Barcode: Legend of Apollo (27 page)

“Why are you up here?”

Leo stands up, but I slam him back to the ground. Someone’s answering
all
my questions tonight. I’m not taking no for an answer anymore.

“Argh.”

“Argh? Are you a pirate?” Leo laughs a bit before getting angry again. This scrawny guy is strange to watch.

“I’m sick of life and pain. Spencer. I’m tired.” He breaks into tears. I’m sure he needs a hug, but I’m not the most evolved primate in the world. I release my chains because he’d be better off finding comfort on the ground than with me.

Leo wipes tears from his eyes the same way Yukio does, with his arm and wrists.

“What happened?”

“Nothing in particular. I’m just tired. Being smart. Saving the Moreno Company by keeping up with Eli’s technology. Finding cures. Research. Everything.” Leo stands up and walks past me to the stairwell.

Reluctantly I grab his arm, “I’m not sure if anyone else cares that you die, but I do. You’re a good friend Leo.”

Leonardo’s eyes light up like Christmas for a brief moment before gazing into the distance. I doubt my words were enough to change his situation, but it does help.

His tears gently strike the ground as he starts to smile.

“Spencer. It’s so hard.”

“Saving your parents’ company?”

“Everything.”

“What’s wrong with the Moreno? Why would they need saving?”

“We can’t stay on top forever. I’ve made most of the technological advancements over the past eight years. If something were to happen to me, another company would definitely take over.”

“Nothing’s going to happen if you don’t jump.”

Leo nods his head and we walk to the door. As he scratches his ear, my eyes zoom in as though they detect another threat. I watch as a nanobot falls from his ear onto the floor. Tiny sparks fly from its legs and wings. Several more nanobots follow.

It suddenly strikes me: is Leo even human?

Twenty Eight

Bed. Pillow. I love and miss you. Of all the fickle, indecisive, and suicidal relationships I’ve developed over a weak lifetime, only you truly comfort me at night. At the end of the longest day of my life, its memory foam opens its arms and says,
Just let it go Spencer. Hibernate.

Forget removing armor; I’m tired. As my body molds into the clouds of heaven, my mind wrestles with venomously persistent thoughts to forget everything that’s occurred today.

Slowly the disease, insomnia, creeps into my veins.

I toss and turn, gaining little to no alleviation from my stress. When I can no longer fight the images of Michelle walking away and Leo falling, I decide to get up and make a snack.

I’ll be back baby,
I think while patting my bed.

I stumble into the kitchen and find nothing. There isn’t an unexpired drop of food in my refrigerator or cabinets. Even my tiger jerky has vanished. It seems that Leo’s nanobots don’t care where they get food. I’m going to drive my knuckles deep into his skull before school tomorrow.

Normally, Hayley would restock my cabinets. I guess when Dennis said I couldn’t use her as my assistant any longer, he meant it. Unfortunately for Dennis, he has learned nothing from history. Those on the verge of starvation will submit to crime to satisfy their most basic needs.

I remove my armor and throw on a warm robe. I take to the emergency stairwell and walk up sixty-one flights of stairs to the penthouse. It’s not as bad as it seems. In elementary, I’d start at the first floor and mark my last step with a marker. By thirteen, I could climb all seventy-five floors twice.

Keeping to the walls like a rat, I dodge all the cameras Dennis had installed to make sure the hired help didn’t feel any urge to steal anything of value. After making my way down a long hallway, I realize that he has remodeled his floor. Everything’s in the same location, but it really looks different.

I recall seeing construction workers a few years back, but I haven’t found a need to venture into his space since I’ve had my own. The Writer truly blessed my teenage years. Thirteen came with a grand freedom from Hayley. I’d visit the floor maybe once or twice a month after my liberation from babysitting.

Gladiators are supposed to undergo one-on-one training with their parents between their thirteenth and fifteenth birthdays. After two years, they can enter Colt Academy’s gladiator program.

Dennis was too busy, so he had me wrapped in ceremonial bandages when I was twelve. I spent the next three years in physical therapy, simply learning how to use my upper body without tearing my muscles to shreds. That’s when I got into video games.

Down the hallway, I find myself at two extremely large doors. Inside, I see an extravagant dining hall. Yet, what catches my attention isn’t the décor. A fragrance nearly brings me to tears. It’s something I feel deep within my bones, but I can’t remember at all where I know it.

Stopping a few feet before the double doors, I hear Dennis and Hayley talking.

“Just make the damn thing,” Dennis says jokingly.

“I won’t finish until you tell me why you want it.” Dennis starts to speak, but Hayley interrupts. “Shut up. I’m not done. You may have forgotten that I made it for you when Spencer was three. You came home looking like you’d been in the worst fight of your life, and when you saw the brat with the food, you flung it across the room. I’ve never seen your son throw that much of a tantrum. Now, you want it again?”

Dennis doesn’t say a word. In fact, I’m sure I hear sobbing.

“Look at me,” Dennis laughs weakly. “I’m...” His voice trails off and he chuckles faintly again.

“I’ll make it,” Hayley says softly.

“No. I…um…” Dennis sniffs, “It was a bad night. Bethany…Beth—oh she hated being called by her name. She used to make it all the time when she was pregnant with Spencer; she said it was his favorite food, you know?”

Dennis grunts and I hear a chair scoot against the floor, “I loved it too. She’d made it one day before we were going to the library. Oh! It was delicious, and I told her that. But she didn’t care how much I liked it. After every bite, she just kept holding her stomach. Spencer was practically kicking his way out.” I’d honestly like to see what Dennis looks like when laughing through tears. I can sense the authenticity, but it’s not the same as seeing it. “She made me swear that if something happened to her, no one else could make it for her boy.”

I place my fist over my mouth and clench my hand so tightly that I’m afraid I’ll draw blood. I have never heard Dennis speak a single word about my mom.

“She…uh. Wow. Why is this difficult?” Dennis laughs, “She made me promise, but you made it just like her. I swear.” He snickers and blows his nose loud enough to sound like a trumpet.

Taking my robe in my hand, I wipe my face. I’m not ready to admit they’re tears, but my eyes definitely burn. Hearing this from Dennis just does something to me.

The more questions I asked about my mother, the less answers I received. I learned to listen whenever someone said ‘Beth’, but always pretended that I heard nothing at all.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but I don’t care. I sit in silence as Hayley clanks, chops, and stirs. After a small forever, she finishes making the soup. I hear her place a bowl on the table in front of Dennis. I assume he takes his time to write his prayer on a napkin, like always.

“Give it a minute; it’ll be too hot.”

I hear Dennis’ watch beep before he says, “That’s all the time you get.”

“How’s Spencer?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk to me.”

“Isn’t that your fault?”

“Damn, only ten seconds in…Yeah. Probably.”

“What are you going to do about it?” she asks boldly, slamming her mittens on the sink.

“Pray I guess.”

“Take him to the library. He hasn’t gone in five years.”

“I’ve asked him, but—”

“That’s what’s wrong with you and Casey. You ask him. He’s a damn kid Dennis.
Your
kid. Stop asking and just tell him.” Though I’d never verbally agree with Hayley, it would be nice to have a real father-son relationship. “Stop looking at your watch or I’ll throw poison in the soup. He’s a teenager. He’s not supposed to listen. Punish him. He wants a father, not just a chancellor.”

“He needs a mother too, but I can’t give him that.”

“Do you blame him for killing Beth?”

“No. He didn’t kill her. There were…complications.” I can hear my heart beating in my ears. Almost every god rips through the womb at birth. There’s no way I didn’t kill her. She died in the delivery room.

“You blame yourself?”

Dennis doesn’t respond.

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened.” Hayley gasps and says, “That came out wrong.”

“I blame myself for letting her get pregnant without her father knowing, for following my father’s orders to continue the strength of our bloodline, and for not spending more time with her.” Dennis slaps his hand on the counter. “I’m pissed I wasn’t there to protect her. Who else can I blame?”

“Dennis, this guilt you’re feeling will kill you. Maybe the library will be good for you and Spencer.”

“Maybe,” Dennis says as his watch goes off.

He hears the sound of glass shattering at the far end of the hall. Dennis pushes away the chair and quietly tells Hayley to hide in the corner. He rushes out of the room and chases the invisible intruder through the double doors that I just pushed open with my chains.

When Dennis is far out of sight, I sneak inside. Hayley’s trembling with her face hidden at the far end of the kitchen. Fearful of the presence in the room, she slowly peers over her shoulders to see me finishing the entire bowl of potato soup. Of course, I burned my mouth, but it was worth every tear.

Angry and bewildered, Hayley stands up ready to yell at me. I interrupt by hugging her and saying, “Thank you,” repeatedly.

Hayley holds me tight and kisses my head. It takes me a few moments to notice that Dennis has returned to the room. He’s standing at the kitchen door, watching, and trying to catch his breath.

“How did mom die?” Though it should sound like a question, it’s closer to a demand. I approach Dennis with my barcodes activated, and I’m not interested in reading his thoughts.

“You were listening.”

My chains creep to the floor, and my face turns cold. Dennis might as well have murdered her himself, because all my life, he let me assume I’d done it. That guilt crushed me. Every time he touched me with his intrusive barcode, he would’ve known. I could hardly breathe some nights, knowing I’d murdered the only person that ever loved me.

Once my chains have fully extended, I push Hayley away with one and reach for the pot of soup with the other. He’s not talking, and I’m not asking any more questions.

Dennis boldly asserts himself, “You’re not going to fight your father.”

“I wouldn’t if I had one,” I respond calmly before throwing the pot at his face. Dennis protects his good looks at the cost of his arms. I bind his hands and feet and slam him into the wall. The room’s turning black, but I’ll have to stop fighting if I lose sight of Hayley.

Steadily, I breathe through my anger and throw Dennis into the next room. Coiling one chain into a shield, I raise it in front of me and walk in. My sperm donor fires a bullet from his index finger. His hand is a weapon on its own. It can slice like a sword and fire like a gun. He’s so gifted; he can actually create specific bullets. I’m sure the one stuck in my shield is a tranquilizer.

I’ve seen him fight in the ring for too long and have analyzed all his tricks more. I don’t plan on losing.

“Tell me or I’ll rip this floor apart until we’re both too tired to fight.”

“I can’t Spen—“ A plate flies at his head. Spinning around, I see Hayley throwing dishes at Dennis.

“Tell him, you ass,” Hayley yells as she launchers another one.

Dennis threatens to fire her. My chains launch three chairs at him before throwing him into the waiting room. This time, Hayley shows her face before I do. I know Dennis isn’t going to fight me seriously, but I don’t know if I can contain my strength. It already feels good throwing him around.

Hayley chases down Dennis, shouting, “Do you know what it feels like, not knowing how someone died, but you blame yourself? You’re causing the rift between you and Spencer and I swear if you don’t tell him, I’ll run away with him. You can chase us all you want, but neither of us will stop fighting to stay away. Tell him.”

If running away is my other option, I’m not sure I even want the answer anymore.

“I can’t!” Dennis shouts, “And don’t throw anything or hit me. Just listen.” He catches his breath and stands before Hayley and I. “It’ll be better if I take you to someone who can.”

Twenty Nine

The stink of urine hangs on my nostril hairs as I walk through the rustic prison wards. There’s a completely different feel here in the daytime. I didn’t think that was possible, but the natural light shining through the cages actually makes it look more disgustingly pitiful.

The dirt and grime on the walls are visible. The few flies that managed to survive in this hell zip in and out of the light. Several toilets have overflown and the bruised gladiators are grotesque.

Most of the men are either working out or reading. Some stand to greet Dennis. Others spit at the sight of him. One schizophrenic raises a book and starts preaching about our horrors and sins.

“Hey warden. Yeah warden. You brought your son with you? You showing him how to kill people and take their pride? You look at me when I’m talking to you. What about the people warden? When are you going to stop the pain warden?” Some of the larger men stare at him in disgust. A few tell him to shut the hell up. Dennis walks to the next block as though it were just another day on the job.

As the
warden
and I enter Block D, I glance into several cages to see that the blood stains were never removed. I’ve been here, and there’s proof of my experience in every corner. Dennis walks to the furthest cell on the left side: number twenty-four.

Air rushes through my lungs in relief when I finally see my friend.