Barcode: Legend of Apollo (29 page)

Dennis clearly hasn’t visited the library for some time because he looks just as amazed as me. Though we’re a very spiritual bunch, it’s Hayley that forces us to write our prayers and study various novels. I never know exactly what to study on my own. There are no physical novels written by The Writer. He spends a lot of time delivering messages through us.

Many liminal beings and priest often recommend books like the pastor did, but I don’t know if that helps me any. It’s already difficult enough to believe in data I’ve never seen. Then, there’s actually writing prayers and listening to sermons about this being.

I do these things mechanically because of what I’ve learned from Talib, but after hearing what he had done to my mother, I don’t know where that leaves me spiritually.

“What’s wrong with you?“

Glancing at Dennis as we step onto the elevator, I reply. “Nothing.“

“You still thinking about...“

Trying to change subjects, I quickly say, “Do you think the pastor is a liminal being?“

“Pastor Gordon?“

“Yeah.“

“No way. I mean…no there’s no way.“

“Why’d he say oink?“

“We were staring at him too hard. Then again, he said not all spiritual beings look like beasts.“

We step off on the top floor. “Maybe you’re right. He’s just a human.“

“Now it sounds like we’re confusing each other.“

We both snicker. I stop mine a bit early when I realize my laugh sounds like his.

I find the history section with unfamiliar faces staring as we walk through the aisles, whispering about Apollo and Dionysus. I thought we’d manage to blend in with our best library clothes, but Dennis’ suits are often too expensive to go unnoticed.

Dennis and I part ways without saying another word.

Between the aisles, I find a book tablet about the Afghanistan War. I remember a few things I read in my
Recreation of History
class where we were forced to replicate digital simulations of previous wars on our computers.

I click the button and a woman’s gentle voice discusses primitive methods of combat. It’s strange how governments wasted their soldiers, killing one another in order to take over territories without the actual acquisition of the region. Taking a seat on the floor, I lean the digital book on my back and align it with my barcode. After the information downloads, I close my eyes to speed up the transfer of the data.

Pain etches across my tattoo as my mind processes how the war ended with American soldiers being withdrawn without any real accomplishments.

In the same area, I notice other books about this war containing topics about conspiracies and the true meaning behind the conflict of arms. Kode’s word,
entertainment
, pops into my head as I quickly scan anything related to this war.

A gnawing sensation brews in the well of my stomach. Why would politicians kill off thousands of people over a plane crash? Thoughts swarm my head as I consider Dennis’ role as Senator of America—practically the president of the West and South Coasts. Is he like politicians in the past? What’s the purpose of gladiators? Isn’t it unfair for mortals to be used as pawns in wars?

After the Great American War ended, the group of politicians that were given their provinces in the ex-U.S.A. agreed on terms that would allow them to fight peacefully over territories. Instead of murdering millions of soldiers and putting the world’s population at risk again, they decided to restart gladiator battles.

Mortals were chosen to determine an arena’s ranking. If they win the majority of their bouts, arenas are allowed to challenge high-ranking stadiums. Then, the gods and demigods face off. Mortals must fight to the death, but gods are allowed to live because it takes decades to raise one.

The god matches determine whether a politician loses or gains a new territory. Those matches only happen once a year, and only for a small piece of land. Mortal level warriors die regularly to maintain the peace. But why is the sport popular? Entertainment.

I slam the last book back on the shelf and feel a drunken demeanor possessing my thoughts. This is too much. Am I a part of a conspiracy, of a corrupt system like Kode says and the books mention?

I regain my composure and stumble away from the history section in order to find a more pleasantly distracting book. As I leave the aisle, I notice Michelle frozen in her track next to her gigantic father. Arnold gleams at the sight of me.

“Spencey,” he shouts with a deep manly voice in the library while rushing over and lifting me like a play toy.

Since the tender age of eight, when I first began wearing body armor, Arnold has spun me around. I despise every second of it, but I refuse to do anything that will anger my hulk of a godfather. Dennis says that Arnold wanted to do it when I was younger, but Hayley was afraid that I’d be crushed.

During those times, Arnold would bring Michelle along with him to play, but she’d hide behind her humongous father without saying a word. The expression glued to her face right now gives me flashbacks to my childhood.

Michelle and I have known each other all our lives, but she never said a word to me until Hannah and I became friends in our first year at the academy. The brat’s first words were preceded by a kick between my ribs.

“How are you kid?”

“Good,” I say, watching Michelle duck behind her father’s arm. Arnold notices my expression and tone. Then, he bends down to whisper, “I’m going to leave her with you.”

“Daddy!”

This happened once before, when we were preteens. Arnold told me to make sure she didn’t get hurt or he’d kill me. Once he left, Michelle ran away to the seventeenth floor. She wanted to play on the swings. For some reason, the crazy girl got the wildest kick from jumping off and landing as far away as she could with her pink tattoos radiating brightly.

A creature some Moreno and Gonzales scientists were experimenting on escaped and came directly for us. Supposedly, it was grossly attracted to her barcodes and had come to eat them. I’d never seen anything so foul.

She and I fought with everything we had. When we were too tired to go on, I covered her with my body until Casey came to our rescue. She only received a scratch on her leg, which I cried about frantically until the doctors stitched it up. I wouldn’t allow anyone to treat my back until her minor injury was fixed.

When Arnold had burst into the doctor’s room, I thought my life was over. After inspecting her thoroughly, he congratulated me with a firm slap on the back. I never forgot the pain, but I was safe. Nothing ever frightened me more than thinking he’d crush me for that scratch. It took the doctors months to surgically repair my injuries, though two very small lashes remain.

I don’t want that responsibility again and Michelle doesn’t want to come near me. But neither of us will try to oppose the giant.

“Now Spencer, people that can’t hurt me would love to attack her. In other words, if this building crashes down and you’re not by her side, you’re dead.” The smile that stretches across Arnold’s face scares me more than a serious demeanor would. I nod my head frantically and choke down my saliva as though it were the size of a horse pill.

“By the way, did you find anyone in your class that could kill me?”

“Daddy,” Michelle screams again, but the plea goes ignored this time.

“No,” I say casually. I consider mentioning Kode, but that would make me an accomplice to a crime. Arnold has slaughtered thousands, young and old, that claim they could kill him. Though he’s never said it directly, some say that Arnold wants to die and visit Mount Olympus to challenge the real Hercules. The only person I know more frightening than him pops into my head. “Well, maybe Professor Gonzales.”

Arnold slams his hand on my shoulder so hard my knees buckle. “Spencer, when I die, don’t let that woman put her mittens on me. She’ll turn me into one of those things she keeps locked up in class, or even worse, the ones she has at home.” Arnold shivers wildly and the floor rumbles a bit. “It just creeps me out thinking about it.”

I nod with my entire right side throbbing, and the brute walks away. I’m sure the pastor told Arnold to look for a specific section as well, but he heads directly to the cookbooks.

“Hey,” I whisper in a low voice to Michelle, but she only waves before walking to the other side of the bookshelf.

Fearful of Arnold seeing me more than ten feet away, I rush behind her.

“You don’t have to follow me. I’ll stay here,” she snaps before I have even turned the corner.

“It’s fine. I can read books anywhere.”

Michelle picks up
The Destruction of the Great Wall of China
and turns on the hologram demo. I do my best to leave her alone, but being ignored is too much for my ego. I feel as though I’ll explode when I blurt, “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” she responds quickly. Too quickly. It was as though she expected the question.

“Then why aren’t you talking to me?” Michelle continues clicking through the book. If she presses any harder, she’ll crack the screen. She wasn’t ready to answer more questions, and doesn’t want to. “Why’d you run out of the room crying?”

“I wasn’t crying,” she barks with such ferocity that I can clearly see Arnold’s DNA flowing rapidly through the blood in her red ears.

“You still ran away!”

“You didn’t need me anymore, so I left.”

“I didn’t need you in the first place!” I shout. A minister on the other end of the aisle shushes us. A metamorphosis occurs in her temper. I watch as her disgust transforms into an indignant fury. Very unfortunately for me, with just the two of us nearly alone in the library, Michelle’s rage takes over and she throws the book at my head. I barely dodge it.

She storms off and I’m in hot pursuit.

“Stop following me,” she whispers angrily.

“No,” I reply firmly.

Michelle runs quickly through the aisles, and I break into a sprint as well. As she escapes through the cooking section, Arnold smiles and pretends that he’s unaware of the vibrant cat-and-mouse chase. We both slow down to a brisk walk whenever we see a minister, and return to a full out dash once we’re out of range.

Eventually, we run into a section of the library restricted to ministers, liminal beings, and high-ranking gods. We duck into a dark corner, out of breath and laughing.

“Why do you want Hannah so badly?”

“What?”

“Why do you love Hannah?”

“I don’t!” I snap. My harsh response slightly bothers me. If that’s the case, why do I continue chasing her? “I don’t love her. I’ve already had this discussion. What the hell is up with you girls and love?”

“It’s a touchy subject jerk-face. Do you love me?” An answer zips through my brain, but the way I look away and blush doesn’t seem to satisfy her. In fact, she’s not pleased at all. “Do you?”

“No. I don’t think I do. I don’t know. I think about you a lot. Alright?” I do. I know I do. I think about her all the time. Michelle attempts to flash her tattoos secretively, but the bright light sends a sensual tingle through my spine.

She bounces subtly with excitement and says, “I don’t love you either.” Then, she does something I’ve never seen or even thought she’d do. Michelle smacks her forehead with her entire palm. It sticks roughly for a second before she says, “You’ll hurt Hannah if you’re around me too much. She...” Michelle grunts before mumbling, “Hannah’s really into you.”

“I know, but—”

Michelle wants to hear the rest, but a group of gods walk in followed by the porky pastor.

Grabbing my hand, she pulls me down the long stretch of darkness.

While running, we begin seeing ancient looking pillars made of a marble like material. A curse word slips from Michelle’s tongue when she notices a dead end with wooden pews, an elevated space with a microphone for a small choir, and a red carpeted pulpit.

We duck between two stone pillars, nearly thirty feet away from the room. I stop once I think we’re out of sight, but Michelle tugs on my arm when she notices a tiny space that we may be able to hide in. We run to the very end of the dark area until we’re squeezed together face-to-face. Then, we cover each others mouths while breathing heavily as the group passes us.

I watch as Michelle admires my gray suit. Unable to control her own desires, she even leans in. Though I don’t push towards her, I don’t pull away either.

While she stares in my eyes, I swear they shine a brighter blue. I even close them thinking the light may give us away. When they’re bold enough to reopen, my eyes instantly trace her outline in the shadows to see what she’s wearing.

Ms. Miyamoto’s sporting a bright green sweater dress and a white waistband.

We’re currently the same height. Wondering why, I look down at her feet. She has on heels as expected. I spend such a long time gawking at her legs, she clears her throat. We silently chuckle as I gaze into her hazel eyes. They seem to glow as well. I assume that’s the side effect of our suits. I didn’t realize until now how clearly I could see her in the dark, even without Leo’s gear.

Michelle’s long bronze hair rests unevenly on her shoulders. I reach up and straighten the gentle wires. Accidentally brushing her neck causes a light spark to link our flesh, making my fingers tremble.

Resting my hand on her exposed shoulder, I observe the beauty’s golden round cheeks and firm chin. They give her an appeal of a stunning warrior. If she ever wanted to throw on a hat and hide her hair, she could pass for a slightly feminine looking guy. But her soft pink lips are a dead giveaway.

With our mouths only inches apart, Michelle weakens and her head moves closer. She approaches slowly and every centimeter she covers corrodes my better judgment.

I’ve never been close enough to kiss a girl, except with her, and I haven’t trained enough to constantly fight this attraction. A surge of blood rushes to my head and my curiosity gets the best of me. Before I know it, I’m close enough to feel her heartbeat without my senses enhanced.

“Did you kiss?” she asks so politely I nearly laugh.

I take too long to answer her questions. Michelle pushes her leg between mine and squeezes her hand between my back and the wall. Then, she does something I didn’t know was possible, something I believe only she can. She activates my tattoo.