Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Ten days till the Global Unveiling of Bluetannia: Amanda and Chabe stood inside the break room of the Guardian offices in front of the jar of Bluetannia on the counter. They had spent the week since returning from Gerry Arthur experimenting on the mysterious energy source from every angle they could think of, both indoors and out. Amanda picked up the jar and stared at the light blue contents of the jar.
“We know Bluetannia is a potent energy source. And it sounds like firecrackers going off when you release it in droplets,” she said turning to Chabe. “What else?”
“We also know it can fry an internal combustion engine in less than sixty seconds,” Chabe took a blackened engine piece from a Fiat 500 out of his pocket and slammed it on the counter. “Not exactly useful for us.”
“True, but it definitely beats nothing.” Amanda placed the jar back on the counter. She glanced up at the nearby microwave and flashed a half-smile.
Chabe looked on with perplexingly as Amanda reached behind the appliance, unplugging it. “What are you doing?”
“We know the Bluetannia is capable of creating a large burst of energy.” Amanda said, pulling it closer to the jar.
“Yes, I know.” Chabe lingered behind Amanda, scratching his shaggy head. “It still doesn’t explain what the hell you’re doing with the microwave.”
Amanda moved from the appliance to the jar. She unscrewed and laid the lid nearby. “I wonder what would happen if it was placed inside other appliances.”
Chabe chuckled disbelievingly. “You mean besides a massive explosion that would bring the Fire Brigade here?”
“That won’t happen,” Amanda chuckled. “At least not again.”
Amanda pulled a silver spoon out of the utensil drawer and scooped a portion of the Bluetannia from the jar. The thick liquid slowly dripped like blueberry jelly as she dropped it through one of the open holes in the back panel of the appliance. Then the young woman stepped back to stand next to Chabe.
For the first couple of minutes, nothing happened. The microwave showed no sign of movement. Amanda sighed and walked to the microwave. Suddenly, it leapt off the counter as if it were possessed. She stumbled back and watched awestruck as the time display flashed “12:00 A.M.”
“It hasn’t exploded yet. That’s a good start,” Chabe said, turning to Amanda. “What do we do next?”
Amanda grinned and let out a sigh of relief as the appliance hovered inches above the counter. “Do we have any microwavable food in the refrigerator?”
Chabe walked over and opened the fridge. He did a quick scan before pulling a piece of Tupperware from the bottom rail. “There’s some chili. Should be able to work here.”
Amanda nodded. “That should be fine.”
Chabe cupped both sides of the bowl as Amanda opened the microwave door and carefully slipped it inside. He typed in ‘2:00’ on the numerical pad and stepped back.
Initially, there was no change. The microwave continued to float above the counter. The lit display inside showed the chili being bathed in a radioactive yellow glow as it spun on the glass plate. At the 1:20 mark, the chili inside started to bubble. Then, at the 1:15 mark, the container itself shook violently. The movement moved to the microwave which swung around in much the same fashion as the Tupperware.
Amanda watched with a great deal of fascination as the appliance levitated to the ceiling. “This is interesting.”
“That’s one way to describe it,” said Chabe.
The microwave thumped the pale white ceiling twice. When the display reached all zeroes, it exploded in a large white ball of light that blasted every inch of the room. They dove under a table to avoid the shrapnel from the blast. Instead, a pool of black ash drifted down to the countertop in the same area that the microwave once sat.
Amanda stood and approached the counter, surprised by the outcome. “I didn’t think that would happen…” she said, feeling through the ash.
Hot chili rained down atop of his head, making her jump. Chabe started to chuckle as Amanda wiped a good amount of the chili from his hair and face. “Or that!”
Chabe chuckled. “On the plus side, we’ve got something we can make a story out of,” he said, regaining his composure. “Though now, thanks to the incident, we have to buy a brand new microwave.”
“By ‘we,’ you mean ‘me’ don't you?” Amanda fired back, leaning on the counter.
“Well, it was your experiment, Amanda.”
Amanda smiled. She picked up a nearby trash can and positioned it in front of the pile of ash. As Ms. Duncan swept the contents inside, Brigid suddenly appeared. “I see you have moved away from the internal combustion engine,” the gaelic goddess said somberly.
Amanda quickly held her hands to her side upon seeing her boss. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I—I didn’t expect this would happen. I’ll happily pay for a new microwave out of—”
“It has been well over a week, gentlemen,” Brigid said coldly, glancing at the pile of ash behind Amanda. “Have you found anything that could be used in a story?”
“We believe so, Cap’n,” Chabe replied, walking up to her. “All we need is to find out its precise chemical makeup. From there, I think we can get something together to run the night before the unveiling.”
“I do not believe you will have that chance, gentlemen,” she sighed and turned around to face both of them. “There’s been a situation.”
“What kind of situation?” Chabe asked perplexed.
“We have another two and a half weeks,” Amanda added, moving alongside Chabe. “Whatever this situation is, that’s more than enough time for us to—”
“The Guardian has been removed from the pool allowed to cover the unveiling.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper folded vertically. “I just received word from the Press Office.”
She handed it to Amanda. Amanda picked it out of her hand, and opened it up. It was a press release which detailed a change in the day of the unveiling from the 8th of June to the 2nd . Ms. Duncan continued reading till he reached the section mentioning the Guardian’s removal from the press Pool. The reason they gave was that the newspaper’s connections with “seedy individuals” made them too much of a security liability.
Amanda crumpled the piece of paper in a fit of rage. “This is insane! There’s no way they can get away with this!
“It’s their decision to make, Amanda,” Brigid said, stepping past her. “All we can do is adapt and plan accordingly.”
“But this feels so blatantly illegal!” Amanda fired back with arms extended. “Can’t we take their asses to court for libel?”
“We can, but it’d take years to go through the courts. And it’s 50/50 we would come out with a win without magic,” Chabe added. “As we muddle around the legal system, Lugh has the Tuning Fork going and the planet is turned to rubble.”
“He is right, Amanda,” Brigid said. “Going to court would be playing precisely into their hands. We must keep an even head and soldier on.”
Amanda sighed and walked over to one of the tables nearby, pulled up a chair, and sat down. They went silent for a few moments, pondering the future in front of them. “It’s moments like these I wish Jar’Ed were here.” Chabe said.
“I could not concur more, my friend.” Brigid replied with a somber smile, patting Amanda on the shoulder.
The minds of everyone in the room soon traveled back in time to thoughts of Jar’Ed’s funeral. His body on a wooden platform on the edge of a deserted beach, covered with ceremonial leaves and bushes. The three remaining editors were in attendance along with Amanda and a handful of reporters who had known the Aborigine god of knowledge. Their faces covered in white paint in accordance with Aborigine tradition. At the end of the ceremony, the attendees cut their wrists with a sharpened rock, displaying their deep respect to the dead. The ceremony ended with song and dance from everyone in attendance that sent Jar’Ed’s spirit up to whatever he viewed as Paradise.
Their shared memory was interrupted by a young staff member who barged in to the break room. He looked panicked, quickly moving toward the three of them. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” the reporter said trying to catch his breath. “There’s a situation going on in the Bullpen.”
“Is it the power surges again,” asked Brigid. “I was told they had been resolved.”
The young reporter shook his head and cleared his throat. “There’s no power in the entire office.”
“No power?” Amanda looked around the still brightly lit room they were standing in. “That’s absurd. All the lights are on here. How is that possible?”
Brigid and Chabe looked at each other for a split second then ran past the young reporter toward the Bullpen. Amanda grabbed the Bluetannia jar and followed. The entire Bullpen was bathed in darkness, save for some patches of sun shining in through the windows. The keyboards were silent and the TVs looked dead. The computer screens stood dark.
“When did this happen?” Brigid asked the young reporter.
“About five minutes ago, ma’am,” the reporter answered as truthfully as he could. “I was finishing my piece on the American election when [POOF!] my computer shut down. I thought it was just a technical issue till I looked up and noticed the whole floor went black.”
“Have you tried talking with other tenants in the building,” Chabe said to the scared worker. “See if their power went out as well?”
“Yeah. I called a friend of mine who works a couple of floors below us,” the reporter replied. “He said power there is fine.”
“That’s strange,” Brigid observed the dark Bullpen around her. “How would it be centralized only here?”
Chabe chimed in. “I’ve seen this before. Human armies engage in similar tactics before invading another country. Cut their power, leaving them defenseless, and then…
He came to a sudden realization and stopped speaking. He turned to Brigid who was thinking the same thing.
“Get everyone out of here. NOW!” Brigid commanded to Chabe before floating toward the gathered office staff.
“What’s going on?” Amanda asked.
“This is a good old fashioned redada!” Chabe replied. A loud banging could be heard a few moments later at the door.
***
A force of over twenty private mercenaries smashed the door into a small pile of wooden fragments. They were dressed in battle armor with protective shields over their faces. The newspaper staff, both human and supernatural, scattered in all directions from the rampaging force. Brigid gathered a dozen of them from the crowds and started to move toward the back of the offices. Those reporters who stood near the windows and close to the entrance were either captured or beaten into submission within the first five minutes. A small contingent broke off from the invading force and raided the cubicles, retrieving the computers and loads of other pertinent documents.
“How can we get everyone out of here in time?” Amanda said walking alongside Brigid and a group of evacuees.
“There is a fire escape next to the Boardroom,” she replied, keeping her eyes squarely in front. “It is not a panacea. But it should be enough to get some of the people out in one piece.”
The goddess signaled the others who hadn’t been arrested to follow her. A stream of twenty reporters, including the reporter who notified them of the mysterious power outage, followed Brigid a few seconds later toward the back of the building. Amanda noticed the absence of Chabe and hurried back to find him. Her friend was standing in the middle of the Bullpen, watching at a handful of human mercenaries going through a cubicle.
“Chabe,” Amanda yelled. “Come on, the fire escape’s that way!”
“I’ve never bowed down to bullies a day in my life.” Chabe glanced bravely toward Amanda. “I have to stand up for my mates…and for Jar’Ed!”
“Let me help you,” Amanda pleaded as the mercenaries noticed the bear god’s position. “I can take these bastards out with a large gust of rain, or maybe—.”
“You have a bigger fight to get into than this one, my friend,” Chabe interjected. “Your father, I imagine, would tell you the same damn thing if he were here. Now, take the jar and get the hell out of here.”
Amanda nodded in acceptance of the hard truth, wiping tears from her eyes. “I will see you soon, my friend,” Chabe said before turning around to face the oncoming mercenaries.
“Gods willing,” Said Amanda.
Amanda stepped away, but she felt a desire deep inside to help her friend; to thank him for all he had done. She closed his eyes and centered her mind, focusing on the strong gusts of wind she used to face during summers back in Seattle.
As the mercenaries charged toward Chabe, a strong gust of wind knocked them down along with various pieces of nearby office furniture. They struggled as if in a wind tunnel to keep upright inside their bulky armor. The only one not affected by the gust was the bear god himself, who knew to whom this stroke of luck originated.
“Many thanks, my Halfling friend,” he smiled and unfurled his claws, charging toward the intruders with increased vigor.
Amanda heard the commotion coming from the doorway to the fire escape. Before she could dwell upon it, she was slapped upside the head by one of his co-workers from the Sport section who told him to “Keep moving.”
Brigid directed the reporters and others to step out onto the fire escape. One by one, the scared men, women, and varied magical creatures filed out. They walked across the small metal walkway and descended the rickety ladder to the street four floors below.
“Please don’t find us, please don’t find us…” Amanda said under her breath, her panic rising as the line ahead of her slowly shrank.
The fighting back in the Bullpen grew louder. It seemed to Amanda that it was moving closer as she reached the open window. She grabbed the wooden base and looped his right leg over on to the metal walkway. The cold breeze hit her face as she moved the rest of his body out. Before the human woman could stand, something grabbed her foot.
Amanda looked over and saw a dark haired mercenary poking out of the window. He was considerably strong for a man who looked to be in the latter half of his 20s. A strength heightened by the weight of the man’s body armor. Other invaders were beating or wrestling to the ground many of Amanda’s friends who hadn’t escaped in time.
“Hold it right there, boy!” the stranger barked at Amanda.
The two of them tugged back and forth for a short time, Amanda trying to kick free from its grasp. Finally, she managed a kick to the mercenary’s face shield. The plastic broke, and the man stumbled back inside. Amanda ran across the small metal walkway with Bluetannia in hand.
Below her the freed group cheered and shouted words of encouragement. A cold rain began to fall, chilling the metal bars as she started down. Suddenly, his grip slipped and Amanda started to fall.
The crowd shrieked as her body tumbled. She figured at that moment life as she knew it would soon end. Her life flashed in front of her eyes: individual moments with her father, times in school with friends, even memorable Seattle Seahawks football games. It felt like time had slowed down around her. Amanda closed her eyes and accepted the end. Suddenly, she heard a voice.
“Mandy my dear...”
Amanda opened her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Dad,” she said, looking around the blue sky. “Is that you?”
“Yes, my dear,” the face of her father appeared in the clouds. “It’s good to see you again.”
It was not the same face Amanda saw take its final breath in the hospital room two short months ago. Now her father looked young, full of life and spirit with a thick beard full of color. The thinning hair was now the flowing dark blonde mane shown in his father’s high school yearbook.
“This is incredible,” Amanda said. “I have so many questions. I—”
“This is not the end of your story,” the father calmly proclaimed. “Levitate yourself safely to the ground.”
“But I can't,” Amanda cried as the wind whipped his hair and clothes in all directions. “All I can do is heal rapidly and create rain. I have no clue if I can levitate or fly.”
“I have faith in you, Amanda. I always have,” her father said in a deeper tone. “Just remember to believe in yourself.”
The image faded and time resumed its prior speed. Amanda took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She steadily pictured himself floating over a grassy field. Outside of a serene feeling, nothing happened. Ms. Duncan thought maybe the serene feeling was some type of calm before whatever image of death would soon greet her. Then, the descent stopped. Amanda could hear car horns honking followed by the sound of applause and a voice.
“Hello.”
She opened his eyes and saw a clump of cold gravel staring back at her. In her periphery was the alleyway of the King’s Cross building. Strange picture of heaven, Amanda thought. She moved his body upward and saw the group of evacuees, led by Brigid, clapping and cheering him.
“What the—” Amanda reached out and gently touched the gravel in amazement. “Holy gremlins, I’m alive,” she yelped excitedly, lifting himself upright. “And floating!”
“Indeed you are,” Brigid let out a mild chuckle advancing as Amanda descended. “I assume Chabe taught you that.”
She shook his head as he touched down, gripping the jar in her hands. “Actually, it was my Dad. I saw him in the clouds as I was falling. He was the one who told me to float down to the surface.”
“Interesting,” the gaelic goddess said, carefully examining Amanda. “That is a rare trait for a Páistí, seeing visions of the departed.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“I am not certain,” Brigid paused a moment before turning back to the group. “Right now, we must regroup and plan our next course of action. Starting with how we will put out tomorrow’s newspaper.”
A woman with dark blonde streaked hair from the Politics section walked up from within the group toward her boss. “I don’t see how that’s possible, ma’am,” she said with a degree of despair. “Those armed goons have all our work back at the office.”
“Actually, that won’t be a problem,” Brigid replied pulling out a zip drive from her purse. “I keep a master copy of the finished articles and photographs for an edition, ready to send to the press in case of situations like these.”
“What about an office,” a second reporter shouted from the back of the crowd as it moved up the alley. “It’s not like we can all telecommute there.”
“Well, I—”
“What about Lugh and Charon?” Amanda asked. She walked up alongside Brigid as the group walked up the alley toward a nearby street. “I’m certain this whole thing was their doing. We have to respond to something as vile as this.”
“And respond we shall, Ms. Duncan,” the gaelic goddess replied, raising her voice over top of him. “Right now, we lay low and continue with business as usual. I will call Kahrter to see if he has a way of infiltrating the unveiling without being detected.”
“Sounds easier said than done,” said Amanda.
“Usually is for us.” Brigid grinned. “But we’ll get through it. We always have.”
She pulled her phone out of her purse. She dialed Kahrter’s number and waited. Three rings passed without a response. On the fourth ring, the phone line beeped.
“Hello, you’ve reached the offices of Y Crug. This is the owner Jahvid Kahrter,” Kahrter’s pre-recorded voice said. “I’m not in right now. But if you would leave your name and number, I will do my best to get back to you. Have a bra dag. Bye.”