Speed of Sight

Terrorized

TerrorizedMost good citizens of Jericho believed that what they couldn’t see wasn’t real, except for fresh air, microbes, and space aliens on distant planets. People who could see the invisible realm sometimes got locked up in mental hospitals.

Pete hated hospitals.

He jumped when the bell rang. School was over at last—or was it?

Mrs. Fischer tapped the blackboard with her pointer. “Remember, kids, you must turn in your summer projects six weeks from now if you wish to be promoted to seventh grade.” The frizzed ends of her short white hair shone like sparks of lightning. Only in Jericho would a teacher give kids homework the same day they were supposed to graduate.

“Why, of all the projects I could pick from, did I choose the twenty-page wildlife research paper?” Pete asked himself. He could just imagine the hours he must spend pouring over dull books in the town library and doing online research with computers dating from the dinosaur age. Other projects sounded so much easier, like trekking in the mountains while picking up trash or assembling a model cookie cutter factory with chopsticks.

Pete’s steel-toed orthopedics thud-clicked loudly as he joined the hordes stampeding down the hall. Children giggled as he approached, amused by the unique metallic sound his shoes made as they hit the floor. Pete was so embarrassed. No one else had shoes like his. He couldn’t wait to get out of that place, but he dreaded going home. He trembled as he thought about the invisible animal lurking in his house.

A hand tapped his shoulder. Pete whirled around, his heart pounding. Thankfully, it was only his best friend and neighbor, Jack Tamer. Jack was several inches taller than Pete and handsome, with raven black hair, hunter-green eyes, and an olive complexion.

The boys exchanged high-fives.

“Finally, we’re done with this place,” Jack said, moving briskly forward.

“I’m not,” Pete replied, jogging to keep up with the long-legged boy. “Mrs. Fischer has ruined my summer—”

Before Pete could say “break,” Jack grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hallway. “Come with me.”

“What?” said Pete. He wasn’t ready for a run. He stumbled as he moved forward, unable to pick his feet up fast enough to match Jack’s pace. His steel-toed shoes skidded loudly as Jack dragged him along. “Where are you going?” he asked his friend.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Jack snapped. “Stop making so much noise.”

Pete’s legs ached, and his feet hurt. He wasn’t making noise on purpose. Why must his shoes be such a nuisance, and why was Jack in such a hurry? A sense of dread gnawed at his stomach. When Jack veered from the exit, Pete cried out in surprise.

“Shhh, not so loud!” Jack said, leading him down a side hall. On a door before them loomed a sign: TEACHERS ONLY. Jack turned the knob and opened the door. The room was dim. Pete followed Jack inside and fumbled for a chair.

His toes were hurting. “We shouldn’t be in here.”

Motioning Pete to silence, Jack knelt on the rug. He took off his backpack, unzipped it, and removed something that made Pete feel a mix of joy and dread.

“Isn’t that a—a—”

“Yes, it’s a banned comic,” Jack said. “Totally awesome – I mean, forbidden in this town. According to our mayor, these sorts of comics are very dangerous, in his words ‘recklessly creative.’ The colors are too bright, the stories are too cheerful, and the sort of freedom they promote is too extreme. ‘The only comic books we in Jericho consider safe are gray and serious ones,’ he says. ‘They teach kids how to follow our strict rules for pleasing everyone, rather than waste their time on flights of useless fantasy.’”

“So, it’s against the law,” Pete said.

Jack nodded. “And it showed up in my return pile of textbooks I brought to school this morning. No amount of quantum physics can explain how it got there.”

“Well, maybe forgetfulness could,” Pete said, insulting his friend without trying.

“Don’t disrespect my photographic memory,” Jack snapped. “This is the fifth time something like this has happened to me. The more I try to hide the book, the more it pops up, at all the worst times and in all the wrong places.”

“It almost sounds like it wants to be found,” Pete suggested. “Maybe it shouldn’t be banned.”

“Anyhow, I snuck it away before it could be seen, or so I hoped.” Jack looked a little worried.

Pete placed his hand over his rapidly beating heart. “What do you mean, ‘or so you hoped’?”

“Craig Crowburn was in class today,” Jack said.

“You mean the creeper who used to pick on us at recess?” Pete hadn’t seen him in a long time.

“That’s the one,” Jack said. “And I’m sure he didn’t come to school today to get an education.”

Pete agreed. Craig much preferred stealing lunches and shredding children’s homework to actual learning. As the leader of a wimpy-sounding gang called the Bog Fogs (BFs), he covered his tracks like fog covers a bog, playing mean tricks on kids without ever getting caught. Pete remembered the time he told his mom about the mud balls Craig socked him with on the playground. She called the school in a panic, and the wrong boy got blamed for it. A cloud of confusion seemed to surround the Bog Fogs, whose cleverly executed pranks made victims seem like bad guys.

“I hope Craig didn’t see the book,” Pete said, his eye drawn to a glimmer of blue on the front cover.

“I don’t know, but if he suspects I have it, then he’s sure to try to steal it. And who knows what kind of trouble I’ll get in? That’s why I’m giving it to you for safekeeping until we get home. But we have to hurry if we want to make it out of here alive.” Jack licked his lips hungrily as he eyed the book, not really wanting to give it up. “But it’s for the best,” he whispered to himself. Then in one swift motion, he shoved the book at Pete.

Pete shivered as he took it. “If it’s so risky to have it, then maybe we should just get rid of it.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Jack said. “These comics are too powerful. But at the same time, they’re illegal.”

Pete didn’t understand. “Why are you giving it to me if it’s not safe?”

“Because you’re the best one to guard it. Craig might suspect me of having it, but he’ll never suspect you. He knows you’re too straight-laced to break the law in any way. No way would you be caught with an illegal comic book.”

Goosebumps ran up and down Pete’s arms as he held the forbidden item in his hand. Part of him wanted nothing to do with the dangerous book. The other part was dying to open it up and take a look inside.

Jack cast the book a longing glance, then turned his face away. “Just hide it, okay? There’s no need to read it. And another thing—”

They heard approaching footsteps.

“Hurry, Pete!” Jack whispered, in a shouting sort of way.

Pete ripped open his backpack and stuffed the comic inside. Then he and Jack darted from the room, startling Mrs. Fischer, who was four feet from the door. Folders, pens, and papers flew from her hands as they ran past her.

“Rude kids!” Pete heard her yell. He hoped his teacher hadn’t recognized him. He had just broken every rule of school etiquette. To keep his shoes’ steel toes from hitting the floor and betraying his identity, he ran on the sides of his feet until he figured she was out of earshot.

Jack noticed what he did and told him not to act so weird. “What are you trying to do, draw attention to yourself?” Before Pete could answer, his friend added, “Now, as soon as we get outside, head straight for the bus. Climb on board as quickly as you can, and guard that comic with your life. Understood?”

“And what about you?” Pete asked.

“I’ll be right behind you. If all goes well, no one will bother us. If not, we may have to split up.” Jack and Pete slowed down as they reached the main hall near the crowded exit. It was like a traffic jam. As other children pressed against them, they got separated.

Pete’s knees shook as he elbowed his way through the crowd and squeezed through the double doors. When he left the building, he noticed that the sky was gray with clouds. He hadn’t gone far when he spotted Jack standing like a statue just a few feet to his left.

Jack stepped in front of Pete and blocked him with his hand. “Don’t look now, but it’s him.”

Pete peered around Jack but couldn’t make out the giant figure towering over the walkway. He reached into his shirt pocket for his hated glasses, put them on, and gasped.

It was Craig Crowburn, the dreaded bully with the hazy hazel eyes, oily hair, freckled cheeks, and bumpy nose. Craig had grown so tall, he made even Jack look small. The brownish-gray shirt he wore was imprinted with a picture of a bog. In that bog sat an ugly, warty hog covered by ghostly fog. Craig had on a pair of dirty tie-dyed pants that looked as if they’d been dredged from a mud hole.

“He’s got a slime gun,” Pete noticed. “And it’s filled with something really gross looking.”

“It’s probably pond scum from the swamp preserve or rotten cream of liver soup,” Jack whispered.

Pete stuck his tongue out. “Or even worse, a mushy tuna sandwich soaked in mayonnaise.”

They both gagged at the thought. Then suddenly more guns appeared. Three Bog Fogs had come alongside Craig, brandishing their weapons. Two young boys walking nearby saw them and ran off.

“The Fogs are back,” an older boy said in disgust. “Don’t they know they can’t bring guns to school?”

Of course, the Bog Fogs knew guns weren’t allowed, which was why they kept them carefully concealed until school let out. Craig’s timing in displaying them so boldly was well calculated. He knew the end of the last school day would be a madhouse, with crowds of children streaming out of the building and teachers too busy packing up for summer break to keep an eye on them as they rushed outside. The few security guards on staff were taking a class on how to tiptoe around suspected criminals. It was part of Jericho’s prescribed “How to Get Along with Everybody” training.

Craig looked past the mass of students who had just left the building and zeroed in on Pete. The glasses were a dead giveaway. “Well, if it isn’t Two Left Feet!”

Pete hated that nickname. His toes hurt as he thought about the comic in his backpack.

Jack elbowed Pete. “Follow the plan. Run for the bus.”

Pete wanted to, but he was too surprised by the shadowy face that had just appeared behind Craig’s head. It had evil eyes and a long furry snout, and it reminded him of the ghostly form he’d seen upstairs that morning.

“Hurry, Pete,” Jack whispered. “Time is running out. Based on the height of the individual bullies, the number of slime guns, and the sheer volume of homebound students blocking your way, you have less than a literal minute to reach the bus!”

The steel toes of Pete’s orthopedics weighed heavily on his feet. He knew he should get moving, but he felt like he was mired in quicksand.

Craig saw the shock in Pete’s wide eyes and pointed his gun straight at him. “I see you’re speechless, Two Left Feet.”

“And I see a flunker who’s too dumb to pass his classes,” Jack suddenly blurted out. “What’s the matter, Craig? Did you forget your ABCs?”

Craig’s eyes grew wide, and his face turned red. He glared at Jack. “Why, you—”

Jack ran in front of Craig and stuck his tongue out at him. “You can’t catch me,” he said, then ran straight across the parking lot and hid among the cars.

“Hey, come back here!” Craig yelled. “I wasn’t done insulting you!” As he and his Bog Fogs chased after Jack, Pete turned to his right, toward the line of buses. His feet throbbed terribly as he stumbled along. He puffed hard to catch his breath as he plowed through kid traffic.

“Excuse me, pardon me, let me through,” he apologized on the run. His and Jack’s bus, number 49, was the farthest one away.

Children were rushing everywhere. Riders boarded buses while walkers raced along the sidewalk, which cut through the parking lot where Craig was stalking Jack.

“I’m going to blast you, Jack Tamer, lame shamer, you…you non-Hall-of-Famer!” Craig yelled over the sea of cars.

“Look, over there! I see him!” yelled Burt Laybrik, a Bog Fog with a shrill, hyena-like voice.

Jack, who had darted out from behind a car, ran toward his bus from the side opposite Pete. A full parking lot lay between them. Pete’s restrictive shoes slowed him down and made him stumble. He bumped into a muscular girl with blond braids and high cheekbones.

She glared at him. “Watch where you’re going, four eyes.”

Ignoring the glasses dig, Pete dished out a quick “I’m sorry,” and continued on.

The next second, he found himself jerked back. The blond girl had gripped him by his shirt collar and wasn’t letting go. “You might think those glasses make you look mild-mannered, but you can’t fool me. I can tell you’re a girl hater.”

“No, I’m not,” Pete said, trying not to choke. “I just want to board the bus.” As he swung around to face her, she grabbed a shoulder strap of his backpack and tugged.

Pete pulled back and almost got it away from her. Then the girl’s friend pounced on him. It was two against one.

As Pete fought the girls off, he saw Jack running toward him, chased by Craig and his Bog Fogs. Pete’s glasses fogged up as he blinked at the spooky shadows surrounding the gang. He had to save his friend. Before he could make a move, however, the girls wrested the backpack from him. They tossed it high. Pete scrambled to catch it.

Jack was looking straight ahead and running well. Then he heard a click and looked back.

Whap! Pete’s best friend got smacked with an ugly brown-green blob that smelled worse than rotten eggs. Jack screamed and fell to the ground, collapsing from the stench. Pete sprinted toward him in alarm. Glancing up, he saw his backpack sailing into the sky. For one long second, it seemed to float on air. The other children near him were too shocked over the shooting to notice Pete’s backpack.

However, Craig Crowburn and his Bog Fogs showed great interest in Jack’s backpack. They snuck up on him as he lay moaning on the ground.

“YOW!” “WAH!” “HELP!”

All four Bog Fogs yelped at the sudden burst of light that shone from Pete’s backpack. It hit their eyes like a high-powered professional camera flash. It was like being sound asleep in a pitch-black room, then someone flicks a switch and bang! It’s supernova time. Craig and his Bog Fogs shut their eyes against the glow.

“R—retreat, guys!” Craig yelled. “L—let’s get out of here!”

His followers fled almost as quickly as he did. Everyone clapped to see them go, including a policeman too engulfed in paperwork to chase down bullies. Officers in Jericho were unusually slow at identifying criminals, due to the excessive number of rules they had to follow to make sure they didn’t accidentally insult the very bad guys they were trying to arrest.

The comic book Jack gave Pete was about to change all that.