“Sweetie, wake up?
“Wu—”
A big, strong hand clamped over her mouth, stifling, but gentle.
“Shhhh.”
She almost lashed out with the knife in her hand, but recognized the sound of her dad’s voice.
“Keep it quiet, okay?”
The house was dark.
Only a sliver of moonlight through the thin gap between curtains illuminated her father’s eyes.
Dark brown set under bushy black brows on his heavy forehead.
Born to slam his head into other equally neanderthal-ish linemen from his high school football days.
She had heard that stupid dad joke a billion times.
Not in the last year or so, though.
Not since the world ended.
Not since they had lost her baby brother, then younger sister, then mom and eventually every last sorry survivor in their neighborhood.
Now, here they were, in some city she didn’t know, never knew existed.
From Bakersfield to Southern California.
Weeks by bicycle and foot.
Just them two now and a few other desperate, ragged strays picked up along the way.
“They found us.”
Not a question.
She knew it in her gut somehow.
The monsters had always found them in the dark, eventually.
“Not sure yet. The kid thinks it’s a coin flip.” Her dad already had his bright-colored construction hat on and his sledgehammer in one catcher’s mitt of a hand. The former weirded her out. Somehow, it allowed him to take hits that would’ve ripped chunks out of anyone else. It’d crack and flake a bit, but be good as new, eventually. “Says his magic is working, but he thinks there’s a stronger monster out there now.”
“Huh? Stronger?”
That sounded ridiculous.
Then again, nothing had made sense since those stupid spires showed up.
She should’ve been doing so many other things than constantly running and hiding for her life from gremlins and gangs of bad men.
Couldn’t trust any of them.
Cops and soldiers.
It seemed like everyone they had run into had decided to be just another gang.
That military base in the desert would’ve been a bad time for her had her dad not sniffed it out and managed to sneak them out almost as soon as they had made the mistake of seeking shelter there.
He had always kept her safe.
“Mrs. Shelley thinks the same thing. At least, that’s what one of her Skills is telling her. Danger sense.” He shrugged those broad shoulders. The motion was strained, ponderous, as if he had the weight of a mountain on them. “Your brother was right. It’s like one of his games.”
She turned away from the sad smile.
Couldn’t bear to see the pain reflected in his eyes.
Didn’t want him to see it in hers.
Her nerd of a brother was gone forever.
Mother… sister…
Too painful, so she fell back on the litany of complaints that had carried her this whole time.
Spite as a motivator wasn’t a good thing according to her dad, so she kept it to herself.
High school junior.
Fun times with her friends.
Leaving childhood behind.
Prom.
Lose her virginity to her boyfriend.
Senior year.
Prom again.
Tour colleges.
Start college.
Dorms.
Parties… real ones.
The spires had robbed her of a life.
She prayed sometimes that she wouldn’t wake up.
The rest of her family had been the lucky ones.
This was another thought she kept to herself. Locked up tight in a metal box inside her heart, so her dad wouldn’t see it.
Her boyfriend was dead.
She didn’t know for sure.
There was no way she could’ve made it to his house on her own to check and it was too dangerous to try.
His neighborhood was miles away and their high school was almost directly between her house and his.
It had been turned an encounter challenge, whatever that meant. Her brother had explained, but she had been too stuck in her own head to pay any attention.
It had been later that it became a spawn zone.
The monsters killed her brother and most of their surviving neighbors shortly after that.
They had been planning to head toward Vegas.
Her uncle lived there.
That plan had changed when her dad had talked to a few soldiers.
Vegas was a no go.
A sympathetic soldier. One that seemed like an actual good guy whispered about heading toward the O.C. beaches. Rumors of safety. One that didn’t demand she give up her one last precious belonging to sweaty, leering soldiers. He had showed them a crumpled up flyer, which contained directions and promises.
A hope and prayer.
Thats what her dad had told her as they fled south from the military base with a small group of equally ragged people.
Down to seven now.
The kid, Mrs. Shelley, a few others.
She hadn’t bothered learning their names.
They were probably all going to die anyways.
Better to not get attached.
She had learned that the hard way.
“What time is it?” she hissed.
Sunrise was all that mattered.
Gremlins didn’t come out in the day time.
Light didn’t agree with them.
Burned them really good. Even the bigger human-sized ones.
It was too bad that flashlights and anything that used batteries had stopped working long ago. Dead like the people.
Her brother had theories.
She wished he was still around to annoy her with them. She really should’ve paid more attention to him when he was alive.
Candles and torches kept them away, but they ran out of those too.
It was hard scavenging through the stores they passed on their nightmarish journey. People had—
Thunder cracked.
Hardhat realized she remembered this.
She wanted to get up, throw her boots on and just run out the back. She had to get her dad to abandon the others— they were dead anyway and they’d just slow them down and—
“Damn it!” Her dad stopped rolling up his sleeping pad and stood. “That was from down the street. The decoy house.”
Some person’s weird Skill, she hadn’t paid attention.
“It sounds like a truck.”
She mimed her dad’s words, caught his lopsided smile. Meant to reassure, but instead stabbed her in the chest.
“I remember… dad… you’re going to tell me to help Mrs. Shelley and the kid, whose name I never bothered to learn.”
The shame of it only ever came up on the mornings after she dreamed this nightmare.
“Go, get everyone ready to bolt, sweetie. Mrs. Shelley and the kid will need your help. She’ll lean on you and he’ll need you to make sure he doesn’t trip over his own feet. You know how he gets after using his spell.”
“You looked at that kid like he was my brother.”
“You memorized the route?”
She nodded.
Just like back then, the words refused to come out.
“Here. This is yours now.” He placed his construction helmet on her head. “You’ll need it more than me. It’ll keep you safe, so you can do the same for them. I love you always.”
She could only nod.
Just like back then the words wouldn’t come out no matter how hard she tried to scream them.
They ran, leaving her dad behind.
The gremlins chased them.
Golden eyes shining, taunting.
Claws ripping Mrs. Shelley away.
Teeth tearing the kid from her hand as he, addled by the effort to cast the spell that had allowed them to get so far south and find respite in the night, tripped over his own feet just like her dad had warned.
The others went the same way one by one.
The hardhat kept her alive.
Clothes torn.
Gold flowed from her cut skin.
Scratches when they would’ve been deep, killing gouges without her dad’s last gift.
It caught up to her anyways.
The largest gremlin she had ever laid eyes on.
It stood almost as tall as the single level homes in the random, shit neighborhood she had fled through. One arm was broken, snapped just below the elbow. It dragged one leg behind it. In its other clawed hand was something she recognized.
It pointed the sledgehammer at her and grinned.
Sharp teeth leered.
Red and wet.
Bits of cloth and flesh stuck in between like leafy veggies.
It hurled the sledgehammer.
The butt end struck her in the chest, piercing right through and pinning her to the ground.
She woke with a scream.
Hardhat punched her bed for a few seconds.
That was new.
Both for the nightmare and what actually had happened.
Well… the nightmare had always mirrored reality.
Part of why she hated it.
“Trying to change the damn thing my whole life and that’s what changes?”
In real life the sledgehammer had curved past her head and around Rayna to fly back and turn the gremlin alpha’s head into ground meat.
The people in the truck at the end of the street hadn’t been rangers yet.
Just Rayna, Kayl and a few others.
It had taken her awhile to get over the injustice of it.
Just a few more hours and none of them would’ve died.
The kid, Mrs. Shelley… her dad.
They could’ve, should’ve lived to enjoy what the rangers had built.
She knew it in her heart that her dad would been the best ranger.
Better than her for sure.
She was and would always be a lesser version.
Her brother would’ve out shined them all.
She stomped out of bed.
There was a lot of work to be done.
Being forced to take Halloween off meant that she had to fit what she would’ve gotten done on that day into other days.
Paperwork mostly… a lot of paperwork.
Well… not necessarily all on paper.
Most was digital.
Tablet at home. Tablet at her office.
“I’m not liking this semi-retirement thing.”
She sighed.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The thought of free time—
“Nope.”
Maybe, the stress of the unknown was why she was having these nightmares more often these days.
It had been years, decades really, since they had been so frequent.
“Might need to schedule extra sessions with a therapist.”
Outside of ranger mandated check-ins every quarter, she had put those things behind her or so she had thought.
----------------------------------------
Hardhat stared at her 1 card.
She eyed Creepy Chipmunk as he stepped into the abyss… er… the hallway.
That’s right.
It was just a hallway.
Nope.
Definitely a void abyss to some kind of witchy nightmarescape with black thorny roses and vines like chains with even more thorns that pierced and ripped skin.
God damn new movies and shows.
Magic, tech and magitech were making them way too real.
She remembered back when she was a kid that all she had to do was close her eyes and plug her ears when the skinless demon things on screen brought out the skin-ripping chains.
Sick bastards.
“Psst… psst…”
She scratched the table with a fingernail.
Weird.
Felt simultaneously rich and cheap.
The creepy witch of portents turned that shining eyed gaze to regard her.
Nope.
There was no turning.
Despite the fact that the witch had definitely been watching Creepy Chipmunk those eyes had always been locked on Hardhat’s.
“Fu—” she played the flinch into a smoother touch on the warm plastic covering her head. It pulsed soothingly.
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Honorable witch of portents. May I ask a question?”
A slow blink.
Great!
If the witch was part cat than that signified trust and feelings of safety.
Hardhat decided to roll with it.
When reality went dumb one might as well go with her delusions for they might as well be just as valid as her… re-lusions?
Was that the right word?
She’d ask Spiritwalker later. He was the one that read a lot.
“Why did he go first?” She pointed at Creepy Chipmunk's shorts-clad backside. “I got the 1.”
“Yes, it was a surprise to me as well.”
Silence.
The other rangers’ gazes shifted from the witch to her and back several times.
“Er… so… what does that mean ex—”
The witch snapped her fingers like a gunshot.
Weapons snapped into ranger hands.
Aims had a revolver out and aimed at the witch before the sound of her snap died.
The rest were much slower.
Hardhat’s hands had never left the table.
Pain flared in her fingers as she dug her nails into the wood, that was either very expensive or very cheap.
“Close together,” the witch of portents murmured. “Muddled fates… you,” she pointed a long, pointed finger.”
Hardhat fought hard not to recoil.
“First or second. That fate is unclear. Perhaps you’ll find a flavorful and aromatic illumination within.”
Hardhat stared and blinked.
Fast, definitely not the slow and trusting kind.
“Captain Hardhat, go,” Captain Butcher said.
“Yeah… right.”
She hadn’t noticed the witch of portents’ too-long arm pointing to the abyss.
A shiver glided up her back.
Goosebumps danced on her arms.
She wasn’t cold.
It was downright warm and cozy in the witchy living room, which was to say it was creepy.
Warmth pulsed from her head, flowing over the rest of her body like a snuggie.
“Damn it, got me thinking of things from 30 years ago.”
Her entire family got a set of matching snuggies for that one last Christmas.
She was fine.
It was safe.
Her dad would keep her safe.
Like he always did.
Over 30 years and counting.
Thus, she stepped into the abyss.
And found herself in a room that was not a room.
It was a large store.
Sporting goods.
Ubiquitous in the old world.
“Oh, no… not doing this.”
She recognized it instantly.
The undead war.
San Diego.
A terrible fight among many terrible fights.
Another frequent scene in her nightmares.
“Seriously, witch kid. I’ve had enough of the bad dreams. Let’s just do the fortune telling thing, yeah?”
Racks and stands filled with assorted sporting goods cast long, gnarled shadows despite the fact that the ceiling lights glared down harshly like someone decided to turn them up to 11.
Was that even a thing?
Did the old store lights have dimmer capabilities like the ones she had at her home?
Her hands itched to pull a shield and weapon from her bag of holding.
Couldn’t do it.
Didn’t want to accidentally kill a dumb witch kid.
“Yeah, okay… got to find you, huh? Hide and seek… damn it,” she muttered.
In real life they had gotten swarmed by ghosts.
In her nightmares the ghosts were the dead she knew.
She didn’t want to add a third variation of the scenario.
Her boots echoed through the empty store as she headed toward the center.
That was the thing to do, right?
Seemed like a witchy thing, anyways.
It was either the store center or somewhere with a table and chairs. Maybe an office or the employee lunch room.
Couldn’t tell someone’s fortune standing around a fake campfire after all.
She stopped.
Eyes narrowed.
That shadow in the distance was dancing around funny. Especially, when she checked the rest of her surroundings to make sure that it was the only shadow moving around.
Sure looked like the sort of shadow a campfire threw around.
Warm orange-red light and everything.
She only hesitated a second.
There was no way she was going to let some witch kid creep her out.
Boldly she strode to find a literal camp fire in the middle of— she glanced around— the camping section.
“Well, that’s pretty convenient.”
The witch kid was seated in a comfy looking folding camp chair, poking at the fire with a stick.
No cauldron.
Just a grill and a large kettle.
Blue speckled with white. Like he had just grabbed it from the nearby shelf.
She scanned the cozy campsite and found nothing else.
She gave the witch kid a head nod.
“Sup.”
That was what cool young people did.
She didn’t remember doing it when she was a cool kid.
It was more the generation or two before her.
Things were cyclical after all.
History repeating and what not.
She took a longer moment to study the kid.
Just to make sure he wasn’t a ghost trick.
No witch hat, which was suspicious.
Weird clothes.
Not really witchy.
More… cleric-al?
Was that the right word?
“I welcome you to my hearth. With open arms and intentions. Will you be my guest?”
“As long as that doesn’t obligate me to come fight for you even after I die?”
The kid’s normal eyes narrowed.
“No?”
“That sounded like a question when I’m really looking for a clear, definitive answer.”
“Then, no. I’m not looking to harvest souls to fight for me at a future date.”
“Nothing else?”
“No costs beyond peace and patience.”
“Sounds acceptable.” She took a seat in a comfy camp chair that wasn’t there a moment ago, but, hey, what the heck, why not roll with it. A sudden chair was the least of what she’d already had to experience. “So, are you like the ‘one’ of witches?” She did air quotes.
The kid blinked at her mid prod of the logs in fire.
“I don’t understand the question.”
“You know…” she gestured at his clothing. “You look like the ‘one’. Black coat-robe thing. Black pants. You just need some cool black shades. But, good call not wearing them indoors. Only douchebags do that. Unless they’re functional. You know, enchanted or teched up.”
The kid gaped like a fish.
“Do you not know about The Matrix?”
“Spell matrices?”
It was her turn to blink.
“Do the witches not let you watch movies in faerie land?”
“We can watch movies and shows.”
“But not The Matrix?”
“No?”
She chewed on that for awhile as the kid continued to stoke the flames and, apparently, boil water.
Young kid.
Gangly looking.
Early teenager.
Probably, going to be on the tall side judging by the awkward-looking size of his hands and shoes compared to the rest of his body.
Still, moving pretty well.
Good coordination.
Not tripping over himself.
Bit on the skinny side.
Nothing some weights wouldn’t fix.
Combat potential.
Junior ranger material.
Head of blond hair was a bit too full and curly. Easy grabbing material for man or monster. Needed a shorter cut. Helmets were mandatory, but sometimes you lost them or didn’t have the chance to put one on.
She sighed.
All that done automatically.
That wasn’t a good thing as far as she was concerned.
“Alright, I changed my mind.”
He looked at her with patience and understanding, like she was some kind of special and skittish animal or baby.
“Okay, maybe I double-changed my mind.”
He went back to prodding the fire.
“Listen up, kid. I’m assuming you know where I live.”
“I don’t, but I believe my teacher does. She knows… things…”
“Say, do you guys practice saying things ominously? Like in the mirror? Or do you stand around in a circle and try to out ominous each other? Like improv, but less stupid?”
The kid opened his mouth and shut it.
She grinned.
“Ha! You do practice! A valuable secret. In exchange for that and this whole fortune telling thing, I will let you borrow my Matrix collection. Can you guys use USB stuff?”
“Yeah, we have computers.” He frowned.
“That’s good. I mean, that they work in the land of the faeries.”
“It’s called the Fae or the Fae realm.”
“Same difference.” She shrugged. “Anyways. Watch them. Three movies. First one was the best. Next two were still good, but not as good. Feel free to make copies. Add them to your movie library. Hell, just keep them. I can get copies here. My gift to you for not stealing my soul or giving me lasting trauma.” She winked.
In a cool manner.
The kid nodded in a witchy one, which was to say, way too solemn for someone his age.
“I accept the exchange in honest faith. I hope to return it in the same manner.”
“Great!” she clapped. “Fortune time?”
The kettle whistled, loud and screechingly.
She flicked her gaze from the kid to the kettle and back.
“Okay, you have to tell me how you timed that.”
“I didn’t.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
“Before we start… will you please remove your artifact.”
“Why?”
“It’s very powerful and protective. I can’t foretell your fate while it shields you.”
“Well that’s not suspicious at all.” She locked a laser gaze on his eyes. Couldn’t see anything more suspicious than the whole witch thing. And she was here for that one reason. “Fine.” She pulled the construction helmet from her head and placed it on her lap. “Better not be a tr—”
“Would you like some tea?”
Hardhat blinked.
The witch kid loomed over her all of a sudden with a stainless steel mug in his hand.
There was no tea bag or other receptacle to hold the leaves.
Steam rose, tickling her nostrils with the scent of—
She knew it, recognized it and yet didn’t.
It was every tea she had ever tried across the long decades.
It was every tea she had never tried across the long decades.
“There aren’t animal bits in this, right? You have to tell me if there are. That’s a witch rule. I asked, like half a dozen different witches.”
The witch kid shook his head.
“Humans are technically also animals.” She fixed him with her best ranger captain stare.
He recoiled a bit.
“Just tea and some honey.”
“Bees?”
“Yes.”
“Normal ones? Not flesh-eating… human flesh-eating ones?”
It was his turn to fix her with a stare.
“There are bees that eat… humans?”
“Sadly… yes.”
He swallowed.
“The worst part is they don’t look any scarier like monster-types or mutated ones. Nope. Almost exactly like normal, safe bumble bees. All cute, fuzzy, yellow and black… except they got teeth… don’t ask me how that works.”
“I won’t.”
“So… tea then?” She accepted the mug most graciously like a true captain of Rayna’s Rangers. “I think I know this one. I just drink this and you read the left over leaves?” She peered into the light, amber colored liquid. Sure enough the leaves swirled around. “Huh, that’s weird.”
“This won’t be like the old-style reading. Although, that can be done as well. The tea is for after. It’ll help with the nausea and headache.”
“Wut—”
Hardhat’s eyes dilated.
Her vision blurred.
She fell into the steam.
Amber-colored, sweet, floral and everything else.
The dark green leaves swirled around her, dancing in the wind like butterflies.
She felt a sudden, oppressive weight.
A dark cavern.
Warm, black tiles shot through with gold veins like that weird Japanese vase thing that Dastardly had gotten into a couple of years back.
They pulsed in an irregular rhythm.
Breathing or perhaps the heartbeat of some old, forgotten behemoth resting beneath the earth, waiting for the time to wake and usher in the end.
The booming rhythm shook her to the core, dragging her own heart along, faster and faster, out of control. A strong hand holding on to her wrist as she tried to run alongside an accelerating car.
Pain and panic.
Sudden sun rise.
But not the safety of the dawn.
Harsh.
Not yellow-orange bringing soothing warmth, but gold scouring everything it didn’t care to allow existence beneath its gaze.
A single golden ray lanced down from the heavens.
Hardhat grunted.
Shaking hands went to her chest.
She began to flake away before she could grasp the spear.
Finger tips went first.
Hands and arms went quickly as if every gasping breath sped up the process.
She collapsed as her feet and legs disintegrated.
Face first into the warm, black tile.
Herculean effort just to raise her head.
Her construction helmet lay just out of her reach.
Shiny plastic surface pristine.
She reached for it unconsciously with the exposed bone at her elbows until that too flaked away.
Butterflies and ash danced on the edges of her vision.
“It’s done.”
“Huh? Wuzzat?”
She blinked up at the witch kid.
“Drink.”
He tilted her head up and brought the mug of tea to her lips.
It was lukewarm.
Her head felt as though nails were being pounded into it while being in the washer’s spin cycle.
“I didn’t consent to this.”
“But— you agreed?”
“Don’t meant that. I mean this… lap pillow nonsense. I’m old enough to be your young and fit grandma. It’s you that should lay your head on a young lady’s lap.”
He blanched, looking torn between shoving her head out of his lap like it was on fire or doing it in a gentler manner.
Witch hospitality won out and he carefully held her head up while sliding out from under her and magicking a camping pillow from the shelf to fly out and take his spot.
“Where is it?” Her eyes widened. “My—”
The construction helmet lay on her stomach.
Shiny and plastic.
Pristine.
Unblemished.
She took a few centering breaths before raising her head enough to take another sip.
The tea seemed to be working.
“Just let me finish this and I’ll tell you that scary story.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Seriously? Your teacher said—”
“You have filled my craft adequately.”
She shrugged, then winced at the stiffness in her neck and back.
Hell, her entire body felt like she had been flexing… well… everything.
“Thanks, kid. Can’t say I enjoyed any of that, but it did give me… insight.”
It was time for her to stop thinking about doing a will and actually get it done.