Their mother, before leaving the apartment, had given them two very important instructions: to have their communicators on them—which he knew had been complied with—and to lock the place up tight... it looked like one of them two very simple, yet very important, tasks hadn't been done.
After taking in the fact of the apartment's front door being wide open, he turned his attention to the driveway; were his brothers in the apartment and had one of them accidentally left the door open after going in? He got an answer to both questions after seeing that the Buick wasn't in the driveway. The car, without fail, would be parked in the driveway after their mother, or one of them, used it; none of them parked on the curb, or in any of the neighbors' driveways. After seeing that the car wasn't in the driveway, he turned to look up the street. Had one of his brothers, who had either just returned home or who had been home for a stretch of unknown time, decided to use the car for a quick drive and not closed the door after leaving the apartment? With no deep red Buick Lucerne, a 2011 CX model, which was relatively old and collectible by some who fancied collecting cars, coming down the street he got an answer to that question. Had one or more of his brothers decided to teleport home after encountering some unknown problems with the car, which had been left behind in an unknown location in Lincoln County?
With this latter question on his mind, he took a closer look at the apartment. The regal blue, pin-tuck kitchen drapes, that were on the rod that overlooked the kitchen sink, were drawn; the light blue drapes, that were on the rod that overlooked the living room windows, were also drawn; and so too was the single, blue-green drape that was in front of the little window that was on the apartment's front door. If his brothers were home, they would of opened the drapes; he was quite sure that one or another of them would of had the common sense to close the door after everyone was in the apartment too.
With the atmosphere around the apartment being noted, and after coming to the idea that nothing wrong had happened with the car, he moved the string of fish from his left hand to his right; with his hand newly free of anything, he jabbed it down at the sidewalk before him. A portion of the sidewalk rose; it crumbled then fell away to expose a Don Collins cigar box. He picked the box up, dusted it of the concrete's dust, and of the dirt that covered it, then opened it. All five of the finger knives that he had placed in it for safekeeping were removed and then carefully placed on the hand that nothing was being held in. Once the knives were securely on his person he wiggled his fingers—to ensure that they were on good—then he went towards the apartment.
"Home for the last three hundred and twenty years..." he thought as he went towards the seemingly quiet apartment that he and his family lived in.
It wasn't anything fancy; just your basic upstairs/downstairs apartment that had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a cellar in it. While the shudders and window sills had been painted brown the rest of the apartment had been painted a dark cream color. Their mother, right after finding, and then moving the housing to the county, had notified the county office that she had moved the housing to the county and then had told them that it was located on Forest Hill Dr.; an electrician had come down to wire the apartment up and then the water man had come to connect all of the pipes to the apartment and then someone from the county had come down to inspect both it and the foundation that it had been placed on. His mother, and Bile, had moved in right after everything had been checked over; soon after moving in, they had found themselves as needing to do some internal work on the housing.
He, Hazaar, and Lazeer had just come home from school; a two-week vacation had been in order and they had taken it and, wouldn't you know it but they had used most of that given vacation up on helping their mother and brother fix the apartment up. The floors had been rotten and in need of either some serious repairs or replacing—while Lazeer had done the floor replacing in the living room Bile had done the upstairs bedroom and hallway floor replacing; Hazaar and he had done the kitchen and the second bedroom floor replacing while their mother had done the rest of the floor replacing—and the walls had been in need of either strengthening or to be torn down and then redone from scratch—while Lazeer had had a hand in doing the wall that was between the living room and kitchen they had all had a hand in the other wall replacings that had gone on in the apartment. There had been no front or back door to the place; their mother had purchased both then had done the honors in installing them. Most of the windows had been broken—Hazaar and Lazeer were the ones who had fixed those up—and the yard around the housing had been in need of some serious care.
The front yard had been overgrown with tall, thick grass and some of the most gruesome looking bushes that they had ever seen; Bile and he had done the honors in taking the bushes up—Bile had "stored" the stumps that he had pulled up from the ground until a later date, where they had all been burned at the same time—while he had done the honors of burning the too-tall grass to a much more manageable level and then mowing the rest. Both he and Bile had done weed and dead flower removal after both of them tasks were done. Hazaar and Lazeer had done the backyard; the tall, bushy bushes had either been cut or burned down, the closer-lying trees had been cut down, and the grass had been cut to a much more appropriate height. Their mother had taken care of sturdying the concrete slab that acted as the property's back porch then she had gone to work in taking care of the bigger trees that Hazaar and Lazeer hadn't been able to take down.
In total, they had removed every bit of thirty trees and somewhere around twenty-three bushes; there were still some trees in the backyard that they were working on getting removed.
With the apartment being as old as it was, frequent repairs were needed to be done on it; the water tank and air conditioner had gone out on them several times, the floors and walls had been required to be repaired once every fifty or so years, and the one mattress that had been discovered as still being in the housing was replaced once every year—as were all of the other mattresses, for that matter. After he and his full-siblings had returned home, Hazaar had had a brainy moment in planting an apple tree in the front yard; he had done this without gaining their mother's permission first, which had very nearly cost him his "preciously planted" tree. That tree, to that very day, grew some very fine apples on it; after seeing how good that tree was for them their mother had gone and given Lazeer her blessing on planting his asked-for orange tree in the backyard—like with the apple tree, the orange tree grew some fine oranges on it.
He and his full-siblings hadn't been around when the actual furnishing of the apartment was done; they had been called back to school at the time—their mother had promised to look after them and their interests during the shopping of furnishing items that would go in their rooms. During the two weeks that he, Hazaar, and Lazeer had been home, they had slept in the living room, and they had eaten a lot of restaurant food—they hadn't minded doing either; the event of spending time with their family had been good enough to look over the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and the act of their constantly consuming fast food. The Laz-Y-Boy chair that Bile was a frequent user of had been purchased from Walmart for $50 while the sleeper sofa that their mother slept on had been found at the local dump—it had been cleaned, and quite thoroughly too, before being put in the building. The tv and the entertainment center had also come from Walmart; the tv had cost their mother $35.95 while the entertainment center had cost her $59.98. The larger appliances had all been purchased from one of the local appliance stores—$110.90 for the stove; $65.95 for the washer; $76.98 for the refrigerator; and $67.82 for the dryer... that was what their mother had thrown to get them appliances for the apartment. The smaller appliances—the microwave, coffee pot, the vacuum and carpet cleaner, etc.—had all been purchased from folk who had been holding yard sales. His, Hazaar's, and Lazeer's bed frames had been newly purchased while the frame that Bile slept on had been in the apartment from the get-go; Bile had repaired it to good working order before "slapping" the mattress on it and then calling it a day. The dressers that were owned by Hazaar and Lazeer had cost their mother $45, each; Bile's had come from the dump while his had been purchased from one of their former neighbors for $25. The tables, bookcases, and everything else that was in the apartment had been purchased at a later date; they had either been found at the dump or they had been purchased from someone who had been holding a yard sale.
This was home to all of them; the building before him had been home to them for over three hundred years and, from the looks of it, someone uninvited had walked in.
"And, in all the years that we've been living here, no one has dared to so much as break a window much less use the spare key to get in." he thought as he stopped just before the four steps that ran up to the apartment's open front door.
He decided to keep his fish with him; if he entered the apartment, then encountered someone violent, they, along with the finger knives, would be a useful tool to keep him safe. Slowly, very slowly, he went up the four steps of the front porch then entered the building that he and his family called home; regardless of the place being cold on the inside it still felt the same to him. It still felt like home. Other than the normal, home-like feeling that he was getting there was something else that struck him as odd—there was a violated feeling going on in the apartment that was so thick that he could probably cut through it with his finger knives. This secondary feeling caused his skin to crawl; if he hadn't been wearing pants, or underwear, his pubes, which was the only hair that he had on his body, would probably be standing on end.
He went down the short hallway that led to the stairs that went up to the second level; it was so quiet that he could probably hear a pin drop. With it being so quiet, he decided to make his movements small—so not to attract unwanted attention and so not to make anyone who was still in the house grow alarmed over his presence. He was about to head up the stairs when something caught his eye; swallowing hard, he turned then took in the living room. His eyes came close to popping from their sockets after he did so.
The sleeper sofa was there, as was the Laz-Y-Boy, the tv, and the coffee table; the radiator heater looked to of been moved from its spot near the wall. The empty spaces that were on the entertainment center was what caused him to nearly gasp—the gaming consoles were all gone... there were empty spaces where the Nintendo 64, Super Nintendo, the Atari, and the Playstation systems had been. As if that wasn't bad enough, the door to the cabinet that the games for each of the game systems were kept in was open; it looked like all of the games for their played systems were gone.
"That sucks balls!" the pit of his stomach went cold for a few seconds before growing hot with his fury over his and his brothers' game systems, along with all of their compatible games, all being taken. "Someone made off with the fuckin' game systems but left everything else in the room?"
He went into the kitchen next; while on the way there, his chest started to give him grief. He, who had just realized that he had been holding his breath in, breathed; the ache in his chest went away at once, it was swiftly replaced with shock and confusion a few seconds later.
The kitchen was the same; everything that was suppose to be in it was in it, which he found to be quite strange. When he checked the fridge, he found that everything that had been in it that early morning was still in it; when he checked the cabinets, he found that everything that had been in them that early morning was still in them; when he checked the counter-tops, he found that everything that had been on them that early morning was still on them. When he turned, then started going towards the cellar door, he found himself gripped in such fear that he decided to not open the door or go down to see what was or wasn't still in there. He backed away from the door then he turned to go down the hallway that the downstairs bathroom and the bedroom that Hazaar and Lazeer used was on; just before going down the hall, he stopped to place his string of fish on the kitchen table—with his mind being set in the way that it was this move of his was both automatic and unchecked.
"And, unlike the kitchen, there's things missing on this hallway."
The photographs of him, his brother's, and of their mother were all missing; the walls of this hallway use to be full of photographs... it was just as bare as could be now. When he stopped to look in the downstairs bathroom, he found that it was nearly the same except for one thing—a small section of the floor, that was just before the sink, had been ripped up. He found himself wondering why the bathroom floor had been torn up; someone had obviously come in, and had obviously taken ample advantage of the opportunity to steal what they had, and they had also ripped a section of the bathroom floor up. Why take the entertainment systems, and their compatible games, and the framed pictures of him and his family, and tear up a section of the bathroom floor, but not take the furniture items? He gave the bathroom a second look before going down the hall to his younger brothers' bedroom.
"Mom's going to have a hissy fit when she gets home!" he thought as the anger and confusion bubbled and churned within him. "Bile-O... either you, Hazaar, or Lazeer better start burial plans because, once mom sees what happened after one of you three didn't lock the door after you left here this morning, she's going to be coming after one of you."
It didn't take him very long to note the extreme change that had taken place in his younger brothers' bedroom. Not only was the room's door wide open but the room was also nude of nearly everything that had been in it.
Gone were Lazeer's model planes and dinosaurs. Gone were Hazaar's model trains and spaceships. Gone were the things that had once been on the room's two dressers. Gone were his brothers' posters and... by golly gosh! His younger brothers were going to flip after seeing that their hunting trophies and school-made trophies and plaques were gone. The beds, complete with bedding; the dressers; the single bookcase; and the corner table that his brothers used when they were building a model were all there but everything else was gone.
"Someone is going to get a foot up the ass after mom sees this!" he thought after seeing the state of the room. "Hell, my foot might be going up the ass of whoever left that door unlocked!"
After seeing the state of the downstairs rooms, he went back to where the still-open front door was then made progress to the stairs; just before going up the stairs, he stopped to take in the open-doored closet that was just before the item that would take him to the apartment's second level. It was no surprise to him that all of the coats, and their mother's bags, and the two boxes that had previously been on the shelf that overlooked the closet rod, were missing; his stomach dropped after he saw the naked rod that was in the closet—of the items that had previously been in the closet only the vacuum, the carpet cleaner, the toilet paper, the AC/furnace filters, and the two 4x4 boards remained. When he resumed his trek to the stairs, and then started making his way up to the apartment's second level, he did so quickly and loudly—with himself being as angered and as shocked as he was, doing anything slow and quiet wasn't allowed to be done. At the moment, he was hoping that the one behind the burglary of his and his family's apartment was still inside; he'd love to kick whoever's ass it was who was responsible for taking their stuff and he'd also like to find where it all was.
He wasted little time after reaching the second level of the building; the short hallway that he was on had three doors on it—the one closest to him belonged to the upstairs bathroom while the one that was across from it belonged to the upstairs closet; the one that was at the far end of the hallway belonged to his and Bile's room. He checked the bathroom quickly; unlike the one downstairs this one was fully intact. When he checked the closet, he found that it was in the exact same shape as that of the downstairs closet was in—the rest of his family's coats, the boxes of old photographs and family-made video tapes, the boxes that contained his and Bile's school-made trophies and plaques, and the boxes that contained his mother's clothing were all missing; all he found was a black, blank, empty space.
With them two rooms checked, he made his way to his and his brother's shared bedroom; like with Hazaar's and Lazeer's shared bedroom, their bedroom door was wide open. After reaching the room, he slowly peered inside—there was no way in hell that he was going to just wander in; for all he knew, the one who had done the robbing of his family's things was still inside... and was just waiting to add murder to his list of bad deeds. Once he saw that it was safe, he went into the room fully; his whole entire body went as cold as an ice cube after he did so.
"Ooooooh shiiiiiiit!" he moaned just as loudly as he could. "Raquel Welch! Rita Hayworth! My Christopher Lloyd poster that had Marilyn Monroe hiding behind it... oooohhh shiiiiit!"
Oh, that wasn't all that was missing in the room. All of what had been on the bookcase—the books, the magazines, the whatnots, and the knives—was gone, as were the four models that had once sat on the stump-table. He didn't need to be told that the two models that he had recently purchased were also gone. The dressers were still in the room, as was the stump-table, but everything that had been on them was missing; the beds were still in the room—the bedding that was on his bed was still there and he guessed that his brother's hidden bed was still clothed too. His and his brother's hunting trophies—Bile's Water Buffalo skull and horns and his Moose skull and antlers—had also been taken. When he checked a look under his bed, he saw that his box of magazines was also gone; the contents that had once been in his secret stash were also found to be missing.
R-r-r-r- robbed..." he said in a throaty whisper. "Oh please mommy help me, we've been fuckin' robbed of everything but the furniture!"
He didn't waste any time in turning tail and then fleeing the once full-of-items room that he and his older brother shared. His heart was pounding in his chest, that was how fast he went when he left the room and then went down the hall.
Ka-bam, ka-boom, ka-bam, ka-boom.
Down the hall he went, then down half of the stairs; he had only just reached the middle-portion of the stairs when he put the brakes on.
Ka-thud, ka-thud, ka-thud...
His heart slowed to normal speed for only a second before returning to its former, racing speed. The sound of near-silent footsteps could be heard downstairs and, what's more, he could see a shadow moving about. This shadow danced along the hallway carpet before disappearing; he took a single step down the stairs, then a second, before putting a pause to his descent—while he couldn't be certain of it he thought he heard someone doing the "silent" coughing thing behind his, or her, hand. While keeping his back pressed to the wall that was to the left of the stairs he went down two more steps before putting a permanent stop to his descent; his throat, at the moment in time, was dry, he felt cold and clammy, and his stomach was bouncing all over the place. Was he terrified? You bet your fine damn bottom-dollar he was! Here he was, nearly descended from the apartment's second level, and there were one, maybe two, other people who he didn't know in the living room.
"Someone came home," the croaky voice that belonged to one of the people in the living room said. "There were fish on the kitchen table, and we heard footsteps going upstairs."
"Still inside? Did whoever it was that came in leave? Did you see who it was?" another voice, this one being gravelly, and which sounded eerily familiar, asked.
"No sir," the first voice replied. "As you instructed, the front door was left open. It was still open when I came up to see what was going on."
"Did you close the door?" the second voice asked.
"Yessir,"
And now he was trapped. His level of terror escalated; here he was, on the stairs, and there were two, or more, people in the living room... did they have guns, or other weaponry on their persons? Would a bolt to the front door work, or would he be chancing his life if he decided on doing such a thing? Not only had he come home to find the place burglarized but he had also walked into a finely made trap... that pissed him off as much as it scared him.
What could he do? Could he rush back upstairs, then run to his and Bile's bedroom? Could the door to his and Bile's shared bedroom be closed fast enough, then locked, and could he possibly make it to the window, then open the window, then jump out before the ones who were in the apartment got to him? The trouble for his jumping through the one window that was on the apartment's second level may cause him to get some scrapes and bruises, and maybe a broken bone or two, but it'd make him go from being trapped to not being trapped.
He had done three stupid moves since coming home: one, he had left the fish that he had caught on the kitchen table; two, he had been loud in going up the stairs; and three, he hadn't thought about placing a call to either his mother or to one of his brothers. A call to them, to see if they were really at home or not, would of told him that something was up and it would of also warned him to not step foot in the apartment until the cops came down to see what was up.
Whoever it was that was in the living room had obviously come out from his, or her, hiding space after hearing his loud ascent up the stairs; the fish had been seen, and then claimed from the table, and then taken to the other person who was in the living room. The door had been silently closed sometime after his ascent to the apartment's second level, and his checking out the upstairs closet, bathroom, and bedroom, was done.
His knees shook; all color in the building washed out as he came close to both hurling and collapsing. At the last possible second, he prevented both the vomit from coming up and his legs from giving out on him. After gaining control of himself again he turned then slowly went up the stairs. He had just achieved two of the ten-present steps when he stopped.
"You're not a kid anymore! You're twenty-one hundred years old and you have enough power to wield off any attacker." his conscious told him. "You have a hunting knife in your bag, and a set of finger knives on the fingers of your left hand... this is your place so why the hell are you being so scared and why are you thinking about escaping it?"
His mother would not want him to be in any danger and neither would any of his brothers; he was a mid-teenage boy... while he was strong and powerful he was also still a kid—if the two, or more, in the living room were grown men, and were armed, and if he wasn't fast in either getting out of the apartment or defending himself he could be seriously hurt if not killed.
With this in mind, he resumed his trek to the building's second floor. He went up two more steps, then was in the process of going up another when he stopped; he started to wonder where the ones in the living room had been hiding. He had checked everything in the house. The living room; the hallway that came off the foyer; the kitchen; the hallway that came off the kitchen; the two closets and bathrooms... he had even checked the cellar—
"No you didn't!" his conscious screamed at him. "You got cold feet before reaching for the door... you decided to forgo going in there, remember?"
And so he had and so it looked like his bout of fear in not opening the cellar door, and then going down into the cellar, was what had kept him from either being killed or captured by whoever it was that had been hiding in it. Anger rushed over him after he realized that he had made two other mistakes; he had sent the items from his deer kill, and then the turkey that he had claimed, to the cellar—the ones who had been in the cellar had seen the items and then had put two-and-two together on his upcoming return home.
"If they had been down there then why hadn't they come out to grab me after I was in the apartment? Why did they wait to come out until after I was upstairs?" he wondered.
And, with this, he decided to use one of the learned moves that he had been taught when he had been a student at the University of Telepathy; he placed his hands flat on the wall, then breathed in deeply, then started getting the information that he needed—it didn't matter if it was living or not; anything retained memories and he was about to find out what had happened in the apartment by reading its memory of the events that had happened over the last couple of hours.
"I think that was one of the best meals that I've had since moving out on my own." Gracie said right when her date's brother was starting to gain the information that he wanted to get from his and his family's lived-in apartment. "Who taught you how to cook? Did you learn on your own or—"
"My mother—she's a fine cook. Like with so many other things, she taught me and my brothers well on how to use a stove." Bile replied.
"She must be commended then—raised four boys on her own and taught them how to cook."
Bile smiled at the compliment, and acknowledgement, of his mother's cooking and of her teaching him and his brothers how to cook. Some men were sloppy cooks; when they worked a stove, they put little to no effort in on what they were making. They just made it then ate it then went on with their day—either a bout of indigestion or food poisoning would come knocking on their door sometime after the latest meal was consumed for them types of male cookers. The men who put a little more effort in on their cooking were low in numbers them days while the men who put a better than grand effort in on their culinary skills were nearly extinct; wouldn't you know it but the men who were the latter of them three groups tended to be better than fine partners.
After around an hour to an hour and a half's worth of fun on the couch, he had simply lay low, with Gracie still on him and with him still being in her. About ten or so minutes after their ordeal was done, he had gently pushed her from him, then had removed himself from her, then had started the process of taking his clothes up from the floor and then re-dressing himself. The pair of brown pants and socks that he had worn had been put on, then his shoes had been slid on; he had only just taken his winter wears up from the floor and then placed them on the couch's arm when he noticed that his shirt was missing. After two seconds of searching, he had found it—Gracie, who had yet to dress herself, had taken it up and then placed it on herself. He had taken one look at her before smiling; instead of demanding for the shirt to be given back to him he had let her keep it—to him, the act of a man allowing a woman to have and then wear his shirt after their deed was done was a good way of one being gentlemanly... and it also showed well that he cared about his date's feelings.
After getting himself dressed, he had wandered into Gracie's kitchen; her fridge had been raided soon after the general look-around was done. A pack of hotdogs, a few meat patties, two things of pork chops, a slice of ham, and three steaks had been in the freezer part of the refrigerator—two things of banana-flavored ice cream, a roll of sausage, a thing of bacon, and a pack of ribs had also been in the fridge's freezer compartment; after seeing the three steaks, he had taken no interest in anything else. Why a single-living woman needed three grill-sized steaks was beyond him but, yeah, once he had seen them three steaks he had decided to take two of them out and then cook them—both he and Gracie had just gotten through with doing a rigorous work-out so they had needed the protein; with this in mind, he had also made the two of them a side of two eggs a-piece.
While Gracie hadn't been a top-notch lover she had been decent enough to satisfy him; he had felt very relieved to have his itch for sex taken care of and he was quite sure that she had been very satisfied at the end of their ordeal.
After throwing the steaks on the stove, then adding a touch of seasoning to them, then placing the four eggs in the same skillet that they had been cooked in, he had grabbed two plates from the cabinet that contained the dishware, and then two forks and knives out from the drawer that the silverware was in; while consuming his meal he had listened to his date, who had just then decided to "introduce" him to her pets. The older of her two cats was called Felix, he was one of them oddball, hairless breeds that was called a Sphynx, while the younger of her cats was called Jam—he was just six months of age and he was a Siamese. Why his date had decided to pin the name Jam on the younger of her two cats he didn't know; the hamster that she owned, who's name was Brutus, was not a hamster. Not only was the thing twice as big as the animal that she claimed it was but it also had a long tail—to his knowledge, hamsters were either tailless or had small stubs for tails. She had this thing in a cage big enough to house a rabbit; it had a wheel, a water bottle, a ceramic dish that acted as its food bowl, more than two tunnels, and a hammock in its lived-in environment. Honestly, if he had to place a name to this animal, he'd say that it was either a Degu or a type of huge Gerbil.
After consuming their meal, then squaring away their dishes, he chanced a look at the room's hanging wall-clock; he was shocked after seeing that it was heading on 3:20. Not only had he missed meeting his younger brothers for lunch but he, and they, were late for returning home.
With the time noted, he said his goodbyes, then explained the reason to why he had to leave so soon after eating, then grabbed his coat, then left the apartment. He left his shirt behind; he had more than a dozen like what he had left behind and, besides, what did it cost to get a new one anyways? A dollar to two dollars for a single pack of three shirts that were 2X large—he wore nothing fancy or overly expensive; he preferred to keep it simple over elegant and expensive.
"Hazaar... Lazeer... you still alive out there?" after driving five miles from his now former date's residence he had taken his communicator up from its place on his belt and then held it to his lips. This action of his caused him to swerve into the lane that was beside the one that he was in.
"No! We froze to death a few hours ago." Hazaar's tough-sounding voice came through his communicator loud and clear. "Lazeer's nuts flew north for the winter; he's decided to become a woman now."
"Very funny, I'm on my way to get you two." Bile said. "Be ready to hop in; I'm teleporting the car, and us, to the start of the tunnel that's near Green River right after you two are inside."
He sped through two red lights, then came close to clipping the bumper of a Lamobgu Mercedes—one of the newer model cars that looked like it had come out of a nightmare instead of a car manufacturing plant—, then made a hard right turn.
What the hell had his younger brothers done in his absence? Had they shopped, or done anything useful with their time, or had they just sat, or stood, around fighting one another? He cursed himself for losing track of the time; not only had he gone to Gracie's place at around noon but he had also forgotten about his two, younger brothers. A woman had thrown him a curve-ball; he had been side-tracked by sex... a member of the opposite sex had pulled him away from his younger brothers, one, of which, who had an eye ailment that caused him to not be able to be out and about when the sun wasn't covered. Had they eaten anything? Oh shit! He had gone off with a woman... had abandoned his brothers at lunchtime... they were probably half-starved!
With this thought in mind, he pulled over at a restaurant called N'Do'Nuts; he had ten dollars on him, which he used to get three espressos and then a box of nine donuts. With this purchased, he exited the store then went to the car; the items that he had just gotten through purchasing were either placed between the driver's and passenger seat or in one of the two available cup holders—the third espresso was placed between his legs. After starting the car up, then driving away from the store, he checked his communicator; it, like all of the others that were made and then sold to the general, non-Milky Way Galaxy public, had a locator on it that would tell him where his final contact had been at the time of their last correspondence. Upon checking his communicator, he noted that they were five miles from where he was—with their now being know to be around the corner from him, he slowed down. It took just two turns, then a single stretch of long road, before he finally reached the location that his communicator had said they were in.
"What the hell..." Bile exclaimed after finding his two brothers, then noting that the both of them had what looked to be five or six bags on their persons. "You two went crazy on the shopping, didn't you?"
"What the hell happened to your shirt? Did you get hungry and eat it or did your latest lover steal it?" Lazeer asked after getting into the car and then getting himself situated. Instead of taking the front passenger seat, he had decided to take up the two, back passenger seats.
"Left it as a souvenir at my latest girlfriend's place." Bile replied.
"Bet she burned it after you left." Lazeer said.
"She was wearing it when I left her place."
"Got her name? Number? Address?" Hazaar asked. "Everything that you'll need for when, after the baby's dropped on our doorstep, you can return it?"
"Shut your face you twerp." Bile replied. He smiled regardless of saying this; with his brothers now being in the car, he pointed at the donuts and espressos. "Enjoy yourselves."
"You say for me to shut my face then you offer donuts and espressos." Hazaar said as he took one of the espressos up from the car's cup holders. "You should of said stuff your face instead."
"Did I hear the word donut?" Lazeer's head appeared above the backs of the driver's and front passenger seats; after hearing the word donut, then seeing Hazaar gesture at what was in the remaining cup holder, and then at the box of donuts that were in front of the car's dual cup holders, he reached his arm over the seats. He took the lone-remaining espresso up from its cup holder then he took a strawberry-filled donut out from the box. "Thanks Bro!"
It had taken him all of thirty minutes to get over the pain that Hazaar had caused him to go through; his groin had throbbed and his balls had just about felt as if they were going to explode... the pain had been that damn bad for him. At around the fifteen minute mark, he had chanced the move in getting to his feet; after taking around two, leg-shaky trips around the alley that he and his brother had been in he had gone to retrieve his bags—any and all misgivings felt between he and his brother had been forgiven and then forgotten; he had simply knocked his fist into his shoulder and then given him half of the money that he had had on him. They had gone shopping right after he had gotten over the full of his pains.
For him, his purchases had consisted of two magazines and then two models—one being of a McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II and the other being of a three-headed dragon. There was an armature, a wad of clay, and more than four jars of paint in the dragon model's box; he had plans to really deck this model out—he wanted it to look similar to the form that his mother took on when she decided to use her Transformative powers to go from being her true self into being a dragon. Hazaar had gotten himself several magazines; the watch that he had purchased had cost him $25 while the model that he had gotten had cost him $15. The model that his brother had purchased for himself was what he called a surprise buy; the picture that was on the box showed a weird, but cool as shit, hybrid animal—the head and neck was like that of an Eagle while the arms, body, and legs were definitely Tyrannosaur in origin; the tail and wings were bat-like in origin. The wording on the box said that the animal was the most fierce creature that had ever flown the skies; the Tyranaglat is the most fearsome of all flying animals.
After most of the bulk of their purchases were done he had found himself as having $10 left of what he had previously had on him; he had used this to get Lhaklar something. The 1939 Chevy Coupe Lowrider that was in one of his bags was for his older full-brother; even though that had taken all of his money he had been fine with spending what he had had on him and he had also been very happy with his purchases. Hazaar had been a little more richer than he at that point in their shopping; with $30 on his person, he had been able to purchase Bile more than two things. There were two knife-related magazines in one of Hazaar's bags and there was also a nifty skull-like thing, that was designed to look more like a brain than a skull, in one of his bags too.
Not a thing had been eaten, and neither of them had thought about using five or so dollars of their money to get something to eat; they were more than flattered to see that Big Bro Bile had "serviced" them with donuts and espressos.
"Got you this, Bro." Hazaar said after taking a sip from his espresso, then eating about half of a jelly glazed donut. He reached into the one bag of his, that had the words Spencer's Gifts on both its front and back; the brain-designed skull was removed and then shown to his brother, who was doing his best to pay attention to both the road and to him.
"Holy shit! That looks freakin' awesome!" Bile exclaimed. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I also got you some magazines."
"Who's treating who now? I leave you two behind in the cold and you've got me gifts." Bile said. "Thank you."
"Lazeer had to use his drops once." Hazaar admitted. "The sun came out and—"
"Yeah yeah—expose the misfortune of my day will ya?" Lazeer sniffed. "Hazaar gave me a kick between the legs; at the time that I was up and walking around, the sun came out. I wasn't under cover—you know the rest of what happened after that happened."
Bile gave Hazaar a sharp look; he glared him him for only a second before turning to look back at the road. The three of them felt a characteristic zapping feeling, then they heard the car around them giving off the sounds that a tv would give off when it was in static-mode a short two seconds later; the next thing that they knew was that they were driving away from the mouth of the tunnel that ran onto a stretch of road that led straight into Green River. With the act of teleporting them from Nordic to their lived-in town complete, Bile gave his head a shake; the things that his younger brothers did as a way to give one or the other of them a sort of payback for a misdone deed.
Hazaar, after the teleportation from Point A to Point B was complete, explained the reason to why he had assaulted their younger brother's groin; according to him, Lazeer had leaped out of nowhere to spook him. He had fallen into a ditch and then he had gotten mad enough to chase after and then pick a fight with him. When he chanced a look at Lazeer, he did see the tell-all signs of a fight having occurred between him and Hazaar; Lazeer's right cheek was a bruised up mess, his lower lip had a slit in it, and there were around six or so closed-off cuts around his chin, forehead, and left cheek. To him, Lazeer's groin-based injury was the worst injury that he had sustained in the fight.
Lazeer took up from where Hazaar stopped in giving out an explanation as to what all had happened between them during his absence. He claimed that most of the money that he and Hazaar had used during their second round of shopping had come from the women that he had decided to slip a few bills from; $35 of what had been split between he and Hazaar had actually been what he had had on his person before deciding to lift some cash from the ladies of the bus depot. The money had just been split and then given over when the sun decided to come out from behind the clouds; with his not knowing, or being prepared, for that to happen he had been in direct line of contact with the very thing that his left eye was sensitive to. The claim of Hazaar helping him with the task of getting to a shaded area of the alley was given credence to by Hazaar, as was the claim of Hazaar helping him in getting the drops from his coat pocket. Once the sun had gone to being hidden behind the clouds again they had left the alley and then started shopping.
"Can you two be anymore immature?" Bile asked after all of the daily events explaining was done. "A kick to the nuts is not something that one wants to go through, Hazaar."
"He pissed me off."
"So what, what he did didn't call for any abuse of the sacred sack."
"You've knee'd Lhaklar and me in the nuts several times." Hazaar pointed out.
"Yeah, I have, but that doesn't mean that it's a-okay to do. What I did I didn't mean to do—I wasn't paying attention to my rough housing and you damn well know it." Bile replied.
"Check the mail in the coming days—my balls will be sending you a thank-you postcard for your generously given concern." Lazeer said.
"Tell them nuts of yours thanks but no thanks—I don't need nor want any nutsy postcards coming my way." Bile replied. "A magazine—you know my preference—or a photograph of a lovely, near-naked woman will be fine enough."
"Haven't you had enough of women for a while?" Lazeer asked. "Aren't your tits freezing?"
"I'm naturally heated Little Brother." Bile replied.
"In one of the stores that we went into Lazeer got to look down a woman's shirt." Hazaar blurted.
"Oh yeah, see anything good?" Bile glanced at his youngest brother for only a second before returning to facing forward again.
"Some nice mountains, Big Bro." Lazeer replied. "She let me see them—I was buying mom a gift... she just leaned over the counter right when I was paying for what I got for her. Not only did she show me her mountains but she also did quite a bit of flirting with me."
"When you get your glass, make sure that you set up a territory of your own." Bile said while sustaining the chuckle that wanted to come out. "Can't have you hoggin' all my ladies and I definitely don't want to be funning around with a woman after you've had a go with her."
"Gross! I'll set up shop in Nordic. There's not only plenty there but it seems that all who walk the city are finer than fine." Lazeer commented.
Hazaar ate two more donuts before deciding to leave the rest; Lazeer ate another donut before going on to consuming his espresso; Bile ate two donuts before deciding to pull over to retrieve the things that were in the trunk of the car. After his bags were safely in the back passenger seat, and with himself behind the wheel again, he turned his attention to the radio; the station that Gracie had decided to listen to while on the drive back to her apartment was playing a series of chick-tunes so he was fast in asking Hazaar to dig one of the music discs that were in his bag out and then insert it into the car's stereo system. They listened to four of the songs that were on the Motley Crue Theatre of Pain disc in complete silence. Hazaar slid his brother's music-containing bag into one of his shopping bags then went back to drinking his espresso.
The trip that he had taken in going to retrieve his purchases from the car's trunk had cost him a little; with his shirt being in Alpine, probably still being worn by his latest female companion, and with his coat not being zipped, he had gotten cold during the time that he had been out of the car. He took three, big gulps from his espresso before putting it in one of the car's cup holders; there was a twenty minute period before them now before they'd reach home. With the day's events—his shopping, then his partaking in a female companion, and then his having a near heart attack after noticing that he had forgotten all about Hazaar and Lazeer—now past him he had a mind to slip into bed and then take a few hour nap after getting home. He was exhausted—as if to confirm this, he held his left arm up then yawned into it.
"Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"
His heart was beating frantically in his chest; with all that he had seen that had happened in the apartment earlier that day he thought that its action was correctly done. At the moment, he was so freaked out that he was near to willing to take to his heels—the thought of locking himself in his and Bile's shared bedroom and then partaking in a little faithful jumping through the room's one window didn't seem all that bad to him right now.
What he had seen had given his system a good jolting; his father, along with four Goblins, had entered the apartment by using a spell to make the locked door become unlocked. After coming in, then taking the place in, his father had given the order for his henchmen to quit standing around and to go to work in collecting everything but the furniture items. While the Goblins had been removing their gloves, and then taking their wands out, his father had been going from room to room; he had checked each and every room out before deciding to take up the kitchen. His cellular had been removed from one of his coat pockets and then used right after he had taken a seat at the table—the chair that he had taken to sit in had, ironically, been the one that his mother would sit in during meal-hour.
There had been a lot of blue lights going off from each of the wands that the four Goblins had been using; all of their things had been spell-sent from the apartment to, he presumed, his father's place on Moas. His father, for all of fifteen or twenty minutes, had remained in the kitchen before moving into the living room, where he had taken up residency in the Laz-Y-Boy chair. The man had only gone upstairs after hearing one of his henchmen calling for him; apparently, his Christopher Lloyd poster, with the photograph turned poster of a naked Marilyn Monroe on the back, had fallen to his bed during the Goblins' activities of cleaning his and Bile's room out of their possessions. The Goblin who had called for his father had asked if the two posters were also desired to be removed from the property; he had done the same for Bile's posters of Rita Hayworth and Raquel Welch. His father had hesitated in making a decision on the posters before saying for all of them to be sent to the location where all of his family's other stuff was being sent to; after saying this, then after watching the four posters be sent away, he had gone down to the kitchen. The bastard had raided the fridge for a glass of milk, which he had just sat and looked at.
About ten or so minutes of milk staring, and hand staring, had happened before he had gotten up and then started aiding the Goblins in their given task; instead of going to Hazaar's and Lazeer's bedroom, and then robbing them of their things, he had gone down to the cellar.
Most of what was down in the cellar had been left behind; it was just Bile's torches that had been sent to whatever location his father was sending all of their stuff to—his father, just before sending them to their unknown location, had said something around thinking that they were special. So the torches were special, but so was the other stuff that was down in the cellar. He felt a trifle bit offended by the action of the torches only being given "special" attention and not the weights or dumbbells. After sending the torches away, then checking the washer and dryer of clothes, his father had come up and then called for one of the Goblins—a man by the name of Losal had been given the order to go back to camp; six members of his father's military had been requested to be retrieved. The man had done as he had been told to; after twenty-five minutes of being away from the apartment, he had returned with the six-ordered militants and with two others that he hadn't been sent to retrieve.
Apparently, after seeing all of the commotion going on between Mr. Losal and the six military Goblins, his paternal step-grandfather and his oldest son had decided to check into things. Since everything had all but been sent away, neither of the two men had been required to lend any assistance in robbing the apartment of its material things; his father had given the order for everyone in his group to head down to the cellar and then to just lay low until one or more of his family returned home. Really, after moving down to the cellar, all his father had done was light a fire and then stand by—the collected parts from his deer, and his turkey, had just about made four of the Goblins leap for the stars; none of them had expected for anything to appear in the cellar or, in the case of the things that he had collected from his deer kill, had expected for anything to appear and then go plop after gravity took over in carrying it to the cellar's floor. His father had been quick in investigating what had been sent to the cellar; after seeing what it all was, he had personally spell-sent it to, he presumed, the same location that everything else had been sent to.
His assumption of it being his loud ascent up the stairs that had alerted everyone to his presence being in the apartment was correct; a Goblin named Rog Deruno had come out from the cellar slowly then, after noticing the string of fish that he had foolishly left on the kitchen table, he had taken it up and then gone to where the front door was. The door had been closed then the man had gone back to report his findings; the fish had been given the same treatment as most of the other items that had once been in the apartment—away to unknown land they had gone.
That was just great... just fucking gah-reat! Come home after a fine day to find your home burglarized by your father; the man who fathered you not only takes most of what you own but also sends your hunt and then your fish to the same unknown location that everything else had been sent to. The man, after sending the fish away, had left the cellar; the Goblins had followed with granddad Cheshire and uncle Efagti following on their heels. Two of the Goblins had been ordered to guard the back door; two more had been ordered to stand in the hallway that Hazaar and Lazeer's shared room was on; while everyone else was waiting in the living room. His father... oh that ballsy bastard was sitting in the Laz-Y-Boy, which he had just so turned around to face where the stairs began and where, if he hadn't seen the shadow, or heard someone talking, he'd of seen him after he finished his descent from upstairs.
That would of been very fine and dandy for his father! Job well done bucks; we have one now just to wait for the rest. Fine day just went for bust; he had danced his ass off, had made lots of money, most of which was needed for Lazeer's goggled glass, and then done some hunting and fishing, and then returned home to find this as happening. He was so scared over what was going on that he was near to letting a yellow river roll down his leg.
He looked at his finger knives; they were long, and sharp, and very well polished—he could use them but... but what if one of the Goblins had a gun on them? Would his father let one of his Goblins shoot at him? Was it just one of them lunge, grab, then bind the hands and feet operations that his father had in mind or... He looked at the brown bag that's strap was still clamped in his right hand; along with the loin cloth that he had worn when he had danced in them three clubs he also had his hunter's outfit and a hunting knife in it—his bag was heavy, so he could well use it as a weapon as well. He could swing it, knock a Goblin or two off their feet, then race upstairs to his and Bile's shared room; the door would be slammed shut then he would run to the window, then climb out, then jump down to the ground—and hopefully not get but so badly injured in the process. He had his communicator on him; he could contact his mother and brothers after escaping the apartment. He could warn them about what was going on, so they'd not walk in on the trap that had been so carefully laid for them. If any of them things didn't work then he'd just settle on using his powers and then trying to make a quick, but very loud, exit—which would hopefully attract a lot of attention from the ones who lived around him and his family.
With all of this in mind, he took two, silent, steps back. He had just taken a third when he turned around. Another step was gained right when his father called out for him.
"Which of my boys is that? Bile? Lhaklar? Hazaar?"
He froze in mid-step; the blood running through his veins slowed up, he very nearly lost his bladder, and his body shook violently for a second or two before returning to being still. In all, it took him ten seconds to get control of himself; upon gaining control of himself he turned around then decided to go for broke in trying to make it out of the apartment the normal way—either way, he had a feeling that he was to get out of the building some way. After turning around, then giving his shoulders a shake, he started his descent down the stairs; just before exposing who he was, he shoved his weapon-wielding left hand into his coat—if anything happened, he didn't want anyone to know what he had on him. If any sort of ruckus started, he wanted to throw a few surprises—having a concealed weapon on him was a good way to do so.
Each step that he took felt like a mile; he felt as if his feet were boulders, and, thanks to his holding his breath in, his chest was as tight as could be. Upon reaching the last step of the stairs he stopped. He let the breath that he was holding in out then he did nothing more than breathe silently—with the situation being as it was, he needed to be in total control of himself; not only was his safety at risk but so was his family's. When he felt himself in full control again he took that last step; he felt as light as a feather after exiting the stairs and then coming into view of his father.
"And, just as my Telepathy showed, there he is." he thought after turning to look at his father, who was still seated, all cozy-like, in the Laz-Y-Boy chair.
At first, he thought that the man was wearing nothing but black; the black wool overcoat was long and was pulled around him tight. Only when the man stood did he seen the outfit that he seemed to have a fancy for wearing. The burgundy tuxedo jacket had a tail on it that reached down to the floor; the white, button down, long sleeve shirt had belled cuffs on its ends; the vest was a little darker burgundy color, and it had matching ties on it to boot; the silk cravat tie was a crisp white color; the pants were held up by a black belt; and the burgundy-colored shoes were just as buffed up as could be.
The Goblins, granddad Cheshire, and uncle Efagti stood behind him; eight strong, with his father making the official tally being nine. Most of the Goblins that were standing behind his father had some of the meanest looks on their faces—they looked about ready to go to bloody damn war! After noting that two of the six Goblins wore tuxedos he put two-and-two together on who the mean-looking Goblins were—they were from his father's military. Did any of the militant Goblins have any weapons—guns or anything else with which to make him bleed—on them? He gave the Goblins who were wearing army fatigues a short, close look before turning his attention to his father, who had since taken two steps towards him.
"If you have any weapons on your person you best just toss them," his father said. "You're very outnumbered here and don't you forget that I am your father."
"Thirteen to one... yes I would say that I'm pretty outnumbered here." Lhaklar said.
"Apparently, when you went to the University of Telepathy, you learned well on how to use the wall of a building to gain the memory of what happened in it." his father said while giving his head a quick nod.
"Thief."
"Oh now, watch yourself." TazirVile took a step towards his son before stopping and then turning halfway around. "Nothing of yours has been stolen... but we might need to talk of the posters."
"My mother will be pretty jealous after hearing that you got a boner after looking at them." Lhaklar said. Efagti uttered a gasp while everyone else remained just as quiet as could be.
"Whose posters were they? The one that has the fully naked girl on it might not get a chance to be put up—she is a bit extreme and all three..." TazirVile cleared his throat before putting a change to what he had just said. "pardon, four of you are much too young to be seeing that."
"The Rita Hayworth and Raquel Welch posters were Bile's and—"
"Who's Rita Hayworth and Raquel Welch?"
"The poster of the woman who was on the bed is Rita Hayworth; the one that has the woman wearing a bikini on it is Raquel Welch."
"Ah, so those are Bile's?" TazirVile gave his head a slight nod. "And who owns the one hiding behind the big, bald man?"
"Me."
"Ah, well you might not be allowed to keep that one. Who's the man?"
"Christopher Lloyd; the poster is of one of the characters that he portrayed in one of his movies." Lhaklar replied.
"Take one more step towards the door and there will be a problem, Young Man."
Okay... yes he had taken a few steps towards the front door during his and his father's verbal exchange; all the while he had been taking them few steps he had been telling himself that he'd be noticed, which had just been proven to be very true.
With his intention in trying to make an escape now known he stood still; while his father said a few things pertaining to the items that had been taken he said not a word or made a sound. The old man was on the fence on what to do about the mass amount of pornographic magazines—Bile's Hustler, his High Society, and Hazaar's Playboy—that he had found while he was adamant on getting rid of the cigarettes that he had found. The man was not happy over the cigarette discovery—apparently, the Goblins had found Hazaar's little stash, which, he was surprised to find out, was hiding in plain view in his top dresser drawer, and his mattress stash, and the few bags of pot that Bile had stashed away behind his dresser; when he father started in on him about the discovery of the smokes, he detected the use of two languages. While he had taken a few language courses during his Pronghorn and then University of Telepathy days he hadn't taken the languages that his father was speaking, so he wasn't able to decipher what was being said—judging by how tempered his father's voice was, he pinned the word angry on him over the discovery of the smokes.
During the raiding of his little brothers' room, one of the Goblins had found a few empty bottles that were lacking their tags. This Goblin had shown his father this discovery so now his father was under the assumption that one or more of them were on drugs—he had a fight on his hands to not laugh at this assumption; while none of them were on drugs Lazeer was one who liked to tear the tags from the bottles of medicated eye drops that were either purchased from one of Green River's convenience stores or that had been given to him after he had been taken to see one of the Zeta Reticuli optometrists. The man was getting on him, and his brothers, for something that they didn't do nor would ever do.
"So, who was it that had the model cars upstairs?" his father asked after concluding his outburst and get-on sessions.
"Me,"
"Ah, so you've kept an interest in vehicles then."
"Course—prefer the older model cars to the over-balanced ones that are being driven now." Lhaklar replied.
"Take it that one of you boys has an interest in trains—which one of you is?"
"Hazaar,"
"I take it that the Reezal boy is the one who built and owns the model planes, dinosaurs, and spaceships that were found in the downstairs bedroom?"
"No." he said. With the situation being what it was, he didn't emphasize on who it was that had built, and owned, the spaceship models. He was able to comment on Bile's collecting interest but he wasn't able to say a thing on it being Hazaar who liked building model trains and spaceships. "Bile had the knives."
"We'll get the rest worked out after you and your brothers, and your mother, are on my ship and are then headed for home." his father said.
The events of what happened next went by so fast that he was barely able to place them in order; his father had come towards him, then had placed his hand on the arm that's hand was concealed in his shirt, then he had exposed the secret that he was hiding. His left hand was whipped out from his coat, the finger knives glistened in the mid-afternoon sunshine, which was now seeping through the door's window, which, thanks to the curtain being pulled to the side ever so slightly, had become exposed, then they slashed forward and then to the side.
One swipe. One yell. He was running for his life afterwards.
His father, right after being caught on the arm, right above the elbow, yelled then jumped back; his greenish colored blood splashed the wall and carpet of the living room while he made his getaway. He, after running into the living room, had swiped his finger knives three times; granddad Cheshire was caught low on the right arm while uncle Efagti was caught on the back. The third swipe went towards one of the Goblins—this fellow, who was wearing a tuxedo instead of fatigues, was jabbed in the shoulder. He ran into the kitchen, and then into the hallway that the back door was on; the two Goblins that were guarding the hallway were jumped over while the ones that were guarding the door were simply plowed into.
He slammed his shoulder into the door hard enough to cause a fracture; the lock on the door was twisted, then the latch was undone, then the door was opened. He was scot-free for all of two seconds before feeling a hand land on his shoulder; without a second to spare, he put the brakes on then turned to face the one who had grabbed him—the face of his father, who had been a mere four or five feet behind him all during his plight from the apartment, wasn't only laced with a dangerous anger but there were also trace elements of disgust present too.
"You are going to pay dearly for that one, Young Man!" his father said after he stopped.
"Really? Chew on this next one!"
Again, the shoulder than he had used to slam into the back door was used—this time he used it to knock his father temporarily off balance. With his father dancing on his heels, he raised his finger knife-leaden left hand then slashed it; his father's left shoulder joined the arm that was attached to it in being injured not long after his weapon was used.
His father's black, wool overcoat ripped; his greenish colored blood spat out on the concrete slab that rested up against the apartment; a yell escaped his father before a hand was reached up to examine the injury that had been inflicted on the body of its possessor. He wasted no time in waiting to see what was to happen next; when the sound of someone coming down the hallway was heard, he turned then tore off. He went around the apartment unscathed then, when he heard the sound of someone pursuing him, he held his left hand out—the knives weren't only good weapons to use when one was defending himself but they were also good mirrors. He saw that there were four Goblins running after him and he also saw good, ol' Uncle Efagti.
His bag was causing him to be slower than usual so he tossed it to the side; it seemed that he had no more done so when he found that the gap between he and his uncle was being closed. His legs had only just been untangled, and he had only just started adding some speed to his run, when his uncle decided to make his move; at one second, he was five to six yards from him, and in the next he was directly beside him and placing his hand on his arm. With a simple jerk of his arm, he sent his uncle to the asphalt—the punch given to his uncle had been strong; he bet the man had seen more than a few stars after having his mint-green fist collide with his jaw.
With the Goblins being a distance from him, and with his uncle playing asphalt-kiss, he made it to Peacock Dr. unhindered. He had just made the turn onto Reveler's Ct. when the sound of someone following him was heard; like with the last time, he used his finger knives to see who it was that was following him. To his complete disbelief, he saw that it was his father who was coming for him—not only was he really going but he was also closing the gap between them and fast. He kept a good eye on how much distance there was between them before making a move in stopping and then jerking himself around; his father, who was just two yards from him, was slashed at again—unlike the last time, where he had caught both fabric and flesh, he caught nothing but air. A mini-brawl between father and son ensued for a few seconds before he tried again with his finger-contained weapon; not only did his father jump back but he also swiped his own hand at him—he watched for only a second as the thumb and pinky finger knife were sent flying before taking off.
Just before running off in the direction of the county dump, he dodged a punch and then swung his remaining finger knives; his father howled after one of the knives sliced a better than decent cut on his inner leg then he dropped one of his hands to the injured limb to give it a quick examining. He took advantage of this by running—and it was a good thing that he had done so because, at the precise moment that the leg-based wound was inflicted on his father, three Goblins, granddad Cheshire, and Uncle Efagti ran into view.
"Bile?" Hazaar asked. The car had suddenly been stopped; his brother was doing nothing more than staring at the windshield in a daze. "Bile, you okay?"
"Did we stop? I don't feel the car being driven."
They were about ten or so minutes from home; the sun had come out so he, on instinct, had ducked down to being behind the seats. He felt like an idiot. The feeling of his being like one of them moles, who were both blind and ground-dwelling, was very strong right now. Here he was, doing his age-old habit of hiding from the sun... his old and still current nemesis. Lazeer sighed; from what he had been told, they were about ten or so miles from home and, from what he could feel, the car had been pulled to a complete stop.
Hazaar was still in the front passenger seat; he could hear him asking their brother if he was okay. Bile wasn't answering any of his continually asked question, which was making both he and Hazaar nervous. His older brother only did the pull over and then become as quiet as a mouse thing when he entered a sort of trance... and that usually only happened when a certain danger was going on. Whenever this happened, he became someone other than himself; he mumbled, he shook, he blinked or squinted his eyes, and then he either got violent or anxious
Lazeer, in an attempt to gain his older brother's attention, knocked his elbows back against the back of the driver's seat. When his elbow knocking had no effect, he turned around then started kicking his feet into the seat.
"Wa...uh...ile...!"
His little brother's pleading came to him distantly; he heard it but it was like Lazeer was under water. Something was wrong; he knew it, he felt it, and he didn't much like it.
Bile looked out the window slowly; the sky was clearing up... Lazeer would probably be in need of one of their coats after they got home. He could see it now... Hazaar, or he, would give Lazeer their coat and then watch as he did the run and then stumble routine from the car to the overhang that was over the apartment's front door. He hated how the weather had suddenly changed and he hated how the weatherman had fibbed in not getting the weather right; he had said that the sun would come out from behind the clouds for a short duration of time before going back into hiding, he hadn't said that it'd come out and then stay out after the dials on the clocks struck 3:40.
He didn't know what was going on; he felt that something was amiss but he didn't know what it was that was amiss. Right after getting that something's-amiss-feeling he had pulled over and then removed the key from the ignition; this feeling wasn't going away and he was growing increasingly alarmed by it. His mother was probably at home now; she, and maybe Lhaklar, had already gotten unwound from their day and were probably wondering where they were—despite wanting to go home, to be with one or the other of them, and then partake in the nap that he wanted to take, he couldn't move from where he was. His mother had said three o'clock; with he and his younger brothers being forty minutes late in returning home she may just be angry at them for their tardiness.
What was this feeling that he was getting? Had something been encountered by Lhaklar; was Lhaklar in danger, or was he sitting at home, waiting to see the fireworks explode after he, Hazaar, and Lazeer walked in more than forty minutes late? Was his mother really at home? Instead of being at home, waiting for him and his tardy brothers to return, was she still in Fremont County or was she experiencing a bit of trouble? Lhaklar wouldn't go crazy after arriving home first—he had come home to an empty apartment before many times, so he knew well how to act between his coming home to finding himself as being the lone resident of the apartment and then finding the apartment being "overrun" by them after they came in for the day.
The feeling that he was getting couldn't be coming from Hazaar or Lazeer; they weren't only with him but they were also in the car. Could it just be nerves? He had been away from home for so long... he had spent all morning and early afternoon without hearing or seeing a thing of his mother—sometimes, after spending a decent stretch of time away from his brothers, or from his mother, or both, he did get to feeling a bit nervous. He was a mid-teenage boy... he still had that nervous tick to him when his mother or brothers weren't around him.
Lazeer gave the back of his seat one more kick before stopping; as it turned out, it was that kick that got him out of his trance. He shook his head, then took in his surroundings, then reached to take the key ring, which had since fallen down to the floorboard of the car, up. He was just pushing the key back into the car's ignition when his communicator went off.
"Bile! Bile! Where the hell are you?" the voice that came through his communicator wasn't only stressed but it also belonged to Lhaklar. He was fast in taking his communicator up from his belt.
"Lhaklar, what is it? We're nearly home." he said after pressing the initiate button on his communicator.
"F... no! Don't go home, dammit!" he, and his younger brothers, became tense after noting the still present stress that was in Lhaklar's voice.
"What's going on?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
"Dad got into the shield, that's what wrong! He had a bunch of Goblins with him—" Lhaklar's voice died out for a few seconds before coming in strong again. "He took all of our stuff, Bile! Somehow, he got into the shield and then found where we live—he took everything, Bile, and he was waiting for us to come home. He's got me holed up in the dump right now, Bile."
"What?" Bile exclaimed. "What did you say?"
"My dad—your adoptive father—robbed us of most of our stuff! I have no idea where it all is but I have a suspicion that it's all at his place on Moas." Lhaklar replied. "I came home right after doing a little hunting and fishing... he was waiting for us and... and he tried to capture me! I injured him and he's pissed about it! He's... oh shit, Bile! He's—"
"Spread out and look for my son." TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit's voice, which was very full of anger, came in through the communicator speaker loud and clear. "I want him found and then brought to me at once!"
"Oh shit!" Bile exclaimed. He dropped his communicator then he gave the key to the car a swift twist. He sped off towards the dump right after the car was started.