Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Note: Yeah, like I was really going to end the story like that! Thanks for sticking with me this far, folks. You rock. But, it's time to wrap this one up.
11
September 30, 2011
The tranquility was unnerving.
They stepped from the vortex onto a perfectly paved street winding past houses intact where families went about their daily routines in blissful ignorance of the future from which the trio had just escaped. The unfamiliar warmth of the sun, no longer blocked by a dome of unnatural energy, touched their skin almost like a welcoming caress. The breeze no longer carried the scent of sulfur, dust, and decay to burn their noses and throats. Birds chirped in the trees. Bikes rolled past. Cars tooted their horns until the teenagers broke out of their stupor and remembered to get out of the street.
Angie and Lyle paused for a long moment, staring at the Daventry Hills that was alien to them now in something like shock. They should have been happy to see it. They had fought, suffered, and sacrificed to see it again. However, standing there now-filthy, bloodied, battle-scarred, and carrying weapons from battles that had yet to be fought in a future that had yet to be-joy was the farthest thing from their hearts.
Wyatt was the first to snap from his stupor. He checked the chronometer to confirm they'd landed on September 30, one year earlier. His quiet voice broke the silence. "This is the right day. The chronometer's lit up, that means the Doublebacks are definitely here."
Lyle blinked, pulling himself out of his own grim memories. He managed to nod at Wyatt in acknowledgement. "We're going to have to take them at the same time. That means we have to split up."
Angie didn't say a word. Her gaze was drawn, unwillingly, to the blood staining her hands and clothing, blending with the fainter red paint on the Chameleomole skin. She remembered warm hands putting that paint on her skin for the first time months ago. She thought about those hands caressing her cheek, thought about arms holding her and comforting her on too many despair-plagued nights to count. She remembered his hands, covered in his own blood, slipping from her grasp as she was dragged into the time vortex.
One last tear rolled down her dirt-streaked face, and then the tears stopped. The cold numbness that had held her in its icy grip gave way to the first bubbles of pure fury. Her fingers reached for the wedge-shaped weapon hanging at her side, grasping it so hard her knuckles turned white and the edges bit into her skin.
Lyle and Wyatt saw her expression, the look in her eyes. Lyle understood it best. For the past few months, any time he had caught his reflection in a pool of water or a piece of metal, his image had stared back at him with the same haunted gaze.
Sympathetically, he reached for her shoulder, "Angie—", but the girl moved aside too quickly. She didn't want sympathy. She didn't want platitudes. She didn't want consolation. Without a word, Angie spun on her heel and was running in the direction of the vice-principal's house.
The first Doubleback would be there, setting its trap to frame Dante. That Doubleback was hers.
Wyatt called after her, "Angie?" She didn't answer, and neither he nor Lyle was foolish enough to try to stop her. "I guess she's taking Storm's house. You want to back her up?"
Lyle shook his head. "She's not going to need back-up. But it's going to take two of us to get to the second Doubleback. We'll head to the stadium."
"You have any idea how we're going to bard that Doubleback in front of a stadium full of people?" The high school football field was Lyle's home turf, Wyatt reasoned. He would know the best way to try to bard a Leak that was hiding under the noses of hundreds of spectators.
"Believe me, I have all kinds of plans for that cramp."
Angie felt some small satisfaction that the monster—despite its robotic appearance-startled when the Atomic Wedge shattered Storm's living room door. She regretted that the Doubleback didn't have a face. She wanted to see fear in its eyes. She wanted to know it saw the rage in her eyes. She wanted to know that it knew she wasn't going to simply 'bard' it. 'Bard' was too delicate a word for what Angie had in mind.
She was going to kill it.
The Doubleback could not give her that satisfaction. It stood there dumbly with its blank, mechanical face staring at her as she caught it in mid-preparation to set Storm's house ablaze and frame Dante for the crime.
"You rat cramp bastard," she snarled.
The Doubleback might have been surprised by the girl, but it faltered only for a split-second. Its robotic mind detected the weapon in her hand, perceived the threat, and reacted. Its smooth fingers retracted into its arm, replaced by sharp blades. As it raised the weapons to strike, Angie threw the Atomic Wedge.
The monster dodged. The weapon arched around, taking down several framed pictures and Hummel figurines before it returned to Angie. She didn't care about the breakage. If Wyatt's plan worked, the damage would be undone when the timeline reset itself. If it failed, a few broken picture frames would be the least of Storm's problems.
The Doubleback advanced, swiping at her torso with its finger blades. This time, she dodged. The creature kept within arm's length of the girl, not giving her room to throw the wedge again. Angie smiled grimly, perfectly happy to switch tactics and use Krav Maga instead. It suited her all-consuming need to tear the automaton apart with her bare hands.
Wielding the Atomic Wedge like a club, she assailed the monster with a flurry of kicks and punches. It was like hitting a robot, and pain lanced her hands each time they impacted its metal body. She used the wedge to hold the arm and its blades at bay while she struck at the Doubleback again and again. She wondered if it even felt pain. She hoped it did.
She barely felt it when the creature occasionally landed a blow against her in return. It didn't so much as slow her down. She lashed at the monster with the force of all the grief and loss that ripped her heart to pieces. It was this bastard's fault-this one and every other one of Maldark's computer-spawned goons. It was their fault her world was conquered, that her life had been shattered. It was their fault she never got to see her family again…
Her eyes narrowed at the Doubleback.
It's your fault that Dante's dead, Angie cursed it inwardly.
Uttering a cry of fury, she gripped the Doubleback by its neck and shoved it, face-first, into the bricks of the fireplace hearth. This time, the automaton let out a robotic noise Angie chose to interpret as distress. The monster reeled, shaking its head, trying to recalibrate the circuits she had just knocked loose in her attack.
When Angie raised her wedge to slice off its bloodless, mechanical head, she only hoped it hurt like a bitch.
The Doubleback's decapitated form vanished in a flash of sparks, leaving her alone in the stillness of the living room.
Left with nothing left upon which to vent her grief, the numbness slowly poured into her anew.
She didn't know how much time she had before Wyatt and Lyle barded the second Doubleback, and she doesn't know what would to happen after they did. Her timeline would cease to exist. One year from now, give or take, Never Fail would thwart Maldark's invasion. She would wink out of existence, but the other Angie, her younger incarnation who was running around somewhere out there right now, would go on. She would never have to face the horrors of an earth dominated by Maldark. She'd be with her family, where she belonged. Dante would be there. He would be alive and back with his mom, where he belonged. Wyatt and Lyle and their families would be there with them.
She wondered if it completely warped that she felt a twinge of jealousy of that Angie.
What was taking so long? She growled in frustration. She was ready for the end…it was the seconds waiting with nothing but grief for company that was driving her mad.
Then, she heard a familiar sound coming from outside…the crunch of skateboard wheels grinding along the sidewalk.
Angie ran to the window in time to see that other Dante roll past Storm's house on his skateboard. A lump suddenly lodged in her throat, made it hard to breathe. He looked very different. Younger. It wasn't just physical, though he was a year younger than the Dante she knew. It was…well, 'innocence' was not the right word. He never looked innocent. She still saw hints of the Dante who led the Grinders and helped her save half of Daventry Hills, of her Dante. However, like the other Angie, this Dante would not have all the suffering Maldark had caused to add the haunted shadows to his eyes. This one was alive and well and oblivious to her presence as she watched him pass.
Angie smiled anyway.
Dante barely gave Storm's house a passing glance out the corner of his eye as he skated past the place. He just hoped the old guy wasn't there to come outside and yell at him about skateboarding on the sidewalk. The man was completely psycho like that. Dante had his fill of adults yelling today after listening to his parents fighting all morning.
He'd finally climbed out his bedroom window-not that they would have noticed if he'd walked out the front door while they stood there—seeking escape. He was now distracting himself by playing with the new Cobra cell phone/game system that Barbra had warned him not to buy under penalty of a month of being grounded.
In that quick, sidelong glance, Dante thought he caught a glimpse of someone standing at the living room window…someone dressed like an outcast from Comic Con. He thought he saw the front door hanging off broken hinges.
Curious, he stopped and took a second look. It must have been his imagination. The door was intact, and whoever or whatever he'd seen in the window was gone.
It was a creature created for a singular purpose: Alter history in favor of its master by whatever means were required. After its task was complete, it would cease to exist. The robot avatar had no emotions to feel regret for the brevity of its existence or contentment when its purpose was finally accomplished.
The Doubleback had been programmed with the whole of Maldark's knowledge of its targets, Black Death, Wizza, and Sir Bickle. Its orders were simple: Using that knowledge, choose one target. Kill that human, if possible. If not, a permanent injury, an incarceration, an abduction, whatever was required to prevent the human from interfering with Maldark's plans to invade the human realm. Never Fail must never exist.
The human known as 'Black Death' was out of reach. A scan of his "blog" indicated he was two hundred miles away competing in something the humans called a 'Mathcathelon'. Traveling such a distance increased the risk of interference with its mission.
The Doubleback's counterpart had already tracked the human known as 'Sir Bickle' and would dispatch that game warrior.
The human called 'Wizza' was within reach. He would be the robot's target.
A disguise afforded the best chance for catching its target unaware while concealing its presence from the larger human population. It was not capable of caring if the people saw its true form, except that it might create a disturbance that would jeopardize the Doubleback's mission.
The humans took no undue notice of the last player in the Crosstown High line up as the football team ran onto the Trojans' football field. The helmet covered its shiny metallic head. The long sleeves and gloves hid its mechanical arms and hands. It scanned the faces of the rival players until it locked onto the one it sought.
Wizza.
The Doubleback lined up opposite the human boy, ducking its head so that Wizza would not see his face until it was much too late. Wizza took his place as what they called the 'quarterback'. The game leak targeted the areas of the human's body most vulnerable to lasting injury and decided it would shatter Wizza's knee. Such an injury would take sufficient time to heal that he would never recover in time to interfere with Maldark.
Before the ball was snapped into play, the Doubleback lunged, slamming into the human-or rather, trying to, for Wizza anticipated the attack and feinted aside. Unable to halt its momentum, the Doubleback tumbled to the ground.
It was an eerie feeling to walk onto the field, to relive this fateful day once again. Every detail was exactly as Lyle remembered, and he'd remembered almost every day since the Doubleback smashed his knee and-so Lyle had thought at the time-his life. Every good-natured insult that his teammates tossed at each other as they took the field was the same. The marching band still played, horrendously out of tempo. Reggie greeted Lyle with the usual handshake and slug to the arm. McCobb sat on the players' bench, waiting for time on the field he would probably never receive.
"McCobb!" Lyle shouted to him.
Mike reluctantly turned, anticipating another insult or some gloating from the quarterback.
"Got the Washburn War Horses next week. I told the coach you own their QB, if you feel like starting against them," Lyle said.
It was debatable whether Mike or Reggie looked more shocked by this. When Mike saw that Hugginson wasn't messing with him, he nearly fell off the bench from surprise.
Lyle nodded to himself, satisfied. That took care of one mistake, but Lyle had another score to settle.
When he glanced towards the bleachers, his father was there, cheering with the rest of the crowd. Lyle paused to wave at his father. Maynard Hugginson raised an eyebrow, for his son was normally too focused upon the game and didn't speak to him until afterwards, but he pumped his fist in the air and shouted encouragement with the other spectators.
This time, Lyle watched the mystery player as he trailed the rest of the Crosstown Team onto the field. Watching now, with the benefit of hindsight, it was easy to tell that the player's gait was stiff and unnatural, that he kept his head held low and had bundled himself in cold-weather gear on a balmy September afternoon.
It was easy to tell that the player was not human.
Easy if you were a game warrior and a once and future defender of Earth, that is.
This time, when the Doubleback jumped from the formation and came at him, Lyle was ready and dodged easily. The crowd booed for the rival player's cheap shot and the Crosstown High team shouted angrily at what they thought was their own player.
Lyle stood over the Doubleback, glaring down at it, furious for all the damage this mechanical cramp and his mutant pals had caused. "Time for some payback, Doubleback."
It had no face, so it was impossible to tell if the creature was perplexed, scared, or if it felt anything at all. Lyle wished it were capable of being afraid, for he wanted nothing so much as to put the fear of God into the creature and send it crying home to Maldark. He'd have to settle with barding it. Somehow, that didn't seem good enough.
The Doubleback jumped to its feet and ran. Lyle chased after it, leaving the confused team and spectators behind.
"Hugginson! Where are you going?!" the coach shouted after him. "McCobb, get in there!"
Wyatt, meanwhile, had the younger Lyle trapped in the team's locker room. Past Lyle was banging on the door, shouting threats and questions at whoever had locked him in. Wyatt leaned against the door, which he'd barred by shoving a field hockey stick through the handles.
He kept up a non-stop monolog both to apologize to his future friend and to drown out Past Lyle's shouts if anyone should stray into the locker area. "Once again, I'm very sorry about this. I know this seems very, very crazy, but if I have to explain-well, anyway, you'll just have to believe me when I say it's for the best and everything will turn out fine, and I'm very sorry and I apologize unreservedly and hope one day you'll forgive this-"
Past Lyle's muffled voice demanded: "Who is that? McCobb? Is that you? Kowalski? Wanda?"
"Wanda? Are you kidd—" Wyatt turned to give his friend on the opposite side of the locker room door the stink eye (even if he couldn't see it), offended.
The pounding of feet-someone very large and heavy and clanging like metal-drew his attention to the task at hand. He picked up Future Lyle's Thunder Pole and waited. Seconds later, the Doubleback appeared, pounding down the hallway with Future Lyle not far behind. "Head's up!" Future Lyle shouted.
Wyatt was more than ready. With a sweep of the staff, he tripped the mechanical avatar as it tried to run past him. It fell with a clang Wyatt hoped no one overheard. Future Lyle was on the thing instantly, using his helmet to crack the game leak in its shiny head. He didn't want to bard the thing immediately. Blasting it would end this too quickly, and this was too personal.
"That's for smashing my knee!" Future Lyle snarled at the faceless creature. He struck it with the helmet again. "That's for my dad!"
The faceless avatar couldn't even grant Lyle the satisfaction of looking afraid or remorseful. With a growl of frustration, Future Lyle snatched the Thunder Pole out of Wyatt's hands and aimed for the metal man. "This is for Dante! Vescor!"
The Thunder Pole conjured a giant mouth that swallowed the Doubleback in one gulp.
Future Lyle gave a grim, but genuine, smile. He could get to enjoy barding these guys now that his family and his friends would be safe and Daventry Hills was back to normal. Again, he felt a pang of envy for the Lyle who would get to stay and be part of Never Fail…
…the Lyle who was banging on the locker room door and shouting threats of what he'd do if someone didn't let him out that very minute.
Wyatt pulled the hockey stick out of the door handles, giving Future Lyle a quick warning before he opened the doors: "Hide."
Future Lyle ducked around the corner, turning his face towards the wall as Wyatt let his younger self out of the locker room.
Past Lyle gave Wyatt a dirty look as he pulled on his helmet and ran for the football field. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" he scolded.
Wyatt waved lamely, calling after Past Lyle: "Again, sorry!"
Future Lyle stared after his counterpart. His/their father and the coach waited when Past Lyle returned to the field. Future Lyle imagined they were having one confusing conversation.
"So, what do you think happens now?" he asked Wyatt.
"Well, if Angie's barded that second Doubleback, the timeline should correct itself. Kind of a ripple effect…it might take a few seconds for the ripples to affect us. After that…" Wyatt trailed off. Intent on stopping the Doublebacks and fixing the timeline, neither one had stopped to wonder what would happen after they succeeded.
"Guess this is goodbye, man." He shook Wyatt's hand. "Just make sure Maldark doesn't get out of the game again."
Wyatt nodded. "Count on it-Never Fail never fails."
Lyle rolled his eyes at the pun, but told him, "Yeah. I would've liked to be part of that."
"You were…" Wyatt paused, suddenly feeling strange. Something was definitely happening. The blood that stained his clothes faded and disappeared. Yes! He cheered inwardly. He stared down at the chronometer in his hand. The counter began spinning wildly…and then the device vanished altogether. "Wonder if I'll end up back where I started after the Doublebacks are gone. 'Cause I really don't want to hang around here for a year waiting for everyone else to catch up-"
Wyatt looked up; Future Lyle was gone.
"L-" Wyatt didn't finish the word before the world whited out. When the flash of light faded, Wyatt was standing back in the park where the whole mess had started. There were no signs of portals or purple domes or Doublebacks anywhere. Thank God. His watch even read the precise date and time when the time vortex had first appeared.
He was home.
Wyatt had to make sure. He turned and ran back to Never Fail's warehouse HQ.
Even running, it took almost a half hour to get there. It was an agonizing length of time when Wyatt's mind played out every awful possibility: What if the timeline wasn't precisely as it had been? What if Maldark had sent another leak after Dante and Angie after Wyatt had disappeared into the time vortex? Would they have been able to defend themselves while glued together? Memories of grunge and burns and blood still filled Wyatt's mind. He wondered if his memories of that awful future would disappear along with that timeline or if the lingering effects of the chronometer meant that he'd be able to remember it for the rest of his life. He wasn't sure he wanted to keep those memories.
He'd called Lyle already, who had not a clue why his friend was calling 'just to be sure he was there' and was even more baffled when Wyatt asked if Mr. Hugginson was also there. Wyatt had promised to explain everything the next morning.
Wyatt had worked himself into a fairly good panic by the time he banged open the warehouse door and ran inside, yelling Dante and Angie's names.
"Wake him up and I'll punch you so hard you'll see little cartoon stars," Angie warned.
Dante and Angie were there, alive and well and free of Chameleomole skin grafts and battle scars…but still glued together at their arms.
They obviously couldn't go home in their current predicament. They'd tried nail polish remover and every other kind of solvent in the room, but nothing man-made was going to affect game leak glue. Angie had argued with Dante three different times to convince him not to chew off his own arm like a wolf getting out of a trap. Finally, they'd resigned themselves that they were going to have to stay there for the night and wait for Wyatt to unglue them in the morning.
The remainder of their time had been devoted to plotting their revenge on the Wyatt, convincing their families that they were having sleep overs at friends' houses, and figuring out how they were going to sleep while stuck together. The only options were to either both sleep on their backs or stomachs or to sleep on the couch together, back-to-back or face-to-face.
So it was that Wyatt found them. Dante had won the couch and was sleeping on his back. Angie was trying to sleep while sitting on the floor with her back against the couch and her glued arm propped up on the cushions.
However, she had the consolation of stealing his new Cobra 4.0 phone—which she still felt should have been hers anyway-when he fell asleep. Grinning to herself at her victory, she was passing time playing with the phone, deliberating tugging on Dante's arm when she moves her own arm. It still didn't wake him.
Angie gave Wyatt the Glare of Death when he rushed into the room.
Wyatt tried not to grin. "How'd this happen?"
"He snores if he doesn't sleep on his back-yet another thing I did not need to know about him. Are you seriously going to leave us stuck like this all night?" Angie asked.
He was just overjoyed that they were alive to bicker. He wanted to unglue them, to hug both of them senseless, but that would have tipped them off that something was wrong. Plus, Dante would no doubt pin him down while Angie pummeled him into surrendering the Rubber/Glue gun. Wyatt wouldn't begin to know how to explain everything that happened, especially not without making things weird(er) between Dante and Angie.
So, until he could think of the best way to tell them the story, he offered her his best lecture tone and reminded her: "You mess with barded booty, you accept the consequences."
Angie arched her eyebrow. "You mess with me, you accept the consequences."
Wyatt was appropriately contrite. "Yeah, I know."
He threw her a blanket that had been left from the group's last sleepover at their headquarters. She wrapped it around herself as best she could with one arm stuck to Dante and grinned in evil satisfaction when the corner smacked him in the face. It didn't wake him…but for some reason, it started him snoring again (even louder than before).
Angie groaned. "Super." She went back to fiddling with the cell phone, pointedly not speaking to Wyatt.
Wyatt watched her for a few seconds. Out of the blue, he suggested: "You should start up a game avatar."
"I already said 'no'," she reminded him.
"Whatever. I just think you'd kick serious avatar butt." He turned toward the door, but paused to add one more thing. "You know, some gamers take their names from other languages. Did you know 'Kutisha' and 'Mahtava' mean 'awesome'?"
Angie didn't look up from her phone. "Yeah, fascinating. What's the gamer name for 'cramp who won't unglue me'?"
"Insults will not get you unglued," he said.
"How about if I hit you with my shoe? Will that help?"
"Goodnight, Angie." This time, as he headed out the door, Wyatt did grin. He shut off the lights on his way out, just to yank her chain.
Once Wyatt was gone, Angie stashed the phone in her purse. She was exasperated, her butt was starting to ache from sitting on the cement floor, and she was seriously considering breaking into the Booty Box again and using the Sword of Antiperspirant to combat some of the smell coming off the boy on the couch. If she had to spend the rest of the night in this uncomfortable position, someone was going to get their ass kicked in the morning.
She sighed. The hell with it.
Angie elbowed Dante onto his side as she squeezed into the small space that opened on the couch. "Move over. And don't get any ideas. I've still got my Fist of Schoolage."
She couldn't see him with the lights off, but swear she could feel him grin at that.
Epilogue
Wyatt had shared the story of the Doublebacks, the alternate timeline, and everything that had happened during his two-days stranded there with Lyle, Dante, and Angie…save for a few omissions. For a couple of days afterwards, they all had a shared paranoia that the Doublebacks might have somehow escaped and the broken timeline might resume. Lyle had spent an entire day listening to his dad recount just about every football game of his own college career just grateful that his father was there to lecture. Angie had outright frightened her brothers by (temporarily) being nice to them. Dante had randomly checked on Barbra (just to make sure she was still there) so many times that she had finally done an unannounced bedroom check just to make sure he wasn't hiding and/or on something that would account for his odd behavior.
Lyle hadn't only gained a renewed appreciation for his family and his three closest friends; he was looking at his teammates in a different light, imagining his alternate universe self in that miserable swamp with Reggie, Mike, Kowalski, and the other Trojans and them backing up Never Fail against Maldark's psychotic game leaks.
Wyatt walked into Deckard's a few days later to find a full-blown Trojans pep rally in progress.
Lyle had gathered the team for a pre-game blowout at the diner. It had been a ritual of boasting, psyching each other up, eating lousy food, and generally venting some steam before an important game. In his distraction worrying about the importance of college recruiters, scholarships, and his father's disapproval, Lyle had almost forgotten that little things like killing an afternoon with friends were just as important.
"Okay, can I have a minute here, guys?" Lyle stood up on his seat in the corner booth, earning a look of scorn from the diner's assistant manager. "First, I have something to say to McCobb…"
Sitting at the counter, a little apart from the rest of the team, McCobb looked nervous, until Lyle grinned: "I want to say…that thanks to your wicked awesome knowledge of the Fulton High Falcons, we are going to be kicking some Falcon feathers this Friday night!"
The Team roared a mixture of whoops and insults for their rival team. Mike was surprised, but pleased…and a little startled when Reggie hooked and arm around his neck and playfully dragged him from the barstool to sit with him and Kowalski at one of the tables.
This went on for a minute or two before the commotion died down so Lyle could finish: "Seriously, I know I've kind of gotten wrapped up in my head lately. I forget that we're all anxious about the recruiters. Let me tell you, they'll be lucky to sign any one of you. There couldn't be a better team, and there's no one else I'd rather share the field of battle with."
The team cheered again, with more gusto. Lyle climbed out of the booth, leaving them to their celebrating. He caught his father's eye. Maynard Hugginson sat with Jim Peterson at the counter, both watching the quarterback's pep talk with nods of approval.
Lyle grabbed a basket of fries and went to join Wyatt at Never Fail's usual booth in the corner of the diner. He set the basket in the middle of the table and grinned at the computer geek. "Make that almost no one else."
Wyatt accepted the fries. "Sounds like you're feeling better," he said as Lyle slid into the opposite seat.
Lyle did, in fact, feel better for the first time since his father had invited Coach Peterson to the upcoming game. "After hearing you tell me about the end of the world, I kind of get that not landing my first choice of colleges is not the end of the world."
"You know what they say: If you can make it in the Stenchwater Swamps, you can make it anywhere." Wyatt agreed. Lyle was like his father in many ways, and, like Maynard Hugginson, he was going to come out on top no matter where he landed. "You still haven't told your dad about UCLA?"
Lyle's answer surprised him. "Actually, I did. But, I agreed to hear what Mr. Peterson has to say about Notre Dame if he decides to recruit me."
Wyatt absently moved a french fry around a pool of ketchup. Lyle could see the guy's mental wheels turning. "All this talk about college got me thinking…" Wyatt started. "You know, about who's going to protect Daventry Hills after we graduate?"
Angie was applying for every college grant and scholarship under the sun, as if there was a chance she wouldn't get one between her high grades and her extracurricular activities. Wyatt already had his school picked out and a college fund ready to pay for it, without having to battle his parents over his choice of colleges. Lyle would be recruited, Wyatt was confident of that. Even Dante would eventually head to junior college or trade school (or the armed forces if his probation officer's threats were ever made good on). It wasn't something Wyatt had thought about until he'd seen just how bad an unchecked invasion by Maldark could be.
"We ought to start thinking about expanding our clan for after we go our separate ways," he suggested.
"Don't get into your head too much, Wyatt." Lyle didn't look worried. There would come a time to start thinking about it, but the time wasn't today. "Besides, Dante will be around for at least another two years before he passes his exit exam, so you've got a little time to think about new recruits."
He glanced up as a pair of familiar faces entered the diner. Barbra made her way through the crowd to place an order with Angie, who was working the counter. Dante followed his mom into the diner, but as soon as he spied the girl at the counter, Angie flushed bright red and Dante hid his face behind a hastily-grabbed menu and scurried over to Wyatt and Lyle's booth.
"I'm guessing you finally told them?" Lyle asked with amusement
"Yeah," Wyatt answered before their friend plopped down beside him at the table.
"Women are crazy," Dante announced, put out by the fact that he was currently on the lists of two extremely vengeful women, and all for things that were either beyond his control (like the Rubber/Glue gun accident) or things that he'd done in another timeline.
"And crazy knows crazy," Lyle said.
As it turned out, Wyatt had been wrong-the Rubber/Glue gun did not have a reverse setting. They'd spent several hours and dozens of bottles of nail polish remover, goo gone, turpentine, and anything else they could think of trying to pry Angie and Dante free of the adhesive. Finally, Lyle had used a spell. The glue had come loose…and taken a few layers of Angie and Dante's skin with it. The end result was that they were sporting matching bandages, beneath which were patches of skin that looked to have been scalded with a thick laser beam (which was, in fact, how the Thunder Pole had burned off the glue).
Dante picked at the large white bandage that covered his upper right arm. "Barbra still thinks I got a tattoo. She's taking me for a tetanus shot and a Hep B vaccine…and she grounded me! As soon as I give her the slip, I'm getting one. If I'm going to do the time, I'm going to do the crime."
Wyatt winced. "Again, sorry about the arm."
Lyle's grin was devious. "You can always tell your mom the truth: That you spent the night glued to your girlfriend from an alternate timeline all alone in our HQ. I'm sure that won't upset or concern Barbra at all."
Now, Wyatt winced and his ears turned red. "And sorry about leaving you guys stuck in the warehouse all night," he apologized.
Lyle kicked Wyatt under the table. "You're dying to know what happened, admit it." He turned his attention back to Dante. "If you don't tell us what happened, we'll make something up…"
In truth, Wyatt was sure nothing had gone on at the warehouse. But, he couldn't resist joining in the teasing simply because it was driving Dante and Angie nuts. "And our imaginations are probably a million times worse than the truth."
If Dante blushed any harder, Wyatt was sure his friend would burst into flames. "You guys s-"
Whatever retort he'd been preparing ended with Dante diving under their table as Angie walked over with Wyatt's food.
Angie banged her fist on the tabletop. "You know I can still see you right?" she asked the boy hiding there. When he answered with something indecipherable, she rolled her eyes and returned to the counter. He couldn't hide from her for long.
"They're still a little weirded out," Wyatt observed.
Lyle sobered a bit. In truth, Wyatt's recount of all that had happened in the alternate timeline still chilled him to his core. Despite the fact that the timeline had been corrected, Lyle still felt indebted to his eccentric friend for saving his dad's life in any universe. He supposed he should start repaying Dante by laying off the torture about the glue gun incident and alternate universe relationships.
For now.
Still, Lyle couldn't resist asking Wyatt: "Seriously, how freaked out were you seeing them as a couple?"
"Let's just say the Vampire-Zombie couple in Nearly Dusk is no longer the most disturbing couple I've seen…" Wyatt turned his head as he heard the sound of a female giggling nearby. "…and not as freaked out as you're going to be if they hook up."
He nodded to the counter. Lyle followed his gaze to see that his father and Dante's mother were deep in a conversation…and laughing. Jim Peterson had disappeared somewhere. His father had said something that made Barbra laugh. She said something back that caught him off-guard, Lyle could tell. His father always raised one eyebrow when he was laughing sincerely at something…was he flirting with her?
Lyle's stomach did a nervous flip-flop. "Oh, no…"
"What? What am I missing?" Dante crawled out from under the table-the table at the adjoining booth, much to the surprise of the group sitting there. He scanned the room to see what had attracted Wyatt and Lyle's attention.
Lyle and Dante gaped at their parents.
"Wait, what's happening there? Did he just suck in his stomach?" Lyle asked, shocked.
Dante was just as horrified. "Did she just do that hair fwip thing and giggle?"
Wyatt hid his smile. "Yep, they're into each other. No doubt about it. Don't worry, though, I'm sure it'll be great for both of you to have a new step-brother. Barbra can make her soy sauce surprise for breakfast every morning. You and Dante can have matching twin beds, and he can keep his dead skin collection on the shelf by your football trophies."
Not wanting to leave out his other best friend, Wyatt patted Dante's shoulder consolingly. "And it might score points with your probation officer to have the mayor for your step-dad. Of course, it's going to be much harder to climb out the window when you're living at Mr. Hugginson's house, with the home security system and all…not that you're going to get to sneak out much once he hires a tutor to make sure you bring your grades up. I hear he's very set on his kids attending Notre Dame…"
Lyle and Dante all but jumped from their seat, racing to the bar to intervene.
"No, no….Dad!"
"Barbra!"
Wyatt just grinned.
Fin