z

Young Writers Society



​Globetrotters Chapter 5 – The Mexterians

by ExOmelas


Chapter 5 – The Mexterians

It seemed almost paradoxical that Nanya was tougher and more capable than any tomboy Amy had ever met and yet she seemed to have zero interest in feminism. Jonnie had explained to her that the overwhelming favourite pastime of the female population of Turntour was embroidery. A with a massive ninety-two percent of all women practised the hobby. Really? Nanya could kick the butt off of any bully and yet she spent her days idly sewing? It was ridiculous and didn't fit with what Amy had discerned of her so far.

Perhaps it was purely to do with the fact that this was the only prolonged period of time in Nanya's average day that she spent any time with her mother. Elayna was sat in the couch on the wall that was perpendicular to the door. Amy was on the one adjacent to it. They were each leaning against the arms of their respective couches that brought them closer together, as this must have made it far easier to talk.

That would have been if they were actually talking. They'd been monotonously jabbing the needle through the small scraps of satin in silence for at least half an hour now. Was this what family life meant here? Were they still subscribed to the 'children should be seen and not heard' philosophy? Did Elayna truly have nothing to say to her daughter?

Amy thought she might as well try.

“It's starting to get properly cold outside – and dark early too. It's almost pitch black outside already,” she observed.

The older woman simply nodded and made a 'hmm' sound. Amy rolled her eyes and returned to her needlework. Stab, pull, twist, stab, pull. Amy was fairly certain she'd once executed a move like that in Halo 2 with a purplish, energy-blade thing. Donny had probably told her the name of it at the time but she'd forgotten long ago. Luckily, he'd known her well enough neither to expect her to remember or to be particularly interested. He didn't mind, it seemed. This was probably since the opposite was true with a host of television shows that Donny lacked any motivation to watch: 'Breaking Bad', 'Game of Thrones', 'Homeland' etcetera. He'd once expressed an interest in watching 'Supernatural' but had never actually 'gotten around to it'.

Amy gulped back the longing she felt for her home and continued to sew.

“You're not Nanya,” Elayna suddenly stated without accusation, anger or even interest.

“Uh–”

“It's okay. I'll pretend I don't know – for Jonnie – if you think that's best. Because clearly Nanya is not here and no matter what you did to her I doubt she's going to be,” a note of fury crept into her speech, “Who … may I ask … are you? And why do you look so much like my daughter?”

“I …” Amy was at a loss. She'd known? Who could sit by and let a stranger take the place of their daughter without even saying anything? Who could so calmly accept that their daughter was gone and agree to co-operate with the person whose fault it appeared to be? “My name is Amy Oswald. But I didn't mean to –”

“Oswald?!” Elayna's calm features twisted into aghast horror. She'd probably have continued, most likely with an explanation of why Amy's surname was the part of the situation she had a problem with, but at that moment the flimsy wooden door was flung open.

Jonnie nearly fell into the room, his chest heaving and his breath panting. His eyes were on fire – lit by terror. The terror was ten times worse than the horror that had only moments ago flushed out everything else on Elayna's face. He turned immediately to his mother, a sigh of relief at the sight of her rattling through him.

“It's the Mexterians,” he puffed, “They're kicking up riots in the town centre. I ran all the way home from Mr Haellion's house. He was asking after you by the way.”

“He's always been a nice man.” Elayna smiled wistfully. All thoughts of disgust towards Amy's last name seemingly gone for now.

“Great teacher too,” Jonnie agreed with a brisk nod, “Anyway, when we heard the noise start to get closer to his street he closed his blinds and retreated upstairs and recommended I run home rather than take Gloria and that I could pick her up tomorrow. He said if I ran it would be easier to take the side streets because they wouldn't use those for their marches. Plus the streets that they would take would be all blocked up with protests both for and against them so yeah, Gloria's in his utility room in his basement. I hope she doesn't give him too much trouble.”

Jonnie crossed the room to the window and began to haul on the cord that closed their curtains. He thumped down onto the couch next to Amy. Amy made to ask him what the Mexterians were but was interrupted by a rapid clunking on the front door. Jonnie agitatedly made to answer then stopped himself.

“It could be one of them,” he explained as he sat back down.

Somebody flipped open their letterbox and yelled through it, “Jonnie, it's Allan! Please, let me IN!”

Johnny growled in frustration but propelled himself up and darted through the house to the front door. He gruffly swung it open to reveal his 'best friend', who never seemed to want to talk to him about anything except possibly crashing in their spare room that night. His eyes glinted with the same passion for mischief that Jonnie had first spotted in Amy's. Now he was only just realising who it was that she'd first reminded him of. His breathing was rugged and his brown hair was flipping in all directions. His arms were covered in scrapes and bruises and over his eye there was a large blackish-blue ring of pain. Jonnie had never been so irritated by someone in his life. No, he did not want to go join in. No, he did not want to play pranks on adults – at their age they bloody well were adults. How could this guy not have noticed his host of other friends he'd made through the Championships since standard school? All were people similarly physically inept who'd similarly taken on the role of tactics for a competitor – maybe a sibling, like he and Nanya, or a friend, cousin, or even an older relative like an aunt or an uncle.

“What do you want?” he grated at Allan.

“Aw, now come on. Do you really think I'd be crazy enough to want to get involved with these thugs?” Allan seemed to be resisting the urge to wink.

“Then why are you here?” Jonnie sighed, dreading the answer.

“I simply cannot reach my house from here without getting their way and I don't want to anger them, mind.”

Jonnie raised an eyebrow. That explanation made far too much sense to have come from Allan.

“Alright, fine,” Allan grumbled, “I may have thrown a brick at one of them.”

“Oh for God's sakes, Allan!” Jonnie thundered.

Allan's pointy chin and sharp tanned features creased into a grin, which exploded into glory-fuelled peals of laughter.

“Just get inside,” Jonnie uttered, clutching Allan's thin tunic sleeve and dragging him through the door.

“Shall I stick to my first story when I recount my tale to your mother?” he giggled.

“Yeah, as if she'd believe you,” Jonnie rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself.

They re-emerged into the living room to varied reactions: Amy seemed distantly curious, probably distracted by thoughts of home. Jonnie wondered what kind of extremist groups plagued everyday life on Earth. Elayna seemed to find the presence of Allan almost as arduous as Jonnie did. Elayna offered Allan tea which he accepted, as of course he always did, bloody free-loader. He had always 'borrowed' biscuits from Jonnie's snack at break time in Earlier School.

Almost as soon as he'd raised the tea to his mouth, there came another knocking at the door. Allan was sat on the floor, leaning against Elayna's couch. He choked and spluttered on the tea almost to a life-threatening degree. Jonnie ordered him upstairs to hide in a cupboard and approached the door. Jonnie calmly swung open the door, to reveal a small stocky man with a bruised forehead. His hair was jet black and there were strands of beard lining his chin. His eyes were a dark blue that seemed to raise up an armoured shield against invaders.

“Allan Talagoe. Hand him over,” the stocky man demanded.

“He's not here,” Jonnie sighed, feigning irritation, “But I heard about the brick thing. Is that what the bruise is?”

He pointed to the man's purplish angry welt.

“No. That was in the fight I had with him after he hit my wife in the leg with a brick.”

“Oh.”

“So he didn't mention that then,” the man seemed hopeful rather than seriously trying to catch Jonnie out.

“I told you, he's not been here. Although, he doesn't really know many people who live out this way. Maybe he's going to loop round and come back or something. Or, he ran away and you're just wasting your time. Oh, I don't know,” Jonnie sighed, “The guy's insane. I once caught him trying to wriggle out of our first floor window in Later School because he was so bored of Maths. But anyway, I'll stop wasting your time now. I'm really sorry about your wife.”

Jonnie carefully replaced the do– A foot was jammed in between the door and the frame. So close. He reopened the door.

“What?” he growled, “What do you want from me? Do you want me to give you my fourteen-year-old sister so you can plug some wires in her brain? What do you WANT?”

The man's expression was philosophical. “There are so many things you could have said to make me forgive you for the fact that Allan Talagoe just climbed out of your first floor window. That was so not one of them.”

Jonnie turned his head to the side of the house, where, sure enough a window was flapping against the side of the house.

“Idiot,” Jonnie muttered.

“You or him?” The man made no move to reach for Jonnie, nor did he remove his foot from the doorway.

“Both. Him for being him and me for trying to help him.” Jonnie began to sigh with exasperation but the sound morphed into a growl of frustration.

“Sounds about right,” the man reached a fist up to Jonnie's face-height and swung forward.

Jonnie screwed his eyes up and prepared for the blow. He'd been hit before, yes. Normally it was by Nanya while she was been training and missed the foam target pads Jonnie had strapped to his arms. He'd never been in a real fight. He was far too docile to warrant anybody actually getting enraged enough to act upon any irritation they may feel towards him. He'd never been hit in anger, nobody had ever hated him that much. Jonnie imagined that would hurt as much as the blow.

Which didn't come. He heard the clunk, which should suggest he had been hit. Then, when he opened his eyes, he saw nothing in front of him but a restless street. It was streaming with anger in both directions as people chanted and marched and ran and jumped and shouted and hit and hit and hit. But nobody had hit him. The man was collapsed on the ground, twitching and convulsing.

“Did I do that?” Jonnie murmured.

“No, son, no you didn't,” murmured another, friendlier looking man. He had sturdy brown hair and calm, welcoming eyes. He'd appeared on the porch step in front of him, holding a fairly hefty, blood spattered rock. “No, that was me and I've already screwed up my karma for it not to make any difference any more. If I'm going to hit anyone, it may as well be the bad guy.”

As little sense as these sentences made, Jonnie was immensely grateful. He made a rough approximation of his thoughts, “Uh, thank you, sir. I've never been hit with anger before.”

“Well, hopefully now you won't have to be.” The man laid a comforting hand on Jonnie's shoulder then removed it and was gone, disappearing into the throng of hatred and rage that was rapidly becoming a mob. The noise was louder than an Earlier School when a fire alarm was raised.

Jonnie belatedly realised that the man had taken what Jonnie was sure was the corpse of the other man with him, relieving him of the need to explain what had really happened. When Amy asked him if he was okay, he replied that when the man had seen Allan escape, he'd glowered at Jonnie then run off after Allan.

“This is way more serious than last time it happened. The police are having no effect. I locked the door on the way back. I'm terrified.” Jonnie omitted to mention the second man, given that he had both saved Jonnie's life and murdered without remorse. Jonnie decided it was best to forget about him. He couldn't be accused as an accomplice could he, if the police found out?

Amy had decided that she enjoyed training. God knew how she'd find the combat stage but for now – with agility and speed being the main focus – she felt like she could fly. This was partially true. What she'd first taken for the obstacle course was dwarfed by the scale of what turned out to be the actual obstacle course. There were wires to attach yourself to, trees to climb, bridges to cross, lines to zip down. Anything you could imagine in an outdoor adventure park, it was here. There were even two Tarzan swings, which seemed almost identical to the systems set up at Go Ape.

How could this be referred to as training? It was play. She was only playing. In fact, at this moment she was experimenting with a new technique for traversing tunnels that were suspended between trees: the worm dance. It worked splendidly. The tunnel was low and so when her legs spiked up they kicked into the top and propelled her forward at which point she would steady herself with outstretched hands and absorb the momentum.

And on the Tarzan swing, Jonnie had taught her to accept the pain when you landed in your harness. But how could she accept it? How could she possibly climb the cargo net if every time she even lifted her foot, her leg seared with pain? She simply and calmly sat down in the harness and swung out, which took longer but meant she could quickly and efficiently make light work of the net. She would resort to her rope ladder technique of squishing the rungs together.

Jonnie still seemed in awe of all this. Sometimes he'd physically applaud her when she came off the course. Perhaps this was his way of saying that whatever happened with Nanya, he didn't resent her. Maybe this was him accepting her. He said he'd been reading a Samael Drafson book called 'Otherland' about the possibilities of multiple universes. Jonnie said he was unimpressed but Amy thought that a lot of the stuff the guy talked about sounded like string theory. Her mum was a scientist so she understood the basic principle and this guy seemed to have hit the nail on the head.

Amy emerged from the tunnel and climbed nimbly down the ladder.

“Well done,” came a voice from behind her.

Turning, she smiled and mumbled, “Thanks, Jo–”

But it was not Jonnie. It was so not Jonnie. Stood in front of her was a fairly tall, dark-haired man who must have been nearing age thirty at least. His cheeks were wrinkled slightly and his frame shuddered with every breath as if the effort of living was exhausting him. This only served to emphasise how close he was to death. At his age, on Earth, his life would be just starting out. Perhaps he would be getting his first major promotion in his career or perhaps even still finishing up at University. Amy didn't understand how society could function around such torment and injustice. She almost wanted to give Jonnie twenty-five years off her life so that they'd be even.

The man was studying her intently. “Don't expect me to tell you my name. I have a much more important message to deliver.”

He moved a few steps backwards, as if he were making to leave without even delivering whatever he had to say.

“You'll be going home soon,” he continued, then, hushing her confused and vehement queries as to how the hell he knew about that, he added, “But do not think you are secure there. It is incredibly possible that this little 'mishap' could happen again, perhaps in about a week or so's time. Only you can stop that from happening. There is something you can do.”

Jonnie supposed it wasn't in his place to tell Amy who she should and shouldn't talk to. As much as he wanted to forbid her from talking to the passer-by in the course grounds, he was barely allowed to give Nanya the type of order that forbade her from talking to someone. There was no way he was supposed to warn Amy away from strangers. Besides, how bad could it get? Most people had seen Nanya last year at the Championships. They'd know that if you tried anything to hurt her, she'd hospitalise you before you could remember she was the first ever female winner of the Championships. Of course this was only because the junior final took place the day before the senior and the girls and boys were in separate categories so there had to be a female winner … but still.

He trudged along the paths that knitted under the skywire obstacles, occasionally tripping on an especially mossy rock. He reached the set of rock steps that led up to the tunnel dismount area that Amy and the stranger were talking in. He stopped.

He recognised the man instantly. The last time he'd seen him, he'd been carrying off a murder weapon from Jonnie's front steps – and dragging a corpse with him! What could Amy possibly have to say to him? He was a murderer – he hadn't begged for forgiveness, he'd shown no regret. Jonnie was grateful that he'd saved his life but if he couldn't acknowledge that he'd gone about it the wrong way, Jonnie would never forgive him.

Now the man from the riots was saying goodbye to Amy, descending the rocks to where Jonnie stood staring dumbfounded at him, slapping Jonnie on the back and saying 'Nice to see you again, son' as if he knew him. Jonnie trembled with frustration but when he turned to vent his anger at the man, he was missing, as if someone had simply picked him up and removed him from the grounds.

Jonnie nipped up the steps to Amy, who still hadn't noticed his contact with the intruder.

“Who was that?” Jonnie enquired.

“How should I know? You're the one who lives here,” Amy retorted.

“He didn't say? What did he want?” Jonnie dug his hands into his pockets and shifted his feet awkwardly.

“Nothing – he just said I was really good at agility stages.”


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557 Reviews


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Sun Apr 27, 2014 4:04 pm
Ventomology wrote a review...



I'm back!
Now then... My only grammar comments are these two: You often forget to use a question mark when someone uses that question to express shock or some other strong emotion. (Like, "How could she?" sort of things.)
And the other was in dialogue. Please remember that if the action around the speech does not correlate directly to the talking itself (i.e. "You know he's right," he said.) then you must use a period to separate the action and speech. (i.e. The fox stuck his nose in the air. "No, I don't smell him.") At least... that's what I was taught.
Anyways... Other than that, there were a few sentences that were just way, way too long. I had to double back to understand through all the commas and whatnot. So while your sentence diversity was very good overall, I'd watch out for those really long ones.
I don't have many comments on the technique side, mostly because there wasn't much to be desired. Great job using multiple different ways of describing your setting and characters.
As for plot... you're certainly throwing the mystery on, aren't you? The possibility of going back home was a great way to twist the story, though I'll bet whatever the characters do, Amy and Nanya are going to end up switching again. And the shock over Amy's last name certainly raised interest.
Needless to say, your plot has wonderful execution, especially with all the mysterious stuff going on. Can't wait to see what happens!
Ciao!




ExOmelas says...


Oh my God, the speech thing. I've actually explained that to someone before in a review! I've been trying to work on the long sentences so thank you for bringing it to my attention. :)



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Sun Apr 27, 2014 3:06 am
ERZA wrote a review...



Hoho nice story ^^~ I am here to review this chapter of yours by the way.
This is my first time reading this story and somehow I am glad I came acroos it because even though this is not the first chapter, this chapter simply did not fail to catch my interest.
Your narration was almost perfect and everything was nicely timed. I could simply visualise what was going on at some parts but I was not able to feel any sort of emotions coming from any part of the story other than the part where you described how Amy tackled the obstacle course...I could feel her excitement and the adrenaline rushing through her veins. This is a good thing of course but I must say there is much room left for improvements. You could perhaps add little bit of their thoughts at some places to give us more idea of the characters...and we could get to know them better and maybe relate to them which would make us readers deeply connected to the story ne?
Erza~




ExOmelas says...


Yes I suppose I could describe more of Jonnie's rage towards Allun




"While we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one."
— Albus Dumbledore