WARRIORS HIGH
ISLAND OF THE LOST
CHAPTER NINE
MIND GAMES
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS LANGUAGE SOME MAY FIND OFFENSIVE. THIS LANGUAGE HAS BEEN CENSORED, IS USED ONLY FOR THE PURPOSES OF CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE VIEWS OF THE WRITER IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM
On the second day of school, Dusty and Jaywhisker were engaged in Netflix-esque high school banter.
"I know! But I swear that was directed at me! She gave me the sweetest smile, too!"
"Cool your jets, buddy," said Dusty, "She was probably looking for the guy on your left. You don't even know her name!"
"Mmhmm...you're jealous," said Jaywhisker, smiling widely.
"Jealous?! ME?!" snapped Dusty, very obviously jealous, "Why would I be jealous of you?! You're a walking hermit with chronic insomnia!"
"Does anyone have a crush on you?"
Dusty's fight fizzled out. In a rare turn of events, Jaywhisker had won an argument. And he clearly wasn't off his high horse yet.
"Shazam, Lego Batman, Aquaman and Man of Steel."
"What?"
"In response to your question yesterday," fired Jaywhisker, "Those are the good DC movies."
"Sweet Jesus. This again?"
"Bitch, I'm on a roll!"
"Okay," said Dusty, straightening up as they walked down the main hallway to lunch, "Shazam was good, I forgot about that one, Lego Batman was funny but it doesn't count since it's more of a Lego movie than a DC movie, Man of Steel was fine, but the original Superman was better and Aquaman is a plotless piece of trash with interesting fight scenes and a sexy lead."
The response was so smooth that it completely killed Jaywhisker's power trip.
"Well, we can at least agree on one thing. Say it with me."
They looked at each other and breathed in, "Heath Ledger played the greatest villain in cinema history."
They high-fived, clearly wanting to put this away, before they saw the student dressed in all black with a bulky blue backpack stumble and collapse against the wall, sliding down and holding his throat.
"What the hell?" said Jaywhisker, who quickly followed Dusty as he ran over to help.
"Everything okay?" he said to the brown-haired kid, "Are you choking?"
"Back...pack…mask…" he gasped, his face growing redder by the second.
Jaywhisker ripped open his backpack and did a double take when he saw what was inside.
It was a full breathing apparatus, with a mask connected to a large oxygen tank through a laxative breathing tube. He caught his breath, fumbled in the bag and grabbed the mask, holding it by the outside. Dusty wrapped the mask on quickly, his heart now pounding in his chest.
"Get the valve!" he ordered Jaywhisker.
"Which one?"
"What do you mean which one?!"
"There are two valves!"
"WELL, TURN THE RED ONE!"
"THEY'RE BOTH RED!"
"WELL THEN, TURN THE ONE AT THE NOZZLE!"
Jaywhisker saw what he was talking about, and turned the nozzle. A hissing noise emerged from the tank and the mask around the boy's face clouded up with air.
Both stepped away, unsure of what to do now.
"Is he okay?" said Jaywhisker, eyes wide.
Dusty watched very carefully, holding his breath for about a full minute before he crouched down and pressed a finger to his neck.
He went cold.
"He's unconscious," he said, "Call 911! Now!"
Jaywhisker jumped, pulling out his phone and dialing quickly while Dusty turned the boy on his back. He remembered Daffodil telling him how to do CPR in one of the introductory classes back on Lindisfarne. He wrapped his right hand around his open left, placed his hands on the boy's chest and pressed as hard and as consistently as he could.
"One, two, three…" he whispered to himself as Jaywhisker stuttered the situation to authorities, "Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven…"
"Not even a week into school and you're already getting arrested."
"Har har," said Dusty, climbing into the backseat of Ashtooth's new van with Jaywhisker right behind him.
"So what the hell happened?" said Ashtooth, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the station, "The school called home and said that they went into shelter in place. Everyone thought that you had to school some bully."
"I wish," said Dusty, "We were walking to lunch when we saw this kid faint. Authorities said he has severe cystic fibrosis and has fits of losing breath. He had an oxygen tank in his backpack and everything."
"So he fainted and you resuscitated him. Why did that require a trip to the station?"
"Well," said Dusty, glancing guiltily at Jaywhisker, who looked miserable, "There was two valves on the tank, one for oxygen and one for carbon dioxide disposal. The problem was the valves were both colored red, so we...accidentally…"
"You made him inhale carbon dioxide instead."
"Yeah."
"Damn. That'll do it."
The car was silent as Ashtooth pulled onto the freeway, lit only by overhead lights against the night sky. Dusty kept glancing at his friend, who just stared meekly at his clasped hands.
"You good?" asked Dusty, wrapping his arm around him.
Jaywhisker said nothing.
"In your defense, Jay, I'm not sure how the hell they got away from configuring a tank for emergency use with two red valves when one can literally kill you. I'm more surprised how they can separate the two and only dispense one. Must be some newfangled chemistry breakthrough that no one's ever heard of.
Jaywhisker remained silent.
Dusty and Ashtooth exchanged a worried glance. They had never seen this side of Jaywhisker before. Usually he was flamboyantly egotistical and witty. Not...silent.
Midway through their drive through the interstate, Ashtooth got off early.
"Where we going?" asked Dusty.
"I gotta make a stop at a bar. We're low on beer and Coalstrike will get in a bad mood if we run out."
Dusty nodded. Jaywhisker remained silent.
As they drove through dimly lit residential areas, a political advocacy billboard caught Dusty's eye.
"STOP POISONING OUR CHILDREN: VOTE TO BRING BAR ADMISSION UP TO 21"
"Up to 21?" muttered Dusty.
"What?" said Ashtooth, glancing back.
"What's the minimum age of admission to a bar here?"
"Sixteen," was the immediate answer.
Dusty's eyes widened in interest.
"You can't buy any alcoholic drinks, though. The only reason they lowered the age limit in the first place is cause the bar business was suffering."
"Interesting…" said Dusty, rubbing his chin pointedly, "Very interesting…"
Ashtooth sighed, knowing the question he was about to ask. "Fine. But for now, just this once. You can't get tipsy or tell anyone or I'll be kicked out of the family."
"Fine…"
Now Jaywhisker looked up, giving Dusty a very strange look. "Since when did you want to go into a bar?"
Dusty shrugged. "Cause I've never been in one before. Plus, he's the most exploitable one in our family."
"On second thought," said Ashtooth, suddenly moving into the turn lane a block away from the bar, "The beer can wait for another day."
"NONONOIWASKIDDING!" shouted Dusty, to which Jaywhisker couldn't help but crack a smile.
"Why don't you get a seat?" said Ashtooth, headed to the liquor store connected to the bar, "I'll be back soon with the drinks."
Dusty sat in a booth amid the blacklight aura of the bar, noticing a neon pink sign advertising a karaoke night at the bar every Friday.
Oh God…
As a bright mind with perfect pitch and a nitpicky ear, this was his worst nightmare. It would take over his mind and be the only thing he could think of, criticizing just the smallest thing that they were doing wrong, whether it be tone, pitch or rhythm. Simply, he would become an automated critic. It took perfection to snap him out of it.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," said the man behind a laptop that looked to be running the show, "Let's get this show on the road! Who wants to slay this mic first?"
"Get the bartender!" shouted someone in the back.
"Ooh," said the host, now in game show host mode, "We have a vote for the lovely bartender! Any seconds? Any challengers to his greatness!"
"Bring the bartender!"
"Get 'em up here!"
"Come on, mate!"
The consensus was clear. This guy was clearly something special, though Dusty kept his expectations low for the moment.
"Y'all asked for him! Axis!"
"Okay, fine. Since you asked nicely!"
From behind the bartender stand emerged a guy that looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, with ruffled brown hair, worn gray shoes and chiseled abs just visible under the sweat-drenched t-shirt that co-starred his tight denim shorts.
In a word, he was handsome.
No, he was very handsome.
Dusty had to physically force his gaze away from the boy as he walked confidently to the host amid the cheers and drunk rallies of the crowd. He stood next to the man as he turned on the screen next to him and pulled up the karaoke program.
"So what'll it be tonight?"
"Palace. Sam Smith."
That caught Dusty's attention. It was one of the most coveted pieces from his second album, which just happened to be one of Dusty's favorite albums to listen to. Someone really needed guts to even deserve to touch that work. Out of worry of roasting the poor boy to death in his mind for polluting one of his favorite works, he almost got up and walked to the bathroom.
He decided to have mercy, intrigue beating out his narcissism as he closed his eyes and listened as the guitar began.
My head is filled with ruins,
Most of them are built with you,
Now the dust no longer move,
Don't disturb the ghost of you...
Perfection.
Flawless.
It was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.
Dusty opened his eyes to see the boy singing into the mic like he was singing to his own child, with such elegance, vibrato and beauty. Almost like he was painting a picture so delicate and intricate that just the slightest screw-up would cause it to all fall down.
He was losing his self-control just listening, tears building at the corners of his eyes as he hit the high notes with such practiced lightness and richness.
I...I'm gonna miss you,
I...I'm still there…
He was losing awareness of his surroundings, feeling like he was singing to a grand concert hall and he was the only one in the audience. The drunken murmurs of the crowd were nothing more than background as he was pulled along through this majestic melody.
Was it perfection?
A gift from God itself?
Whatever it was, his body told him it was heaven.
After just under three and a half minutes, Axis ended the song with grace. The bar roared in applause and cheering, to which the young bartender smiled sheepishly and said "Thank you very much" modestly.
Dusty caught his breath, regaining his composure as the handsome boy walked back behind the bar. All instinct told him to run and hide now after making a fool of himself after his performance, but his mind wanted one thing while his feet did another.
"How can I help you?" said the bartender, cleaning out a cup with a damp washcloth.
"Uhh...Do you have Arnie Palmers?"
"50/50?"
"Y-Yes, please."
Axis seemed to raise an eyebrow before moving to the soda machine. Dusty hissed at himself as he filled his drink, frustrated that he was suddenly a stuttery mess. He looked away as Axis placed the drink in front of him, not noticing how he had bent of from the other side of the table to stare at him with a smirk.
"So," he said after a few beats, "Why are you really here?"
Dusty tried to look witty. "What, is it a sin to ask for a drink?"
"No, just a commonality among our own little community of sinners."
"Really? That cliche?"
"Is it a sin?"
"Almost," he said, "It's used so much it's like this place is a satanist rally. Clearly that ain't the case."
"I've been here long enough to see the pattern, though. You wanna forget, you drink. Could it be possible that you wanna hide the number I did on you?"
"Woah there, bucko," said Dusty, "We just met."
"Just sayin'," said Axis, throwing up his arms, "Hard to ignore you tearing up in the back on stage. I played you like a damn fiddle there."
"What can I say? C#5's tend to impress me."
"Aha, a smart one, I see."
Dusty kicked it up a notch. "With a subtle trick for flattery. Why, since you already have the keys to my heart, I seem to be at your mercy."
"But it's like you said," said Axis, "We only just met."
"Is it a sin?"
"That's up to God to decide, isn't it?"
Their faces were inches away.
"Hey f****t!"
Whatever flirtatious groove they had caught themselves in, they were out of it now. Axis sighed, rolling his eyes, while Dusty boiled in sudden, unrestrained fury. "What?!" shouted the bartender more in irritation than anger.
"Get me a refill! And make it quick t***kie!"
Axis sighed and nonchalantly moved away to get the drink.
Dusty watched in trepid horror. That man just used the worst homophobic slurs out there and he was just shrugging it off?!
The man, a fat shortie with no hair and a goatee, was sitting down across the bar, very obviously tipsy and edging for someone to challenge him. Dusty was about to take him up on that offer, rolling up his hoodie sleeves and rearing back his fists to throw the biggest punch of his life.
"Eat shit, motherfu-!"
He was backhanded in the face, causing the hit to miss and him to stumble away from the bar.
He looked up to see Axis handing him his drink and walking away. "What the hell was that?!" he snapped at him, "He just called you a f****t! You just weren't gonna do anything about that?!"
"Eh, same guy comes here twice a week. Goes all Wyoming truck driver whenever he gets drunk, so I just give him the strong stuff till he passes out and the cops pick him up."
"Wait...really?"
Axis shrugged. "We all come here to deal with our sins. I tend to deal petty revenge."
Dusty let out a couple chuckles as he drained his drink. He liked this guy.
"Alright," said Ashtooth, emerging from the store with five boxes of whiskey and beer, "Let's get moving."
"Nice to meet you," said Dusty, the tone between the two changing to friendly for the first time.
"Same here. Did I get your name?"
"Call me Dusty."
"Call me Axis."
They took the other's hands, making a shake that was more like a squeezing of the others for a good four seconds.
"Drop by again if you need some penance."
"Heheh. Maybe I will."
"See ya around."
"See you."
Dusty and Ashtooth got up to leave the bar while Axis turned around and clean the bar.
"He's weird," Axis heard Ashtooth whisper to Dusty quite loudly.
Axis smiled. He liked this boy.
And as he was turning around and grabbing the discarded cups, he saw a bill under the one Dusty had been drinking from.
He picked it up and almost gasped.
It was a hundred.
And as he checked to see if it was legit, he saw a phone number on the back.
Axis smirked.
Whatever game he was forcing him through, he sure knew how to play.
"Captain!" said someone on Sky's headpiece.
"What is it?" she said, listening in.
"We were just checking on the vital sign readers on the bomb guards!"
Something tingled in Sky's veins. Not fear...more like anticipation. "And?"
"Nothing! They've gone flat!"
Sky scowled.
So that's how we're going to play now.
Sky stormed up to the control room, where anxious black-masked figures ran back and forth between monitors and typing commands.
On the screen were thirty vital readings. Twelve sequential screens showed flatlines.
"What the hell happened?" she said to a woman in the front row.
"I-I don't know! They just started spiking irregularly all at once and then...they were gone!"
"HOLY SHIT!" shouted a man in the back, "LOOK!"
Everyone looked up to see the flatlines suddenly restored with life, beating regularly as if nothing happened.
"They're okay?!"
"What happened?!"
"Was it a glitch?!"
Sky said nothing and stepped away, deep in thought.
Seconds later, she had a plan.
"Commander Garrison?" she said, turning on her headpiece.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Meet me in my office in three minutes."
"Alright," said Garrison from behind his mask as he hit the side of the van, "Let's move!"
Twenty men stepped out from the back of the van, covered in black and armed to the teeth. They lined up in front and stood at attention in front of the commander.
"Those of you I have not talked to, you know your assignments. You are free to go."
Twelve of them ran off. Only eight of them remained.
"You eight are my most intuitive and skilled of the bunch today. You will be replacing eight of the twelve I sent to guard the bombs. Follow me."
The nine of them set off and were almost at the passage to the bomb site when they were stopped.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Bone.
"General Bone, we are doing a partial relieving, per order of Captain Sky."
"I cannot allow you to do that, Commander." said the burly man.
"And why not?"
"I do not believe you have run it by Rock."
"I apologize, general," said the commander, "but I do not believe running every move we make by your superior was in the deal."
"Regardless," said Bone, grabbing the handle of his gun, "I cannot let you pass until you have run this by Rock."
Garrison straightened up.
"Oh, I see how this is."
And he drew his gun. Bone drew his and aimed at Garrison's head.
But Garrison did not aim at Bone.
He instead aimed at a crate labeled "RPG AMMO."
"BLUE-52!" shouted one of the soldiers flanking Garrison as loud as she could, "BLUE-52!"
All eight soldiers drew their guns and aimed at Bone.
And everything in the warehouse base stopped.
And Bone looked around to see that every single ARS soldier had stopped and drawn their guns and aimed at one of Rock's goons.
And just like that, Garrison had upper hand.
"So, General," said the commander, "Are you relinquishing our alliance?"
Bone held his ground…
...for only a couple more moments, before stepping aside and letting them pass.
"AT EASE!" shouted the commander, causing everyone in the warehouse to relinquish their guns and continue on with their day like nothing happened.
"Thank you, General," said Garrison, flashing an unseen smirk before he pursued into the tunnels.
Fifteen minutes later, Garrison was driving the black van in the vague direction of home base, with eight of the twelve alive and well soldiers in the pitch black back.
He needed to make sure that he was meticulous of the spot he chose. It would need to be quick, but he needed to go off the grid.
So while staying in the general direction, he drove to the edge of Forrestlake, eyeing the stop light at the end of the avenue cut off by an adjacent forest.
So he drove to the light, stopped at the red, and just as traffic on the crossroad moved, he stopped the car and got out, making sure to lock the door behind him.
He kept his head down as he jaywalked to the sidewalk on his left, going a block away before pulling away to an alley.
He pulled out a remote control and without a second thought, he pressed the red button in the middle.
BOOM!
He heard the explosion behind him, and it took just a glance and the hearing of screams to know that the block of C4 under the car had blown like planned. Wasting no time, he used the disruption of traffic to bolt into the forest.
He ran for about half a mile before he stopped and pulled out his phone, opening his messages app. There was no record of any texts when he opened it.
He started a group chat, using the phone numbers of the eight soldiers he brought to the bomb site.
"The four guards I kept on duty are traitors. Execute them with extreme prejudice."
He sent the text.
He sighed in relief. Truthfully, he didn't know if they betrayed him, but this would tie up all possible loose ends Rock had made.
Rock heard gunshots down the tunnel to the bombs.
NO!
He stormed down the tunnel, summoning his armor and his lightning to find…
...eight corpses, and four of his revenants wounded, but still standing.
The god picked up one of the dead men's rifles and growled, allowing the gun to melt in his hands and burn on the cave floor.
Clearly, ARS would need to be handled with much more prejudice than he thought.
So. A lot to unpack.
I know I said I would introduce two characters this chapter, and I did, but you don't know the first's name yet. I'll come back to it. I'm a big believer in Chekhov's Gun after all.
Dusty and Axis are now a thing. Please begin shipping them right away so the horrible things I do to one of them make you even sadder.
And ARS and Rock are in some mind games now. It's a game of chess between Jay and I. Sometime in the next two chapters, he'll make his move and I'll respond with mine.
But last chapter was just under 2,000 words. I figured a longer one was what you deserve.
Best,
~Res