of his brothers. He’d prompted me to mention his emotions. It’s very remiss of him to bring up Luciana. I’d to defend myself in his attempt to break me so I pointed out a simple observation: the man dressed as a witch triggered him.
There’s no use in fighting Baba as he listened in on me collecting my thoughts. There’s no way he could possibly understand what I was thinking. I myself can barely crack what’s happened to me. I ignored him telepathically taunting me. By and by he stopped.
I was all but done with my meal. Everyone else still had three quarters left to grub on. Their faces were relaxed and stomachs replete. Baba laid down the unfinished portion of his pizza on his plate. His hands were smeared with grease having left apricot–stained fingerprints on his champagne flute. He wiped his greasy hands across the white picnic blanket. It wasn’t a surprise for they’d let a guest who’d swam through mud to get here sit amongst them in all his grubbiness but his new shorts.
Baba opened the red spiral notebook he’d brought out. In it were taped leaves of varying plants and seasons. He scrolled through the pages and stopped at a pinnately lobed pickle green leaf. He pinched a side of the tape and delicately pulled back on it so as to not rip the leaf. The leaf was then offered to me.
“A gift from God,” David announced.
“Best to take it. Go on, accept it,” Leonid urged.
My addled brain went with their game. I took the leaf and exaggerated my gratitude, bowing while sitting, offering Baba multiple thanks. I’d nowhere to put the leaf so I kept it in hand. A full circle in conversation we’d went. Back to the topic of girls. Zorian asked me if I’d a girlfriend. I was honest. David asked me if I’d any siblings. I’d said yes and specified—an older sister and an older brother.
It’s safe to assume Baba knows everything I do. I’d drove Lucy off a cliff partly because I’d lost my brother and blamed my two friends. Thankfully, he didn’t brusquely mention it aloud as he’d done with Luciana. It’d only make me seem crazier trying to explain my brother having been with my friends and I last night, waking up to find he didn’t exist this morning.
Zorian welcomed me to a double date in fifteen years with his girlfriend. Prompting my curiosity, I asked why it’d be so long. I’m told by David he’s yet to find one. I told him not to fret for it didn’t have to be so long. When his drones find my friends, and I’m hesitantly buying they will, I’ll help him score a gal. Finding them I indomitably sense will lead to finding my brother.
Without question, Abeni would treasure our time here. Wild beauty is something we both value. I wouldn’t necessarily bring her to Neptune but if I end up being friends with Zorian, why not accept his clement invite? We’d take our girls to an amusement park. Something appropriate for both age groups.
David was able to finish his pizza and we excused ourselves. He’d said I needed a costume if I was to join them tonight. My daft thoughts exactly. We walked through the tall blue grass, past the white stone columns, back into the health farm.
In the health farm David had said a lot of the workings of this fraternity have cabalistic significance. How this brotherhood runs is arcane to the others. Others? I’d asked. So, he told me. Others are the people on the outside. He’s referring to the outer boundaries of this castle. They’re a part of the otherworld. Apparently, when people enter this castle, they let go of the otherworld. If I’m going to make it through the night, I too will forget the otherworld.