Zev’s work at the Village Center on voting day felt straightforward. He answered questions from voters, explaining how to use the voting machine, and shuttled bottles of water to other volunteers. In between, he coordinated with security to keep order in the lines.
During a trip to the supply room, he noticed the metal shelf holding water bottles wobble precariously. With a sigh, he grabbed a power drill, an electric screwdriver, and extra bolts from the adjacent tool rack. Crawling beneath the shelf, he tightened the bolts until it felt secure.
Just as he finished with the last screw, something jostled his left leg. “Who’s there?” he called out, voice echoing under the shelf.
No answer came, so he muttered a soft curse, made sure the bolts were firm, and inched out, only to bang his head on the corner above. Rubbing his temple, he scowled when he emerged to find Jiru, the son of Malachi, the Village Head, leaning against the worktable.
Jiru was a puzzle: never entirely friend, never quite foe. He sat perched on the table that held a basket of bread buns destined for the voting hall staff, his polished black boots propped on the only chair. His hair, styled in a precise box cut, only added to the self-assured aura that Zev found vaguely irritating.
“What?” Zev asked, still rubbing the sting on his forehead.
Jiru grinned. “Word is you’re set to join Santi Corp’s apprenticeship at the Swala Oasis,” he said. His tone hovered between genuine curiosity and veiled mockery.
Zev stood, returned the screwdriver to its case, and stretched, ignoring Jiru’s stare. “You sound interested,” he said, only half-joking. “Thinking of applying yourself?”
“No,” Jiru replied flatly. “Will you see the Theria Guild cadets while you’re there?”
Zev dropped his arms at his sides and leaned on the tool shelf.
“No, actually,” Zev said. “All I saw when I visited for registration was their transport vehicles.”
“That’s a shame. I’d go find them if I were you,” Jiru said, his tone smug.
Zev sighed. The conversation was typical Jiru, vaguely smug, perpetually needling. Without another word, Zev picked up the basket of bread buns he needed to deliver. He headed for the door, not bothering to hide his annoyance when Jiru followed.
Outside, the sun shone brightly on the lines of voters milling about. Many families waited with children, and the tension of the day mixed with a polite hum of conversation. Zev felt a flicker of gratitude knowing his mother and father had cast their votes. His younger brothers would be safe at home soon, and Amare, who couldn’t vote yet, was helping watch the children in a nearby center. His parents were somewhere on the ‘M’ line.
Amare could not vote yet, so she had to be watching his brothers in the children’s center. The playground at the children’s center allowed kids to play football. He, too, loved the field behind the children’s center. He and Weru sometimes played when they had time. They hadn’t been able to play of late, too busy planning the future.
“I bumped into your sister earlier,” Jiru said conversationally. “She’s volunteering at the children’s center. I hear she wants to enter the Education Class. My father’s got connections, you know. I could talk to him, help her secure a spot.”
Zev’s grip on the bread basket tightened. “Amare can qualify on her own.”
“Sure,” Jiru said, giving Zev a sideways glance. “But I’m always happy to help a pretty girl. Maybe she’ll appreciate it more than you do.”
That was too much. Zev stopped abruptly, swinging around to face him. Jiru was two years older—nineteen to Zev’s seventeen—and his interest in fifteen-year-old Amare set Zev’s nerves on edge.
“Leave my sister alone,” Zev said, trying hard to keep his voice low. “She’s not someone you can toy with.”
Jiru’s grin widened, unperturbed. “Make me.”
Rage coiled in Zev’s chest, and he nearly spat out a retort when Malachi’s voice boomed from across the hall. Zev forced himself to step back. He found Malachi waving him over to the staff refreshments area. Casting one last glare at Jiru, Zev followed Malachi.
“Finished with the store?” Malachi asked, stopping by a long table covered with bottles of water and paper cups.
“Yes. I even secured the shaky shelf,” Zev said, setting the basket of bread buns among the drinks.
Malachi checked his watch. “Your parents left a while ago. They took your brothers home and asked Amare to stay and help. It’s nearly four. Hand me your token card so I can log your hours. Then you can pick up Amare and head home.”
Zev fished a small rectangular card from his pocket. Malachi swiped it against a device linked to his phone, nodded at the beep, and handed it back. A quick thumb scan confirmed his new total of four thousand tokens, enough for the next tablet upgrade.
“Thanks,” Zev said, flashing a grateful smile.
Malachi returned the smile. “You’ve done good work here, Zev. I know Jiru can be difficult, but try to be patient. He wants to be your friend.”
Zev said nothing. He didn’t trust Jiru’s motives, but Malachi was oblivious to his son’s bullying. Changing the subject, Zev gestured toward the exit. “I’ll go meet Amare now.”
“Go ahead,” Malachi said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll call you if we need more help.”
Zev snagged two bread buns from the basket and headed out, crossing the street to the children’s center. A short while later, he found Amare guiding a group of boisterous kids in a painting session. He lingered at the door, finishing one bun in swift bites as he watched her gently correct a child on using a brush. When she saw him, her eyes lit up with excitement.
“Want to help?” she teased. “When’s the last time you played with paint?”
He grinned, washed his hands in the corner sink, and joined a table of enthusiastic six-year-olds. They giggled riotously whenever Amare threatened to dab green paint on Zev’s hair. By the end of it, he had a streak of teal running across his left eyebrow.
When the day wound down, brother and sister left the children’s center and started home at a comfortable pace. Zev carried Amare’s paint supply bag in addition to his own worn book bag. She chattered happily about the joys of teaching small children.
“So, are you still going to run the Pink Piggy if you join Santi Corp?” Amare asked. “Mom mentioned that you might open a real shop one day.”
Zev hesitated, memories of his mother’s advice mingling with a creeping anxiety about Santi Corp’s strict policies. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “If I work for Santi, all tech I develop might belong to them.”
“I think a real Pink Piggy store would be so cool,” Amare said earnestly. “You help so many people with your code, imagine turning our entire village into a place full of your gadgets.”
He snorted. “You’re too biased,” he said.
She laughed. “I’m your sister. I have to be biased.”
A burst of engine noise interrupted them. A motorcycle sped by, stirring a swirling cloud of dust. Zev instinctively maneuvered Amare to his far side to shield her. They were five minutes from home when a siren screamed across the village, loud and ominous.
Zev looked toward the Village Center. Dark clouds gathered above the rooftops, and jagged lightning ripped across the sky. Thunder rumbled in quick succession.
Amare went rigid. Zev seized her hand. “We have to run,” he urged, his voice tense. He broke into a sprint, half dragging her down the road. She stumbled several times, but each time he steadied her, and they kept going.
As they neared home, a convoy of black Theria Guild vehicles roared past on the main road, heading toward the swirling storm clouds. Panic flared in Zev’s chest. No time to wonder what exactly was happening, only that it was terrible.
They dashed through the open gate of their compound.
Zev pushed his sister into the house. Amare collapsed just inside, breathless and terrified. Zev dropped their bags by her side and hurried deeper into the house, calling for his brothers.
“Grey! Silas! Mama, Baba?” He checked the time on the kitchen’s digital clock. Five o’clock. His parents should have been home by now. His heart hammered even harder when he found every room empty.
Getting his cell phone from his pocket, he paused in the corridor when he found a message from his mother. His parents had dropped the boys at their neighbor’s house. His mother needed to return to the conservancy center, and his father was meeting a supplier in the next town. Zev and Amare were to pick up the boys from Gen’s house. Zev shut his eyes, fighting back a wave of dread.
He wished he had checked his phone earlier. Running back to the living room, he found Amare had gotten up, though she was clearly shaky.
“They’re not here?” Amare asked, her voice trembling.
“No. Grey and Silas are at Gen’s.” He opened a closet in the living room, removing a heavy jacket lined with a fine mesh of silver netting. Sliding it on, he winced at the weight, but it was their only real defense against a ghost wraith’s bite. Next, he grabbed a small axe stored in the same closet.
Amare shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “You can’t go out there. It’s too dangerous!”
“I have to,” Zev said grimly. “Our brothers are out there. Mama and Baba aren’t back, so it’s up to me. You stay here in case Grey and Silas come home on their own and I miss them.”
She hurried to retrieve a jacket, too. She struggled to wear the heavy jacket, so Zev helped her zip the coat, hoping it would protect her if something breached the house. Then he pulled her into a quick hug.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “Keep the door locked and watch for the boys if they show up first.”
Amare wiped her cheeks, nodding despite the terror in her eyes. Zev grabbed the axe and stepped outside, activating the silver security net. An electric crackle rippled over the roof, forming a protective barrier around the house.
Screams echoed from the direction of the Village Center. Dark acrid smoke billowed beyond the treetops. Zev swallowed hard, hoping his parents had found shelter somewhere. Right now, all that mattered was Grey and Silas.
He ran, lungs burning, turning onto the main road. He turned left toward the Village Center.
Gen was a family friend, and she had a son the same age as Grey. The boys liked playing together, so their mom often left Grey and Silas at Gen’s house.
Gen’s house was only five minutes away, but each second felt like an eternity. Zev ran like a madman, ignoring the growing screams in the neighborhood.
As he approached her gate, the sound of something massive striking stone made his blood run cold. A bloodcurdling scream came from Gen’s compound.
Heart pounding, Zev rushed through the open gate and froze in horror. The cottage roof had a gaping hole, the walls collapsed in a jagged crack. Standing amid the rubble was the largest ghost wraith Zev had ever seen, nearly as tall as the cottage itself. Its slick black skin rippled like oily tar, and a long spiky tail flicked behind it in agitation.
Before Zev could act, the beast turned to him, revealing a mouth streaked with blood. Its jagged teeth glistened under the storm-dark sky, and a thunderous roar tore through the air. Fear clutched at Zev’s throat.
Then he saw Gen, desperately swinging a broken lampshade at a second wraith. Blood stained her blouse, and she screamed in pain as it lunged at her. She frantically hurled a chair at its head, then caught sight of Zev.
“Zev!” she choked out, voice trembling. “The kids… they’re in…”
Her words died as the second wraith clamped down on her shoulder, silencing her scream. In one horrifying moment, both wraiths descended on her.
An anguished cry tore from Zev’s lips, but all he could do was watch, helpless, as the creatures ripped into the woman who had been like an aunt to him. Fury swallowed his fear, and he gripped the axe so tightly that his knuckles ached. Adrenaline pulsed through him like lightning.
He sprinted toward the house, unthinking, determined to reach Gen, or what was left of her, and to find his brothers. If the wraiths killed him in the attempt, so be it. He would not stand by and watch.
<<Previous | TOC | Next>>
Leave a reply to Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 4 – Stories and Book Talk Cancel reply