Jeremy Chikalto and the Demon Trace (Book III of The Hazy Souls) (16 page)

“Jeremy, a little light?”

“Oh, right.” Jeremy sent a beam back into
the root network.

“Nevermind, we have Ren's watch.” Maren
climbed up after him and Jeremy rolled his eyes. They wriggled
through the opening.

Jeremy called behind him. “Good news up
here!”

A large green pool bubbled in the center of
the stone room, sending out a mellow steam. Torches stuck out of
each of the four corners shining multi-colored light: one red, one
blue, one yellow, and one green. There was a wooden door at the
opposite end and it was dark brown and polished.

Jeremy leaned over the edge of the deep
green pool, cupped his hands and drank the cool liquid. “Tastes
good. Do you think it's okay for the baby?”

Maren leaned over the water's edge and drank
from the oasis. “I'm so thirsty. The baby's more at risk from
dehydration than dark magic.”

“An oasis, did I hear right?” Mateo popped
his head out of the hole, panting from the climb. “Hey!” He called
behind him. “Come up and have a drink, everyone!” There was
laughter and cheers as everyone soon piled into the room to drink
from the oasis and replenish their spirits.

Chapter 32

Lock Arms

Maren decided they would set up camp in the
root network, as she trusted the souls of the roots. The enemy of
her enemy was her friend. The jungle was receptive to its new
guests, and the roots thinned out in a center area to form a sort
of campsite surrounded by small cave-like structures hollowed out
in the mounds of dirt and vines. Jeremy carefully removed sod and
rock from the cracks in the tangled ceiling of the root network,
and a thin torch light flickered down, illuminating their campsite
in a dappled, golden light.

But some refugees were
still ill at ease. “I still think Vor Wantoro should be in
charge
—
he was a
king in the Farmoore Galaxy and he can keep his son in
check.”

“Jeremy's nothing but a playboy,” another
agreed. Maren was again overlooked.

One of General Forero's men piped up, “It
was the General who rallied us on the surface. He protected us and
built a new home. Why shouldn't he continue to lead us?”

“Vor Wantoro could beat General Forero in
any way, shape, or form.”

Now the party broke into
two halves, and Jeremy and Maren
—
who were at the other end of the
campsite admiring the root network
—
took notice and returned to
them.

“What's going on?” asked
Jeremy. “Have we not found you drink and shelter?” He crossed his
arms, and then looked at his father whose eyebrows were raised and
strained
—
a look
Jeremy was familiar with. “What's wrong?” asked Jeremy.

“I'll tell you what's wrong,” said General
Forero, stepping forward. “I'm challenging Vor Wantoro to an arm
wrestling match.”

The crowd cheered.

Jeremy leaned in to Maren and whispered,
“Have they gone mad?”

Maren shrugged.

Vor Wantoro stepped forward. “I accept.”

Jeremy's jaw dropped. He looked at his
father's meaty forearms, nodded, then looked to General Forero's
slightly meatier forearms. “Are you sure this is a good idea,
Dad?”

Wantoro laughed. “It's okay, just a bit of
fun. We need to get our mind off of things.” Then he made his game
face, his thick black brows set in a fierce V, his square jaw
locked, and his blue eyes narrowed on his opponent.

Jeremy sighed and Tina pushed him aside.

“Go, daddy! You can do
it!” She hopped from foot to foot and clapped her hands.
Meanwhile, a group of men had started to roll a
massive rock they'd found to a room-sized cove. They set it down
and then formed chairs out of clumps of strong, thick vines. Vor
Wantoro and General Forero ducked below some hanging vines and took
a seat across from each other, then extended their arms and locked
hands. So it began.

The two men flared their nostrils and set
their mouths in tight lines. They kept their arms close to their
bodies for leverage. Wantoro did a test push and the General bit
his bottom lip a little, but the arm didn't move. The veins in
their forearms bulged magnificently, and Jeremy was in awe of the
vascular manliness. Wantoro did another test push, and the General
counterattacked by pulling Wantoro's arm towards him. The General's
bicep contracted fiercely.

“Hssssssssss!” said Wantoro.

A man in the crowd began to describe the
match like a sports announcer.

Wantoro leaned forward, rolled his hand
around the General's, and pried it open a small amount, gaining one
of the small advantages that could eventually accumulate into a
victory. All of the veins in the General's face bulged.

The match continued in this manner for about
fifteen minutes. The crowd grew less excited by the spectacle as
the minutes went on.

“All right,” said a woman in the crowd, “I
guess I should ... go check on the vines.”

“Yeah, me too,” said someone else.

“Woooooooohhhhh! Team Forero!” hollered
Tina.

A man in the crowd yawned and pretended to
check a watch. The sports fans offered various excuses and began to
filter out, one by one, until Jeremy, Maren, and Tina were the sole
observers of the epic duel.

“Enough!” said Jeremy, and broke their hands
apart. “This is a waste of time.”

Wantoro and the General's right arms fell to
their sides. They tried to put them on the rock again, but could
not. Each was covered in sweat and heaving, now having a staring
match.

“You sonofabitch,” said General Forero, and
both men snapped their left arms onto the rock, and the battle
continued. Jeremy was exasperated and threw up his hands. He walked
out of the room, followed sheepishly by Maren. Tina opened her
mouth to cheer her daddy on, but then closed it. A minute later,
she left. Hours passed.

Vor Wantoro and General Forero were weak and
clammy. Their arms pathetically trembled, each exerting the force
of a single ant.

“Oo-oo-aaah.”

“All the way to the end, you wimp!” yelled
General Forero.

“I've got this,” said Wantoro.

“Oo-oo-aaah-aaah!” It was a shrill call, and
it was close by.

Vor Wantoro and General Forero both cocked
their heads to the side and saw it: an orange monkey with big round
eyes and flared nostrils. It hissed and bared its fangs. The men
leapt up and held their weak arms out to prevent the attack, but
the monkey charged.

General Forero attempted the first slap. It
was in slow motion and more like a petting motion than anything
else. The monkey beat its chest and bit the air in a fierce
display.

Wantoro stroked its cheek with half a
fist.

“Help!” General Forero and Vor Wantoro
backed away, then took turns kicking their large, inflexible legs
at the beast. It mounted the table and then beat its chest
again.

Jeremy, Maren, and Tina ran forward, but as
soon as Jeremy saw the monkey, he shooed everyone back. “It could
be a spirit animal! Dad, General Forero, run!” Jeremy lunged at the
monkey and it hissed and sprang off the table towards a low-hanging
vine. Jeremy, the faster of the two, caught up to it and grabbed
its tail. The monkey screamed and grabbed hold of Jeremy's hair,
yanking with all its might. Jeremy knocked it back with his hand.
“Not a spirit animal!” he shouted back to his friends and family.
Jeremy sent a blue bolt past the creature, and the monkey skittered
up the vine and disappeared. “Good riddance!”

Jeremy walked back over to the crowd of
onlookers. “Just a regular old amalgamation of souls molded into a
monkey. Don't be too alarmed, folks.”

Mateo shot a hand-gun at Jeremy. “Guess we
shouldn't monkey around down here.”

Maren groaned.

* * *

Once everyone had settled into various nooks
and crannies, Jeremy pulled Maren aside. “How you feeling?”

“Fine,” she said, sizing him up. “Why?”

“Come with me on the surface?”

Maren nodded.

Jeremy and Maren wriggled up out of the root
network and back into the mass graveyard. It was just as gray and
dusty as they'd left it. Jeremy stretched and did some jumping
jacks.

“Should I take this as a warning?” She
stretched too.

“I want to show you how fast I can go. I've
got finesse.”

“Are you sure you don't want to practice a
few times without me?” Maren was unsure whether she trusted him to
carry her and work out his angel-skills simultaneously.

He scooped her up regardless and slung her
over his shoulder, giving her butt an obnoxious slap, and he raced
towards the hot spring entrance, accelerating as he went. He made a
long jump over all the gravestones that jutted up, covering the
length of the graveyard in mere seconds, and landed like a cat
softly on the other side. The collapse of the Haze had its perks.
Maren was a little tensed up, the wind blowing all of her hair
straight out from her face.

They reached the spot where the tunnel to
the Donegall Estate led up from the ceiling. Jeremy squatted low
with Maren in his arms, and then shot up into the tunnel with its
carnival lights. They burst through the membrane of the hot spring
at the Donegall Estate and into the atmosphere, a dull morning glow
all around them, and then landed on the scorched ground like ballet
dancers. Jeremy put Maren on her feet and held her up under her
armpits. “Not too dizzy?”

Maren stabilized and then brushed her hair
off of her face. “What if the speed was too much for the baby?”
Maren crossed her arms and glowered at Jeremy.

Jeremy's eyes roamed the sky. “That baby's
at least half angel, he probably loved it.” Jeremy winked at Maren,
knowing he was pressing a button with the pronoun.

Suddenly to their left, shrieks came out of
a dilapidated apartment complex. Jeremy considered investigating,
but then there was a long silence. He was too late.

Maren grimaced and began
to fan her face. “Hey
—
it's getting hotter out here.”

Jeremy looked at the sky.
“Lyrna!” he called out. The world felt empty, and the sky began to
blacken. A dark cloud in the distance rolled towards them, and red
lights began flashing in the smoke. A shadow spread across the
ruined landscape. Then
—
darkness.

“The Apocalypse got style,” Jeremy said.

A crest of light gathered on the
horizon.

“It's the sun!” said Maren, pointing.

The sun slipped higher and higher into the
sky, but soon passed overhead and gave way to darkness once
more.

“How is that even possible? Let's go back to
the Maze,” said Maren with her hand on her stomach.

Chapter 33

Mossing and
Meowing

“Maren, I can't sleep.” Tina crawled through
the entrance to Maren and Jeremy's den, which was carpeted in moss.
The roots intertwined elegantly above them in a spacious dome.
Jeremy and Maren were spooning on a large moss couch, Maren facing
out with her eyes closed. Jeremy raised his head from behind her
and gave Tina the stink eye.

“Ménage à troi?” suggested Tina as she
crawled on her hands and knees towards them.

“Tina, get out.” Jeremy turned onto his
stomach and tucked his head into his arm. Maren's eyes fluttered
open.

“Nice moss. Comfy digs. Hey!” Tina crawled
over to the moss couch and rubbed Maren's belly a little. “You guys
have the penthouse!”

“What?” Maren rubbed her eyes. “We're trying
to sleep, Tina.”

“Right, sleep.” Tina made air quotes.

An awkward silence ensued.

“All right guys, make sure you stay on your
schedule. Just thought we might have an end of the world party.”
Tina rolled her eyes, and crawled back out of the room.

Jeremy and Maren exchanged grumbles, and
soon fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, Jeremy and Maren emerged
from their den to find Tina, Frisky, and Ren sitting on an extra
thick root. Torch light flickered down through the small cracks in
the root ceiling, illuminating everyone's faces in a soft, golden
light. Jeremy and Maren joined them on the root.

“Is it just me, or is time... off?” said
Ren. “My watch still had some juice in it, but it's going
crazy.”

Maren massaged her temples. “The cycle of
the earth is all sped up. The sun and moon just pass overheard like
this.” Maren made an arc with her hand. “We went to the surface
last night.”

Everyone quieted and took in the
incomprehensible news.

“I guess that explains the beard.” Frisky
rubbed Ren's uncharacteristically furry chin.

“And Maren's belly. Maren, your butt is
mossing!” said Tina, pointing. They all stood up from the root
except Maren, and watched as moss was spreading around her
butt.

Tina jumped up and down
and giggled wildly. “Come to my little hut! You
have
to! I can't sleep on the dirt
anymore.” Tina began to squeal, as though this detail of the
conversation was the most pertinent.

“Oh, well okay.” Maren tried to twist around
to look at her own butt.

Tina grabbed Maren's hand and led her
forward.

Maren made her rounds to the caves of the
refugees, furnishing each with structures of vines and moss. Tiny
flowers blossomed as she worked the plants into useful clumps. She
felt like a snake charmer, coaxing the plants to slither here and
there.

Maren built walls to enclose the caves, and
the refugees appreciated the privacy. She formed benches in the
main cavern to create a meeting place. Finally, Jeremy brought her
up to the ceiling of the cavern, and she formed torch holders,
which Jeremy stocked with pilfered torches from the catacombs,
brightening everyone's mood.