Barcode: Legend of Apollo (4 page)

My original plan was to check his results, but something must be wrong with the monitor. It says that all of his muscles and organs have healed. Ninety-eight percent of his body has recovered. Not even Angie’s that far along.

Michelle tugs on my shirt once she notices me simply staring at the screen. Though it awakens me from my trance, a magnetic force draws me towards his stone. The invisible hand pulling against my neck is frightening, but I walk as though it were natural. Michelle tries pulling me away, but I continue until I’m directly in front of the boy.

While gawking at the mask, the only part of his body exposed, I whisper, “You’re strange.”

A faint sound echoes in my head like a thought I can’t make out. I assume it’s my conscience warning me of my journey towards insanity.

I should leave, but my body won’t allow it.

I recall hearing stories from Angie about this mask. Supposedly, it once had a barcode, but no matter how closely I examine it, I don’t see one. This particular mask provided humans in the past with strength comparable to the gods. Several Apes that surrendered their lives to this haunted piece of clay defeated some of the strongest demigods in history.

After a few more seconds of peering into the empty space where I should see eyes, I turn and grab Michelle’s wrist. At least with her at arm’s length, I’m not obligated to feel her flesh against me.

A burning sensation warms my hand as we exit the room, but it’s much easier to ignore than her more nurturing features.

When we reach the door, I hear a loud rumble. As the cement smashes to the floor, I accidentally squeeze her wrist too tightly. She screams from the pain and I let her go. When I examine Michelle’s arm, I see a burn from my hand on her flesh. I feel a strange connection between our data, but I have no time to focus on that.

For now, I need to check if the boy survived the collapsing cement. Dennis can’t have another death to report, so I try digging him out as quickly as possible. Activating my barcodes, I easily lift and throw the cement stones without getting the clay on my new clothes. Before I can reach the bottom, I hear a faint sound coming from the door.

I turn my head just in time to see dreadlocks covered in clay drift in the wind. There’s a possibility that I imagined it, but I chase the shadow regardless.

Michelle follows me without missing a beat or saying a word. When she falls too far behind, I grab her hand and interlace our fingers. Though the burning doesn’t return, I can feel a heartbeat throughout her palm. It’s not as petrifying as I would assume. In fact, there’s something soothing about the life I hold in my hand.

Racing through the long corridor, I chase the clay tracks until they disappear near the nurses’ rooms. One door is open so I peek inside.

Shockingly, I see a very tall boy with shoulder length dreadlocks standing over a sleeping nurse. A light flashes in my eyes before the image in front of me flickers and my vision turns black. I feel myself slam into the wall that I’ve backed into.

Michelle holds my cheeks with a concerned expression written over her face. I place my forehead on hers, which surprises us both.

With my barcodes radiating underneath my ceremonial bandages, I use my enhanced sense of touch to find some comfort in knowing I’m still in reality. I violate her privacy, reading her inner thoughts.

Don’t die Spencer. Get away from there.

Where? What are you talking about?

The darkness.

I can’t stop intruding on her thoughts. It’s almost as though they are my own.

Her presence nourishes me. As her face flushes red, I assume she’s sharing the same exotic experience.

Michelle’s hands pull me closer into her face. Neither one of us can control our actions at this moment. Before my nose touches hers, the boy appears behind Michelle, and I nearly knock her over to stop him from striking her. Strangely, when he’s nearly within reach, he vanishes into a cloud of black smoke.

I’m losing it.

I hold a timid Michelle in my arms with tears leaking from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Michelle. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” I say trying to apologize for scaring her.

Life bolts from my lungs when she cries, “Spencer. What did I feel behind me?”

Then, I hear a woman’s scream from the open door. Fear holds onto me so tightly, I can hardly move. Somehow, I find the courage to reenter the room.

The woman cries hysterically while holding covers over her uniform. She stares frantically into another room with steam creeping from the door. I step in enough to peek inside of the bathroom.

I see the same boy taking a shower. He’s very skinny, but muscles ripple over his entire body. There are traces of blood and clay everywhere. He keeps his mask directed towards the pouring water while breathing heavily. It’s almost as though he were drinking.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Michelle trembling in a corner. I send Casey a text before walking over to help her up. I lift Michelle into my arms and she cries on my shoulder until she falls asleep. When my grandad arrives, I brief him on the incident before taking her to an empty hospital room.

I seriously need some rest.

Four

When I wake up, I’m still holding onto Michelle. I thought I’d placed her in the hospital bed, but I might have fallen asleep with her in my arms. Now, the sun’s beaming in my eyes, and she’s shifting uncomfortably.

We’re in a room similar to Angie’s, but instead of a pool, there’s a king sized recovery bed. Let me correct myself, there’s a giant king sized memory bed that molds to your body and massages you during sleep. This room’s for larger gladiators, like Arnold. If I’d known Michelle would end up in my arms, I would have slept in that bad boy.

I’ve already experienced enough intimacy with her for the night. My back’s aching and my body’s sore. Worst of all, her butt is in my crotch, and that’s not going to work in the morning.

I stand up quickly and drop her on the floor.

“Jerk!” Michelle shouts with an automated response. She’s still rubbing the sleep from her face, but managed to call me by my unofficial first name before even remembering she’s in a hospital. “Ugh,” Michelle moans while standing up. “Why are you such a failure?”

Before she finishes her sentence, she leans her head on my chest.

“You can’t be this evil at eight in the morning, and still expect me to be nice to you,” I say while pushing her head away. “Stop coming so close.”

“I can’t help it, pig. I told you my barcode and senses go together. I normally cuddle with my cat in the morning, and you’re the nearest body. So take it.”

Michelle tries to close in on me again, but I push her head away once more.

“I’ll leave it.”

While strapping my armored boots, Michelle searches the room. She finds her shoes next to the bed.

With a gasp, she says, “You undressed me.”

I try leaving, but she jumps on my back and swoops her head in. Before she can suck any additional life from me, I cover my neck, turn around, and throw her on the bed. Casually, she sits up and continues tying her shoes.

“What happened last night?”

“My grandad came to get the guy. They had to force him to stay in the hospital because he wanted to go train in the arena.”

Michelle observes the building outside of the window before saying, “No. What happened before that? Behind me.”

“I thought I saw something, but I guess I was a bit tired.” While laughing, I add, “Thanks for not getting too upset with me.”

Displeased with my response, Michelle storms out of the room. We both take the elevator down to the first floor where we see students roaming the hallways.

A few people stare at us strangely, and rightfully so. We’re the only two students on this floor not wearing armor.

Michelle sighs, “I need to take a shower and change into my gear. I guess I’ll be late getting to class.”

I walk away as I mumble, “You can change at my place and get suited on the second floor.”

Michelle silently skips alongside of me. Before we can make it outside, Hannah leaps in front of us.

“And where are you two going?” she asks playfully.

None of the responses I come up with in my head seem quite appropriate.
To my building to take a shower and change?
No.
To my place to get Michelle some new clothes?
Don’t think so.
Well, you see we slept together and need to quickly get ready for classes.
Negative.

Michelle and I awkwardly stare at each other before I declare, “Need to do a few more things for the hospital. Michelle spotted me and started stalking me, like always. Now she has to help. We’ll be right back.” I try blowing past Hannah to avoid telling any other lies, but Michelle hesitates long enough to encounter another question.

“Why aren’t you in armor?”

Michelle draws out her words as she replies, “We just changed quickly to catch a cab. Anyway, we have to go or we’ll be really late.”

I slap the armor hanging from my shoulder to show Hannah that I just switched gear, though Michelle can’t do the same. We lightly jog out of the entrance while waving to a confused, but smiling Hannah.

Damn it. Why’d I have to lie? It shouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not like she likes me anymore.

Michelle cautiously watches me before asking, “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

“Why didn’t you? You’d normally sell me out.” Michelle doesn’t respond, but won’t allow me to see her face either. “Anyway, things haven’t been the same since the incident in the arena last year.”

“You mean that horrible fight you put up?”

“Something like that.”

As we cross the street, Michelle punches me and says, “Why didn’t you even try?”

“I had something to prove.”

“What? That you’re rich enough to pay someone off?”

Still a few feet away from the curb, I stop in the intersection and stare at Michelle. She doesn’t step onto the sidewalk either.

“I would never pay someone to lose a fight on purpose. If you don’t understand that, go home.”

Michelle runs into my arms. I don’t want to hold her again, but for some reason I naturally try to prevent her from falling. I should’ve let her land on the cement.

The brat head-butts me before saying, “That’s all I wanted to hear. I’ll tell her for you. Kay?”

I nod and try not to smile. The car next to us honks their horn. Michelle’s tattoos shine brightly as we both stare the idiot down. Once the driver in the tiny SUV realizes that we’re both gladiators, he sinks in his seat.

The idiot’s driving a fake military truck called a Hum-V. The yellow two-seater sits on fifty-inch wheels. Most guys use it for drag racing because the fiberglass material makes it lightweight, but there’s enough horsepower to back it up. Casey once crashed into one just to show what a real military truck can do. Poor guy. The fiberglass shattered into particles.

“Sorry Apollo,” the idiot squeals before I turn back to Michelle.

I push the brat away and she lands next to the stoplight.

Once I walk towards her, I feel a foreign presence overtake me—honesty. For some strange reason, I decide to give my nemesis a real explanation.

“I didn’t tell her because it just didn’t seem right to have Hannah’s best friend getting dressed and taking a shower at my place.”

“You really like her, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh. Got you.” I notice something in her tone that concerns me. Michelle sounds as though she actually cares. We were practically raised together, and Michelle’s never liked me a day in her life. What’s so different now?

When we make it to Dennis’ skyscraper, a block away from the arena, we head to the second floor to get her fitted for a woman’s Moreno armor. Michelle tries to pay for it, but the clerk tells her that everything in the house is covered by Dennis Colt.

Before we leave, I ask the old man, “Did you meet a tall and nerdy boy with glasses recently.”

“Ah, Leonardo. Yes. Yes. Why?”

“Did he get any armor from you?”

“No. The armor he wears cannot be made here. I tried to ask him about it, but he was very secretive. Never seen anything like it. Beautiful craftsmanship.”

“Do you have anything that high in quality for me?”

“What you need it for? You finally fight?”

“Maybe.”

“You too ‘high quality’ this, ‘high quality’ that. Kids. Just take what you have. I give you the best armor in this room already, and still you want more. I just put a new one in your room this morning. Go pick it up. You’re so spoiled, Spencer.”

We part ways after the old man promises to have someone deliver Michelle’s armor to my door. Once we make it to my floor, I point Michelle in the direction of my guest apartment and tell her that the bathroom should be clean.

I’d invite her in with me, but I’m embarrassed of my apartment. I’m not nervous about the cleanliness, the entire building has maids. It’s the boring atmosphere in my place that is something I never want people to see.

I was never much of a teenager, my creativity sucks, and the older I get, the worse these things seem. My apartment is fancy because of the black counter tops and the pseudo mahogany wood. But there’s no posters or picture frames. There’s just expensive furniture, brown and black everything, and lots of televisions.

The brat follows me into my master suite. Before I can even lock my door, I see a trail of her clothes leading into my bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.”

“How’d you know where it was?” I shout while picking up her clothes.

“I can feel it under my feet. That’s why I took off my shoes first. In fact, I know the entire layout of your floor. There’s a weird creature living in your second apartment,” she yells from the bathroom.

“Probably one of the Gonzales and Moreno experiments. Remember the one that got us in middle school?” She doesn’t reply. I imagine that’s not a pleasant memory for her.

The shower starts and I feel a shock in my hand. I throw her clothes down my laundry chute, and the sensation disappears.

After wasting enough time in the bathroom, Michelle finally walks out with her tattoos radiating pink. Steam erotically dances off her skin. Her once bronze hair hangs densely on her shoulder with a dark demeanor.