Epoch (6 page)

Chanteuse was meditating on her front lawn as Vincent approached. Great, he thought. I haven’t missed her.

“Hold it right there, kid.”

Vincent spun around and looked down. Grimbowl stood on the sidewalk behind him, wearing his usual cheeky smile.

“You wouldn’t be thinking of telling our mutual friend about last night’s goings-on,” Grimbowl asked, “would you?”

“That is exactly what I plan to do,” Vincent said, and he resumed his walk to Chanteuse’s house.

“Stop,” Grimbowl said.

Pain erupted in Vincent’s head, so he stopped.

“You will not,” Grimbowl said, “tell Chanteuse anything about our little talk. Do you get me?”

Vincent stared daggers at the elf, who smiled back in a smug way.

“I get you,” Vincent said. “I was going to talk to her about something else.”

“Forget it. It’s time for you to go to work,” Grimbowl said. “Come with me.”

Vincent was torn. He wanted very badly to talk to Chanteuse, but he knew the price of disobedience only too well. He took one last look at his meditating friend, then hurried off after the elf.

• • •

It was only a few minutes before Vincent realized the elf was leading him to school. That irritated him to no end, since he’d all but decided to skip today’s classes. A good education was important, or so he’d been told many times over by his parents, his teachers, and his brother. Right now, though, doing something about the end of the world seemed just a tad more urgent than math and geography.

They reached the edge of the school’s football field and headed for the parking lot. Grimbowl pointed as a limo pulled into the lot, and Vincent watched as the school’s richest kid got out.

“Barnaby Wilkins,” he said with a full dose of contempt.

“You know him?” Grimbowl said. “Good. That’ll make things easier.”

“You want me to beat him up?” Vincent asked hopefully, the memory of Big Tom’s bruises still fresh in his mind.

“Nope,” Grimbowl said. “We want you to make friends with him.”

“Oh come on!” Vincent said. “You want me to hang out with that jerk?”

“Yes,” Grimbowl replied.

“I won’t do it.”

“Oh yes you will,” Grimbowl replied. “If you don’t want your head to explode, you’ll do exactly what I say.”

Vincent grunted but made no further comment. The elf was right and he knew it.

“I’m right,” Grimbowl said. “And you know it.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll make friends with Barnaby,” Vincent said. “But why? What do you care about some rich kid?”

“You remember my buddy Plimpton?” Grimbowl said. “He got a look at the science fair project Barnaby did, the one on government conspiracies. We think he might be on to something. You ever hear of the Portal Sites?”

“Portal Sites?” Vincent said. “What are those?” If he admitted he knew about Portal Sites, Grimbowl would have wanted to know how, and Vincent didn’t want the elves knowing about his meeting with the pixies if he could help it. He had the feeling the two groups didn’t exactly get along.

“So you think the government is hiding these Portal Sites?” Vincent said when Grimbowl had finished explaining.

“That’s what you’re going to find out,” Grimbowl said. “Go make friends with him, find out where he got the idea for his project, then tell me what he knows. Got it?”

“Sure, whatever,” Vincent said. “Why didn’t you stick a bug up his nose?”

“Because … because we got you first,” the elf said. “Boy, you ask a lot of questions. You know what? No more questions, kid.”

“But what … aarg!”

“That’s right,” Grimbowl said. “That’s what you get. Now stop rolling around on the ground clutching your head and go make friends with Barnaby.”

When he was able, Vincent got back up and headed for the school parking lot. Barnaby was still there, chatting away with his two bodyguards, Bruno and Boots.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Vincent muttered as he approached his enemy. “Somehow, I’ve got to get that bug out of my nose.”

Barnaby saw him coming, and immediately alerted his bodyguards to Vincent’s presence. Vincent thought hard, trying to think what to say. How, exactly, do you make friends with someone you hate? What would they possibly have to talk about?

“Hey, Barnaby,” Vincent said, stopping two meters short of him. “What’s new?”

Barnaby stared at him in momentary bewilderment. Vincent took that as a good sign and kept going.

“Nice day, huh?” he said, trying to effect a genuine smile.

“What,” Barnaby said, “do you want?”

“Nothing,” Vincent said, eyeing the bodyguards. Their expressions were unreadable under their shades, but Vincent had the distinct impression they wanted to do him harm. All it would take was one word from Barnaby, and they’d be on him.

“Get him,” Barnaby said.

Okay, maybe two words.

“Wait!” Vincent cried as Bruno grabbed him by his shirt and hefted him into the air. “I wanted to talk about your science fair project.”

“What about it?” Barnaby asked, watching with amusement as his minder turned Vincent upside down and held him by his foot.

“It was really good,” Vincent said as he swung from Bruno’s hand. That’s twice now I’ve been up-ended because of the elves, he thought. I don’t like it, not at all.

“Of course it was good!” Barnaby said. “I had the best display, the latest cutting-edge technology, the most plausible end-of-the-world scenario.”

“I know,” said Vincent. “But I didn’t get a chance to really look at it, because I was stuck at my own table. I just wanted to know if I could have a look at your project.”

Barnaby appeared to be considering Vincent’s plea. He’s buying it, Vincent thought. Now’s the time to move in for the kill.

“I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye,” Vincent said, “but I want to change all that. I think we could be friends.”

“Friends?” Barnaby said with a laugh. “Me, friends with a loser like you?”

“Hey, I didn’t think much of you, either,” Vincent said, “until I saw that project of yours,” he added hastily as Bruno gave his ankle a sharp squeeze. “I realized there’s more to you than meets the eye. Give me a chance, you’ll see there’s more to me, too.”

Barnaby thought about it. Vincent hung patiently, his fingers crossed for luck.

“No,” Barnaby said. “Get lost, loser.”

“Just a moment, Barnaby.”

Vincent, Barnaby, and the two bodyguards turned to the limo. A middle-aged man with slicked-back gray hair and a business suit had just rolled down the car’s back window.

“You can’t fault the boy for having taste in friends,” the man said, “though he clearly has none in clothing.”

Barnaby laughed at that. So did Bruno and Boots. Vincent faked a smile, but laughter was just a tiny bit beyond him.

“That’s my dad,” Barnaby said. “He’s one of the top executives at Alphega Corp.”

“Francis Wilkins,” said Barnaby’s dad. “I’d shake your hand, but … ”

“ … I’m a little hung up right now?” Vincent finished for him.

“Why don’t you give this boy a chance?” Mr. Wilkins said, winking at his son. Barnaby smiled and nodded back.

Uh oh, Vincent thought.

Mr. Wilkins rolled up his window, and the limo pulled out of the school parking lot. Barnaby made a hand gesture, and Bruno dropped Vincent to the pavement.

“Okay, you’ll get a chance,” Barnaby said. “But first I’ve got a job for you, to prove you really are a guy I can be seen with.”

“Yeah?” Vincent said, getting back up and rubbing his head. “What would that be?”

“Beat up on someone for me.”

“Beat someone up?” Vincent said.

“You scared to pick a fight?” Barnaby asked, and his bodyguards snickered.

“No, I am not,” Vincent replied.

“Good,” said Barnaby. “Then beat up on your friend Big Tom.”

Lunch hour. High noon, as it were. Vincent walked slowly around the side of the school, with Big Tom following closely behind.

“So what’s this thing you want to show me?” his best friend asked.

“It’s just around here,” Vincent replied, staring straight ahead.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. All through morning classes he’d dreaded this moment, and now that it was here he wanted to throw up.

He was really going to do it. He was going to beat up his best friend.

“Is it really special?” Big Tom asked.

“Sort of,” Vincent replied.

“Will it knock my socks off?” Big Tom asked.

Vincent groaned.

“We’d better be careful,” Big Tom said. “This is where that jerk Barnaby takes kids he wants to beat up.”

“You don’t say.”

“It’s ’cause the teachers don’t patrol around here,” Big Tom went on. “Nobody’d see you if you got beat up.”

“Uh huh,” Vincent said, turning around. They were far enough away now. Big Tom was right; no one would see.

Almost no one. From around the side of the school Vincent could see Barnaby and his two bodyguards. Vincent had told Barnaby he would beat up Big Tom at lunch hour, and there Barnaby was to make sure he did it.

“So where’s the thing?” Big Tom asked, looking up at his best friend with his big and soppy puppy-dog eyes.

Vincent looked back down at his friend. Could he really go through with this? Did he actually have to? Vincent had tried to work out another option all morning, but had come up blank. The order Grimbowl had given him was to make friends with Barnaby. Barnaby’s condition was that he had to beat up Big Tom. Vincent knew that if he didn’t do it, didn’t gain Barnaby’s friendship, his head would explode with pain.

There was no way out. He had to do it.

“You have to do it, kid.”

Vincent’s head snapped around and down. Grimbowl stood two meters behind him, watching.

“What is it?” Big Tom asked. “Is it the thing?”

“It is the thing,” Vincent said, having a sudden brainstorm. In one swift motion he grabbed Big Tom in a headlock and clamped a hand over his eyes.

“Hey!” Big Tom said. “What’re you … ”

“Shh,” Vincent said. “You’ll scare him.”

“Him?”

“A magical creature,” Vincent said. “Like something out of a fantasy movie. And it’s standing right in front of you.”

“Kid?” Grimbowl said. “What are you doing?”

“He’ll talk to you, if you listen just right,” Vincent said.

“Really?” said Big Tom.

“Vincent … ” Grimbowl said.

“What was that?” Big Tom asked.

Perfect, Vincent thought. He believes he’s going to see something. He can even hear Grimbowl now.

“Take a look,” Vincent said, and he removed his hand from Big Tom’s eyes.

Big Tom stared. Then he stared some more. Grimbowl glared up at Vincent, not pleased at all.

“Is that thing … real?” Big Tom asked.

“That thing,” the elf said, “is Grimbowl.”

Big Tom was so surprised he would have taken a step back, were he not still in Vincent’s headlock.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Grimbowl said. “You still have to beat him up, Vincent.”

“What?” Big Tom asked, craning his head around to look at his friend.

“I have to,” Vincent replied. “It’s … a long story.”

“No it isn’t,” Grimbowl said. “Kid, Vincent has to beat you up so that Barnaby will be friends with him.”

“Huh?” said Big Tom. “You wanna be friends with that jerk?”

“It’s not like that,” Vincent said, looking over his shoulder at the jerk in question. Barnaby looked impatient, and so did Bruno and Boots.

“Let me go!” Big Tom shouted, and he began struggling like anything. Big Tom, apart from being very fast, was also an expert struggler. He’d gotten so good at it that only the two of Barnaby’s bodyguards could successfully hold him.

“Quit it,” Vincent said, clutching tighter. He knew it was hopeless; in seconds Big Tom would break free and run away, and Vincent wouldn’t have a prayer of catching him.

“Vincent,” Grimbowl said, “I order you to beat up your friend.”

Oh no, Vincent thought. I’m out of options.

Vincent grabbed Big Tom’s shirt front with his free hand, pulled him up and around, then drove his knee into his friend’s stomach. Big Tom doubled up, and Vincent swung both fists down hard onto the back of his head.

Big Tom collapsed to the ground. Vincent turned him over, squatted on his chest, and pinned his arms with his knees.

“Vincent, stop,” Big Tom moaned.

“I’m sorry,” Vincent said, and he swung again.

Vincent had read once that when mass murderers were killing, their minds went off to another place and left their bodies to do the work. He wished that would happen to him. What he was doing made him feel sick to his stomach.

Confident that Big Tom had had enough, Vincent stood back up. Big Tom lay on the ground, crying. His nose was bloody and his left eye was black, not the worst beating he’d ever had. It could have been much worse.

At least, that’s what Vincent told himself.

“Bravo!” cried Barnaby, clapping his hands as he and Boots walked toward the scene of the fight. “You sure showed that little loser.”

“Will you show me your science fair project now?” Vincent said.

“Hell, no!” Barnaby said. “I just wanted to see if you’d actually do it.”

The shock on Vincent’s face was so delightful to Barnaby that he burst out laughing. Vincent swung a fist at the bully, but Boots grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.

“I’ve got him,” the bodyguard said, and Vincent looked up to see Bruno approaching with a teacher. “This is the guy who beat up Thomas.”

“Looks like somebody’s in trouble,” Barnaby said, and he laughed again.

• • •

Vincent sat on the bench outside the office, waiting for judgment. He might get a week’s detention, if he was lucky. If he was unlucky, the principal would make an example of him and have him suspended.

But that wouldn’t be the worst of it. His parents would be called, and he’d probably spend the rest of his natural life in the Chapel. Which, if what the pixies had said was true, wouldn’t be that much longer.

“Boy, am I going to get it,” Vincent said.

“You’re not wrong there,” a familiar voice replied.

Vincent was getting used to voices from behind catching him off guard. He looked up, and saw the pixie Nod hovering above him.

Now what? he thought.

“That couldn’t have been pleasant, being ordered to hurt your friend,” Nod said, landing on the bench beside him.

“How do you know about that?” Vincent asked.

“I’ve been following you,” Nod said. “We always follow people who have an obyon in them, in case they’re ordered to fight us. You didn’t tell the elf about our meeting, did you?”

“Nope,” Vincent said. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt me.”

“Or us,” said Nod. “So why did he order you to attack that boy?”

Vincent quickly told the pixie about Barnaby and his project, and his failed attempt to win his trust.

“I don’t think it’s your government,” Nod said when Vincent had finished. “Even if they knew about the Portals, and wanted to hide them, they’d only be able to hide the Portals in this country. But a large corporation, one with offices worldwide, they might have the resources to cover all the Portal Sites up.”

“A big company … ” Vincent said. “You know, Barnaby’s dad works for a really big company called Alphega Corp. Their corporate headquarters are out in Brampton. Could they be hiding the Portal Site?”

“That depends,” Nod said. “How big is their headquarters?”

“Big,” Vincent said. “Really big.” He remembered the two times his family had driven past the towering structure on their way to the
Titanic
movie theater. They did a lot of protests at the
Titanic
.

“Then we should check it out,” Nod said, taking to the air. “Let’s go.”

Nod flew off toward the nearest exit. Vincent stood up to follow, then hesitated. He was in enough trouble as it was. If he left the school now …

“Priorities,” Vincent told himself. “The world is ending, after all.”

Satisfied, he hurried after Nod.