Lucas and Theo decided to set up their camp at the highest part of the island – a hill at the southern end. The ground was dry, although out of habit, they'd be sleeping in the trees. Theo hung their pack of food from one of the branches of a big tree and they went alligator hunting. After an hour of not sighting even one of the beasts, Lucas suggested that they go swimming and look for them underwater. Theo responded immediately. "You'd have to be crazy," he said.

  "Tum-tum not feeling so good? Want to curl up on the ground and have your nap first?"

  Theo reacted, of course. "Lucas, you gotta think through your decisions."

  "I did. I found the information. The water takes away its lunge. It's harder for it to open its jaws underwater. Underwater, we'll look like other alligators. They probably won't even notice us. Plus I bet our slings can travel faster underwater than alligators can."

  So they went underwater alligator watching through the waters surrounding the island. The biggest population that they found was at the northern end. Absolutely crazy place for anybody to build a permanent camp, Lucas messaged to Theo.

  As dusk began to edge its way into the skies above the island, Lucas and Theo made their way back to their hilltop camp. Theo went dry stick hunting while Lucas flew up to the tree branch to untie their food and bring it down to ground level.

  "Where'd you put the food?" he asked Theo.

  "Right by your head. I slipped it inside an invisible pouch in case some hunters came by and wondered about it."

  "I know that. There's no pouch hanging from the branch."

  A search on the ground turned up no pouch, but it did raise some questions.

  There was a mid-sized bush below the branch. They saw no broken branches in that bush which would have been the case if the pouch had fallen. Then they ran their hands over the branch where the pouch had been suspended. They found the filament that Theo had used to attach it to the tree. The end of that line had been cut. Perhaps by a knife? Perhaps by teeth? The pouch that held all their food had been stolen.

  "This won't be the first time we've gone hungry," Theo observed.

  "Yeah, but you should think about this some more, little brother." Lucas took another dig at Theo. "How did an animal, or even a human, find an invisible bag of food?"

  "By smell?"

  "You closed the baffles tight, right?"

  "Yeah. Something bumped into it?"

  "Which means it would be a bird. How would a bird cut through a filament line that it can't see? Something with some brains found the pouch, climbed that tree, came out onto the branch, felt for the filament, pulled up the pouch which means that it has an opposable thumb, cut the filament somehow, and took our pouch of food away."

  # # # # # # # #

  Night. Their fire was small but more than enough to keep them warm against the little breeze coming through the trees. They had forgotten all about the mystery of the missing pouch. But they were pecking away at another mystery.

  "So if you can't hang around bars as an undercover officer like Dad, what will you do with yourself, Lucas? You have to find something to do. You're like a giant sponge full of unhappiness and you're squeezing yourself over anybody who hangs out with you."

  "I know. I can't get out of this mood. I thought that boxing at the university would be good for me, like the basketball is good for you. I talked with the coach and even sparred with some of the guys."

  "Are any of them any good?"

  "Some. But they're all into boxing because they want to hurt people. Some pretend that they want to be champs, but deep down, they don't care if they hurt somebody to get there."

  "You hurt that kid who wouldn't pay Candi."

  (In case the reader hasn't realized this, Lucas and Theo are very close. After the trial, Lucas told Theo everything. Absolutely everything.)

  "Yeah, but I didn't enjoy it. I hurt that guy to send him a message. He wasn't going to listen to me talking at him. So I talked to him in a way that he'd remember. Like you and your wet towel."

  "So goodbye to boxing?"

  "As a sport, yeah. I'll keep learning it because I can't convince people with my mouth. I'm not smart like you. But I can talk with my fists and people will listen to them."

  "The RCMP doesn’t exist now but what about Toronto police? That would be like following Dad's path."

  "Have you seen those dolts? They're fat, they're stupid, and they're crooked. Those beat cops that come into the bars? They either leave carrying brown bags full of bottles or they leave with a paid-up hooker following a half block behind."

  "What about military? That would be fighting. Not the same as the battles we had with Zzyk, but still fighting. Mac's dad is impressive. He flew the new jumbo with no instruction at all. He's one of the top army guys in North America."

  ...

  "Lucas, are you awake? Did you hear me? Army?"

  "Thinking. Like you told me to. Do you know anything about how smart I'd have to be? Or where there'd be battles to fight? Or what I would do while I was waiting for a battle?"

  "No, but I know who you could ask."

  # # # # # # # #

  "So basketball for you?"

  "Yeah, I think so. I love the game, I'm good at it, and I'm still growing."

  "Can you make a living from basketball?"

  "Not sure. Some of the big universities have teams now. Toronto and McGill. I don't know who else they play. If you win a spot on one of their sport teams, the university will pay some of your fees."

  "That takes you up to what? Age of 22? Then what?"

  "I dunno. Not much basketball after that. Some of the guys at the gym say there are teams in Europe that play in front of small crowds. They're paid a little money. It wouldn't be enough to live on."

  "Would you want to work for the Wilizy?"

  "As what? A bookkeeper? Wizard likes that stuff. I don't."

  "Working hard at basketball now can't hurt you."

  "You know how you and I are alike, even though our bodies are now way different?"

  "What are you trying to say?"

  "You like sending messages to people with your fists; I like sending them a message with a basketball. I enjoy beating another guy one-on-one. I try and get the highest score I can."

  "But you don't do that with Dreamer."

  "No. I don't try my hardest with her."

  "You know she can't be the type of friend you want her to be, right? Theo? She's only interested in Wizard."

  "She and I are about the same height. We like the same things. Why not?"

  "It's not going to happen, Theo. Don't get your hopes up."

  "She may change her mind. If Wizard blows it, I'll be waiting."

  "I tried to persuade Wizard to at least talk with her. I tried to tell him how much that pervert had damaged her. Wiz just walked away from me."

  "See. There's hope."

  # # # # # # # #

  "I saw that you washed out the fridge," Theo said. "Why?"

  "After I did all that puking, my tum-tum was sensitive to smells. My nose reacted when I went looking for the juice bottle. The whole inside of the fridge stunk."

  "I don't know why. We don't keep anything in there except the juice bottles."

  "It still stunk. I found little black stuff growing on the shelves where we had spilt the juice. Your bedding stunk too."

  "You went in my bedroom?"

  "To find out why the stink was coming out. It was the bedding."

  "I don't see why. I shower before I go to bed."

  "I do too, but my bedding was the same. It stunk."

  "Is that why Dreamer's nose sort of wrinkles when she goes by?"

  "Does your nose ever wrinkle when you go by her bedroom?"

  "No. Her bedroom smells like a girl."

  "I washed all our bedding plus all of our clothes, Theo. They all stunk."

  "I don't want my room and clothes smelling like a girl, Lucas."

  ...

  "I was thinking. You don't wear your sleeping sh
orts to bed, right?"

  "No. They make me sweaty."

  "You ever fart in bed, Theo?"

  "Yeah. Of course."

  "I do too and I don't wear my shorts either. Where do you think that gas goes?"

  # # # # # # # #

  "Lucas, are you sure that you didn't make those guys mad at you?"

  "You saw. We backtracked them to the pub, but all I ever did in the pubs was sit in a corner and watch people. I never said anything that anybody could object to."

  "Did people talk to you?"

  "Nah."

  "Did anything happen in the shop? An angry customer? Somebody complaining about the prices? Any little thing?"

  "I dunno. That insurance salesman didn't like it when I said we weren't interested in buying insurance. I told you and Dreamer about his first visit. He came back a second time. I said we weren't interested. Then I said I had to get back to my customers right away because we were so busy. He said something strange."

  "What?"

  That's exactly why you should buy insurance. So that you'll stay busy.

  "That didn't make any sense, so I went back to the customer line-up, he left, you came back from your lunch, and I went on my lunch break."

  "Then what?"

  "I went down to the noodle shop, bought my lunch, and ate it while talking with Mr. Kim about the street being so busy these days. Then I went next door to the coffee house, bought my smoothie, and drank it while talking with Janet about something about her business. I can't remember what. I went across the street to the food stand and bought an apple. Mr. Klosky offered to give it to me for free because we were bringing so much business into the neighbourhood, but I refused. We had a little pretend argument because he's always offering us free fruit and vegetables and I can't offer him free chocolates back because he's allergic. Then my break was over and I came back into the store."

  "I don't see anything there."

  "Nor do I. I did what I always do on my breaks. Talk with the other store owners; find out how they're doing; see if we can learn something from them."

  "Do you think that those guys didn't like your skin colour? Your braid?"

  "Lots of people here give me the look. You know – what's a guy like you doing in the business area? Same look that the bigot gave Dreamer. But why would anybody want to whip my clothes off me because I'm aboriginal?"

  "That insurance guy is the only thing I can think of."

  "Me too."

  # # # # # # # #

  Much later.

  "Theo, are you awake?"

  "Yah."

  "Do you have the feeling that we're being watched?"

  "Yup."

  "Do you realize that we're sleeping in the same tree that used to hold our food? The thing that stole our food must have climbed it."

  "The thought had crossed my mind."

  "Are you wondering if that thing is still hungry?"

  "New camp? One kilometer straight up?"

  "Sounds like a plan."

  # # # # # # # #

  Theo and Lucas were indeed being watched. The red eyes had seen them arrive and land on the hill that afternoon. It had thought they were birds of some kind. But they weren't birds. At least not the kind of bird that had ever landed on this island before. They walked on two legs but flew whenever they wanted. Neither had wings. One had markings everywhere on its body. Angry black, blue, and red stains. This had been foretold. The man with the markings would be Shango. The man next to him would be Ogun. Only gods could walk like humans but fly like..., well, fly like gods.

  The body with the red eyes had watched Ogun hide their treasure. One moment it was there; the next it was not. The gods had sent a challenge. But it was easily solved. A sense of smell confirmed where it had to be; four limbs ending in sharp claws climbed the tree and found food. It was easily taken. The gods had responded to their call for help.

  The body with the red eyes saw them return and observed that the gods didn't need food to survive. Again, that had been foretold. As night fell, the creature climbed a moss-covered tree quietly and invisibly to humans. Its body was as black as the heart of the killers who would come in the metal machines. That made the creature invisible to any normal person. The creature saw the gods looking at its moss-covered tree. Then they disappeared into the sky. They could see blackness in the darkness. As had been foretold.

  Soon there would be a battle with many deaths. That too had been foretold.

  Back to the Table of Contents

  Chapter 22

  By the beginning of October, Reese's life in school had settled down. He didn't have to record the names of kids who were talking any longer and he was earning solid C+ grades. His classmates still weren't talking to him – either in class or out of class. Reese didn't mind that because he wouldn't have wanted to talk about what they liked to talk about anyway. He knew what they were talking about because he'd float invisibly around the schoolyard at recess and lunch hour, listen to the kids, and work on his art project. Although the grade 6 art teacher considered Reese terminally deficient of any art skills whatsoever, Reese did have a particular interest in colours. As he floated around the schoolyard, he would jot down notes about colours in a secret workbook. The information he was collecting on colours was why he didn't say anything to Hank or Yolanda about how the kids treated him. They'd probably pull him out of school and Reese didn't want that. Recess and lunch were his favorite times of the day. The other times? Boring, boring, boring.

  Yollie and TG had a baby boy on Monday October 1, 2085. His official name was Harry, but they'd be calling him Hank. Yollie was doing fine. She had enough spunk to tell TG that she enjoyed the process of popping babies out of the oven more than the process of putting them into the oven. TG complained to Mac about the disrespect and she patted him twice on the cheek and said, "Poor baby. Do you want Mommy to kiss your boo-boo bye-bye?"

  In Toronto, the man in the suit who was trying to sell insurance to Lucas came back to the store on another sales call the same day that Yollie had her baby. This time he brought a big man with a short bat. The salesman explained to Lucas that his company's insurance was not optional and their fees were due weekly. Lucas should have $100 ready when Basher came by again to collect next week. "Basher, show him what happens if he doesn't pay," he said to his assistant.

  Basher tapped the bat once on the glass counter above the most expensive goodies in the store and the glass shattered onto the candies below. Lucas came around the counter, fists up. Basher saw him coming, raised the bat into the air, and took a slow and ponderous chop at Lucas' body. Lucas stepped inside the chop and made his own chop at Basher's exposed ribs. When Basher grunted and doubled over in pain, Lucas grabbed the batsman by the belt of his pants and ran him out of the store. Theo came out of the storeroom just as the insurance salesman was saying, "We'll be back. Next time, we won't be polite."

  "What did you do?" Theo asked Lucas.

  "We may have a problem," Lucas replied. "You clean up this mess. I'm going to find out what's going on." Lucas – taking charge like he used to before he met Candi with an i.

  # # # # # # # #

  Lucas talked with some of the shop owners on the street. Yes, they all were paying insurance to prevent bad things from happening to their shop. Basher was always the collector and would arrive in their stores Friday afternoon when they would have enough money from business that week to pay their bill. The charge was painful, but not fatal. When Lucas asked Mr. Klosky why nobody had warned them, he said that he thought they knew. Everybody knew about the insurance scam. Even the police.

  "The police know?" Lucas asked in disbelief.

  "They pretend not to know, but they know. We asked them for help, but they ignored us. When we kept asking, they put a constable on the street to stop it. That worked until they reassigned him. That Friday, Basher was back and he collected that week's bill plus all the other bills that we owed. We went back to the police. We described Basher. We even had h
is picture. The police said that they couldn't find him, but they'd keep looking. And Basher kept coming every Friday."

  "How many shops are paying Basher?"

  "Everybody in Toronto pays for insurance. If not to Basher, to somebody else."

  # # # # # # # #

  Lucas used TiTr to follow Basher and the suit man after their sales call. The suit didn't take Basher to a clinic; he took him to a private home in a wealthy part of town. The sign on the house indicated that a Doctor Sandman worked out of the house. Basher and the suit went in. The suit came out immediately afterwards and walked away. Basher came out half an hour later walking stiffly. Lucas followed him invisibly into the building where he lived and watched Basher unlock his door and walk in. Lucas TiTr'd forward to live time and knocked on the door.

  Basher opened the door wearing flip-flops and a pair of purple shorts that hung down to his knees. The doctor had wrapped several bands of adhesive tape around his ribs. He was a big man, as you already know. But closer inspection suggested that he wasn't yet a man. Perhaps 16-18 years old? Perhaps younger. It was hard to say because the first thing anybody would notice about Basher was this bulk looming over you. The top of Lucas' head came up to his chin. The second thing you'd notice was the heavy infestation of acne down his cheeks and across his forehead. Basher's hair was short cropped – perhaps in an attempt to reduce oil from his hair filling the pores of his face? In addition to the acne, the lack of any significant facial hair suggested teenager, not adult.

  While big in stature, Basher was not muscular. With his shirt off, he revealed a lot of pudge. He was still a presence to be feared, especially by small, middle-aged shopkeepers. Armed with the short bat, Basher didn't need to be muscular. He just needed to know how to wield the bat. His skin colour was pasty white, even on his forearms and face where one might expect some semblance of a tan to still be found in sunny, warm October. In its absence, it was safe to conclude that Basher didn't get out much.

  Lucas asked, "What's up, Basher?" and walked in before Basher could stop him. Lucas took a quick look around; no sign of any weapons. Basher was still at the door, looking confused.

  "Is this how you treat your guests?"

  Basher shut the door and came into the living room. "Clients aren't supposed to come here."

  "Nice place. My name is Lucas. What's your real name?"

  "Basher."

  "No, not that name. The name your parents gave you."