Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 30
Holden stopped in his tracks and turned around. “The pet store?” he chuckled. “Just how many people do you know that have a pet cricket?”
Bridgette and Maggie gawked at each other in utter surprise.
“Haven’t you ever heard of a lizard?” Maggie scoffed. “Crickets are pet food, not pet . . . pets! They probably have hundreds of them at Pet Land in the mall.”
“Hundreds?” Holden gasped. “You’re kidding me.”
Maggie just shook her head.
Holden grimaced and threw his hands in the air. “Let’s go then,” he groaned as he stepped out through the storm door. Maggie and Bridgette shrugged their shoulders and followed after him.
They jumped back into his car and he put it in gear and ran his hand through his hair. “You mean to tell me all this time, I could’ve just gone to the pet store? I coulda found at least a dozen Squanki by now!” He pulled out onto the road with a squeal, and took off toward the Glenhill Galleria.
The drive from the Baker house to the mall usually took about fifteen minutes, but they got there in ten. During the whirlwind car ride, Maggie pressed Holden for information, but he refused. It was obvious that he was from Lor Mandela, and that he’d been trying to get back, but why had he been following her around for the last thirteen years? Why did she need someone keeping her “butt” out of trouble? Who was he really? Every question she asked, he answered with, “The less you know right now, the safer we’ll both be,” or, “I can’t tell you. You just have to trust me!”
The mall was unusually busy for a Tuesday, but they managed to find a parking space in fairly close proximity to Pet Land—The Midwest’s Greatest Pet Super Store. This was no little mall pet shop. It was almost as large as the other three anchor department stores in the Glenhill Galleria.
Once inside, Maggie flagged down a tall, skinny, freckle-faced employee, identified as “Brody” by his nametag.
“Excuse me? Brody? Hi.”
Brody became uneasy, presumably because an attractive girl was speaking to him.
“I need to get some crickets.”
“Um . . . okay,” he squeaked, “uh . . . how many do you need?”
Holden piped in. “Uh, how many do you have?”
Brody smiled, thinking this was some kind of joke.
“A bunch,” he answered. “We just got ‘em in like twenty minutes ago.”
“We’ll take everything you’ve got, bro. How much for all of ‘em?” Holden’s surfer accent was back.
Brody’s freckle-covered face flushed to a bright magenta; he shifted back and forth on his feet, giggling. “Uh . . . I’m gonna get my manager to help you,” he wheezed, and sprinted away.
“Great,” Maggie groaned, “that’s not suspicious at all!”
“Whatta ya mean?” Holden asked. “You said people buy ‘em for their lizards.”
“Yeah! Maybe fifty or so! Not a billion at a time!”
“Well . . . my lizard is a healthy eater,” Holden quipped, causing Bridgette to giggle.
Maggie rolled her eyes at him.
Just then, a tall, middle-aged, bald man in a bright blue dress shirt and black tie approached. His gold nametag read, “Mr. Butler – Store Manager.”
“Hello,” he greeted enthusiastically. “I understand you folks need some crickets. What kind of pet are you feeding?”
“Dude,” Surfer Holden began, “I’ve got, like, fourteen lizards—big ones, ya know—and they’re, like, totally starving.”
“Really,” Mr. Butler replied—a hint of disdain in his tone. “That’s quite a collection. What kinds of lizards are they?”
“Hey, Bro. They’re, like, all different ones, ya know, but they all totally need food. I ran out of crickets last night, and if they don’t eat soon, they’re gonna get, like, totally cranky!”
Bridgette smiled and Maggie sighed disgustedly.
He continued, “Dude, I seriously need to buy, like, all of your crickets, bro!”
The feigned smile that had been on Mr. Butler’s face was now gone. He leaned over to Holden and whispered, “Listen, mister. I don’t know what you’re up to, but if this is some sort of sick teenage prank, I’ll have the cops down here faster than you can blink!”
Just then, Maggie caught something out of the corner of her eye.
“No way,” she breathed.
“No way, what?” Bridgette asked.
“Bridge, I think I know what a Shadow Squanki is! Follow me!” She grabbed Bridgette’s arm and pulled her down an aisle a few feet away from where they’d been standing. They could still hear Holden insisting to Mr. Butler that he didn’t know anything about the recent rash of cricket disappearances in the store.
“What are we looking for?” Bridgette questioned.
“A kid that looks like my hiding-seeker,” she replied, peering around the end of the aisle. “I swear I just saw her!”
Bridgette, who was still convinced she was dreaming, nodded and played along. They were heading toward the back of the store when it started.
Whoosh…whoosh….
“Holllldennnn!” Bridgette cried. She and Maggie turned and sprinted back toward where they’d left him. “Holden! Come quick!” she shrieked as they turned the corner and he and Mr. Butler came back into view.
“What’s that?” Mr. Butler asked as the whooshing grew louder.
“Oh, no!” Holden shouted, and almost knocked Mr. Butler over as he dashed toward Maggie.
Suddenly, the store illuminated in a flash of blue light. There was a loud crack, and right in front of Mr. Butler and a store full of shoppers and Pet Land employees, Maggie disappeared into thin air.
“Where’d she go?” Mr. Butler yelped. “Wh… what are you three up to?”
Holden slowly turned to face him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He glanced around the store, and then back at Mr. Butler.
All at once, he erupted into a deafening primal scream. “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!”
Everyone in the place stopped what they were doing, and stared at this madman who was bellowing in the middle of the pet store. His stunning outburst went on for a solid ten seconds before Mr. Butler grabbed him by the arm and escorted him—still screaming—toward the front of the store.
“You too, Blondie,” he yelled back at Bridgette. “Both of you . . . out!”
Three uniformed mall security guards hurried through the front doors. Two of them got on either side of Holden, and took him from Mr. Butler’s grasp. The other walked over to Bridgette and grabbed her by the arm.
“Do you mind?” she snapped, as she yanked her arm away. “I’m perfectly capable of walking myself out!”
One of the guards clutching Holden—a very muscular, rather dull looking character—grunted as they reached the mall doors, “Uh, we see you in here again, the cops will ‘rest you!” He gave Holden a shove out and glared back at Bridgette, who quickly joined him outside.
Holden waited for the mall cops to walk away, and then started shouting.
“What were you two doing? She was supposed to stay close to me!”
Bridgette’s big brown eyes filled with tears.
“You . . . you were arguing with that manager guy and Maggie thought she saw her hiding-seeker . . . well probably not her hiding-seeker . . . but another one, in Pet Land. We were just trying to find her for you,” she whimpered as the tears literally jumped from her eyes.
All at once Holden felt like a clod. “Hey, whoa! It’s okay. It’s not your fault, Pretty Dude,” he soothed. “Wait! She saw one?”
Bridgette nodded and sniffled, “Yeah, in the store. Was that a . . . .”
Holden didn’t wait for her to finish. “Bridge, we need to get back into that store!”
“Yeah, okay,” she replied sarcastically, wiping the wetness from her cheeks, “And how’re we gonna do that? Didn’t you hear Quasi? ‘The cops will ‘rest you!’” she mimicked.
“We’re just gonna have to come up with something,” he explained as he paced back and forth in front of the big, glass, mall doors.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the wild screeching of car tires. A Channel 4 news van raced through the parking lot and squealed to a stop just a few feet away. Four news people toting microphones, cameras and lights piled out of the van and rushed right past them into the mall.
“What’s this all about,” Bridgette wondered aloud. “They’re not here because of us, are they?”
Holden shrugged his shoulders. “I kinda doubt it, but hey! I think I know how we can find out.” He smiled and pointed at the news van. The sliding side door was wide open, and inside, a single technician watched the unfolding story on a small monitor. “C’mon!”
They ran over to the van, and Holden reverted instantly into his surfer routine.
“Dude, like what’s goin’ down?”
The technician was all too happy to fill them in. “Pet Land was just robbed at gun point. But a customer stopped the guy.”
Bridgette gasped. “We were just in there!”
They watched the monitor as the field reporter—a very dignified blonde woman—began her report. “I’m standing outside of the Glenhill Galleria Pet Land, where an attempted robbery has just been thwarted by a brave customer. Officers are on the scene. Our sources have confirmed that moments ago, a man armed with a high-powered rifle entered the store, and demanded that the manager give him all of the money from the cash registers and the store safe. Apparently, however, a shopper in the store was able to catch the gunman off-guard, and disarm him. Police have the robber in custody and should be escorting him out momentarily. Michael, it looks as though someone is coming out of the store now.”
“Hey! That’s Brody!” Bridgette exclaimed. They watched as the reporter rushed over to him.
“Excuse me, young man. Can you tell us what happened in there?”
“Aw, man,” Holden started. “He looks like he’s gonna pass out!”
Brody wiped at his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “I dunno. I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was all wild and bouncy and it went totally psycho on that guy when it saw the gun!” He gazed pleadingly at the reporter, “What was that thing?”
“Thing?” The reporter asked. “Wasn’t it a customer that stopped the robbery?”
“Uht-uh,” Brody sighed, “it was this fat little bug-eyed . . . um . . . thing! It was psycho . . . totally psycho!”
Bridgette and Holden glanced knowingly at each other. They turned their attention back to the monitor, and did so right at the most opportune time. “Bridgette! There it is!” Holden yelped.
“What? Did you see her?”
“No! Look!” Holden pushed past the technician and pointed at the screen. There, just below the Pet Land display window, a mere sliver of steel blue light ran perfectly down the edge of a wood molding strip. Neither Bridgette nor the technician would have even seen it if Holden hadn’t pointed it out. Suddenly, the area around the blue light rippled strangely, and then—visible for only a split second—a wild, white-haired, bulgy-eyed, bubble-bellied, little creature materialized out of the shadows. The little figure promptly jumped toward the light—which flashed vividly—and disappeared.
Bridgette gasped, and the bewildered tech just stared at the screen.
Holden took her by the arm and quickly led her away from the van and back toward the mall doors. “That was her! That’s her portal. We’ve gotta get in there now!” Holden peered in through the glass doors. “Come on!” He pushed one of the doors open. “Just keep an eye out for security.”
Bridgette grabbed him by the arm and followed closely behind. They were only a few steps inside when they heard a man shouting. “There they are! They are the ones that created a diversion for the robber!” One of the guards who had escorted them out was running toward them and pointing. He was followed closely by two Glenhill police officers. Bridgette shrieked and she and Holden spun around and sped back out the doors.
“Over here!” he yelled, pointing toward a large hedge that skirted the north side of the mall parking lot. “I know where we can hide!”
They dashed toward the hedge. Holden ran to a spot where there was a small break in the bushes, grabbed Bridgette and practically pushed her through. He lunged and tumbled through himself, barely pulling his feet in, as the officers burst out of the mall.
Holden jumped up, and pointed to a spot where the leaves of the hedge were thin. He and Bridgette peeked through the spot, watching in horror as the news technician rushed from his van to meet the police officers.
Bridgette’s heart sank into her stomach. “I can’t believe he’s gonna rat us out,” she whispered.
“Guys!” The tech waved toward the parking lot. “They took off,” he panted. “Dark blue sedan was waiting for ‘em. No plates! They went south, toward the Interstate!”
“Duuuude!” Holden chuckled as he watched one of the police officers radio in the tip. The technician looked in the direction of the hedge and winked.
“Yesss!” Bridgette sighed, and gave Holden a hug and a peck on the cheek. “That was so cool!”
“Yeah, great,” he agreed, “’cept we still have one teeny problem.” He ran his hand through his wavy blonde hair. “How do we get to that portal?”
CHAPTER XXXIV
DALLIN DOONE
Dallin Doone was not what one would call “overly social.” He lived alone on a small farm in Westrim, a quaint, yet politically strategic township, situated just over the hills from Mandela City. Since his parents’ untimely deaths when he was just fourteen, he had worked the farm primarily by himself. Occasionally, he would hire one or two hands to help, but only when imperative. He preferred solitude—not having to worry about social graces or being accepted—or more accurately, not having to worry about getting close to someone, only to have them taken away, as his parents had been.
There were only two people he had ever allowed himself to get close to, Atoc Jonathan and Kahlie.
A young Aton Jonathan approached him one summer day, during a period of political unrest between Brashnell and Koria. Dallin’s farm was situated in such a way that it was almost completely hidden between two hills. It would have made an advantageous hideout for the Trystas, had Darian moved to attack. Fortunately, however, the battle between the Trystas and the Brashnellans never took place. But Jonathan took pity on Dallin, and returned to visit him often—usually on the premise that he was there on military business, which was really never the case. Over the years they had become very close, and Dallin was always eager to help his friend whenever his help was required.
Shortly after Kahlie came to the palace, Jonathan decided that he should introduce her to Dallin. He was impressed by their similar personalities and interests, and felt that they would get along well; he was right. Almost immediately, they clicked—acting like brother and sister—teasing one another, laughing and sometimes fighting, but never for long. Perhaps one of the biggest similarities and bonds between them though, was that they were each hopelessly, passionately—and unfortunately—victims of forbidden love. Dallin, in a moment of gloominess, admitted to Kahlie that he was head-over-heels for his true friend’s entrusted, Ator Gracielle. This, in turn, inspired Kahlie to reveal that she was, in fact, head-over-heels for his true friend, Atoc Jonathan.
Gracielle’s death—coupled with the disappearance of Jonathan—was almost intolerable for Dallin. It very nearly destroyed him. Immediately following the battle, he withdrew from society—even more than before—and limited his contact with others to only the entirely necessary. Even Kahlie hadn’t seen him in close to a year. The first time she tried to visit, he slammed the door in her face and told her to go away, and that if he was going to lose her too, it was going to be on his terms. He continued working the farm; but now, whenever anyone approached, he would swiftly head for the house and disappear into it.
It was a particularly hot afternoon, and feeling tired and melancholy, Dallin returned early from his daily chores. He sat in a dim, well-ordered room, eating a meager meal and reminiscing about a time when he had been at the palace, helping with some renovations.
He remembered how, on that day, he’d left his tools out in the courtyard, and had come from one room into the next on his way to retrieve them. He wasn’t paying attention and as he turned a corner, he accidentally bumped into Gracielle.
He closed his eyes and recalled how she’d looked that morning; her stunning blue eyes vividly glowing in contrast to the silvery satin shirt she wore; her silky, straight black hair, and her mesmerizing soft coral lips. He remembered the sweet scent of her perfume and the soft tone of her voice as she apologized for her clumsiness. He also recalled the guilt that flooded over him for thinking about her the way he did.
But at this particular moment, there was no guilt. He dreamt of a different situation, one in which Kahlie was Jonathan’s entrusted, and Gracielle was merely a servant in the palace. He rose to his feet and imagined that instead of muttering and stuttering, as he’d actually done on that day, he wrapped his arm around her waist to catch her from losing her balance; and she, overwhelmed by the moment and their instant closeness, pressed against him, and touched her lips to his.
He stood in the shadowy room, eyes closed, lips slightly puckered and lost in his thoughts, when suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light, and a young woman—who resembled Gracielle in more ways than one—materialized in front of him right where Gracielle had been in his fantasy—her mouth awkwardly against his.
“What the . . . ?” he yelped, stumbling backward over the stool he’d been sitting on earlier, sending it and several other things crashing and banging to the floor, before landing hard on his backside.
Maggie, who was startled herself, didn’t know whether to scream, faint, cry, help this poor guy up off the floor, or what. She stood frozen in place, staring straight ahead, like a statue.
Dallin scrambled back to his feet and grabbed a long pointy stick-type object from the shelf next to him. “Okay! Who are you, and how did you do that?” he demanded.
