Touched, Chapter 4
"What is it really
that's going on here?
You've got your system for total control.
So is there really anybody out there?
Now watch us suffer cause we can't go.
What is it really that is in your head?
What little life that you had just died
I'm gonna be the one that's takin over.
Now this is what it's like when worlds collide
Are you ready to go?
Cause I'm ready to go!
What you gonna do, baby, baby?
Are you going with me?
Cause I'm going with you.
It's the end of all time!
-Powerman 5000, "When Worlds Collide"
Nicky had felt a little strange getting into the passenger seat of his car, a feeling of dislocation coming over him.
"Buckle up," Norgia said, hitting the engine starter. Nicky had barely gotten the seat belt buckled when she went careening out of the parking spot in reverse, whipped the car around, quickly shifted gears, and was flooring it through the tightly winding parking garage.
The bile was already up in Nicky's throat before the first turn. Norgia hooked the high-performance vehicle easily around a large concrete column, only to accelerate even more before the next hairpin turn. It went on like this for four levels before Nicky could finally breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of the guard station. Surely she'd have to slow--
And through they went, the swing-arm seeming to pass right through them. Nicky had hardly had any time to register what just happened before they went drifting out into the streets of downtown Miami, right along Brickell Bay Drive.
It wasn't until his mother played Fast and Furious through the streets of downtown Miami and arrived on the Dolphin Expressway that Nicky managed to breathe properly again. They were hurtling down the freeway at speeds he didn't care to check. "Aren't the cops going to notice all this driving?" he said nervously. The last thing he needed was for his managers at the firm to know about felony driving infractions committed in his own car.
"There's an enchantment on your car. Don't think you've ever noticed how lucky you've been while driving, perhaps doing something stupid one day or another? I bet you've gone right past police officers without them seeming to notice you."
Come to think of it... Nicky was instantly reminded of being too tired to realize it was the first day back at school. He had taken a shortcut he normally took to avoid traffic, hurtling his way down residential streets that were seldom used by morning rush hour drivers. He flew by a school going fifty, and there were no less than three cops sitting there with radar guns pointed at him. They didn't even flinch. He just kept going, breathing a heavy sigh of relief.
"Why would you do something like that to my car?"
"You're an accountant."
"I don't follow," he said with a puzzled look.
"You think I haven't been around long enough to know the accountants of this world, Nicky?" she said. There was no condescension in her voice, though; only humor. "Your industry is first about number crunching, but a close second in appearances. It's always about being clean-cut and ready to face any client, so you always have to keep a perfect outward image. And yet, the consistent worry about looking like a clean-cut corporate zombie and working excessively long hours during busy season turns you all into party animals the moment the work is done. Tell me, how many partners have you not speculated as having drinking problems?"
Just as she asked this, she was hurtling down a ramp that led to the Palmetto. He was holding on for dear life as the tires squealed in protest, but in the back of his mind he was considering what she was saying.
"I know you've probably driven home drunk a few too many times," she said simply as she accelerated once again down the new freeway. "I wanted to make sure you had a little extra protection, so this car sort of... persuades others to not really notice you're doing anything wrong."
"And you didn't tell me?" he asked, looking at her now with a hurt kind of expression.
"Oh don't guilt me, Nicky, it won't work. You would have abused the power of this car had you known it was there."
Probably, he thought to himself. "That doesn't justify tampering with my car."
"If you're going to be offended by that, we're going to have a lot of issues during our little adventure."
"What are you talking about, adventure?"
"I'm being hunted down by an ancient order of witches who are going to rob me of my powers, thus killing me in the process, and will probably want to destroy a young woman only a few years younger than you who is innocent of any crime but for almost losing faith in the world," she said in rapid succession. "And you're my son, and the only leverage they could use right now. What part of this do you not understand?"
The impact was just starting to dawn on Nicky. They were fugitives; perhaps not from the law, but from something seemingly worse. He took out his Blackberry, went through the settings and turned off his location tracker.
"Now you're at least trying to think," Norgia said. "Though really, you're going to have to destroy that phone."
Nicky's grip on the phone tightened instinctively, and his heart plummeted when he saw they were about to hit the I-75 exit, and his mother hadn't even bothered to think of slowing down.
"I don't see why I can't hold on to it. It can prove a valuable resource," he tried to defend, thinking of all the possible apps they could use along the way.
"Oh please, Nicky. You just like your shiny new phone," Norgia said calmly, even though they were drifting along the elegant curve of a high-perched exit ramp, overlooking northern Hialeah. "It's more of a liability than an asset."
Nicky simply turned the Blackberry off, watching as the screen went black as they entered the giant, sweeping curve northward that I-75 took towards their final destination. Even now, he was trying not to think of all the things he was about to leave behind. And all for his mother who was never there in the first place.
Yesenia's father hadn't gotten home until 9:30 that evening. It had been yet another long day supervising the dig site. Normally, he'd love coming home and telling his daughter about the great tunneling machine they were piecing together, or the great masses of concrete that would be required to establish a foundation simply for the machine to rest on as it began its slow descent below the inter-coastal waterways. She'd inherited all his love for mechanics, with her mother's memory, making her a perfect candidate for mechanical engineering.
But as she heard the door open and close, Yesenia could barely stand from the pain in her stomach. She didn't want to keep eating anymore. She'd downed a hearty lunch, an equally hearty snack, snuck second, third, and fourth helpings at dinner, and still it felt like her stomach was going to remain insatiable. No matter what she did, within an hour she was looking for more food to eat. By the time she opened her bedroom door onto her small side hallway, her father had already passed to go to the kitchen and Florida room, where his dinner would be sitting, hot and ready.
Straightening herself and reminding her body that she'd dealt with worse cramps before, she bravely strode to the kitchen. But even before her father laid eyes on her, the tension was already palpable. Still, she was determined to live somewhat normally with her family. Her time stuck here was indefinite, and them being awkward around her for the entirety of that time would be torture. Sitting on the love seat adjacent to her father's La-Z-Boy (which, as it so happened, was placed perfectly between the love seat and the couch, for maximum viewing pleasure when they were watching television), she leaned over and gave her father a peck on the cheek, as was her usual habit when greeting her father after a long day at work. Normally, he would smile and give a peck back. This time, he visibly tensed as he ate his giant turkey drumstick (always father would have a drumstick left, along with a lot of the most prime dark meat), the usual fare for a Friday night, marking a celebratory "end of the workweek" dinner.
Pulling back, Yesenia wrapped her arms around her knees, curling up in the love seat. She wasn't trying to shy away from her father, but the pain in her stomach was getting particularly nagging now that she could smell the savory turkey dinner. "How was the job site, papa?"
A grunt was all Armando could muster as he tore at another huge hank of turkey flesh. Gravy was on his chin, and he wiped it off carelessly and threw down the cloth napkin beside his plate. He then grabbed the remote, seeking solace in the television. Normally, he'd sit and chat while he ate. He was pushing sixty, even seventy hours a week, but Armando was a loving father to his family, and enjoyed every minute of sharing his experiences, even in these harder times. He would ask about the meager few houses his wife had cleaned that day (if any at all) with a look of pride that she was, at least, doing some work to help out the family. He wasn't going to let her unemployment put her down about herself. And he always had a particular relish in talking to his Jess, since now she not only found his work interesting, but could understand almost everything he spoke about when he discussed the mechanics of his company's operations.
Tonight, the room was instead filled with the sounds of the second half of CSI.
The tension in the room didn't bother Jess nearly as much as it should have. The pain in her stomach was quite distracting. But her mother had already seen her eat like un cerdo earlier when the whole household was called to dinner, and the reproving looks she had given her daughter as she spooned potatoes on to her plate for her fourth helping were not to be ignored. If there was one thing her mother meddled in more than Yesenia's personal life, it was her food intake which, until now, was hardly a problem.
It would be Pilar who finally gave in to the tension of the room, standing up and throwing her apron down. "I cannot stand this," she said in her native tongue. "Yesenia-Maria, can't you just renounce this silliness?"
CSI seemed to hardly be there at this moment, and Yesenia could see from the corner of her eye that her father had stopped chewing. She felt horribly enraged at that point, but blowing up would drive the schism further between them. And, for some reason, she felt that letting things get out of hand would be regrettable in the near future. "It doesn't work like that, mother," she said in English, emphasizing the last word just to try to grab Pilar's attention. She never used mother when speaking to Pilar. It would be like a gringo trying to use mama. She only pulled this card when Pilar had stepped on a particularly sensitive hot spot.
"You claim to be a good Catholic," he mother spat. Obviously, this was not the answer she wanted to hear. "If you really cared about this family, you would pray to Jesus that you be set right again." Pilar's voice was shaking now, and still Yesenia's father sat there in stony silence.
Yesenia stood, which took all the effort in her not to do so with a grimace. That familiar, icy coldness was in her blood stream again, threatening to take over her. "Fine, then I suppose I don't care about this family anymore," she spat, her limbs literally shaking with her rage. She took one last look at her father. His eyes seemed to deaden slightly, like something switched off inside of him. But she was too full of rage to let it bother her now. She would talk to him without her mother being such a psychotic bitch to her. She marched forward, turning to the open doorway the led to the dining room and the hallway back to her room. Even as she crossed into the dining room, a vase blew up behind her.
Even Pilar's surprised scream could not turn Yesenia back to the kitchen. She already know what that was. The pangs of hunger screamed out at her even worse when that vase shattered. Somehow, what Norgia had done to her was what was doing this to her.
Slamming the door behind her, Yesenia went to her bed and collapsed onto it, curling her legs to her chest and sobbing uncontrollably.
The psychotic ride down the freeway was finally done, and they were fast-approaching their destination. Nicky watched as Miramar Parkway turned in one hellacious blur into 172nd Ave, into Pembroke Road, and into a housing community called Silver Lakes. He knew his boss lived somewhere near here. Nicky always thought him crazy for making the commute every day from West Broward to Brickell. Then again, he could see why. The place epitomized suburban sprawl. He hadn't seen a single decent bar on the way through the streets, and all the restaurants were your standard go-to places: Chili's, Olive Garden, Papa John's; all the places a good suburbanite family should love.
Nicky hated this place already.
Passing through a set of gates (again, as if they were never there), Nicky heard the tires squealing to a halt in front of a house. In front of it were parked four cars. Either this family had money, or too many people lived here. Considering the times and the fact three of the ten houses within view were in foreclosure, he was sure it was the latter.
Norgia quickly stepped out of the car, grabbing a package from her bag, which sat in the back seat. "Stay here, call out the family password if you see anybody approaching... or appearing out of thin air."
"Password?" Nicky asked, looking briefly puzzled. "Oh! You mean--"
"I mean shut the hell up. Your father told you that password when you were little so you'd know if someone came for you, you could trust them. It's not to be uttered unless dire emergency calls for it, understood?"
Nicky nodded. He'd remembered the words to the password perfectly, even if he hadn't given them a thought for years and years. His father told them to him one night, in whispered conversation. He had told Nicky how important it was that he remembered those words. They would be the key to knowing who he could trust. Even then, Nicky doubted he could forget it. It was such a funny thing to think about as a password.
Satisfied, Norgia rushed off. But she didn't go to the front door. Instead, she went off to the right side of the house, behind a huge tree that had a thick bunch of hedges clustered around it. She quickly disappeared from sight.
Wait, did she mention people appearing from thin air? Nicky realized, with mingled wonder and shock.
The tapping was barely noticeable at first, but became more insistent. Finally, Yesenia lifted her head, which felt heavier than she ever imagined possible. She gave a little scream of surprise at the appearance of Norgia's head in her window, mouthing the words, "Open up!"
Quickly, Yesenia lifted her window open. Before she could so much as utter a word, Norgia was climbing through and shutting the window behind her. "You have to get yourself packed up immediately," Norgia said in a loud whisper. "They're coming for us."
"What--who? What did you do to me?!" she demanded in the same loud whisper. She wasn't sure why she was whispering, though. She would gladly have had some reason to turn her parents' attention to something other than her being a lesbian.
"I'll explain in the car. Here, eat this," she said, laying a long, wrapped parcel into Yesenia's hands. It felt like it was denser than fruit cake, and thrice as heavy. Before she could even ask, Norgia was moving around her room, waving her hands in arcane gestures. Clothing magically appeared from Jess' closet and dresser while her suit case came down and rested on her bed, collecting clothing inside of it, neatly folded and packed away.
Yesenia was about to ask, but the hunger pains wouldn't stop nagging, not when the food she was holding was wafting a terribly alluring scent up to her nose. She unwrapped the red cloth, revealing what looked like a dense brown cake. Not even bothering to ask, she took a bite. It was like chewing through hardening concrete, but she didn't care. The impact it had on her body was beyond anything she thought possible from food. The dense cake took forever to chew, but once it hit her stomach, the hunger almost immediately stopped.
"Keep eating. You should take at least a few bites," Norgia demanded as she scanned the room. "Is there anything here you absolutely cannot live without?"
Yesenia thought fast even as she took a second bite. Not quite knowing why she obeyed this strange feline, she picked up a photo album. In it were memories of nearly everything she and Melinda had done. It even had that photo that was pasted up inside her medicine cabinet, from when they celebrated Melinda's twenty-first. Maybe it was the fact Norgia had given her this wondrous food that actually satiated her appetite, or perhaps Yesenia was still angry enough with her mother to remember the deep desire to run away, but it wasn't until this point she finally questioned her.
"Just hold on, what is going on here?" Yesenia demanded, even as she put her picture album in the all-too-familiar suitcase that had served as her primary mode of constantly moving her life back and forth from Broward to Gainesville.
"I don't have much time, but here's the short version: I underestimated the Sisterhood's reaction to me opening your mind to your powers. They are demanding immediate retribution, which means you and I are in horribly grave danger. I'm terribly sorry, and if after we survive this you want nothing to do with me, I understand. But we have to go now. You are in horrible danger."
"What about my family?" she asked.
"Do they know about what happened at the store when last you saw me?"
"No," Yesenia said, shaking her head.
"Then they are in no danger. They know nothing about your powers, and they won't dare hurt the innocent for fear of potential publicity it would bring. But we have to leave now."
"But--"
Just as Yesenia was about to protest, she heard a male voice outside yelling the words, "Napoleon is a pastry!" Seemingly ridiculous words to be shouting, but Norgia hardly seemed to think so. She had already grabbed the suitcase in one hand, wrapping her other arm around Yesenia, and dove to the door, which magically opened for them. Even as they hit the ground in Yesenia's little hallway, the room behind her lit up in a blaze of glory.
The heat nearly singed their backs before the door slammed shut. Even as they stood, trying to recover, the bright glow died out. The door opened again, revealing a room hollowed out by a powerful fire, and a gaping hole where once existed a window. Yesenia's bed, dresser, and everything else she possessed was now a pile of ashes.
"Okay, I believe you!" Yesenia shouted, and off they ran to the front door.
Even as they rushed through the front door, Yesenia took a look back at her home of so many years. Her father stood there in the main hallway, looking dumbfounded. "Jess, what--"
The shout was cut off by the door slamming shut. Yesenia turned her attention forward as they hurtled across her lawn towards a waiting car. To her left was what looked like a wall of dark red robes. At least twenty hooded figures were rushing towards them. Norgia pulled out what looked to be a burnt twig someone had decorated and pointed it at the row of oncoming attackers. Instantly, a huge wall of something Yesenia could not see blasted the cloaked figures back, some of them even soaring over the tree that stood on the other side of the driveway. The cars in the drive rocked violently from the impact, all of their windows shattering instantly along with their tail and head lights.
"Drive!" Norgia shouted at the white male feline. He had already gotten into the driver's seat the moment he saw the hooded figures coming towards the house, and was off like a bullet, launching the beamer over a speed bump and out of the small housing development. Even as he approached the gates marking the exit, he saw another wall of hooded and cloaked figures waiting for them. "Don't slow down!" his mother shouted, sticking her head up through the sunroof and blasting this row of witches away with just as much ease. With another violent turn to get onto the main road, they were off like a rocket.
With one last pang of sickening realization, Jess got up on her knees in the back seat, pushing aside her suitcase as she does so, and looks longingly through the back window at the dwindling lights that marked her development, her home.