The Strike Trilogy (6 page)

In a state of stunned shock, and without knowing what else to do, Tobin slowly walked into the cockpit and sat down next to Keplar. When the boy looked out the side window, he could see the ground speeding by far below them. When he looked ahead through the sweeping windshield that stretched across the cockpit, he could see a gleaming, futuristic city in front of them, with super-tall buildings, flashing lights, and all kinds of colorful billboards. It was too much for the boy to understand and he felt like crying.

Keplar noticed how much the boy was trembling.

“So,” the dog asked, “how you like flying in a class 7-24 sky-ship, kid?”

Leaning toward Tobin, the dog turned the steering wheel from side-to-side, then pushed a horn, which honked loudly outside in a funny little tune. He grinned.

“Pretty freakin’ sweet, huh?”

Tobin wasn’t sure if his brain would allow him to answer, but he gave it a try.

“Uh, yeah. It’s…nice.”

“You wanna try?” The dog pushed the steering wheel toward Tobin. “It’s just like driving a car, pretty much. Here, go ahead.”

“No!” Tobin blurted, holding his hands out and pressing his body against the window. “No, no, I don’t want to.”

The boy suddenly felt sick and began to gag.

“Uh...are you gonna puke?” Keplar asked him.

“I think so.”

The dog reached for an empty fast food bag on the floor and handed it to him.

“Here—if you’re gonna spew, spew into this.”

Tobin took the bag and immediately vomited into it. Keplar stared at him, surprised.

“Wow, he actually did it.”

As Tobin breathed into the bag, Keplar tried to get the conversation going again.

“So, that was fun, huh? Getting chased by dinosaurs and stuff? That kinda thing happens to us all the time, really, so no big deal. One time, one of these big scorpion things was chasing us, so we—”

Tobin vomited into the bag again. Keplar looked at the floor near the boy’s feet.

“Glad I just got my ship cleaned,” the dog muttered.

Tobin looked ahead at the bright, noisy city. His stomach was churning, and he felt light-headed. He wanted to be out of there. He wanted to be home.

“What—what is going on?” he asked, the words barely leaving his throat.

“Uh-uh, you’re gonna havta ask him that.” Keplar motioned to the back of the ship. “But don’t worry, he should be up again soon. Ever since he’s been going to Earth so much lately, he’s been feeling a little off, ya know—getting old, that kinda thing. But he should be fine once he gets some rest.”

Tobin turned to the cabin and saw Orion sleeping.

“What he has to tell you isn’t gonna be easy to take, kid,” Keplar continued, “but listen to him good. He knows a heck of a lot, and is a great teacher. Saved my butt countless times.”

As Tobin turned back to the front of the cockpit, he noticed something. It was a framed photograph, hanging on the wall behind Keplar.

It was the same photograph of the two costumed men that Orion had given Tobin at the supermarket.

“Believe me, Tobes,” Keplar said, “the old dude knows what he’s talking about. You can trust me on that one.”

Soaring through the air, the Sky-Blade’s journey continued, with Tobin trying to will himself to wake up and Keplar never stopping the conversation for more than eight seconds at a time. But, what the two of them didn’t know, was that there was a third blood bird, following them from afar, and tracking their every move...

CHAPTER EIGHT

A
n hour later, in the kitchen of Orion’s tenth-floor apartment, Tobin was sitting at a round table and looking out a window. The busy streets of a sprawling, gorgeous, futuristic city were below him, while its flying cars, towering buildings, and flashing billboards were above him. This was all a part of what Keplar kept calling “Quantum City,” and it was like nothing Tobin had ever seen. For the past twenty minutes, he had been desperately trying to comprehend it, but his mind was simply unable to process the insane surroundings. He could come to only one conclusion:

“I’ve gone crazy,” he whispered to himself. “I’ve completely lost my mind.”

Nearby, across the kitchen, Keplar was standing at the refrigerator, taking out nearly everything that there was inside of it and tossing it all into a big pile on the counter.

“Holy smokes,” the dog said, “there’s like nothing in here, Tobes. I’m telling you, the old dude needs to go shopping, ASAP—it’s time to hit up the Stop n’ Shop or the Quickie Mart or something. I mean, hell, how am I supposed to eat anything when all that’s in here is like tofu and health food crap?”

The dog sniffed a carton of rice, grimaced, and then placed it with the rest of the discarded food.

“I actually think what the O-Man really needs is a woman in his life, ya know? Someone to go shopping for him and get him some real food, like steaks and hamburgers and stuff. Hell, I’d even take some cheese whiz and crackers at this point, right?”

The dog peered at Tobin over the refrigerator door.

“You sure you don’t want anything, bro?”

“Uh, yeah,” the boy stammered. “I’m not...I’m not hungry.”

After settling on some ingredients (six of them, to be exact, including a massive, pink-and-green hunk of something that looked and vaguely smelled like spoiled ham,) Keplar plopped the food down onto the counter and began making himself a gigantic sandwich.

“I know everything else here must be pretty weird to you,” the dog said, slathering half of a bottle of mustard on the bread, “but the food we got here is just as good as the food on your world, if not better.” He pointed to the fridge with his knife. “I can make you a bremshaw sandwich if you want, I think he’s got some more bremshaw in there.”

Tobin eyed the pinkish and greenish meat. “Uh, no thanks. I, uh, don’t know what bremshaw is. I don’t think.”

Keplar chuckled. “Oh, right.”

Bringing his sandwich to the table, the dog sat down across from Tobin and took a big bite. As he chomped away, he and the boy stared at each other a moment.

“So,” the dog said, “this is pretty freaking weird, huh?”

Tobin nodded. “Uh, yeah.” He hated this. He was scared and wanted to run away, but had no idea where he would go. At any moment, he felt he could be attacked, or tackled, or killed. By what or by who, he didn’t know. He just knew he wanted to be safe again. And back home.

“Well, look at it this way,” Keplar said, his mouth full of food. “No school for the foreseeable future, right? So that’s pretty cool.” He reached for a beer from a six-pack on the counter and cracked it open. “And, as long as you don’t die from the shock of all this or anything, we’ll have a great ole’ time. Beat up some bad guys, chase some girls, annoy the hell out of Orion—it’ll be fun. You’ll love it here.”

Tobin watched as Keplar chugged down the beer in three big gulps. He couldn’t believe this talking dog was treating the situation so lightly, and, even more, he couldn’t believe he was sitting across from a talking dog in the first place.

“Look,” the boy said, his voice wavering. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know where I am. But I don’t really care. I just want to go home. Please. Can you do that for me?”

Keplar brought his used dish to the sink and grabbed another beer.

“Looks like you better spill your guts, O. The kid’s getting impatient.”

Tobin turned to the living room. Orion was walking downstairs from the second floor, leaning on a cane and carrying a big, brown book under his arm. He’d been sleeping ever since they had returned from the ride in the Sky-Blade, but he still looked so tired.

“That’s okay,” Orion said, as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. “He has every right to be impatient with us. I’d feel the same way, if I were him.”

“No, it’s not that,” Tobin said, watching as the old man sat down slowly and carefully across from him. “It’s just...it’s just that…”

The boy looked to Keplar. The dog was stuffing a ridiculously large, pink-frosted donut into his mouth. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the giant glob of frosting on his cheek.

“I’d just really like to know why you’re kidnapping me and forcing me to sit here with somebody from ‘Sesame Street on Steroids,’” Tobin finished.

Orion looked to Keplar. The dog laughed.

“Ha! Nice one, kid. ‘Sesame Street on Steroids.’ That’s good, I’m gonna have to use that one.”

Orion turned back to Tobin.

“I know, Tobin, I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to start things with you at all. I was hoping we’d be able to begin everything very slowly, because this is a very difficult trip the first time, and a lot to take in all at once. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”

“Well,” Tobin said, “I’m not sure that I am.”

Orion chuckled. “You are, I can assure you of that. So, let’s just take it easy from here on out. You must have a lot of questions, so ask them. We’re here to help. Anything you wanna know, just ask us.”

Tobin thought it over.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what this is, or who you are. I can barely even remember my own name at this point. I just want to get out of here. Please.”

Orion squinted. “Do you remember
how
you got here, Tobin?”

“No. Not really.”

Orion and Keplar looked at each other. The dog shrugged.

“You went to help somebody who was in trouble,” the old man said. “A strange man was waiting for you there and he attacked you. You were hurt very badly. Do you remember?”

Tobin’s eyes flashed open. “Oh my god. That guy...that guy…he was…”

“A were-bat.”

“What?”

“A were-bat,” Orion repeated. “It’s like a werewolf, but…a bat.”

Tobin leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

“No,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “What is this? I hate this. I hate this. I don’t want this.”

“I know,” Orion said, “but you’re with us now, Tobin, and you’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you here.”

“No,” the boy blurted out. He jumped up and moved to the other end of the kitchen. “No, no, I don’t want—I don’t want this. I don’t want to be here.”

“I know, Tobin, but we will not—”

“This isn’t real,” the boy said. He backed up against a wall. “None of this is real. You aren’t real, this isn’t real.” He looked to Keplar. The dog smiled back and held up his beer. “This isn’t happening,” the boy said, meaning every word of it.

Orion stepped toward him. “It
is
happening, Tobin. I am real, Keplar is real. This is our world, where we come from. It’s a different world than your own, but a real world nonetheless. And we’re gonna help you get through it.”

“No.” Tobin scanned the apartment for an exit. “No, you’re not. How do I know—how do I know that you’re not gonna turn into another were-bat or something? Or how—how do I know that I’m not in a coma or…or dead or something? ‘Cuz I’m pretty sure that’s what’s going on.”

“How about the picture I showed you at the supermarket?” Orion asked. “The photograph of your dad and me? You know that was your dad.”

Tobin shook his head. “Photoshop. My cousin could do that in eight seconds in Photoshop. Can you bring me home now? Or can you just kill me or whatever it is you’re going to do with me? Please?”

Orion took a deep breath.

“The highest grade you’ve ever received is a B plus,” he said, “and that was in gym. You once ate fifteen ice cream sandwiches in fifteen minutes simply to win a bet, and the prize money was two dollars and twenty-three cents. You threw up for four hours afterward, and you still think it was worth it. You consider the greatest achievement in your life mastering a video game that you play with a little plastic guitar, and you think this may lead to a career in music someday. It will not.”

Tobin was shocked. “What? How do you…?”

Orion laughed. “I told you, Tobin, you can trust us. Your father was my best friend for the majority of my life. We’re here to help you.”

Tobin sat back down at the table. “I don’t know. This is...my god, I just feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“I know,” Orion said. “Just try and relax, okay? Ask me whatever questions you want. Take your time.”

Tobin thought it over.

“What—what is this place?”

“It is a world known as Capricious,” Orion said. “No one from your world knows that it exists. But it does, obviously, and we live here along with billions of other people. It’s very different than your world, but also very similar, too.”

“And who are you?
What
are you?”

“I’m a superhero. Or, at least, I used to be.”

“He still is,” Keplar said.

Tobin looked to the dog. “And what is
he
?”

Keplar let out a loud burp.

“A pain in the butt,” Orion said. “But also a superhero.”

Tobin closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. “This is insane,” he grumbled. “I’m gonna go jump off a bridge. Is there a bridge nearby? I want to jump off a bridge.”

Orion laughed. “Here, Tobin.” He slid the heavy, brown book across the table. “This is...well, it’s some things you’ll need to know if anything else I tell you is going to make any sense. Do you wanna read it?”

Tobin picked up the book and turned it over, inspecting it. “If I do, will you take me home? I really just want to go home.”

Orion and Keplar looked at each other.

“You will go home soon, Tobin, I promise,” the old man said. “But for now, why don’t you take that down to the library and look it over? When you’re done, we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

After Orion pointed to a doorway behind Tobin, the boy headed down a flight of stairs, in disbelief that he was actually listening to these two strange people. When he was gone, Orion stared at the wall in front of him, while Keplar leaned against the counter and popped open another beer.

“Well,” the dog said, “I hope the kid’s ready to have his world tipped on its butt.”

After walking down the creaky, narrow stairway, Tobin found himself in the library on the first floor of Orion’s apartment. It was quiet and comfortable, with red, brick-lined walls, old wooden shelves filled with books, and big, cushiony chairs behind long, black tables. As Tobin sat down in one of the chairs, he placed the book down on the table in front of him and opened it.

But the book was blank. Not a single word on any of its pages.

“What the hell?” he wondered aloud. “Nice book, Orion. A little slow in the beginning, but it really picked up there at the end.”

“Hey!” a voice suddenly shouted out from across the library.

“Aaaaahaaahhh!” Tobin screamed, nearly falling out of his chair. When he looked up, in shock, he saw the owner of the voice walking toward him.

It was a little robotic boy. He was about three feet tall, and made out of purple and silver chrome that shimmered when he moved. His eyes were tall, white ovals, glowing like a pair of computer screens, and each one of them had a black pupil in its center. His feet were round and almost too big for his body, like a cartoon character, and his voice was that of a nine-year-old boy.

“Oh, sorry!” the robot laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Tobin.” He climbed up onto a chair, and then up onto the table. “That was pretty funny, though. Usually I don’t scare people, usually I’m the one being scared. It’s nice to be on the other side for once.”

The robot sat down cross-legged on the table and smiled at Tobin. Tobin smiled back, in wonder.

“Uh…hi. Did you—did you say my name?”

“Of course I did! Orion’s told me all about you. You’re Tobin, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Well, that’s you, then. I’m Scatterbolt!”

Scatterbolt offered his metal hand and Tobin shook it, laughing. “It’s nice to meet you,” Tobin said. He felt strangely relieved; this was the first person or thing he had seen so far that didn’t make him feel uneasy or about to be eaten.

“It’s nice to meet you, too!” Scatterbolt replied. “Did you just get here? Did you meet Keplar yet? Did you fly in the Sky-Blade?”

“The, uh, sky-ship thing? Yeah, just a little while ago.”

“Oh, cool! Sometimes Keplar lets me fly it, but not too often ‘cuz one time I crashed it into the garage, and Keplar was mad but not too mad ‘cuz I fixed it up for him after. Keplar and I are friends, you probably already knew that, but we’ve been friends a long time, ever since one time he taught me how to play poker, and we play poker a lot, and sometimes Orion plays with us, but not too often ‘cuz Keplar gets mad when Orion beats him ‘cuz Orion is the best poker player.”