Chapter 7
Too Far From Home, Too Close To Home
Lost
-HELGA-
This one time, I was having a moral crisis, and Arnold came to me in my dreams as an angel.
This actually happens a lot.
Anyway, as he was leaving, I asked him "What's it like to fly?"
He said "Eh. It's okay."
Liar. Flying is AMAZING. Gravity has its grip on everyone and everything, and here I am flipping it the metaphorical finger (I actually don't have that particular finger anymore).
The thing about wings, though, is they get tired. Especially when you've had nothing to eat or drink in at least 36 hours (my pack of biscuits had not been in the locker, and was likely digesting in the belly of one of the goons back in the bunker, and I didn't trust those "food" bars). My stomach (stomachs? I feel like I might have more than one) were starting to get insistent.
"Helga, slow down! I can't keep up with you!"
Not to mention the mauve anchor tied to my ankles.
Miss Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was not a natural born flyer. Even after getting over herself long enough to take to the air, she was still not comfortable using her wings and was spending a lot of energy just keeping herself aloft.
"Well, excuuuuuuse me, Princess, [A.N: Sorry, I had to] it's hard to hold myself back for you."
"Can we just stop for a few minutes? My lungs are kind of tired from screaming after you pushed me off that mountain."
Right. I did do that. A little bit.
"Ugh, whatever. It's not like we know where we're going, anyway."
We set down in the canyon. "Thanks," she said. "I'm getting better at this, I really am, but it's not easy for me."
"I thought you were advanced, Lloyd."
"Well, CLEARLY, I'm trying to talk a good game." She sighed. "Story of my life, really."
I sniffed. "So. You're admitting you're full of hot air."
"I'm admitting I'm not the poised, confident person I appear to be."
"Oh. Really. So you're NOT pretty, rich, and popular?"
"Oh, no, I'm all those things. But a lot of who I am is a front. Things are… expected of me, you know? I… kinda envy you, actually…"
"…you envy ME."
"You just... get to be YOU, you know? You are what you are. You do what you want. It's all there on the surface. What you see is what you get."
"Yeah. That's me all right. I'm all there, right in the open, bucko. In your face. I'm raw. I'm real. I'm genuine."
"…so what was that huge secret, then?"
"Oh, that? I made that up. I just wanted to see if you would spill anything. Like you said, what you see is what you get, baby."
"Figures." Phew. Secret's safe another day. Good going, Helga. Why thank you, 't mention it, Helga. "I think we should go that way," she suddenly said, pointing off toward the distance.
"Just… like that, huh? What, you suddenly get future vision in your third eye or something?"
"I love that cartoon, but no. I just… have a feeling."
"…whatever. It's not like we can get any more lost."
Interlude
"Nyet, sir. I heve not located the mutant cheeldren yet."
Svetlana Kalashnikov (not her real name) idled by the side of the road. Her tech had not yet located the children's energy signatures. Of course, one could not entirely rely on technology. The Russian mercenary knew this from experience.
The children, despite their abnormal appearance, would instinctively seek out a sign of civilization. And so, Svetlana had chosen the closest outpost, a small truckstop in the middle of nowhere. There she waited, watching from concealment with her binoculars.
"Remember," the Old Man advised her over her earpiece, "We only have one 'magic bullet', so I would advise you make it count. If I can't have them both, I'll at least take one."
"Da, do not worry. I am best sniper in business." She shouldered the rifle as she waited.
Her instincts had not failed her yet. They would come.
I stared at the pair of buildings off in the distance. Son of a gun, she'd actually been on the money.
"Okay… HOW did you know."
"Felt it. I think my electrical powers give me a natural compass or something. Like they point me to other strong electrical sources."
Hm. Made about as much sense as anything else that had happened in the last couple of days.
It turned out to be a small truckstop, just a mechanic next to a small diner. Both were closed now, since it was well past midnight. Bad news for wayward truckers, good news for a couple of tired, starving super-powered preteens.
"Are we going to break in?" Rhonda questioned.
"If it makes you feel bad, you can have your folks send them a check. Right now, we're hungry, we're thirsty, we're tired, and we're, above all, more or less broke." I wrenched the door open.
Huh. Something about the place was strangely familiar.
"Oh, crap, oh crap, we're felons," Rhonda whined.
"Suck it up, Princess. We do what we gotta do. I'm gonna go see what's in the kitchen.
"Guess this is our life now…" She strolled off to explore the rest of the diner while I went to work figuring out the kitchen. Of course, with a mom like Miriam, I knew my way around cooking. It was either learn to cook for myself or starve to death.
I got the grill going, and a few minutes later the cheeseburgers I'd formed out of the leftover meat from today's dinner rush were sizzling on its top.
"This place is nuts," came Rhonda's voice from the main area. "It's like every redneck diner from every road trip movie ever. There's even one of those mechanical bull-thingies."
"Mechanical bull, huh… I haven't seen one of those since…" And it finally hit me why this place was so familiar. I knew exactly where we were.
I ran out to the main area, where Rhonda was examining a framed photo of a blonde woman with glasses in a cowboy hat. The plaque below acknowledged that she was the current record holder in the bull-riding contest.
"That's your mom, isn't it." Rhonda said unnecessarily.
Yep," I said. "That's my mom. Loooooooonnnng story."
"It's not like we're going anywhere for a while. Might as well tell it,"
"Eh, why not. Over dinner. For now, I can tell you that we're about fifty miles from the Wyoming/Idaho border, which finally gives me some idea of which way we're going. You want bacon on your cheeseburger?"
"Cheeseburgers?" She shuddered. "Isn't there a salad bar or something?"
"The kitchen ain't takin' requests. Besides, I think saturated fats are the least of our worries right now."
"…fine, cheeseburger. But no bacon."
"There's a pie, too. If I remember right, the pie was amazing here."
Rhonda shrugged. "Sure, fine. What's one more criminal act at this point?"
"Technically, I'm the one who broke in. So you're not the criminal You're… more of an accessory. You fashionistas like accessories, right? Oh… and you're getting bacon. I already took it out."
"…but I hear this cheering coming from inside, so I go back in thinking I missed the most epic of fails, and there she is, still holding on. She lasted twenty-three seconds, which doesn't sound long, but I guess it was enough that she still holds the record. Anyway, long story short, we won five hundred bucks and free food for life."
Rhonda choked on her mouthful of pie. "…you mean you had free meals coming and we had to break in here?"
"Well, I don't exactly look like is used to, do I?" I pointed out, taking another bite. "Oh yeah, this pie is amazing."
"Best strawberry pie I've ever tasted," admitted Rhonda.
I spat out the pie. "Did you say strawberry? Criminy, no wonder I didn't recognize the taste! Great, now I'm gonna die for breaking and entering!"
"You sure about that?" Rhonda asked. "You've already had like, two pieces. Wouldn't you be feeling something by now?
"First come the hives, then the swelling, then my throat closes up, then-"
"Helga…"
"This is it. I'm bringing down the curtain. Putting the down-payment down on the farm. Signing up for the Choir Invisible. Picking out a halo that fits over my horns-"
"Helga!"
"What? Make it quick, I'm dying."
"No, you're not. You're fine. No hives. No swelling. The only thing you're suffering from is an excess of drama."
I took a deep breath. She was right. I was on my third slice and I was fine. I mentally added "Not allergic to strawberries anymore" to the "Pros of being a mutant" column.
"…right, so where was I…."
"Your mom won the mechanical bull contest."
"Right…. Turns out she was some kind of big rodeo star back in South Dakota back before she met Bob and chucked her dreams down the ol' crapper."
"Guess sometimes parents can surprise you, huh."
"Guess sometimes they can. I just wish it made up for the vast majority of time they don't." I slumped in my seat. "Yo, turn on the tube. I wanna distract myself." When she didn't move, I added. "C'mon. I made dinner."
"…I guess that's fair," she said, getting up, but it turned out to be unnecessary; the TV snapped on before she even got halfway to it.
"Talk about service," I remarked.
"…I just… thought about it coming on, and it came on."
"Guess there's more to your power than just tazing people."
"Yeah, guess so," she said, sitting down.
A Diet Yahoo commercial (promoting the new "millennial-friendly" kumquat, papaya, and acai berry flavors) gave way to a reporter. "The search continues for the missing Hillwood heiress Rhonda Wellington Lloyd." Rhonda's most recent file photo, an Instagraph glamour shot showcasing her finally-regrown hair from some months ago, flashed up on the screen. "She was kidnapped during a break-in at the Lloyd residence three days ago. Her mother, former supermodel Brooke Wellington, and housekeeper Elena Rodriguez both suffered injuries in the attack. Both have made full recoveries."
"Oh, thank god," Rhonda whispered.
"The girl's father is hedge-fund and real-estate magnate Buckley Lloyd, who is offering $250,000.00 for any information leading to her safe recovery."
"You'll notice who they're not offering a quarter-mill bounty for." I remarked.
"They're getting to it."
They never got to it.
"I wonder if they even notice I've been gone." I found myself saying. Too much time around her. My defenses are dropping. I'm getting soft.
"Somebody has to. Your folks are probably frantic."
"Ha! My folks wouldn't notice if I started speaking in tongues and puking gummi bears. Bob is too focused on steering the SS Beeper straight into an iceberg and Miriam's in a permanent smoothie coma, with a little help from old Uncle Absolut. I'm literally the last thing either'd ever think about." I sighed. "Now if OLGA was missing, they'd go apepoopy. They'd wallpaper the whole town in posters, they'd hire detectives, the whole nine yards."
"…hey, what about your sister? I'm sure she must miss you."
"Sure, she probably would… for like a minute… then she'd get distracted. Though I guess it's a step up that she thinks of me 1% of the time."
"That doesn't sound like the Olga that was practically catatonic over worry for you in San Lorenzo."
"No, no, I can picture it, Much weeping. Very cry. A whole lot of 'BABY THITHHHTER!'" I do a pretty good Olga, if I do say so myself. "And then along comes a cute guy or a lost puppy and she forgets all about me, and she's back to being a sponge for Bob and Miriam's affection. Face it, girl, you're lucky you don't have anyone to compete with for your parents' attention."
"…I don't know…" Rhonda said, looking wistful. "Having a sister would've been nice. Someone to look up to and learn from and steal cute sweaters from…"
"You really don't know what it's like, do you. She's like there's a black hole in my life sucking everything away from me."
"No, I really don't know what it's like. I can't. I've never had that experience. And it really sucks that your parents treat you the way that they do, and honestly, I don't know what to tell you about that. I could pat you on the shoulder and give you an empty 'that's rough, buddy', but we both know that would be hollow and meaningless. And I know that I haven't spent nearly enough time with your sister to know what she's really like, but what little time I did showed me that she cares for you a lot. And it sucks that she gets all your parents' attention, but it also sucks that you're turning it around and making it her problem."
"Just shut it, Princess! You don't know what you're talking about!" Criminy, who did she think she was? Just trying to get in my head like some amateur Dr. Bliss? Telling me I'M the problem? "You don't get to judge me! You have EVERYTHING! I have NOTHING! I don't have to sit here and listen to your bargain-basement psychology!" It always happens. Every time I let a little of myself out there, people try getting all touchy feely with me. There is only ONE PERSON who gets to do that with me.
"You know what, whatever. It was obviously a mistake to try having a real conversation with you. I was starting to think that maybe there's a human being in there that I can actually get along with, but if you wanna keep doing the angry loner thing, fine. I'm done wasting my time." She took a deep breath. "I'm going outside to get some fresh air. When you wanna come out, come out, and we can keep going home, or you can stay here, I can move on, and we won't have to waste each others' time anymore." She stood up, doing her Rhonda hair-flip thing, and walked out.
"Sounds fine to me, Rondaloid. Frankly, I think I can go the rest of my life without ever seeing you again." I said as she slammed the door.
~You know she was only trying to help you, Helga~ echoed Arnold's voice in the back of my head.
"Oh, look who's piping up now. Listen up, Arnoldo. Only you get to see my true heart. Not her, not Olga, not anyone else. Besides…. She's probably gonna come crawling back on her own. Little miss sheltered rich girl probably can't handle things without someone to take charge."
The door opened again. "See, Football-Head, what'd I tell y-"
It was her. But she was stumbling, clutching her side with her lower-left hand. I could see a greenish-blue stain spreading across her jumpsuit top.
"I… I think there's someone out there…" she said, collapsing.
I rushed to her. "Who's out there? What happened?" But she was already passing out.
It was pretty cear what had happened. Though. The Old Man had been keeping tabs on us. And he'd found a way to hurt us, faster that expected.
So how's that for a cliffhanger?
Metalheadrailfan: Phoebe freaks out on the inside. Also, as a scientist-in-training, she's naturally curious about the changes she's going through.
Acosta: Yeah, Helga is a fan of pretty much anything readable. Thanks for the continued love.
Ajay: Thanks, I think the multiple viewpoints were a risk, but one worth taking. And you're dead-on with Phoebe. But which of your guesses is dead-on?
Next up, we've got what might be the weirdest chapter of the story. Stay tuned for "It's time… for BIZARRO!" Might be a while though.
