Chapter 42

The Garage

Leo wandered over to the garage, eating his second bowl of ramen, feeling a little less like he was starving to death. The sky was overcast and thunder rumbled in the distance.

The garage was Dad's territory. But Dad had been too busy to do anything with it in a while. It was where the family dumped all the junk they didn't know what to do with, and Leo was kicking himself for not checking the place out sooner. There had to be something in here he could put to good use.

The place smelled of dust, gas, and grease. Lydia was sitting on a broken chair, her feet on the chair, her arms around her knees. The back of her chair was missing. She leaned against the concrete wall next to Dad's workbench. Leo went to Dad's workbench, pushed Dad's junk to one side, sat on the bench, and continued to eat his ramen.

“So how did your friend's brother's flying go?” he asked.

“It didn't,” she said through her knees. “He broke his back.”

“What a loser,” Leo said. “I don't even know what Serpent Jelly is. Does it have another name?”

Lydia shook her head. “It comes from an African tree toad. Last Sunday you were telling me you could score any drug, anytime.”

“Might have been exaggerating,” Leo said. “Anyway, toads are amphibians. It should be called Amphibian Jelly.”

“I didn't name it.”

She was unhappy; he realized. She must have been unhappy in his previous future, too, but he'd been too involved in his own misery to notice. Sorry Lydia, I wish I could tell you things get better.

He finished his noodles. He had to do something about Lydia, but what?

“And how did you know Maxine and Tomi were going to fight?”

“I didn't know for sure, I suspected.” Leo put his bowl on the workbench next to him. “Lydia, you're right. Something happened. I've changed. I'll explain everything when the time's right, I promise, but you need to quit messing with my stuff and complaining to our parents.”

“I don't understand,” she said. “Why can't you tell me?”

“Because you'd tell Mom and Dad, and they couldn't handle it.”

“I won't tell. I promise,” she said.

Leo burst out laughing. “Like when I told you about the seven-foot-tall biker last Sunday evening. I made that up because I knew you'd go straight to Mom and tell her, and you did.”

“I didn't mean to,” she said, sounding miserable. “It just happened.”

“I'll explain everything when it's time. I promise.”

Lydia looked at him, then back at her knees. “Last Sunday morning, you were asking Mom and Dad for a Phoenix diamond-edged chainsaw for Christmas. Because that's what Burke used to cut the head off a big monster in the second season of Monster Trauma, your all-time favorite show.”

Shit. How did he respond to that? He'd forgotten Monster Trauma. The show was so stupid. Dealing with the real thing post-change had driven it from his mind. Sure, when you cut off a monster's head with a chainsaw, you got blood, but nothing like the large gushing red fountain from the show. And there was how the chainsaw looked going through the flesh and bone of a living being's neck. Not like the show, that was for sure.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I got tired of the show. Besides, there's no way Mom and Dad are giving me a Phoenix diamond-edged chainsaw for Christmas.” Even if they were still alive.

“But it was your most favorite show ever,” she said, mystified by how he could have changed so much in only a week.

Had he changed that much? He guessed he must have, and it figured Lydia was one of the few people to notice.

“Do you like apples?” Leo asked.

“No. I hate apples. They got that stupid tough skin on them,” she answered.

“Stay here. I'll be right back.” Leo took off. Days before, in a nearby yard, he'd spotted an apple tree that still had fruit. Decades of scavenging for food ensured he had made a mental note of its location.

As he ran, icy raindrops came down, a few at first, but growing worse. He ran several blocks through freezing rain until he spotted the tree peeking out from over an eight-foot-tall concrete block wall. He ran up the fence, taking two steps upward and slipped back down, losing his grip on the top of the wall. He landed on his back. A dog inside the walled yard started barking.

Even with his low stats, this shouldn't be a problem. He got back up and tried again. This time, he somehow pulled himself to the top of the wall.

“Rar rar rar rar!” A big black dog, Doberman? jumped up on the fence, trying to get at him, jaws reaching inches below Leo's feet before it fell back into the unkempt yard.

Leo quickly stood on the wall and picked any ripe looking apples within his reach, storing them in his shirt, throwing those that looked wormy at the dog who didn't appreciate this in the slightest.

A window slammed open. “Hey! What are you doing?” a man shouted from inside. Not bothering to answer, Leo jumped down from the wall and took off, running through a couple of alleys to avoid potential pursuit.

Panting for breath, Leo returned to the garage.

“I told you, I hate apples,” Lydia said as Leo deposited six medium-sized apples on Dad's workbench, and grabbed some dirty paper napkins to dry himself off. Now that he wasn't running, he started to shiver.

He took his folding knife from his pocket and peeled one of the apples, remembering the time, decades in the future, when he'd gotten his hands on an apple. He'd shared it with Shawna, the girl who'd adopted him, cutting off one piece for him, then one for her, until there was nothing left, not even the core.

He handed the peeled apple to Lydia, then bit into a second apple, enjoying the juicy tart taste.

Thunder rumbled across the sky as raindrops continued to hit the roof and garage door with tapping noises. Lydia nibbled on her freshly peeled apple. “Next time, steal some hamburgers,” she grumbled.

“I almost got killed by a dog for these apples,” Leo said. “Glad you appreciate it, but it's time to get to work.”

The garage was a mess. Cleaning it up in one day was an impossible task. Leo wandered the garage, trying not to trip on the junk-strewn floor, looking for anything that might be useful.

Off to the side was an old motorcycle Dad had been repairing for the last few years, pieces of the engine covered the large workbench. Next to the bike was a lawnmower. That reminded him—it was getting late in the year, but was he supposed to mow the lawn? On the left corner next to the garage door were lawn care and gardening tools. Shovel, hoe, rake, and a machete for cutting weeds. Now the machete could be useful. He lined the rest of the gardening tools against the wall so they looked more orderly, and pulled the machete from its sheath. He made a few practice swings, then felt the edge. Dull. He put it aside and kept an eye out for knife sharpeners.

By the end of the day, he'd found a few old knives, (good ones, nothing like his cheap pocket knife), the machete, some padding, an old biker jacket he could turn into makeshift armor, and an old 12-speed bike, close to his size. The bike had probably been purchased for him. It was broken, but he suspected with a bit of effort he could fix it up. He also found Dad's old weight-lifting set. He planned to put that to good use, improving his Strength stat. The garage wasn't exactly clean by the time they finished, but the mess was much more orderly, the concrete floor had been swept and the thick layer of dust covering everything had been more or less taken care of.

Mom showed up that evening. “Dad's working another double shift. His superior died—or something. So Dad got promoted. Go eat. You got meatloaf.”

“Let's watch Monster Trauma,” Leo said, once they were in front of the flat screen.

“I get nightmares,” Lydia complained.

“Chicken,” Leo said.

“Oh okay. If you insist,” Lydia said. “I'm tired of that stupid mutant puppy show, anyway.”