Jason the Centaur Hunter

by Christopher Cunningham

Chapter 1: A Laurel Crown

“I need you to dig out the stump before school starts again,” Mom said.

Jason considered using his lawyery voice to argue that since he’d need to get a job next year, he owed it to the virtue of childhood itself to spend the summer playing Legions of the Dead 6, Density Glow, Neural Awakening, and Dragon Rush 5.

Jason wanted to say her sanctimonious attempt at a work ethic object lesson indicated an embarrassing over eagerness to replace his father.

But his mouth stayed shut. That conversation would not end well. Besides, if he never touched the stump, she wouldn’t do anything.

“You wanna get me a stump grinder?” he smiled, “only fifteen hundred bucks.” Two years ago she would have laughed.

“Out now. I need to show a house at three, and when I get back, I want progress.”

Jason opened the door. The hot desert breeze blanketed his face.

Last Sunday’s sermon emphasized hard work. Monday, the landscape company removed the tree. Then they asked Mom if she wanted them to grind the stump. She stopped, put on her hmm face, and said, “No.” And now, today, Mom’s bright idea walloped him right in the side of the head. Jason never had a chance.

Jason kicked the side of the stump.  Now his foot hurt. He didn’t need a stump to fill his Dad void. They chopped the tree in the first place because the roots grew under the cement patio. So how was he supposed to dig them out?

A spade sat taunting him on the middle of the stump. Funny.

Jason grabbed the spade and buried it into the brittle soil. He looked at the window for a laugh. But Mom had already left. 

A pebble stung Jason on the temple. Emily Shumway leaned over the back fence, her middle finger tucked under her thumb ready to flick again.

“What’s up dumb face?” she said. Jason hadn’t seen Emily since their end-of-school party in their eighth grade world history class two weeks ago.

“Hey.”

“Wanna go see something cool?”

Yeah. The last time a friend asked him to do anything was wow. Seventh grade. Right before the move. Kinda pathetic. But. “I need to dig this stump out.”

“Ooh, Jason versus the stump,” Emily waved her hands in front of her face like fighting off a voodoo spell. Jason rolled his eyes. He couldn’t miss this. The stump could wait. “I’m coming.” Emily was as close to a friend as Jason had. He couldn’t miss this. Jason flicked one spade-full of dirt out of the way instead. That qualified as progress. 

“D’you need to tell your grandma you’re leaving?” Jason asked.

“She doesn’t care.”

Jason followed a few steps behind Emily as they hiked toward “the wilderness,” a gorge turned dumping ground where cool kids invited you if you didn't spend all summer hanging out with your mom.

What would Emily take him to see in the wilderness? Maybe:

1. An ancient oil lamp like they burn in Legions of the Dead

2. A fuselage from a secret military rocket

3. A nuclear shelter

4. A mountain lion carcass

5. A live mountain lion

Emily wouldn’t take him to a live mountain lion. Right? They slipped around the locked gate of Cesar Chavez Elementary. The sun sent sharp shadows of the purple and teal trailer classrooms slicing across campus.

“Are you sure we should head out there?” Jason asked. Breaking little rules didn’t scare him, but the echo of each footstep rattled off the graffitied walls.

“Do what you want. I’m going.” Emily was right. He was being stupid.

Jason sped along the creaking plywood walkways to catch up. The uneven edge of the plywood plank caught his shoe and sent him flying onto the netless basketball court.

Good thing he never went to school here. Jason wiped his hands. The back fence ran behind the courts.

Emily leaped, caught the top of the chain link with both hands, and catapulted over. Her long blonde hair high kicked, then settled back into perfect straight lines. Not as elegantly, but Jason managed his way over too. He slid an inch on the loose gravel ground as he landed. The
air tasted of salt and desert sage bushes.

“Where to now?” Jason asked.

“Follow me.”

Emily slid down the hill from one ground bush to the next. A red-tailed hawk’s caw echoed overhead. Jason wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then again. 

The wilderness descended into a thick-tree-lined ravine just ahead. They skidded under the tree cover. Everything became three shades darker like someone turned down the brightness on the TV. Emily walked to the ravine edge and squinted across.

Jason followed her eyes to a horseshoe shape of blinking blue lights. “There,”

Jason stared. The lights wove into a leaf crown like from the ancient Olympics. They were like miniature Christmas lights. Who would throw that away?

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“I figured you would know.”

Since Emily discovered Jason was Greek, she treated him like an ancient Greece expert. Really he just studied for class.

“I can’t figure out how those lights stay on,” Emily said.

“It’s an ancient Greek technology called Batt-terr-ree,” Jason said.

“Shut up.”

“How do we get across?”

“That’s why I brought you. You’re good at puzzly-games.”

Jason crushed games made out of squares and lines. He even rocked hexagons, but that didn’t help him get to the crown. The ravine must be eight feet deep. Ten feet across. Too wide to jump without breaking a leg.

An old log had to cross somewhere close. But left-nothing. Right-nothing.

The ravine’s creek bed was dry. So you could slide down. But then how’d you get up the other side?

The crown’s tender branches turned yellow. Maybe Emily was right. Where would you hide a battery? 

Emily crouched figuring a way across. If he deciphered the solution first, he’d impress Emily. She might even let him keep the crown. She’d come over. Look at it on his shelf next to his math field day trophies. He needed that crown.

But even if not, this was way cooler than having to dig out a bunch of tree roots. There. A tree right on the far edge of the ravine sent its roots peeking in and out of the dirt wall. It stuck out in enough places they could definitely climb it. He showed Emily the roots, and she jumped on the plan.

They decided Emily would descend first. Now, Jason did not have feelings for Emily in any girlfriend way, but he wiped the sweat off his palms anyway.

Emily took Jason’s hand, put both her feet against the wall, and hopped backward like repelling. When she landed, Jason put his butt right on the edge. As soon as he began to slide, he pushed his foot against the wall to brake. His heel stuck on a rock in the wall pushing his weight forward and sending him tumbling face first onto the ravine floor.

The dirt in Jason’s ears muffled Emily’s laughs. His neck ached like that time he stayed home from school because he needed an extra day for his Journey to the Center of the Earth essay, but Mom figured it out and made him stay in bed all day. He scraped his ears clean. Emily reached down.

“Shut up,” he preemptively warned as she lifted him to his feet and suppressed a giggle. 

Emily wasted no time bouncing across the ravine and clambering up the tree roots. Worked perfect. 

Jason’s knees wouldn’t. He tripped again. Round 2. He stood holding out both arms for balance. The fine sand buckled under his feet like a mattress. One step at a time.

A subtle roar swept in from the distance. Jason stood right in the middle of the currently dry river bed. Nothing upstream. The sound thundered like the finish line of a horse race. Or a stampeding river. It hadn’t rained in weeks, but what else could that sound be? Had a flash flood struck upriver?

Jason sprinted for the root ladder. He needed to get up. People could see most of the wilderness from the elementary school or roads in town, but the thick trees hid the ravine. If something happened, no one would know until it was too late.

“Help me,” he shouted to Emily, who stood atop the bank. Jason’s foot slid off the root rung, but his hand held firm. What if he tumbled into an oncoming river? All for a trip with Emily. The noise rattled the ravine wall.

“Do you hear that?” Jason shouted. He scrambled up.

Emily dragged on Jason’s shoulders, pulling his legs over the edge. The sound stopped. Jason turned expecting to see water whipping right beneath his feet. Nothing. 

“Weird,” Emily said. “Let’s grab the crown and get outta here.”

Jason nabbed the crown, weightless as a sponge. He put on a broad fake smile. “Thank you. What an honor.” He bowed his head. Emily laughed. And Jason placed the crown atop his head.

Flashing. Comotion. Trees. Blue. Emily. Jason’s vision scrambled like watching satellite TV during a thunderstorm. He blinked. A grid of bright blue lines flashed across his vision. Darkness. Lines of flags outlined in the same blue light flickered. Something in his peripheral vision. But when he looked, darkness again.

The piercing bright confusion scrunched Jason’s eyes. A moment later, he blinked back to the way everything looked before. 

“Are you okay?” Emily asked. Jason nearly said yeah. A wind sound rustled through the leaves but without wind. Chattering, no louder than a whisper.

“He’s not old enough, is he?”

“Kill him.”

“B B B But what about the girl.”

“Both then.”

“Hold on.”

“Is that you?” Jason asked.

“The wind?” Emily looked confused.

“Don’t mess with me,” Jason said.

Whispers again.

“Jason take off the crown, and throw it into the trees.”

“There’s no time for this.”

Jason glanced around. “We leaving or what?” Emily asked.

“Quickly,” Jason said.

“Jason,” this time the whisper sounded more urgent, like Mom scolding him during church, “Please drop the crown.”

“R R R Ready.”

Emily swiped the crown from Jason’s head and took a running leap back into the ravine.

Jason hopped down. Now how should they get out? The ravine shallowed out two miles east. They could exit there if he couldn’t find another tree root ladder.

Jason scanned the ravine wall. Dirt. More dirt. Browner dirt.

The wind pulsed against his face as if keeping rhythm. Some of the sand snuck into Jason’s shoe, rolling back and forth with each bound. Jason’s heartbeat throbbed in his neck and his chest and his gut and his ankles.

“This is the coolest,” Emily hollered. The thick sand slowed Jason from running as fast as he wanted. He needed to escape the ravine. Get into sight of the school. They’d be safe. Thirty feet ahead, another tree root peeked out of the dirt wall. “Over there,” Jason pointed and uncoiled into an all-out dash.

No more whispers. Maybe they left him alone. But he did hear a. Was it. Something rolling? A boulder crashed through the trees large as a Fiat.

Emily ran straight for the roots, but she was eight feet away—minimum. Twigs snapped. Limbs cracked.

Where was it speeding? The angle changed with each bump. Could they cut to the far side of the ravine? Would it be better to sprint for the roots? 

What was the optimal safety strategy? Jason needed to contemplate, but the boulder splattered sand screeching straight ahead.

It barrelled along. Emily. The boulder would crush Emily.

“Em—” Jason tried to yell, but his breath left him. Five feet behind Emily, he drove his feet into the spongy dirt and sprung. His left arm strained to shove Emily as soon as possible.

What was he doing? How’d he find himself in such a mess? What if this crazy plan worked and the boulder crushed him instead of Emily? Was he ready to die? Who would make his mom laugh?

The tips of Jason’s fingers stabbed into Emily’s shoulder thrusting her into the ravine wall. He slid onto the ground as the boulder screeched over the edge and crushed Jason’s outstretched arm. An ear numbing shriek filled the ravine. Searing pain trapped his arm, pinned to the sandy floor.

“She made it out,” the whisper said.

“Help,” Jason managed to beg, as Emily scurried up the roots, laurel crown in hand, and out of the ravine for help.

Chapter 2: A Music Box

On the kitchen table sat. Geometry homework? 

Jason hadn’t done Geometry since seventh grade. Jason wasn’t home, either. This was. The old house?

Two muffled voices cracked through the den door. Dad? Where was this? No, not where. When?

The night of Grandpa Creed’s funeral. Dad argued with Uncle Quentin. They didn’t know he eavesdropped.

“Adam,” Quentin shouted, “Peace with animals ain’t worth a crap. Give up your highfalutin peace deal or you will find yourself on the outside.”

Why was Jason here? Remembering this? Could he save his Dad?

“I need more time,” Dad shouted back. 

“Time. Time for them to grow and murder. You’re walking us into the half-man forecast.”

“The forecasts are nothing but fortune telling.”

Jason stalked to the door. “Dad,” he yelled. Nothing. He rattled the door, it wouldn’t budge.

“Your plan makes as much sense as milking a bull,” Quentin said.

“Well, it’s my call.”

“Not anymore. I have everyone’s support.”

A punch rattled the door.

Jason needed to get in that door. To see his dad. To warn his dad not to leave.

Ouch. A line of ants marched around Jason’s ankle. The powerful sun painted his face. The playground. Near his house. 

Jason swatted the ants and peered down. He kicked over the top of an ant hill. Immediate chaos. The ants swarmed and climbed like a Pollock painting come to life.

A thousand ants moving in a thousand uncoordinated directions. Instantaneously beginning the rebuild. The ants’ determination felt admirable. Jason kicked down another chunk of the hill.

A buttery scoop of macaroni and cheese plopped into Jason’s doubled up paper plate. 

In the living room, Jason counted eight cousins, two uncles, and three aunts filling the sofas and spilling onto the shaggy rose carpet. 

This was Jason’s old house again, but when was the last time everyone was together? The funeral for Grandpa Creed? Again?

Jason needed a place to eat. He headed toward Ruby, who’s only a year younger than him. She sat with her sisters, their plates on the ottoman. Jason caught her eye hoping she’d make space for him, but she turned back to her little sisters Kennedy and Reagan.

Who else was there? Aunt Katie, Dad’s youngest sister, took a seat on the ground under the TV. Other than Quentin’s kids, he knew her the best-ish from the one month she lived with Grandpa Creed after college—six years ago.

Jason turned around.

The reflection in a curio cabinet’s glass looked back. But that wasn’t a reflection. That was a little boy. An eight year old. A. Jason. 

He was at Grandpa Creed’s house. The oldest memory yet. 

Inside the cabinet: A hoof several inches tall. A few strands of hair dangled from the top of the dark waxy brown hoof. 

A few inches away sat a music box. The figures of two children on horses chased each other on the disk in the center of the box. Jason imagined they would circle when the music played. But a toothpick stood in the machinery keeping the box open without the music playing.

Jason opened the cabinet door and reached for the toothpick.

“That sound will never be heard in my home.”  Grandpa Creed gazed at him, the tips of his long lips pointed at forty-five-degree angles. 

Jason lay face first in a bed of spongy sand. He tried to stand, but the sand buckled under his feet. 

Jason was at the ravine. He was awake. 

He fell into the ravine, got knocked out. Had some weird dreams. That was all. The voices, the boulder, Grandpa Creed’s funeral just a crazy dream. Everything was okay.

A sound, like a stampeding river, grew. Jason stood right in the middle of the currently dry river bed. It hadn’t rained in weeks, but what else could that sound be? Had a flash flood struck?

Jason sprinted for the root ladder. He needed to get up. You couldn’t see the ravine from the road. If something happened, no one would know until it was too late.

“Help,” he shouted to Emily. Jason’s foot slid off the root rung, but his hand held firm. 

Emily dragged on Jason’s shoulders, pulling his body over the edge. The sound stopped. No water.

“Let’s get outta here,” Jason said, “Quickly.” He nabbed the crown. 

“Put it on,” Emily prodded. Jason paused and placed the crown atop his head.

Blackness. And. Pain. The pain. Must. Get. Out. Jason gathered his breath and jerked his arm with all his strength.

Lifeless linoleum greeted him as he smashed into the ground.

Splinters of pain detonated across his body.

The lights seared bright.

Where was he? Beige curtains?

Typical achy pain like when you don’t move playing video games all day perched on every possible muscle.

“Jason. Jason. Are you okay?”

Mom?

An IV crawled across his arm.  

Other pain demanded attention. Pain like a toothache pain you go to the dentist for scratched in his neck and joints.

“The nurse will help you up. Don’t move.”

Jason lay on the ground. A bed next to him. What happened to his shirt? He wore a.

The last category of pain felt like sizzling on a George Foreman grill. This pain radiated fire hot out of his left hand and up his arm.

This wasn’t in the ravine. Think Jason. His blood rhythmically pumped up his neck. Each pulse ached.

It all happened. Emily. The Wilderness. The laurel crown. The ravine. The voices. The boulder. His arm.

The hospital.

Jason took a deep breath. Time to stand up. But his arm, the one crushed by the boulder, screamed pain.

He couldn’t imagine the damage causing this pain. But he needed to see.

White spongy bandages covered his left arm, elbow, and the rest of it wasn’t there. His arm went to his elbow wrapped like a mummy and then his arm wasn’t there anymore. An elbow then nothing. His hand wasn’t there. As far as Jason remembered, arms aren’t supposed to end after the elbow.

Jason wiggled his fingers. A trembling sensation. Jason whipped his arm into eye level. Loud steps in the hallway.

Jason must have a hand. If he didn’t, it couldn’t hurt. And it hurt. He was hallucinating, or dreaming still. The pain pulsed up the arm Jason saw did not exist.

The door broke open. Mom buzzed in with a roly-poly nurse.

“Has anyone seen where my hand went?”

Silence.  Jason didn’t blame them. What protocol do you follow with someone who recently discovered their arm got chopped off while sleeping?

“Jason, I’m going to lift you by your shoulders, and place you on your bed,” the nurse said. She squatted like a weightlifter, her crinkled yellow scrubs dipping into his nose. She smelled like honey and medicine. “Don’t think about your arm. We’ll bring a specialist here to talk about it.”

Jason sat back as directed, but he broke the “think about your arm” rule. When you used to have an arm, then you don’t have an arm, that’s probably going to cross your mind.

In fact, he thought about it a lot for the next two days. The only other thing to think about was how the X on the linoleum tile near the bathroom door didn’t line up with the other tiles' X, by a quarter inch.  Everything smelled like windex. And constant chirping, like the middle of a robot aviary. 

Mom, meanwhile, planted herself on the blue fabricked chair and took root. Today, finally, she left to show a potential buyer a house. Good. Jason needed a break. 

And an “adolescent prosthetic specialist” was coming.

Dr. Stathopoulos arrived sporting a trimmed full-face beard. He measured six inches shorter than Jason, who immediately called him minidoc in his head. Minidoc sat down, but didn’t say anything. The nurse, same one who helped him when he first woke up, followed in. Her name was Brunetta. 

Minidoc earnestly scribbled on his notepad, Jason knew what he had to do: make this guy laugh.

“We have a number of paths forward,” minidoc started, “have you given much thought to your path?”

“My path? I’d like a hot girlfriend, and a million bucks.”

Minidoc smiled. “Are you worried losing your hand will impact your financial and romantic success?”

“Not until you brought it up!” Jason said, throwing up his arms. Still no laugh.

“You joke a lot.”

“Three days ago I’d never told a joke in my life. Then I tragically severed my hand. And poof! Constant jokes.”

Well Brunetta chuckled.

“Let me lay out some options for you.”

This guy was unflappable. “Fine,” Jason said. Minidoc explained two prosthetic types:

Aesthetic

Pros-Looks like a hand

Con-Can’t do anything

Functional

Con-Look like Captain Hook

Pro-Hey, you’ve got a hook. And they open and close!

Jason had three months to decide. Meanwhile, Jason could wear:

Temporary

Con-completely useless

Con-looks like a Barbie hand

Pro-you get rid of it in six months

Tough choice.

“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the next few years,” minidoc said, “so call me Doctor Stat. Like ‘I need that stat.’ Most people do.”

Jason nodded. Minidoc was hilarious. Doctor Stat? No one called him that. Minidoc left a small library of pamphlets and left.

A few minutes later a reporter came by. Jason had never met a reporter, but he didn’t want to talk. The psychologists said traumatic memory was unreliable. So the whispers, an auditory hallucination conveniently providing an explanation for the freak accident, were probably a coping mechanism.

If Jason was going crazy, he definitely wasn’t talking to a reporter. 

He convinced her to talk to Emily instead, and leave him alone to . . . watch TV. Maybe talking wouldn't have been so bad. He flipped on The Price is Right.

“Mind if I watch?” Brunetta asked. Jason shrugged. All they did was watch TV. Weird, but nice.

It was nearly lunch when the distinct click of Mom’s high heels clacked down the hall. She burst open the door panting, wearing an overcoat, and pinning her arm to her chest.

“Nuclear winter start?” Jason asked. 

She smiled and revealed In N Out under her jacket. 

Jason devoured the burger in a few bites. “Good burger” he mumbled. 

Mom settled into her blue seat. Then silence. Usually he could escape awkward silences with video games.

“D’you sell the house,” Jason asked.

“Nope.”

Awkward. Joke time. “Next time, say your son’s a cripple. Automatic sale.”

“Maybe so.”

That didn’t work. Maybe silence was fine.

Later that afternoon, Emily poked her head into the room. She wore a pink shirt with little ruffles along the v-neck line. 

“I need to go,” Mom walked out.

Jason and Emily peered at each other. 

"Sorry about your hand."

Jason wanted to say losing his hand wasn’t her fault. But mostly it was. So he said something true instead. “Happy to do it.”

A single freckle under Emily’s ear seemed to chase her curling earlobe. Jason never noticed before. 

Emily gave Jason the crown to keep. It was confirmed battery powered, and the leaves were made out of a styrofoam-rubber composite. Not magic, but really cool. 

She tottered on the ball of her foot. “Wanna meet Gregory?”

“Sure?”

The blue logo on Gregory’s athletic shorts matched his shirt and sneakers exactly. Gregory kissed Emily’s cheek. Then winked at Jason. Who winks? 

Thankfully, meal service interrupted the love birds, plopping a tray on the bedside table. The burger had filled Jason up, but a pudding cup caught his eye.

Jason reached for the cup with three fingers, and pinch the plastic seal with the other two. But the cup slipped. 

“Want help?” Gregory offered.

“No.”

Jason hooked the cup with his left arm. But it slipped. The cup hit Jason’s bandages. He screamed in pain and flicked the cup across the room. The pudding hit the wall and exploded into a chocolaty tie dye. 

“Let’s go,” Emily and Gregory ran out as Mom ran back in. Mom looked at Jason, then the mess. 

Jason stared flatly. He couldn’t place her expression. Disappointment, anger, pity maybe. Jason knew all Mom’s faces and didn’t like her developing new ones. She knelt down to wipe up the mess.

A minute later, Gregory returned, stepped around Mom, and leaned into Jason’s.

“Do you like my girlfriend?”

Jason gaped. It’s not that Jason didn’t want an intense romantic rivalry with a man who could afford matching gym clothes. But hospital threats? Really? Worse than the creepy wink.

So even though Jason’s feelings for Emily were completely platonic. He had to mess with this goofball, right?

“She likes me,” Jason said.

Gregory’s eyebrows pursed, and for a second he looked like the mob boss from Metro of Fallen Angels 2. “Back down” he said and walked out like a soldier marching formation. 

Jason chortled. 

“Back down,” Jason mocked. Mom laughed. “My impeccable man eyebrows have the power to amaze.” She laughed harder. “I'm Al Capone reincarnated.” Mom broke down into giggles.

Third hospital day—Jason’s birthday. By this point, Jason had a list of complaints about the Corona Regional Medical Center

1) They cut off his hand. This was their job, but he held a grudge.

2) The lights shone the same harsh colors as the school classrooms. Not cool.

3) The sponginess of the food. 

Today’s complaint? Number 57) Jason heard every footstep in the hallway.  At first Jason would guess what shape silhouette would pass his smoked window from the footstep sound. This game was not entertaining at 6 AM. 

Jason wiped out his morning eye boogers. A large blocky figure stood at his window. No knock. Who was there? A robot. A bear man. Probably another specialist. It left. 

The morning dragged now wide awake. Finally Mom left for breakfast. Jason grabbed the TV remote. Uncle Quentin paraded through the door. He wore a large cowboy hat, despite living in the suburbs his whole life. 

He held the newspaper in his hand and flicked the front page headline: “Local Hero Loses Hand in Freak Accident,” with a picture of the boulder in the ravine. Hero.

“Congrats, son!” Quentin hollered.

“Quentin, I haven’t seen you in—”

“Since your dad . . . but when I saw the paper, I had to see you. Was she pretty?” 

Jason smiled. “She’s got a boyfriend.”

“Best ones always do. Give it time.”

Quentin thumped the paper down onto Jason’s bedside table. His uncle held a small gift. Deep black calligraphy stroked a fancy card like on wedding invitations.  

“I brought you something.” 

From the wrapping, Jason pulled a music box. Like a porcelain egg. Four small gold feet sprouted from the corners. Pale rose and green flora spiralled along the sides. 

“Read the card."

“Jason Castellanos,” he read, “In commemoration of your 14th birthday, you are invited into the Lapith Society. Your sponsor, Quentin, will answer questions concerning your unique circumstances.” Jason wondered what “lapith” meant: A giant maze, the name of a sailboat, a fascinating rock. Quentin stared off.

“That’s the crown?” Quentin pointed.

Jason nodded.

“It’s impressive.” Quentin’s eyes went big. “Want me to put it in a shadow box for you? A birthday present.”

Mom’s unmistakable clickety clack made their way down the hallway.

“My pleasure,” Quentin grabbed the crown, and headed to the door. “I’ll tell you more about the Lapiths soon. Keep the invite private. It’s important.”

Private? Jason stuffed the invite and music box under his pillow just as Mom walked into the room. 

About an hour after dinner, Mom melodramatically threw herself into a ball, “My stomach,” she moaned, “hurts so bad.” She wasn’t a good actor, but she was trying. 

“Better find a doctor,” Jason monotoned. She skipped out of the room.

A minute later she strolled in carrying a german chocolate cake, with fourteen unlit candles. “Surprise!” she yelled. The aroma of pecan frosting crowded out the hospital smells. Brunetta followed in rolling a surgical light aimed at the cake. They belted happy birthday, family-style.. 

Jason had to make a wish. Mom’s happiness? Sappy. A girlfriend? Pointless. No. He wanted ______. He didn’t know.

“Blow out the candles!” Mom said.

“They’re not—”

“Do it.”

Jason blew. Brunetta shut off the light. Mom cheered. 

Mom gave him the game Density Glow, and a one handed Playstation controller. For people with one hand. Like Jason. Cool didn’t know anyone made those.

Mom also brought the Playstation from home! Hallelujah! Brunetta connected it to the TV, helped herself to a piece of cake, and Jason disappeared into his games trying to figure out his new controller, until Mom fell safely asleep.

Jason pulled the music box from under his pillow. He unlatched the cover tenderly, ready to shut it if the noise roused his mother. Silence.  

Two plaster figurines chased each other on either side of a small center disk. When Jason was eight, they looked like children riding horses. But now, up close. They were centaurs, creatures with the torso of a man and the body of a horse. A small green halo sat on the centaurs’ heads—a laurel crown.

Jason pushed the centaur figurines, porous and weightless like a sand dollar, and the musical machinery let out a brass plunk. 

A small match stood lodged in the machinery. Jason plucked it out. A quiet melody began to play, and the two centaurs ran in perfect circles. Jason closed his eyes. The music box sang a haunting tune, in a minor key. Each note rang out long and solitary. It rose in a simple crescendo, before resting toward an uncluttered resolution and beginning again. Jason closed the music box, and fell asleep. 

Chapter 3: Man Burger

Six days and nine hours after Jason woke up in the hospital, discharge time had arrived. Brunetta insisted Jason take a wheelchair to the curb even though there was nothing wrong with his legs.

When the automatic hospital doors sprung open, the stiff warmed-over wind hit Jason in the eye and forced him to bring his cold plastic hand to cover his face. 

Well here it was, time to start life with one hand.

No one spoke on the ride home.

Mom pulled into the cul-de sac. The grass in the front yard wasn’t waving quite right with the wind. Was it trampled? One window shutter was askew, and the window wasn’t reflecting the sun quite right. In fact, was the window broken? The door was wide open. No the door was gone. Splinters prickled out from where the hinges once were. 

Mom stared, her features slowly sharpening. The car clicked into park.

“Stay here,” Mom said.

Jason darted out the car into the house. The glass on Jason’s baby pictures—shattered. He snaked through the hallways. Long scrapes gorged the walls. Mom’s bell cabinet—smashed. Who was here?

Jason swerved into his room. The door gone. His trophies in a pile on the floor. A large oak shadow box Jason had never seen sprawled cracked on his pillow. There was no laurel crown inside. 

Jason dove into the wreckage. Quentin wouldn’t have brought an empty shadow box. Jason stood up. The blood rushed from his head.

“Is this his house?” The whispers.

“W W We warned him t t to leave it.”

Jason stumbled to the window. The voices. His head spun.

“L L Let’s leave.”

“He’s immune right?”

Jason pivoted ninety degree sharp, toward the other window, sending his equilibrium into a tailspin, then collapsed unconscious.

The afternoon sun seared into Jason’s eyes. He was on the couch, lying in Mom’s lap. Jason took a deep breath. The room smelled like dust. Simple, beautiful, organic dust. Finally out of the hospital. 

“What happened?”

“You ran in here like a banshee pumped up on pain meds,” her breath tripped and sputtered, “Thank God no one was in the house. You okay?” Mom looked down to Jason her eyes were solid black gems.

“Your eyes,” Jason dragged her toward the bathroom mirror. He went to flip on the lights, but realized he had always done it with his left hand. He leaned over and turned on the lights.

“I’ve got to. I’ve got to.” She started gasping. 

Jason ran to the kitchen and dialed 911. The operator sent an ambulance. 

Jason hung up the phone and melted into a puddle on the linoleum. He couldn’t do this. He was in the hospital an hour ago. He took a deep breath, peeled himself off the floor, took Mom to the front porch, and waited. 

The concentric oil stains on the driveway reminded Jason of Mom’s eye, one black circle inside the next. Their stubby little cul-de-sac squirmed. House sparrows squabbled in the tree next door. The afternoon wind carried a rust colored dust, that pelted Jason’s cheek. 

“I can’t see,” Mom said, “What time is it? It’s dark as midnight. I can’t go to the hospital. You need someone to take care of you. What is this? Am I going to be okay? What are you going to do?” She chattered one concern after the next as they waited. Jason tried not to listen.

A moment later, sirens drowned their gurgling neighborhood. Two EMTs lept from the ambulance and attached Mom to a bright orange gurney. 

“I’m fine sitting,” she tried to object, but they proceeded to circle her body, attaching various cables without pause. They moved her into the ambulance.

The blaring sirens allowed a black Chevy Silverado to sneak up behind Jason. Quentin jumped out of the driver’s side. 

“Quentin?”

“I know how to cure your mom’s eyes. I need your help, but it will be dangerous”

“The doctors—”

Quentin shook his head. “It’s more,” Quentin glanced behind his shoulder, and behind the shrubs, “ancient, than doctors can deal with.”

“Well tell the doctors,” Jason insisted.

Quentin crouched down right into Jason’s eyes. Jason distinguish the individual strands of his uncle’s unruly eyebrows. 

“Your father wasn’t a fisherman, son. Castellanos men are Lapiths. Lapiths have enemies. You need to come.”

“Lapiths?”

“Your mom’s disease only lasts a few months.”

“Then what?”

“That’s why you need to come.”

Jason sifted the information in his mind. He wanted to make a long logical chain, but there were too many missing pieces. 

“Mom,” Jason shouted, “I’m leaving with—” an EMT crossed  Jason’s path.

“What Jason?”

“I’m leaving. Me and Quentin are getting some help.”

“Are you coming with us,” a stern faced EMT grabbed Jason’s chin.

“No.”

“Then you need to clear out.”

“Jason,” Mom breathed, “don’t go with him.”

The EMTs shoveled Jason out of the ambulance. “I have to,” he said, the doors shutting. The whirring lights sped down the street and out of view. He couldn’t just sit in the hospital while Mom dwindled away. Right?

Stiff warmed-over wind blew from behind the ambulance, hitting Jason in the eye. He wiped the cold lifeless plastic of his hand against his forehead. Choosing a prosthetic arm should have been the most stressful part of the day.

“Let’s go,” Quentin said.

Jason climbed into the cozy confines of the truck’s cabin. Jason went light in the head. The last few days had spun like a logarithmic spiral. But it was finally over. Right? Quentin spoke with such certainty.  

The latch for the oversized truck door secured in place, and Quentin pulled onto the open road. 

Jason looked up to Quentin hoping he would start pouring out explanations for the strangest week he’d ever had. But Quentin looked intently on the road driving just faster than Jason’s comfort level. 

“Quentin?”

“Wait until we get on the highway.”

Wait? What exactly did they need to wait for? Mom had said, “don't go.” Did she know something? Jason had assumed she was simply in a frenzied rush.

 Quentin leaned down and turned the radio to cringe inducing, twangy country music. 

Jason settled into the deep leather seats, and pulled the invitation from his pocket. 

“Jason Castellanos, In commemoration of your 14th birthday, you are formally invited into the Lapith Society. Your sponsor, Quentin, will answer your questions.”

They merged onto the highway. Engravings of orchards, missions, and train engines scrawled along the freeway’s sound wall. The wall whirred less than eighteen inches of shoulder away. 

“Where are we going?” Jason tried.

“To cut out a centaur’s heart.”

Jason peeked at the odometer—63 mph. An orange Peterbilt 18-wheeler pressed on directly behind the rear window. A white Civic cut around them on the left. He couldn’t jump out of the truck. Even if he wanted. 

“Say again.”

“This is what they get for keeping you in the dark.”

“Who?”

“Jason,” Quentin looked down, before darting his eyes back on the road. “The Lapiths are an ancient organization devoted to the destruction of the centaur species. They attacked you behind the school. They ransacked your home. They poisoned your mother. The only way to cure her is to use an antidote made from the tissue of a centaur heart.”

Jason wanted to ask what again, but thought better of it.

“Why Mom?”

“Hard to tell. They’re filthy animals. Probably in retaliation for the crown.” Quentin turned back to Jason, “We’ll be in the car for a while. What else do you want to know?”

First Jason wanted to know if his uncle was going to look back at the road before rear ending a silver sedan. He did. All in all Jason learned:

• Centaurs aren’t magical, just a sub-sentient humanoid zoological expression.

• The US Government is aware of centaurs and regulates them. They are confidential to prevent their exploitation and abuse.

• The government also protects centaurs from groups like the Lapiths who otherwise have the ancient right to destroy the centaurs.

• The whispers Jason heard were probably not centaurs talking.

• Uncle Quentin makes a really funny guttural braying noise.

• The Lapiths know about centaurs because they’ve been fighting them for three-thousand years, and followed them to California from Greece.

• Centaurs migrated to California because they liked the weather.

• Quentin acted as the leader of the Lapiths. Quentin and Jason’s dad were not fishermen, but went to the Lapith ranch every summer.

• No they don’t ranch centaurs.

• Every two years four new Lapiths were initiated. Jason would be part of the new class.

• Centaurs live primarily in the southern foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains

• Centaurs hated the Lapiths and killed many in Jason’s family including Grandpa Creed, and Dad.

Dad. Quentin asked Jason if he would join the fight against the centaurs to avenge his dad, save his mom, and extinguish the centaurs once and for all. Hmm, did he really have to think about it?

Their next stop was the Lapith ranch, where Jason would get some training before going after the centaurs.

The day wore on, the highways thinned, and the desert grew. The buildings in the small towns they drove through sported sand worn edges. Jason’s heart beat heavier and stronger. They’d been on the road for a few hours now. Dinner time.  On the left, the Sierra Nevadas began to peek out. On the right a hand-painted sign, “Gus’ really good fresh jerky, ahead. Restrooms.” And then another “Chinese Food. 81 miles.”

Across from a Mobil station, sat a single white building.  “God Bless America” was painted across a peeling American flag. While Bugs Bunny and Marvin the Martian were painted on either side. A sign hung across a gray truck parked in front of the building “Adriana’s cafe now open. Serving ice cold Coca Colas.” The worn sign meant it didn’t open recently. Quentin rumbled the truck to a stop.

“Let me get you some dinner,” Quentin volunteered after the truck already stopped.

The small diner smelled of rich oak, and grease. A long square bar snuggled against the far-side of the diner. A smorgasbord of license plates lined the wall behind the bar thick and dense. Jason turned a circle. Three Stooges movie posters speckled the rest of the diner’s walls. They were the only people in the room. Quentin strolled in, and grabbed a stool. Jason meandered behind him. All he wanted was food. He pulled out a stool, and lay his hand on the bar.

“Dree?” Quentin bellowed.

An industrial woman, with shorn gray hair, and a rubbery face swung her head through the undersized door behind the bar.

“Quentin,” she said, “Let me experiment you on a new girl.” 

“I need the phone.”

Dree motioned to the back, and she and Quentin disappeared.

After a moment, a fragile girl with a spongy, florid face slipped behind the bar. An unscratched name badge read, “Hannah.” 

“Evening,” she said.

Jason grimaced. Quentin reappeared ready to fire.

“Slim Piggy for me, and get the boy a,” Quentin sized Jason up, “a man burger.”

“Slim Piggy?” Hannah asked.

“I’ll make it for you,” Dree bellowed from the kitchen.

Hannah shuffled out, leaving Quentin and Jason alone in the room. Quentin pulled out his stool.

“Sorry about your mom,” Quentin said.

“She’ll be okay?”

“Depends on how quickly you can kill one.”

“Why’d no one tell me?”

“I shouldn't.”

“What?”

“It'd be mighty impolite to speak poorly of your mother at the present.”

“She didn't want to tell me? What? To protect me probably?” 

Quentin just shook his head. “I’ll just say, you belong with the Lapiths.” He wouldn't say anymore. Frustrating. But Quentin was right, now wasn’t the time to be mad at mom. A Lapith. A member of the Lapiths. Jason could get used to that.

“How’s your hand?”

“Gone.”

Quentin laughed. And then his next question was about school. Then Emily. Jason asked about Ruby. And suddenly the clandestine dinner in a backwoods grill felt normal. 

When Hannah reappeared she carried both plates. She stared down at the bar top. Jason followed her gaze, and realized she was staring at his rigid plastic hand. But he knew he shouldn’t say anything. It was simple math. The only value of shooting Hannah a dirty look was a sense of vindication. But the downside included insulting Quentin’s favorite restaurant, and messing up their promising new relationship. Besides, Jason figured he would have to get accustomed to stares.

“Excuse you,” Quentin said.

Jason twisted up.

“Pull your eyes back into your face sweetheart; he’s not a sideshow. And he won’t be gawked at.”

Quentin ripped the plate with Jason’s burger out of Hannah’s hand, and stuffed it into Jason’s chest. 

“Here, eat this in the car.”

Jason hesitated awkwardly. He’d never taken a plate out of a sit-down restaurant before. But his uncle’s face was getting scary, so he started walking out. Quentin slapped some money onto the counter. 

“That’s for Adriana!” he said, and followed Jason out the door and back into the truck. 

Though they hadn’t been in the restaurant long, the sharp brightness of day had faded into a comfortable dull darkness broken only by the truck’s long lights.

“Good burger, huh?” Quentin asked.

“Mmm Hmm,” Jason mumbled

“Sorry about all that. I just feel like . . . you just deserve better.”

Jason had no idea if he deserved to be stared at or not. But he liked Uncle Quentin believing he didn’t. 

“I—” Jason coughed down an oversized bite. “I appreciate it.” 

Jason took another bite. All the tension from the day drained into the truck’s bucket seats. Yes, Mom was sick. Very sick. But Jason was going to find and kill those miserable beasts and make her better. Hand or no hand. 

The darkness conspired with Jason’s hours of sleepless worry, and soon he dozed away.

A sudden bounce jolted Jason awake.

Angry voices screamed incoherently. Jason’s groggy eyes refused to focus on anything. The truck had stopped, but rocked back and forth. Who was? What was? 

Two black gloved hands slammed onto the window, startling Jason alert. He fumbled to make sure the door was locked. Jason darted his eyes around searching for a face. For a brief moment the truck’s high beams caught one of the attackers. They were completely covered, head to toe in a lumpy piecemeal black costume, like something someone threw together from what they found in their closet. 

 The effect worked, and Jason couldn’t make out where or how many attackers came. Centaurs?

Quentin’s door was ripped open, and black covered arms grabbed him. Two, three, five arms, swarmed his head and legs. Quentin struggled, but was quickly surrounded. Jason leaned back against his own door, and began kicking at the hands. He got one knuckle so hard the hand retreated, but there were simply too many attackers, and Quentin was dragged from the truck in short order. Jason put all his weight against the locked door behind him, feet up ready to attack if they began to come for him. 

But the door opened, and Jason tumbled backwards out of the truck. Jason screamed, and kicked, and bit aimlessly at the air, but a sack over his head quickly snuffed out what little he saw. By the time someone cinched his legs by what sounded like a zip-tie, Jason figured there wasn’t much point left in fighting.

The attackers loaded Jason into what he guessed was the back of a pickup, and he was once again on the road. 

Chapter 4: Mirrors

A steady clippity clop followed the truck’s slow drive. The truck stopped. Someone scooped Jason and dumped him on a floor slick as a bowling alley. 

Jason unravelled the duct tape on his neck, freeing his head and several neck hairs. 

A grid of bright blue lines settled into his vision outlining the floor, walls and ceiling. Jason placed his hand onto the wall, slick as glass, but it gave in like the surface of really old jello.

 “Hello,” Jason’s yell reverberated back. 

Jason felt along the entire surface of the small cell’s walls. Not so much as a seam protruded, let alone a door or window.

Jason punched the wall, hoping to break through the elastic surface. But it bounced him staggering back. 

“Open up,” He screamed.

In the parts of his mind that worked at school, Jason knew there was no use screaming at walls, but those parts had passed out from exhaustion hours earlier. He scraped, pounded, kicked. “Let me out. Let me out.” Jason flailed his fists and legs into the wall. Whatever energy had remained in his wiry body, thrashed away, until Jason sunk to the floor empty. 

What value was there in letting him rot in a tiny cell? Someone would come back. Right? Were the Lapiths the losers of a long and losing war?

Did he even want to get out? The only sorta friendship he had with Emily was gone. She felt so indebted to him, she’d never be sincere again. His plastic hand was a walking “pity me” sign. No favor, no kind word, no accomplishment could ever be trusted again. 

And the only real mission Jason had, saving Mom’s dwindling hourglass of life stopped before he even started. Two months, and Jason’s only hope was performing open heart robbery on a creature he knew didn’t exist. He should be running sprints trying to do anything to find a cure. 

Jason charged straight into the wall the way he saw linebackers do on TV. The wall sprung him back flat. Worthless.

If Dad hadn’t gotten himself killed, then Jason wouldn’t be on the verge of being alone. Someone else could help Mom. 

And Quentin. The fear clenching his uncle’s face when he begged Jason to stop asking questions on the driveway. He knew how dangerous these animals were. And the restaurant, the way Quentin stood up for him. If Quentin survived, Jason would treat him like the family he was.

Were those voices outside?

 “Get me out of here,” Jason screamed. “I know you can hear me. You can’t keep me in here.” But Jason’s voice gave out, leaving only a raspy whisper in its place.

When Jason stopped screaming, he heard the voices again. But instead of screaming he listened.

“Yellow, blue, blue . . .” They were instructions on a recorded loop. They had him put his hand on the bottom right corner of the room, then led him to a small recessed area above his head.

Jason fumbled a key onto the ground. He dropped down, and patted until he grabbed the key again. But he had missed the next instructions, so he waited for them to start over. 

They led Jason to an imperceptibly small keyhole near the ground. The key sprung three colorful glowing buttons from the wall. 

Jason’s foot felt hot. Scorching. He turned around. A fiery smolder chewed through the blue grid leaving only blackness behind. The heat splashed behind Jason.

Jason took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, listening only to the instructions. Yellow. Yellow. Blue. The audio crackled away. 

Jason coughed on the smoke, and pulled in his feet from the heat. Time to guess. Blue.

An opening appeared in the wall. Jason leaped for the ground, breathed in the deep sage oxygen, and flicked his head, shaking off his dreariness. 

The room disappeared behind him. He touched the wall, but saw a single mountain, long sandy hills, and a few ghost pines straight through as far as the darkness would allow. The burning corner looked like floating cinder blocks slowly growing.

Large pillars stood in regular intervals in every direction. But Jason had never seen so much nothingness. Or was it? Were there simply more invisible rooms? 

Why tell him how to escape?

At Jason’s feet, a compass held a note in place. Jason pocketed the compass.

 “Congratulations! You are now ready to complete your Lapith initiation.”

Jason blinked. Was the entire abduction no more than hazing? Jason wiped a small tear that had escaped down his cheek. He wasn’t held hostage. The Lapiths had something of a sick sense of humor. But Jason could live with a bad joke. No captors, no lost war. And Quentin. This meant Quentin was safe.

“To join the society of the Lapiths you must complete a series of tasks. First, travel 3,327 yards at 17°” 

A treasure hunt—no problem. 

Jason used the 8.5”X11” letter to measure his stride. About 2,179.8 steps to the destination. Jason set the compass, calming his jittery hand so his mark wouldn’t be even a half degree off. He peered in the direction of his goal. He imagined a pillow and blanket waiting at the other end. Directly at the compass bearing, near the horizon, a consistent sparkle kept him on course.

Only 331 steps in, a creature bound on all fours. Rough fur lined its long arched back but bounced like a cape. There was something distinctly human in the length and straightness of its femurs. A centaur? 

Jason dropped flat onto the ground, and watched the shadow move away. Jason stayed flat between five minutes and nine hours, to make sure the creature was gone. If he found a knife, he would track it back down.

647 steps: Blurmasrarm

782 steps: Definite water sound

897 steps: See the river. No panicking.

986 steps: The river bank. Nine feet across, steady. More like an irrigation canal than a natural river.

Jason scratched a big “986” into the moist sand and proceeded downstream to find a crossing. 

There were enough trees dotting the mountain desert that Jason expected some crossing. But the milky brown water flowed unabated. 

Jason saw that fur flopping in the wind. But this time it ran on two legs before dropping back down to all four. Couldn’t be centaur. Could it be human, though? Jason squatted quietly. It. He. She? Squinted in his direction. Jason stopped breathing. It ran off.

Whatever that was got across, there had to be a way. 

The ache of a sleepless night began to bore into his shoulders and neck. Perhaps there were no shortcuts, the only way across was through. 

Jason rolled up his jeans. Chucked his socks and shoes across the river. The current flowed gentle, steady. Imagining the cold of the river sent shivers up Jason, so he hopped in with both feet.  The water went just past his knees. The current whistled around Jason’s legs. The river bottom, gluey and dense, grabbed at his toes. Stuck.

Then the river surged, knocking Jason over. He crashed into the water. 

Jason couldn’t see anything. He gasped in a mouthful of murky water. He thrashed, as the now relentless river rushed him downstream. He snapped his head out of the water, but couldn’t hold it as the water flailed his legs haphazardly.

He grasped as much of a breath as he could before crashing under again. All he had to do was stand up.

The current whipped him hard into a solid wall. The bank. Jason stretched, but his useless plastic bounced off, as the river drove him away.

Jason swore with all his might, but only a few bubbles gurgled up.

Jason balled himself up, and turned around. The next time he reached the wall, he’d have his hand available.

Jason tried to relax, taking large breaths every time he surfaced, waiting for his chance. 

How long could the canal go?

A slither along the back of his leg made him dry heave. 

A violent swell smacked Jason against the wall again. He gripped the shoreline with everything. The canal had a concrete lip, that allowed Jason to get a strong hand hold.

The current pulled him away, but he held firm. The river came too strong to push his legs down, then slammed him into the wall pinning him. Jason tried a one-handed side pull up futilely.

He brought his second arm around, and hooked the prosthetic fingers on the concrete. He waited for a break in the torrent and furiously tore his body up until he grabbed the edge with his elbow. 

The rough concrete ripped at the tender skin under his arm. But with one hand and one elbow, Jason had enough leverage to drag himself ashore. 

He inhaled then heaved water and bile. Jason wiped his face, and closed his eyes.

 In the still moment, the music box pressed against his thigh. It had been in his pocket when he left the hospital. Was that this morning?

Jason dug the unbroken trinket out, and opened the lid, expecting the same haunting tune when he first opened it. But instead a spunky marching tune wound its way out of the brass gears. Given the new music, the spinning centaurs appeared to lead a parade.

The sprightly tune worked its catchy melody into Jason’s mind and down through his joints. He took a deep, halting breath. 

986 steps, plus about three and a half to cross the canal under normal conditions, 1190 and one third left.

He closed the music box, recalibrated the compass and kept walking. 

Soon, the small glitter in the distance grew into an impressive structure of glass walls. Fortunately his rocky measurements had been good enough. 

Jason smiled.

About a hundred yards before the glass, stood a post with another letter nailed to it. 

“On the beam, in the center of the maze, retrieve your beautiful red prize.”

Straight ahead, a stunning fair faced girl, no older than Jason, with long, pensive black hair, struggled tied to a wooden pole. She wore a long cape-like coat that hugged her like it was trying to hide. And though the dim light painted everything gray, Jason imagined the coat glowed red during the day. Was she the beautiful red prize? Perhaps there were some serious benefits to this Lapith thing.

Jason ran head first toward the girl, before striking violently against a. Jason shook off the shock, and wobbled his head back and forth. He smacked a cleverly angled mirror face first. The maze was crafted with mirrors, not glass. The woman straight ahead also appeared to the right. 

Since he had just learned intimately that straight ahead was a bad way to go, Jason sprinted to the right. He stopped only just in time to avoid another embarrassing crash. But it was a dead end. 

The beautiful girl yawned. Did she see him struggling to get through? 

He doubled back to an intersection. Chose another way. Dead end. 

“Hey,” she yelled loud enough that he heard, “Run away from me.”

Jason saw one mirror that appeared blank, and ran in the only direction she didn’t appear. After only a few twists and dramatic u-turns following the formula, Jason entered a wide circular space. And in the center, the girl. He panted toward her, out of breath.

“I’m Jason, let me help you,” he rasped .

The young woman’s lips split. “I’m Lillian. Thank you.” The sweet steady voice contrasted with her bellowed instructions.

Jason began to unwind the rope, searching for a knot or binding of some kind. But the rope just dropped off Lillian’s wrist, and into her hand. She spun off the pole, and cinched the rope around Jason’s torso, securing him to the pole in her place, and ending the entire get-up with a hasty knot. 

Then she jumped on Jason. Digging her shoes into his knees, scrambling up his body. 

“What are you doing?”

“Grabbing the prize, thanks for the lift.” 

Lillian reached Jason’s shoulders and jumped. Sure enough at the top of the beam hung two red cloths. Lillian grabbed the lower of them, before landing. 

“Come back.”

“Yours is too high up. I wouldn’t help. Untie yourself and and climb the pole.” Lillian sprinted away. 

Jason hesitated. 

He knew trying to undo the rope one-handed would prove nearly impossible. But did he want to rely on pity? There was only one red packet left. If he had to spend the time deciphering how to escape He’d finish in last place. Pathetic. Like they would trust him to kill a centaur.

He had to decide now, before Lillian could no longer hear his hoarse voice.

Jason wouldn’t want to make a pattern of it, but what else could he do? 

He took a deep breath to produce as much noise as possible. “I’m missing a hand.”

Lillian stopped dead about thirty feet away. “What?”

“My hand’s fake.” Jason held up the prosthetic, waved the plastic limb at Lillian.

Lillian turned around, walking back. “I didn’t know. You’re just. You’re taller than me. I figured you’d have a better shot of grabbing the higher flag. I’ll undo your knot. But you’ll have to figure a way up the pole yourself.”

Jason nodded. Lillian quickly unwound the knot, “I’ll see you at the finish line,” she disappeared in a run.

Jason leaned back his head and stared at the dangling cloth ten feet up a beam of splintery wood. Jason flung the end of the rope up, hoping to knock the red cloth down. But the rope feebly thumped to the ground.

Lillian’s approach of climbing up him was rather ingenious, if ruthless. He needed to approach it like a geometry. Jason concentrated through his fatigue. There must be some angles, if he. But to advance he must. But then he. Yet he might. And he. Then. Wrong. Fall. 

Jason ran at the beam flinging himself a foot up, and wrapping his arms and legs around. The coarse grain slipped along his jeans. He gripped the side with his single bare hand and pulled himself up. The blades of wood cut under his skin then reached his nerves.

Jason jerked his hand away in furious pain, his scream splitting the still night. Then oomphed onto his back. Jason filled his sore lungs, and lunged at the beam again. Jason gripped, and heaved himself upward, raking his raw hand against the needly wood. He screeched out in animal-like pain, but kept his grip, and dragged up. But the beam provided no foothold, and for all of Jason’s efforts he pulled himself up a couple of inches. Jason slid, deflated, back to the base. 

Jason had to get up. He grabbed the rope and made a lasso. Jason tossed the rope, but it fell weekly to the ground.

Jason heaved again, straight up this time, more like throwing your controller up in anger than throwing out a frisbee.

He looped the top of the pole jerked back the rope and caught the nail.

Jason leaned back, the rope taut, and began to walk up the beam. He took a step up, pinned the rope to his body with his left arm, slid his right hand up the rope, and then repeated. The rope strands stung the lacerations in his hand. 

Jason stretched, lept, nabbed the red cloth and fell to the ground.

He did it. 

Jason unfolded the cloth. A small key lay inside, along with a letter that had a new compass bearing to follow. Not done yet. Jason dropped the key into his pocket, oriented his compass, and set out into the night. 

Chapter 5: Lapiths 

A frail yellow building broke into Jason's view. The night’s dusty darkness could have been 10pm or 4am. 

Jason sloshed his feet along the final feet of the trail, cradling his raw hand next to his chest, while balancing the compass between the molded fingers of his false hand. 

A silhouette of balloons and banners sagged like a finish line that went to sleep. Sleep. Jason had forgotten about sleep. Sleep sounded fantastic.

"Little Aeolus" read a hand-carved sign, like you’d find at summer camp. A summer camp run by something called Lapiths, who found kidnappings to be hilarious pranks. But maybe they could help him save Mom.

A clamor leaked from the building. Jason took a cement sidewalk around to a light-outlined locked door, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the key from inside the cloth. This was it. 

Victorious applause burst from the room as Jason entered. He smiled.

“I knew you’d make it,” a bean bag shaped man slapped Jason on top of the shoulder, bobbing his long gray handlebar mustache.

“Attaboy Jason, I’m Eugene” congratulated a man with a long V shaped beard who apparently grew up in a 1940s comic strip, “Are you enjoying the festivities?” 

Jason couldn’t imagine enjoying anything called festivities. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Minidoc patted his shoulder. Brunetta came in for a giant hug.

A hundred Greeks circled around, hollering like the World Series.

But there were no pillows. This wouldn’t seem weird in the morning, but at the moment felt like a crisis. Jason knew he should wade into the crowd and learn someone’s name, but he really wanted to sleep. The bare linoleum tile didn’t look bad, but the crowd probably wouldn’t leave him in peace. 

Their relentless cheering lasted two straight minutes. 

“Indigo,” a woman shoved her umber hand in front of Jason. Her index finger swelled. 

Jason hesitated. His hand was too cut up to shake with, and it felt weird to extend his plastic hand. 

“Listen to me,” she tapped herself on the nose, “I need your photo. And you owe me a favor,” she pointed at her mauled finger. Indigo pulled a camera from her pocket. 

Jason didn’t know why he owed her a favor after she hilariously pretended to abduct him. 

Jason one-eightyed toward the hallway with the bathroom signs. A flash caught the corner of his eye. 

Thirty degrees left past V beard, sixty degrees right to avoid bean bag man, and a final forty-five degree pivot past a bone thin woman his mom’s age. “Good day,” she shot a powdery white hand into his chest, “I’m a friend of—” she whispered as Jason strode past.

He entered the bathroom, and turned the lock. The light in the one-room bathroom buzzed loudly distracting Jason from the noise of the party.

“Hello hello hello hello,” The photographer knocked.

“Leave me alone,” Jason rasped.

Nothing. She left. 

Jason unravelled six feet of paper towels, folded them into a pillow and collapsed onto the ground. The floor stuck to his shirt like someone had used too much soap to mop. At least that’s what Jason hoped it felt sticky like.

He shut his eyes. As he rolled to get more comfortable, the sticky ground pulled at his clothes. 

Fifty-three fists pounded the bathroom door at once. Indigo, definitely, started singing, probably with a few others.

“Little Nessus was acting naughty

Almost got caught, so she hid in the potty

Had to get out, so she made a wish

It all went wrong. She turned into a fish.”

Who were these people?

Jason peeled himself from the floor, and glared into the mirror. His clothes damp. Sand covered his face. His hand looked like red morse code.

He pumped three shots of soap into his hand, turned the water on, bore the cold, and began lathering. He soaped his arm, elbow, face, and neck. The soap leached pain as it slipped into the cuts on his hand and forehead. It took a minute for Jason to figure out how to soap up the elbow of his right hand, but he got it by working it into the soapy crook of his other arm.

Back in the mirror, someone like a plane crash survivor at a press conference stared back—beat up, overwhelmed, but reluctantly camera ready.

Jason opened the door, and the flash filled up the hallway.

“I’ll make a deal,” Jason said, “You warn me, I smile.”

Jason put his back to the wall, and flashed the grin he gave his mother when she had a long day. Three kids, a few years older stood behind Indigo.

The first strutted up. “I am extremely interested in having a conversation with you.” his crisp hair bounced up and down like a wattle. Jason was too tired to roll his eyes, which is saying something.

He roosted Jason’s hand between both of his. “I’m Owen. A real and true pleasure to make your acquaintance. Those who share my company include Callum,” a shaggy blonde grimacing, “and Sam” who wore camouflage cargo pants, arms crossed, already walking away.

Back in the main hall, the Lapiths meandered. They were his new _____. His new _____. What were they? Friends, family, strangers? Allies, probably. At least for now.

Quentin. He had to be somewhere, right? He’d know where you could sleep.

Jason stepped out of the hallway.

“Glad you made it.” Lillian popped up.

“Hey, it’s, from the,” Jason randomly pointed.

“Sorry about back there,” Lillian leaned in, “I can get viciously competitive.”

“Naw, it’s . . . ”

Lillian focused on Jason, waiting for his next words. Jason was glad but now he had to figure out what to say. Thanks for taking pity on me. Or perhaps Your idea for making me look like a total moron was quite impressive. But Jason instead went with a totally different question he had been wondering since she first bamboozled him.

“Do you have any clue what’s going on?”

“The welcome party. They’ll bring us onstage in a few minutes.”

“I’m looking for my uncle, Quentin.”

“Oh. He’s in charge. Probably that way.” Lillian pointed to the back corner behind a pulsating floor to ceiling fountain.

“Can you—” Jason pointed the same way.

“Well I’m —” Lillian pointed to the bathrooms.

“Sorry,” he sidestepped.

Owen followed Jason out of the hallway, “I would be delighted were you to meet my grandfather.”

“Jason,” a ready to retire James Bond put his hand out, “Welcome to the Lapiths. I’m Dennis Delphi, director of our prophecy production center.”

Jason produced a brittle smile. Jason crossed his arm under his armpit to hide the plastic hand, and extended the other.

“I know it’s early to discuss specialties, but visit me before you choose.”

“Jason,” Owen interrupted, “A specialty is a way to focus your studies and chart your future while you’re with the Lapiths. You will be expected to choose in a few weeks. And with all due respect to my grandfather, recruitment is rampant.”

“Only for the most promising new Lapiths. The prophecy production center is based on increasingly complex algorithms. We need bright, math-inclined students like yourself.”

“There’s nothing mathematical about a fortune cookie machine.” A furry beard lumbered in wrapping his claws around Dennis’ shoulders. “Name’s Callisto,” he bellowed.

Lillian reappeared behind the group.

“And since Callisto is your home specialist,” Dennis said, “he can’t possibly be expected to know the details of the PPC” 

Callisto laughed, which made Dennis laugh. And then Owen tried to laugh too.

Jason could either try to laugh at what clearly was not a joke, or he glanced at Lillian with half an eye roll.

The adults excused themselves, Owen followed. What was happening? 

The room looked boring, like the cafeteria at the juvenile delinquent school downtown. Quite the difference from the spectacular elastic room he had been trapped in earlier.  

A girl a few years older than Jason sang background music on the stage. Most of the group stood in a hodgepodge of intersecting circles: A woman (85% chance it was Aunt Katie), a few teenagers, but mostly old Greek men, including minidoc (it was weird he was here, right?) 

Behind him, a window opened into a kitchen area. Transparent piping mazed around the window, bursts of water pumping through in dizzying patterns. 

“Cool,” he pointed Lillian to the window piping. 

“My mom says the Lapiths kept improving Greek technology, no dark ages. It was supposed to be freaking amazing, but yeah I guess it’s cool.”

“Says the shapeshifter,” Cargo Pants Sam said as she walked by.

“The what?”

“Nothing.”

Jason looked to Sam for the details.

“She’s a cloud nymph. Whole family is. They turn into things.” Sam walked away.

Jason slowly turned, aiming a loaded look at Lillian. She put her hands up.

“It’s a family myth. I’ve never done it. My mom’s never done it. My grandmother’s never done it. I’ve never seen anyone do it. And it’s impossible.” 

Lillian probably would have broken down the scientific method, if Aunt Katie didn’t barrel in with a hug.

“Gah—it’s good to see ya. I wanted to getcha earlier but you ran off.”

“I’m so glad to see someone I know. Are we all Lapiths? Aunt Dawn somewhere too?”

“Gosh, no. No, I’m not even one. In fact, I’m surprised to see you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I work for the Cryptozoology Service, a bureau with the Department of the Interior. In fact, I’ll need to breeze you through some paperwork. They had you in the system as a kid, but with everything with your dad, they—”

Another round of hysterics interrupted Aunt Katie.

“Well go say congratulations,” the bean bag man shuffled Jason toward the door. But.

He needed to ask Katie more questions.

The new boy’s oversized head swayed like a loading screen. Phoebus, as everyone called him, moseyed his hand into a soft wave.

Jason tried to cheer, but two minutes is a serious lot of cheering. Jason clapped, and even threw in a little hollar, but he gave up long before the crowd. By the end, Phoebus’ face settled into a long pleased smile.

Jason caught Katie’s eye again, and marched directly to her.

“I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Lapiths are a bunch of Greeks. This is their secret camp,” she used literal air quotes around the word secret. “You’ve been initiated. Or will be here in a minute. Your dad was involved, but since he passed, no one figured you’d join. There’s only a few hundred of them left. And you’ll get to take classes, learn Greek history. At this point it’s a lot of old guys. It’s like a VFW. A few stay up here, but most of them only spend summers so they can get real jobs. But hopefully you’ll like it. Callisto,” she pointed to the bear man, “He’s like your camp counselor, you can ask him for whatever you need.”

That’s it? That seems normal. This is definitely a weird not-quite-secret society. But this could be good.

Now that the last newcomer had arrived (and hey it wasn’t Jason), Quentin appeared on the makeshift stage. He gave an upbeat politician speech, while the crowd hollered like a homecoming rally. 

One by one Quentin called the newcomers to the stage. In addition to Lillian, Jason, and Phoebus (“It’s actually Paul” he insisted), Quentin called Atlanta Iasus, the creature from the woods. She was tall, but hunched over nearly into a crouch. Her ragged fur “coat” reeked like it had been ripped from an animal that day. 

Next Quentin pulled laurel crowns one by one on their heads. Laurel Crowns. When he came to Jason, Quentin said, “I declare thee Jason the Lapith.” 

The crown hit his head and in an instant the dull cinderblock room came alive in an array of laser sashaying throughout the room. It looked like an Apple store instantly upgraded six generations. The walls, like pure glass, opened the room to midnight vistas.

Jason soaked up the room. A column near the bathroom was no longer cinderblock, but undulating white lines, like living marble.

“Magnificent” Lillian whispered.

Quentin presented other recognitions, then bid everyone a good night. Callisto led him and Phoebus/Paul? to the bunks.

Jason lay in bed remembering the people he met who might help him save Mom. 

• Lillian, the enchanting punk from the maze.

• Paul, slow mo bobblehead.

• Atlanta, wolf-woman.

• Owen, who it was an oddly formal pleasure to meet.

• Callum, shaggy blonde

• Sam, cargo pants

• Indigo, the pushy photographer.

• Callisto, his camp counselor the bear.

• Dennis, the James Bond prophecy guy.

• Eugene, V-beard comic character

Jason fell asleep.

The next morning, Callisto brought him and Paul back to the all-purpose room for breakfast, then on a ten minute walk to battle class. Maybe prep for a centaur battle. Better be.

On the way to class, a wave of water attacked straight at their faces, blinding them, drenching them, and making them temporarily helpless to Indigo’s attacks.

Apparently she was the teacher. She lectured the rest of class. 

Everyone else then went to language class, but Indigo told Jason to find Quentin instead. Finally.

Of course, he had no idea where to find Quentin. Since the only two places he’d been were the bunks and the all-purpose room, he decided to start with option B.

Jason walked in.

“It’s not lunch,” yelped a man with spiked receding hair and fire tattoos running up his arm.

“I’m looking for Quentin.”

The man pointed at his white apron, “Not my problem.”

Jason deflated. What now? 

“Jason?”

He turned. A six and half foot tall man in a tailored blue suit, a tight man-bun, and wing tipped shoes stopped his sprint across the room. He carried a thick, but precisely manicured file folder in his hands.

“Have we?” Jason pointed between the two.

“I doubt it. I assist your uncle. You appear lost and wet.”

“I’m looking for Quentin. So I came here, but he said I should leave. So now I’m like,” Jason shrugged.

“Troy, be nice,” he shouted at the kitchen.

“Making lunch.”

“Follow me.”

Quentin’s assistant sped to the door in the corner. He opened up a storage closet and motioned Jason in. A few broken chairs. A rolled up rug taller than Jason. 

The assistant reached forward and turned the lock. The floor rumbled beneath Jason’s feet.

Of course, what self-respecting ancient order didn’t have a secret underground facility?

The floor came to a stop. Large glass panels filled a room that would have been dark if the writing on each panel hadn’t been in such bright white.

“Center of operations. Fortified for a three year siege.”

Jason saw Dennis, the prophecy guy, standing talking to a slightly younger man. In fact, men sat spaced around the room in form fitting chairs. For as high tech as the room appeared, an awful lot of people had paper notepads in their hands.

The assistant took Jason down a long hall and knocked on the last door.

“Come,” Quentin called.

He sat behind a large desk, made from the same rolling white lines as the pillar from the main hall, The desk held a few trinkets including a waxy hoof he recognized from Grandpa Creed’s old curio cabinet.

“Thank you Herschel.”

The man nodded and left.

“Jason, I.” But instead Quentin got up and gave Jason a big hug. “Are you enjoying camp?”

Jason hadn’t even thought about enjoying camp yet. “I,” he shrugged.

“What can I do for you?” 

“Indigo said.”

“Of course. We suspect you understand the centaur language, so there will be no reason for you to attend the language class.”

“But I don’t.”

“You wouldn’t know you do, it’s intuitive. Like a puppy knowing where to suckle. We think it happened when you put on the crown at the ravine. Right before your accident.”

“What?”

Quentin turned, and a sound began playing. “Yellow, yellow, blue, blue . . .” the same instructions from last night.

“I understand these, but only because I’m translating,” Quentin said, “you probably hear them directly as instructions to your mind.”

“So I can understand Centaurs?”

“Yes.”

“That will make it easier to kill one and take its heart?”

Quentin laughed.

“Let me show you something?” Jason followed Quentin down the hall, through a door to a stairwell and descended one story. A single pane of glass rose from the ground twenty feet or more. 

Quentin stepped onto a thin hole that circled the piece of glass. A beam of water caught his feet and rose him steadily into the air. He waved Jason on. Jason nervously stuck one foot toward the hole.

“Two feet,” Quentin said.

Jason closed his eyes and hopped. As his legs wobbled the water moved to rebalance his body. Etched into the glass were names one after the next with small lines connecting them.

When they reached the top, Quentin pointed, “You.”

Jason Emona Castellanos. There was Dad. And Grandpa. Dad and Grandpa had a “w” looking shape next to their name, and then a shape like a square falling over. “What are the shapes?”

“The crown is for the Archons, the leaders. The hoof is for those killed by a centaur.” 

Dad got killed by the same animals about to kill Mom?  The hoofs speckled the chart. The crowns, meanwhile, stretched back in a single line back from his father.

“So I need to kill them for two reasons.”

Quentin unbuckled his belt and folded his waistband down an inch. “You see that?” A thick swollen scar cut up four or five inches to Quentin’s stomach. “I want to kill them as much as you do. Not just one. I want to kill them all. I want what every Lapith has for thousands of years: to eradicate those filthy animals.”

Quentin pushed his feet down and the water descended. Jason followed suit, not quite as elegantly. 

“Look. Jason. As the Archon, planning a formal attack is rules and procedures. In my position, it’s all red tape. You no longer have the freedom of youth. Nothing’s stopping someone from just running out, but I couldn’t know about it or approve it.”

Jason smiled. He understood. 

It was like in the hospital when Brunetta said she wouldn’t put on the R rated movie for him, and handed him the TV remote and covered her eyes. 

Quentin just couldn’t officially sanction it in case disaster struck. Right? 

Herschel, Quentin’s assistant, set Jason up with a new class schedule. He’d be taking two battle classes back to back in the mornings. 

But Jason wasn’t sure he’d be attending much class. The Lapiths seemed fine, but they weren’t going to help him. Not fast enough.

Maybe after Mom got better he could think about joining their club. Now, Jason had work to do.

Chapter 6: Deer

Jason had two goals today:

1. Call Mom

2. Plan a centaur attack

Jason walked to breakfast. Hard to believe this room looked like a juvenile delinquent cafeteria. Every time he walked in the walls seemed more impressive. They were invisible, so all the best parts of being outside without the bugs or sunscreen. They doubled as screens. The weather report, announcements, even a daily prophecy floated over the mountains in the distance. Today’s prophecy: “A not quite perfect sunny day.”

The seven other students, sat at a table. Jason grabbed a foam plate of pancakes. A squirt of orange juice dropped in his empty cup.

Jason sat next to Paul, across from Indigo and Callisto.

“Look at me,” Indigo tapped her nose. “What’s the matter with your hand?” 

Jason jerked it back. 

“Centaur attack?” she asked.

“Freak accident.”

“Wanna learn how to fight?”

“I want to learn how to tear out a centaur heart.”

Indigo bit her lip. 

“Excellent. Choose battle track. I need someone with more,” she peeked at Owen, “relish.” 

Indigo stood up looked down at Callisto and they both left.

Lillian slid over to take Indigo’s place. 

“Everyone staring?” Jason asked.

“Rip out a centaur heart makes an impression.”

“You want to come?”

“To kill a centaur? They’ve got bunkers and stuff. You don’t just walk in there.”

“They don’t just live in the woods?”

“Sam’s brother is on the security detail for camp. Ask him.” 

Jason looked back at Sam. She sat cross-legged in cargo pants using the coolest part of Little Aeolus. Ben Biros, the beanbag guy, jury rigged one wall screen to a Nintendo.  She played Mario Kart with one hand, at a muffin with the other.  

Jason took a deep breath, and shoved the last pancake in. 

Sam missed a turbo jump. Surly.

No trouble. Jason could persuade grumps. When Mom felt grumpy Jason told a joke. Easy. What would you get if you cross a centaur with a. No, he needed a winner.

“Sam,” Jason shouted. 

She put up a don't-bother-me-I'm-finishing-up-this-Mario-Kart-lap-before-talking-to-anyone finger. 

What now? Jason surveyed the room. 

A little more than one hundred Lapiths in total. Atlanta sat across the room with Owen’s brother, Caleb. Caleb had calloused hands, and used contractions. The opposite of Owen. Apparently he led a group that rescued Atlanta from a bear den she was living in outside of Atlanta, and had been helping her acclimate since.

Sam finished in second place. Churlish. But if not now, when? 

“You know why Mario likes running over the mushrooms?” Jason said in a normal, slightly loud, not yelling voice, “Because he’s a fun guy.”

She paused.

“Like fungi.”

“I get it.”

Did that work? “Lillian tells me your brother’s here. I want to meet him.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. Sam scanned the room. “Must be on duty. I’ll take you out after lunch.” 

The joke worked. Sam agreed. Jason did not think he was funny. He possessed verifiable humor. 

He’d need to call Mom after dinner. 

“Someone seems pleased with himself,” Lillian said.

“Sam agreed to take me to her brother.”

“His name is Justice. If you call him Sam’s brother, he’ll think it’s cute, and he’s not taking cute to kill a centaur.”

“You’ll come to convince him?”

Lillian laughed, shrugged, “I probably should.”

Atlanta, Paul, Lillian, and Jason sauntered down the wide flat dirt road. Lillian would walk ahead a few steps, then slow down until the group caught back up. About half way Paul waved at Jason like he might say something. But he didn’t. 

Suddenly the lights went out. Well not the light. He was outside. But Jason couldn’t see anything..

A stiff jab in his back, staggered him forward.

Blink. Blink. 

Jason tried to adjust his eyes. He reached out and grabbed Lillian’s elbow. 

Atlanta growled. Swift footsteps wove around him. Hoofs? “Ow,” Paul cried.

A blow to Jason’s neck.

“Who’s—”

Jason was tripped face first into the dirt. He pushed himself back up when someone else fell on top of him. “Is that?”

“Paul,” he sighed.

Before Jason could shake off Paul, another thump on his back, then a fourth.

Searing lights broke back on. Jason covered his eyes.

“Well head off to class, no use lying on the dirt.” Indigo. Again.

If the Lapiths spent half as much time attacking the centaurs as they did attacking their own members, he’d already have the heart and could head home. Jason didn’t know what lesson he was supposed to learn from this demonstration. Don’t be ambushed? 

Once they arrived to “class,” Indigo made them sit cross legged under a  canopy and take notes, for the second day, during “battle” class. 

Which was well enough, Jason had more important things to think about. How would he convince Justice? Offer an opportunity? Ask a favor? Beg for help? 

In advanced class, at least they fought. Sure, Jason partnered with Indigo. And sure they were just punching drills. But. They fought.

And the repetitive drills allowed even more time to strategize for his afternoon meeting.

“Let’s kill some centaur.”

Or “My new friend, I need you.”

Or “Ready to become legendary?”

Jason caught up with Sam and Lillian at lunch. A pie filled with salad is more appetizing you’d expect. Not appetizing, just more than you’d expect.

“Ready?” Sam groaned, when they finished eating.

Jason looked over his shoulder. Indigo and Callisto sat across the room. Together. No other teachers. No Herschel. No Quentin. 

“Let’s go.”

Sam led the group out the north side of Little Aeolus. Once they cleared camp they reached one of the canals Jason crossed during initiation. 

Sam jumped in, but the water supported her as she surfed across camp. Lillian and Jason followed behind. The water worked similar to the water beams in the genealogy room. Small movements pushed you forward and back.

A low sleek building straddled two low hills. 

“What’s that?” Jason asked. Lillian shrugged. 

“Solar energy production,” Sam said, “Runs camp.”

A few minutes later, the peak of a parthenon peaked over the horizon.“What’s that?” 

“Prophecy production center. But Callisto is your tour guide. So may we?”

“Sorry.”

Lillian shrugged.

After fifteen minutes under the unabated summer sun, Jason wished he could fall in the water. Ahead the trees grew thicker.

“Off  here,” Sam said.

They hopped off and walked a few hundred yards to a white four foot by four foot pillar. A platform stood thirty feet up.

Sam knocked and after a moment the pillar opened to reveal a lift that hoisted them to the top. 

The platform looked like a sparse living room. Justice stood on the far side looking between two screens. A rack of glistening Star Trek weapons lined the right. Justice sported a shaved head, two-day stubble, and a white T.

“Sis.”

Sam opened her eyes for a second.

“Who’d ya bring?”

“Crazy. Crazy’s girlfriend.”

“Jason,” he leaned his hand forward, “This is my friend Lillian.”

“No argument on crazy?”

“I want to kill a centaur.”

Justice straddled a tree stump stool and kicked another one across to Jason and Lillian.

Sam lay flat on the deck, fingers crossed behind her head staring at the thatched leaf roof.

“We haven’t sustained an attack in two years,” a loud beep from the station caught Justice’s attention. He jumped to the screen. “Come here,” Justice waved. “This is what we do all day.”

On the screen a creature with four legs, and a large hairy body, hid it’s chest behind a tree. 

“Is that?” Jason stared

“It’s a deer,” Sam shouted from the ground.

“Shut your mouth,” Justice said.

Lillian jumped in, “How do you know it’s a deer?”

Justice pointed at the screen, “A cloven hoof, two parts, plus a dewclaw up the leg. Centaurs are equids, they have a single, unbroken hoof.”

Sam sighed. Justice didn’t look.

While the biology lesson admittedly piqued his interest, Jason still needed to convince Justice to help him find and kill an actual centaur.

“So have you ever seen a centaur?” Jason asked.

“Sure, a spy six months back. Scared it off. Didn’t catch it though. I was there for the attack two years ago. Two dozen made it past the barrier, but not to any buildings. Killed a few then.”

“What if we wanted to kill one now, tomorrow?”

“You’d hunt.”

Now was the time to close the deal, drop his best line.

“My new friend, let us take what is ours.”

“No interest.”

“They will tell our story for years,” Jason said.

“I feel for you, but Quentin’ll plan an expedition. We’re not going just the two of us.”

“Quentin told me to go.”

“No he didn’t.”

“He basically did,” Jason said, “He would have told me if he could.”

“Look, I’ll show you around, tell you about guard duty. Battle’s a good track if you’re choosing.”

“Lillian, help me out here.”

“I was here to talk you out of it, but I’m not needed.”

“Join with me. Become legendary,” he tried.

“Kid, you’ve got a plastic hand.” Justice stopped. “I’m sorry.” 

Lillian turned around, walked to the lift and stared at the vista from thirty feet up. She really came just to screw him at the last minute?

“No, I’m not sorry,” Justice continued, “Centaurs will kill you. You’ve been here three days, you can’t tell the difference between a deer and a centaur, and you’re crippled. I’m literally saving your life.”

Justice deserved Jason walking out. But Jason needed to convince him too much. “I need to kill a centaur to—” Jason stepped toward Justice. He hadn’t told this to Lillian or Sam, and he didn’t need any more pity. “To save my mom.”

“There’s a right way to do this. Getting yourself killed is not the answer.”

“Please, I'm desperate.”

“Talk to Quentin.”

“Well I’m sick of this. Always good to see you bro,” Sam walked back to the lift

What was he supposed to do? Wait for Quentin? Hope some bureaucratic system his uncle all but told him wouldn't work would work. 

Great. 

“I’m scrappy, and smart, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Jason,” Lillian called. He turned.

“I’m sick of waiting, dude. He said no like seven times.”

Maybe he could sneak up during a shift change.

“Fine. Nice to meet you.”

They traveled back to Little Aeolus in silence. 

When they reached the metalic exterior of the girls’ bunks, Lillian stopped. 

“You told Justice you need to save your Mom. From what?” 

“Nothing, I lied.” Jason had enough time to call Mom before classes. “I need a phone.”

“None here,” Lillian said.

“Fine, but what advanced thing calls my mom?”

Lillian turned her shoulders. The breeze disheveled her black hair. “My mom’s come every summer. And every summer I don’t hear from her. There’s no phones.” Lillian walked away. She stopped. “I’m sorry. It sucks. I don’t know why.” She disappeared into her room.

Lillian's mom was here? Dad never called either.

But Lapiths invented invisible walls and backward mirrors. A phone existed somewhere. 

Jason marched to the all-purpose room. “Not eating, Tyson,” he shouted passing through the main room, and opened the utility closet. A dusty must filled the room. Jason locked the door. 

The light dimmed. Jason waited. Nothing.

There must be some password, or combination. Jason rotated the blackboard, jiggled the tapestry. 

He unlocked the door, and locked it again. Tried turning the handle the wrong way. 

Jason stepped out. “Tyson?”

“Working.”

“How do I get downstairs?”

“Won’t say. Don’t know.”

Jason kicked nothing in particular.

“I need a phone.”

Jason better stop asking if he wanted to eat tonight. 

No one was playing Mario Kart.

Jason switched on the system, grabbed the controller, and plunked on the ground. He’d do Indigo’s homework before bed. The broad side of a dusty hill flickered out of sight as the game took its place.

Three races later, a crowd exited the corner room. A man with cranky sideburns and a gray mustache led the group in a fisherman’s cap. Ben Biros followed behind hiding a few people on the other side. Herschel took up the rear.

Jason jumped. “Quentin.”

Quentin peaked around the group. “Jason you’re popping like corn on the griddle.”

“I need to ask you about—”

“Your trip to see Justice today.”

“You heard?”

“Is he taking you?”

“Can I say?”

Quentin looked behind him. “Y’all go on ahead. I’ll catch up. Theo hold on a sec.” The old man in the cap stayed behind. Quentin put his arm around Jason’s shoulder, stepped forward, nodded.

“He won’t come with me.”

“So what are you doing?”

Jason shrugged. “Whatever you ask me to, I guess.”

Quentin frowned, turned back to Theo, sighed, and nodded his head. Theo left. “I fast-tracked it. I’m announcing the expedition tonight. But only if you go. We need your passion.”

Done. Finished. “Of course. I’ll rip their heart myself.”

Quentin chuckled. “You betcha will.” Quentin trotted out. He forgot to ask him about the phone.

That night, Jason and Paul stood in the dinner line when a bone-thin woman his mom’s age pushed her way between them. “Excuse me,” Jason said, “we’re uh. Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of your father’s,” she whispered, “an ally, Penelope, meet me tonight at eight o’clock at the water resource center.”

She walked away. Paul looked at Jason who shrugged. Nothing seemed strange any longer. 

“We’ve got to finish the mirror box for class” Paul said.

“No worries.”

While they ate an announcement appeared on the wall. “Meeting. 7 pm tonight. All-purpose room.” 

That night, Jason headed for the meeting with Owen, Callum, and Paul. The girls were already there.

Lillian headed toward Jason, “You give up on centaur hunting?”

Jason grinned. 

She backhanded his chest. “This isn’t a joke. You’ll get hurt.”

“Just listen tonight.”

The crystal clear dusk surrounded the room. Would this ever stop mesmerizing Jason?

The crowded faces were the same as the initiation party. But when Beanbag Ben Biros came in for his oversized hug,  Jason patted his back and made awkward eyes at Lillian. 

Herschel appeared near the stage, and a second later Quentin walked out of the far room and took the stage.

“Welcome to our Lapith family.”

The crowd politely clapped, except for one lone “woop” in the back.

“We waited patiently for this moment. But today, I’m happy to announce”

A blast ricocheted through the room.

Jason blinked. His ears rang.

Lillian leaned over holding her ear. 

A second explosion. Through the north wall smoke wafted above a far hill in Justice’s direction. Jason tried to point.

A third explosion. Jason crumpled but stayed on his feet. Quentin fell off the podium to the floor.

Chapter 7: Blackout

No. No. Quentin. Jason lurched toward the stage. Indigo, Callisto, Dennis, and don’t know her, or him, knocked by as they ran to the exit.

The blue light of the stage glistened off Quentin’s forehead. He wiped a crack of blood. 

“Jason,” Quentin reached. Jason lifted his uncle to his feet.  

Was this an attack, or one more example of Lapiths attacking themselves?

“Theo, head downstairs. Check with the perimeter surveillance. See what we missed.”

Wait. “This isn’t another initiation thing, is it?”

Quentin peered down, his mouth open. “No. This is an attack.” 

So? Quentin peered down. “Find the attacked building, run inside and save whoever you can.”

“Me?”

“Please. We need you.”

The room had already emptied. Most of the group ran east toward the explosion. The rest drained into the storage room elevator.

Out of the all-purpose room and onto the canal. Jason glided across camp until the stream lurched under his feet. The agitating water rocked his legs. The surface gave in and sank him straight to bottom. 

Not walking on water didn’t usually surprise Jason so much.

His feet sloshed through the gluey sediment. But the motionless current made dragging himself to land much easier than on the first night.

As he trudged wet along the sandy scrub desert, initiation night flashed in his mind. 

Jason crested the slope. The solar plant, long and flat as a Super Walmart, stretched across the shallow valley. 

Acrid smoke with hints of rubber, plastic, and hopefully nothing else clogged the air. A productive cough worked its way out.

Fire bloomed from three points while arcing sparks jitterbugged across the roof. 

A water funnel spiraled toward the building like an upside-down roller coaster. Penelope, of the now canceled 8 o’clock “ally” meeting, guided the crashing funnel into the building.

Herschel stood like a flag pole. He spoke instructions into a corrugated megaphone which boomed across the disaster scene.

“I want to help,” Jason ran to Herschel.

Herschel leaned. “We could use,” He flicked his eyes around. “We could use you, um.”

“Quentin told me to head inside the building.”

“No. Go um. Brunetta needs help.” He pointed to Brunetta preparing a makeshift medical station.

Closer to the plant, a man from the underground bunker pointed at people. Brunetta flitted around erecting a canopy. Jason ran toward the action.

“Quentin asked me to begin a rescue operation.”

The man turned to Jason’s hand. “Find your Callisto,” he pointed. Callisto and Indigo dragged an oversized hose across the sand.

Barbie hand into his pocket. The building’s entrance, fifty yards away, tantalized him. Jason ran. He heaved in the heavy heat. Licks of hot sliced at his soggy clothes, sending steam fizzing off. The door opened blasting him like baking on a summer day.

Eugene, v-beard, shirt over face, barreled out straight at.

Thump.

The serene sky settled out of place in Jason’s vision. He tried to lift off the ground. His hand burned on the sand and gave out. Jason’s occiput slapped the ground igniting pain down his spine.

The swelter slowly swallowed his face.

From nowhere, Callum snatched his collar dragged him across the coarse earth, and dumped him on a patch of itchy grass beneath the medical tent.

 Jason guzzled the cool air. Brunetta buzzed over with an oxygen mask.

“I’m fine,” Jason swatted.

Across the clearing, Quentin arrived and jogged to Herschel. 

Jason slipped under Brunetta’s arm, flipped off the mask, and headed over.

“Get to safety,” Herschel ordered.

Say something, Quentin. Nothing. “Tell him you need me on the rescue crew.”

“We have people for that. Gather with the other first years.”

What?

The crackling drum beat of the fire hushed.

His feet stumbled. What happened? Quentin?

Brunetta gathered him by the shoulders and pulled him to the medical station. 

Lillian and Paul ran over. 

Lillian looked him in the eye. What? 

“I knew you were an idiot, but, wow.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

After a few minutes of oxygen, a large bottle of water, and a light scolding, Jason asked Brunetta if he could leave.

“To where?”

“The bunks.”

She nodded, “Good idea.”

The solitary slog to Little Aeolus may have played tricks with his mind. Large cement columns and cinderblock rooms polka dotted what was empty land yesterday. 

When he arrived, the buildings slumped dark and lifeless. Was everyone except him at the fire?

He rounded into the bunk, but the door didn’t open. Jason reversed and tried again. Nothing. Should he find a seam and force it open? Pound the door hoping for a budge?

Jason slid onto the cold Lapith dirt in the empty Lapith camp. The music box, secure in his pocket, nudged his leg. But he didn’t want to listen. Not tonight.

The next morning, Owen crooned a wake-up. Did Callisto pry the door open last night? Maybe.

“It will be my pleasure to escort you to breakfast.”

Callum leaned over, “Callisto’s still on clean-up crew.”

But Owen didn’t take them to the all-purpose room. Instead, they hiked out to the power plant again. Owen elucidated that camp life now centered on the recovery efforts at the plant.

“You lads settle on a track yet?” Callum asked.

“Battle track is my perfect perfect choice.” Paul’s lips quivered hanging onto his straight face. Callum twisted. “Sorry, I’m going technology same as my dad.”

“Jason?” Callum asked.

“Nope.”

“Better get a start on, need to decide in the next day or so.”

More Lapiths scurried around the property than were at the entire first-night party. The ashy cedar taste still filled the air.

Troy stood behind a propane-powered fold-out stove shuffling mounds of hash browns. 

Owen led them to the line and handed out styrofoam plates.

Quentin loped in from the far side and took Herschel’s megaphone.

“My fellow Lapiths,” he announced. Even Troy lowered his spatula. “Your tirelessness and bravery testify to the strength of our character and culture. Together, we survived this vicious attack. But we all survived.”

A cheer spattered from the crowd.

“We have conducted a thorough review of our perimeter surveillance. This attack came from among us. I commit the resources of the Lapith people to restoring our power and rooting out the traitors among us.”

No gasps. No bulging eyes. Just dropped brows, and tightened teeth.

So now, we counterattack. Lead an expedition. Take the heart. Save Mom. Right? They hurt us, now we strike them. Right?

“They will not hurt our students,” Quentin continued. “They will continue classes as usual. Otherwise, focus all efforts on restoring the plant. Herschel will coordinate inter-track efforts, otherwise connect with your lead. Thank you again for your efforts.”

Quentin returned toward the scrum. Jason dropped the plate and sprinted out of line.

“Uncle Quentin,” he shouted, “the expedition?”

He spun, “Where were you during the explosion?”

“At the expedition meeting. I, I picked you up.”

“And before?”

“In the bunk with the other boys. What”

“They’ll tell me the same?”

“You told me we fast-tracked the expedition to get a centaur heart to save my mom.”

“Do you not understand we were attacked? If you want the ragged heart so bad, you wouldn’t keep begging me to get it for you.”

“But”

Quentin left.

But.

A blast of wind wound through the hills splashing Jason in the face. 

You wouldn’t keep begging me.

Begging me to get it for you.

You wouldn’t.

After breakfast, Indigo led the group to class. Large mirrors, trap doors, and water bins sat in plain view, but no attack today. 

Indigo sat them in a line, handed out paper and pens, and lectured on psychological preparedness for battle. 

Oh brother.

Was he psychologically prepared to leave this waste of a camp, shoot an animal in the head, and save Mom’s life? That’s all that mattered. And apparently waiting this long made him lazy.

At least advanced class didn’t bore him. For example, they battled. In battle class, shocking.

Indigo called everyone to partner. 

Vanessa, on his right, looked like a tall flute of honey, and rarely bothered to acknowledge him. She grabbed Owen.

Figures. 

But by the time he made eye contact with Callum, he already partnered with Sam.

Indigo’s partner again. Joy.

“Hook punches today,” she announced. She took Jason and set him in front of her. “Hook punches are ideal for close range.” She rotated her fist and landed the punch in his right side. Cracking pain.

Indigo hopped backward. “You don’t want to lunge for a hook.” 

She plucked Jason to his feet, then demonstrated lunging for his left. He heaved. “As you noticed, not as effective.”

Jason did not notice.

Callum smirked. 

Indigo tossed pads to the group. Couldn’t do that a minute ago? 

He tried to snag the strike pad from the air with his right hand but missed and pushed it away from him instead. He picked the pad off the ground.

“It appears catching the pads may pose a challenge, let me assist,” Owen offered.

“I’m fine.”

On his knees, Jason slipped his right arm through both straps. “Attackers, position,” Indigo ordered. She walked them through the steps of the attack. After a few minutes, they changed roles.

His fists took the position Indigo taught. Well, one fist and one plastic hand-looking device. They began to punch. Landing his fist on the pad stung, but he lined up and repeatedly attacked until the pain numbed. So thirty seconds, his fists weren’t well-worn.

“Other side,” Indigo announced. 

The conspicuous plastic hand dangled in front of Indigo. 

“If they’re not scared of your left, you’ll never hit them with your right.”

“We’ve lost the battle on a scary left.”

“For what? Two months. Your prosthetic will be the best close combat weapon any of us will have. Learn to use it.”

Jason took his stance and sent his plastic hand into the pad. The prosthetic broadsided his stub and shot pain through his arm. Inhale. Repeat. Stop short of the pad. Indigo didn’t mind. Exercising the left arm invigorated and wore him out.

When both partners finished, Indigo gave the class a break. Water fountains sprung from the ground a few feet away, but with the power out gurgled at ground level. Jason gulped in a breath instead.

“Looking exhausted there,” Callum said.

“As anticipated, a first-year struggles to keep up with third-years. This demands our sympathy, not voyeurism,” Owen said.

“I’m fine. It’s hot out.” 

Vanessa snickered.

He splashed the water into his face. 

After a minute, class reconvened to learn jabs. But at the next break, Jason didn’t dare breathe, instead he took a few more reps with Indigo.

He imagined sending his painless new hand crushing into a centaur’s rib cage. He swallowed. He’d rather drink.

Jason pulled back his right and laid the fist as deep into the pad as possible. Indigo recoiled, took out her hand, and shook it out.

On the walk back to camp, Jason followed a few steps behind the group.

At dinner, lumps of shepherd’s pie sat in the disposable bowls of the first years. 

Lapiths marched through the charred, dripping wet plant, but with none of the urgency of last night.

“Crazy, huh?” Lillian said.

“Too bad we’re not doing anything.”

“Sometimes,” Paul slowly interrupted, “rushing to the end is not the quickest way.”

“From the expert on doing things quickly.”

Everyone went quiet. Fine. The people he met three days ago could sit in silence like a squabbling family. He what? said the most obvious insult ever. It’s not like Mom’s dying. Whatever. There were other people to talk to.

“Atlanta,” he said. She jerked. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I. Am. Lapith.” 

Lillian leaned in, “Indigo told me bears raised her. Rescued less than a year ago.”

“No. Not bear-s. One bear. Osa. Mother.”

Lillian shrugged. “A bear then.”

“Wow, for reals?”

“For. Real.”

Jason smirked as Callisto lumbered toward the group.

“Picking tracks?” Callisto sang-out. 

“You think Daphne would freak if I went battle?” Lillian asked.

“Your mom?” Callisto said.

Could they talk about anything else? 

“I don’t feel like going the same way.”

“I need to speak to my mother,” Jason interrupted.

Callisto slid in. “What’s going on?”

“I heard you don’t have phones.”

“Someone could drive you into Bridgeport. It’s an hour-ish.”

Another Lapith joke? If so, not funny. If not, just pathetic.

“You’ve got solar powered water walkways. I need a phone.”

“Lapith scientists don’t play nice with others. We’ve got amazing things, but we missed out on some things too.” 

Worthless. 

“Wait,” Jason calculated, “If a spy came from the direction of the centaur camp. Would they come from the same way as this town?”

“Not at all. We’d be perfectly safe.”

“Which direction would they come from?”

“Northwest, into the national forest. But the quickest road goes east, crosses into Nevada.”

“On foot?”

“It’d take ten hours-ish. You’d need to crisscross Masonic mount then head to Mount Patterson. Why the questions?”

A loud crash from the plant made everyone turn. A man in a hard hat waved it off, but Callisto headed off.

Lillian looked Jason dead in the chest.

“What?”.

“Don’t go,” she said.

Whatever.

After they ate, Herschel put the first years to work sledgehammering the fire-hose-soaked sheet rock.

Of course, Herschel relegated him to “team up” with Paul and drag the sheetrock chunks away.

Light racks, like mini-versions of baseball stadium lights, stood throughout the plant. The lights burnt.

A wallboard saw lay on the ground a dozen feet away. No one else in the room.

Jason ripped a generous hunk of sheet rock off spraying dust into his face, then walked to the dumpster. But he detoured on the return trip, palmed the saw, slipped it into his pocket, and returned.

“What tool did you nab?” Paul asked.

“What?”

“The. I saw you take something,” he pointed.

“I,” would Paul try and stop him? Could he stop him? Jason pushed the tip out of his pocket.

Paul’s eyes went off-balance. 

“I’m not going back to camp tonight. I’m going to kill one.”

“They’ll see you.”

“Too dark.”

“They’ll catch you at the perimeter.”

“Power’s out. No surveillance.”

“But Jason,” Paul took three breaths, “the centaurs are really really really really dangerous.”

Sure centaurs are dangerous. They gutted Uncle Quentin, killed half his ancestors.

But that meant he had extra reasons to kill one, not less. 

“Don’t tell anyone.”

Walking outside the stark line of light, he felt himself disappear.

“You’re choosing the easy way,” Paul said.

Jason slipped out the entrance his eyes fixed on the shadowy peak to the north. Ridiculous, there was nothing easy about this.

Chapter 8: Centaurs

The twilight glow cast distended shadows across the field. 

What next? Food. Jason doubted the centaurs would wait ten hours for him to arrive at their territory. Still, wouldn’t hurt to prepare. He had to think about the return trip too.

Rubbermaid bins lined up under Tyson’s makeshift kitchen. Perfect.

Jason ducked. Of course, why should anyone be suspicious of him? In 7th grade, when he went to the high school for his math class, he’d sometimes get there while the last class was still in. And as long as he pretended he knew what he was doing, no one ever even asked him for a hall pass. Not even the time he walked right past the principal.

So, with an easy stride, anyone would definitely describe as normal he walked to the bins. 

Clatter.

“Sorry, sorry.” It was Dennis Delphi, Owen’s dad. The satellite dish shaped equipment he carried lay on the dirt. No one noticed Jason. 

Jason helped pile the equipment back into his arms. “Thanks.”

He would need something to carry the food, wouldn’t he. The totes? Cumbersome. A toolbox? Couldn’t see one. But a leather tool belt sprawled halfway to the plant. Next to Lillian. 

Curses.

With a half nod, Jason approached her and snatched the belt. 

“You need that?”

“Paul asked for it.” Jason fastened the belt around his waist, eyes on the food station.

“Paul’s that way,” Lillian said.

“In a minute, geez.”

Jason checked over his shoulder. At the food. Over his shoulder. Lillian walked back into the plant. Finally.

Jason grabbed a packet of rolls, pierced a bag of Lays to squeeze it in, pocketed two apples, and nabbed a water bottle.

Enough Lapiths zipped around the site that he had to remain inconspicuous. Jason used his casual walk north. The blood squeezed through Jason’s neck. The burnt plastic odor of the plant sent adrenaline into Jason’s fingers. Time for revenge. 

His heart beat so heavy he felt it in his temples. Past the plant nothing but pure chaparral desert rolled for miles until Masonic Mountain straight ahead. 

The corner of the building right ahead, would hide him from any Lapiths still looking at him. He picked up his pace, and spun around the corner. Deep breath.

Jason peaked around the corner. No one. He did it. Free. Finally. Time to save Mom.

Jason patted the tool belt, and bounced his finger along the serrated saw.

Camp stretched an hour’s walk. When the sporadic columns and buildings stopped, he had passed the border.

He should be following a compass bearing. Or counting steps. Or anything more precise than heading toward the big dark spot on the horizon. But he only had so much information. Besides he only needed to get close. The centaurs wouldn’t take kindly to a Lapith wandering near their territory. They’d show up.

Of course with the power on, you can't see any of the buildings. So camp would disappear into the ordinary scrub from miles in every direction.

On the first night, Katie said she worked for a government agency which worked with the Lapiths. How did they even find them? Why did they cooperate? 

For all their quirks, the Lapiths nobly fought these monsters. Perhaps once he saved Mom, he would join. Dad was a Lapith after all.

A grainy patter approached from behind. 

Sweet. Less than an hour to find one. Jason swiped the saw and curled behind a scrub oak.

He lowered a springy branch to see through the thick mistletoe-shaped leaves.

The silhouette sped along. A human head. Hands or feet or. He tried to count, but it kept springing along, its back arching like a cat. It stopped and turned toward him. One, two, three, four limbs. 

Four? He tried to focus, but it began scurrying around.

Jason gripped the saw. He stroked the tip with his left hand. Stupid. 

But, he covered his chest with his left hand. If something had to get hurt in the upcoming fracas, he’d choose the barbie hand. He raised the saw overhead.

He waited for the shape to pass the bush then stepped into the clearing.

But when his shoe ground the sand, it turned around.

Atlanta?

“I. Am. Atlanta. You. Jason.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Paul said. Rescue. Jason.”

Pathetic. Couldn’t come himself. Sent Bear Girl? What did Paul think would happen. 

“I don’t need rescue. I’m going on an important trip.” Jason made hand motions to reiterate his point.

“No rescue?”

“No rescue. Go back. Tell the others do not come.”

“Tell. Others. Do. Not come.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Atlanta.”

“You. Are. Welcome.”

She sprang away. If the Lapiths didn’t want him to kill a centaur, maybe someone, anyone, could have helped out. 

Tonight was cold.

Jason again trudged an arrow straight path toward the west edge of Masonic Mountain. Up and down through the vegetation. 

The shallow hills ran into each other creating seams free of scrub brush. Jason stopped hiking straight and started to follow those seems instead. Jason shouldn't get too lost winding around. His first stop was Masonic Mountain which dominated the landscape. Still, felt odd to walk in curves.

For something like the next 873 hours Jason followed the paths the landscape gave him.

A rustle in the leaves popped Jason out of his zone-out mode. He paused. Nothing there. But the cold goosebumping his skin had grown severe. 

He rubbed his arms to warm himself up. Food, weapon, jacket. Couldn’t remember everything. 

But he needed a solution stat.

A boulder, the same size as the murderous boulder he met in the ravine, lay in his pathway. The boulder looked like a pie with a slice taken out. If he nuzzled his way in, the crevice would protect him from the worst of the cold until the next morning.

Jason hoped not to need to sleep, but circumstances changed. Everything looked gray in the night, but Jason swore his fingers tinged blue.

A shrill screech cracked the night from two shrubs away. Feathers pounded the wind.

A bobcat found dinner.

Well this solves the warmth problem.

Jason armed himself with the wallboard saw. Perfect practice for the main attack later tonight. He sprinted up the hill, ending each step in a whisper.

He caught the animal in his site then launched.

This had to be worse than running with scissors.

The metallic odor of blood whipped past Jason in the brittle wind.

The cat dropped the bloody bird and scampered away. Jason’s legs cycled down the hill skimming the ground straight toward the crevice.

When the cat reached full speed, it started to build a lead, but the boulder was too close. And by the time the cat reached the dead end, Jason reached the exit. The bobcat couldn’t escape without going through him.

The cat let out its screech. Jason screamed back.

Its ears twitched. The cat looked each way.

Jason lunged. The bobcat sprung, claws out. Jason swung the knife trying to slash whatever he could. The bobcat’s extended paws connected with his shoulder, knocked him to the ground, then dashed away.

No.

Jason flipped onto his feet. Where did it run? He needed to run, catch him. He needed the pelt. He needed the.

Forget it. He couldn’t catch up. Zoobooks convinced him humans were the slowest animal. Okay, turtles and Paul. But other than them.

Besides, his goosebumps had settled.

His left arm stung. Blood leaked from a laceration. Jason wiped the blood from his arm and the saw blade.

An easy trip. Pff. It should be hard. Rescuing Mom shouldn’t be easy. Besides they took his crown. And when he held a centaur in his hand ready to take its heart, he would demand to know where they hid it. Of course he’d rush the heart to Mom and plan a second trip for the crown. 

The wind clucked, making short.

No, not the wind.

Jason stopped dead. He surveyed the desert. A few bushes stood on the hill, large enough to hide behind. No different than the dozens of hills he had passed.

“He heard us.”

He heard who? Jason crouched, peering toward the brush in each direction. “Come out,” he yelled. For the third time that night Jason reached for the saw. Maybe he’d use it this time.

Jason closed his eyes trying to hear. Leaves.

“Go back to where you came from,” the voice came with a ghostly vibrato. “You will be safe back home.”

“Why ya tryin’ to get ridda him,” another voice.

“I am your conscience.”

“Whatsa matter with ya?”

“I can hear you,” Jason said. He walked toward the bush.

“Whose zone is this?”

“Heck if I know,” the other voice.

A clopping sound escaped into the night. But no shadows moved. No shapes appeared.

Were those? Why wouldn’t they attack him? It couldn’t be. Could it?

His best chance to find a centaur squirmed away as the whispers grew fainter. His legs dragged, but if not now, when?

Jason dug into that reservoir of energy you withhold in case you ever have a day where, you know, you need to save your mother’s life. 

Jason ran. He chased the sound of tracks and the swishing of leaves.

“Hot diggity, he’s following us.”

“No, not. Go away,” the first voice screamed.

The clopping stopped. 

Nothing moved in the shrubs. But to catch up, he needed to chase them now.

“Why doncha look over here,” the whispers. 

“I’m getting Washington.”

They turned to the right. No left. Both. Jason chose right. 

He sprinted for two miles following the galloping sound. But as he slowed, the redneck voice remained close in front of him.

The smell of Pinesol smashed into Jason. A thicket of ghost pines and blue oaks grew straight ahead. 

“Silly ninny, come’n gimme.”

They reached the forest edge.

The trees grew thick choking out the little moonlight. He charged in. 

“Over here.”

It’s heart beat squished.

He no longer followed the hoof sound, but crunching leaves and cracking branches.

Did it know he had a saw to kill them? It seemed too happy egging him on. A trap?

Of course it was. So stupid. How could he? Jason retracted his arms to his chest and walked backward.

“Where ya going?”

No. No. Where did he come from? Left? No. Straight then right. No, they turned. Jason circled hoping for some sense of which tree he had passed. But not even the stars penetrated the canopy.

If he walked far enough straight, he’d reach an edge, right? But which way should he try? 

“Gotta come this way,” the voice.

Jason ran the opposite way. Pine branches wiped over his cheeks. Sprung branches whacked his side. Brambles scraped at his pants.

A root corralled his foot and sent him flying face first into the dirt. A pebble sliced his cheek. Were they coming? Jason rolled onto his back, holding the saw up.

Where were they? What were they saying? 

The vegetation flapped into place. And then nothing, not even any wind.

“Hello?”

After a silent moment, Jason held his prosthetic out as far as possible. Couldn’t see it. He brought it closer to his eyes until eighteen inches out a definite hand form took shape. 

Okay. Can see a foot and a half. No problem. Cut cheek. No big deal. Cut arm. Still hurt. Missing hand. Lying flat on the dirt. Lost.

Jason breathed like they taught pregnant ladies to breathe. He let his body sink into the earth. If he woke up tomorrow, he’d figure out what to do then.

“What’s up stupid face?”

“Emily?”

“You just gonna lay there like an idiot all night?”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Hello.” A smooth hand waved in front of Jason’s eyes. She stood there in her black Ramones t-shirt. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

What was she doing here? 

“Well stand up.”

Jason pushed himself off the ground. His back ached. A speck of sweat wound an icy trail down his chin.

“I thought you hated the outside,” Emily said.

“It’s been crazy since I saw you. Did you hear about my Mom?”

She nodded.

“Wait, when did I tell you I hate the outside.”

“On the way out to the ravine. You don’t look well. Have you had enough to drink?”

Jason hadn’t broken out the water bottle. “I’ve got to save water for during the day when the weather gets hot. I need to find a way out. I’m,” Jason shrugged, “I’m lost.”

Emily snorted, “Figures. But I don’t know where you should go.”

“But, how did you get here?”

“I don’t know,” her lips pursed in the perfect circle of her “annoyed face.”

“Emily,” Jason reached out for her. “Emily?” He couldn’t feel her shoulder. “Emily?” Her face froze in permanent annoyance. He swished his arm straight through her. “Emily. Emily. Emily.”

“No. She can’t. I can’t. I. But. Emily.”

Jason sobbed. He needed to stop. He needed to sleep. 

He cracked open the water bottle and drank. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d have a fresh mind. Jason 

A thud ended the melee. “Take him back.”

Jason waited. Should he return and see what happened? He didn’t. Instead he fell asleep.

The next morning, Jason ate an apple and a roll. After twenty minutes he cleared the woods. He had reached Masonic Mountain. But if the centaurs came this far south, another would come. 

But the day brought nothing but one repetitive dusty hill after the next. That afternoon Callisto, Justice, and Callum arrived in an ATV, loaded him on board, and took him back to camp.

Chapter 9: Battle Track

The molded chair curved right onto the bruise on Jason’s back. Everytime he squirmed the chair followed him. Someone had not thought these chairs all the way through.

Jason prefered life to death. That centaur legit tried to kill him. But was sitting in Quentin’s office waiting for the lecture about to rain down on him better? Probably. A little.

The click-creek of the door turned Jason around, “Hello.”

Quentin didn’t return the hello. The sound of his gritting teeth glued Jason to his seat. Quentin walked to the corner bookshelf and examined a title. He turned around, caught Jason’s eye. Then walked to the door. His head clunked the wood. Jason didn’t turn to look. 

Mom never yelled at Jason. But Dad acted like a wind up toy. The longer he turned waiting to let loose, the more dramatic the release. Quentin still hadn’t said anything. He rounded behind the desk, leaned down, took in a breath, then walked away.

What’s going on? He’s okay. In fact the big bad centaurs apparently have some of their own infighting issues to deal with. So. Good news all around, right?

Jason opened his mouth. Quentin flipped around and stared. Jason closed his mouth.

“Tonight is the first years’ archi meeting. You will attend.” Quentin’s eyebrows curled over like his grandpa’s used to.

Jason looked ahead. What should he do? He’d never been sent to the principal’s office before.

“Yes, sir.”

“You will choose a track. You will learn your track. You will become a part of our team.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Look at me Jason. This is not a Jason experience. Your nothing but a seed in the watermelon, son.”

Jason thought better than to ask what the watermelon was.

“The Lapiths, we’re a family, and running off on a Jason adventure it’s like cutting up that watermelon from the inside. Every seed needs to be in its place.”

Jason prefered seedless watermelon, but he got Quentin’s meaning. He was a joke out there. He was trying to kill a centaur with a what? Saw. But the second a real centaur showed Jason crumbled into a plop of ploppiness. If he had been half competent, he would have helped rather than required a big rescue effort that took up everyone's time.  

“We are in this together. Your mom is very important, but she knew what she was getting into, and getting six people killed to save her doesn’t make much sense. Ending the centaur scourge is more important than any single person. That includes you. But that also includes your mom, Jason.”

“Yes, sir.”

The guttural scream letting loose. The gnashing bearded face. “You’re mine,” it had screamed, inches from his eyes. 

They needed to be stopped.

“What have they done?”

“The centaurs?”

Jason nodded with his eyes.

“Jason sometimes I forget how little you know about the Lapiths. Most children know about the centaurs their entire life. The centaurs are a scourge. Like rats, but bigger. Their dander is what poisoned your mother. Lapiths are immune. We try to contain them. So they murder us. They attack our camps and destroy our research. But the worst thing,” Quentin leaned in, “For millenia Lapiths have been bred to kill the centaurs. That longing inside you to connect that you can’t seem to quench. It’s because your great great grandfathers weren’t born to love, they were born to kill. And that legacy is what’s sitting inside you. So that’s what the centaurs have done.”

Every square inch of his skin felt tied to a boulder suddenly pushed off a cliff. He could feel the chair squirm around him as he sunk into his seat.

“I know your mom wanted to protect you as long as she could. So when you got here, I didn’t want to dissuade your spirit. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would lead you to do something so monumentally short-sighted. But that’s partly my fault.”

Jason nodded. No he stood up, and wrapped Quentin in a bear hug. He patted him on the back.

Herschel took Jason back to the main level. Owen was standing in the hall, hands folded neatly in front of him.

“Owen. Jason needs the med clinic. Please take him,” Herschel said.

“I’m fine,” Jason objected.

“It’s my pleasure. I understand the ordeal you’ve endured, and I’m happy to assist,” Owen said.

They made their way across camp to the med clinic. 

A beach sized towel waved in the door. Jason pushed his way around. 

Brunetta reclined on a form fitting chair behind a light desk watching a staticky I Dream of Jeannie on an eight inch mobile TV with rabbit ears. Was the power back on?

“Jason,” Brunetta buzzed over and gave him a long diagonal hug. 

“Is it true? Did you see them?”

Jason nodded. 

“I can’t believe you survived. They’ve killed like. Your dad and grandpa.”

“I need to replace the bandages on my arm. I didn’t think to bring those.”

Brunetta stumbled backwards with a giant grin, “Shocked. I’m just shocked,” she said, and disappeared into the back.

“Have the two of you been previously acquainted?” Owen asked.

“Weird, right? She was my nurse at the hospital when I,” Jason shoved his stump in front of him.

“Of course.”

If this were a military camp, Jason would assume Owen was standing at attention. He stared slightly off, chin stiff arms behind his back. “What do you mean?”

“It seems apparent your uncle conveniently ensured your safety by dispatching Brunetta to watch over you.”

Jason wondered if Owen didn’t really think that was convenient, or if that was just the way Owen always talked. “You sound upset about that.”

“Absurd. I’m delighted you’re here safely.”

Those were definitely the words of someone telling the truth.. But could Owen be right about Brunetta? Had Quentin have been looking out for him the whole time? He hadn’t spoken to him since the attack in the truck last night.

Brunetta poked her head out, and waved Jason back. Owen didn’t follow.

Minidoc, Brunetta. This had been his family longer than he even realized.

Jason asked minidoc a few questions. Quentin had in fact asked them to meet up with him at the hospital. Paul was minidoc’s son! And apparently the Lapiths had just kept progressing Greek technology. No dark ages for them. Which would explain the not so magic disappearing doors and laser beds. It also meant his hand options were not nearly as limited as he thought.

Realistic

Pro-Looks exactly like a hand

Pro-Does everything a hand can do

Technological

Pro-Looks like a glowing laser saber

Pro-A swiss army knife of cool technology

But, they would both take a while to build, so in the meantime Jason had to wear: 

Temporary

Con-completely useless

Con-looks like a Barbie hand

Nothing’s perfect.

That night was the first year meeting Quentin had mentioned.

Indigo and Callisto had marched them out to the middle of scrub brush. It might have felt more dark and remote if the power hadn’t been off across camp all night.

The wisps of the campfire warmed Jason’s feet and burned the occasional toe. 

Atlanta huddled under her skin. She would dart her eyes, breathe rapidly, then catch herself. She’d put her hands at her side, sit up, and force herself to breathe slowly. Until she forgot what she was doing and reverted to her crouch again.

Paul chattered away into Jason’s ear, just quietly enough that he wasn’t disturbing anyone else’s silence.

“If I had to guess, they’ll probably get the power back on by tomorrow. At least temporarily. In fact, for temporary generators, they should be able to go into town and get what they need. Maybe they have gotten what they need, but we haven’t noticed because our needs isn’t as important as camp security.”

Jason wasn’t listening.

Indigo leaned over to Callisto. She put her head down on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist. Ugh. Really? Jason didn’t know they were mushy with each other.

He shot a look towards Lillian. She shrugged. Huh? Lillian?

Indigo cleared her throat, tapped her nose, then started in. “For many of you, being a Lapith is about family. But each year there’s someone like Atlanta, or me, who comes from outside the Lapiths to join your cause. Today the Lapiths aren’t about who your family was, it’s about who your family is. It’s about our purpose. Our cause”

Yes.

Jason looked over. Paul, Lillian, even Atlanta stared straight at Indigo. Callisto had leaned over rummaging through a bag.

“We have a mission. We protect the world.”

Callisto emerged and through a pile into the fire, the sparks formed a centaur boarding a boat.

“It was us who let them get away. Us who inflicted them on this new land.”

The fire melted into a centaur slicing a sword.

“They fought us. They killed us. But we survived.”

The fire melted into the faces of the four sitting there, like looking into a mirror.

“Now the mantle has fallen on you. You have joined us. Now it is time to choose your path.”

Wow. This was it. This was exactly what Jason needed. 

Indigo let the silence wring out every bit of tension from the moment. Callisto finally piped in with mundane details about the tracks everyone had been talking about. There was:

1. Battle track - These were the soldiers and guards. Atlanta couldn’t do this one since she didn’t have the immunity to their dander.

2. Home track - These were the people responsible for caring for Little Aeolus and the surrounding camp. I guess women used to do this one mostly, but Indigo emphasized several times that this was no longer the case.

3. Reconnaissance track - These were the spies. They knew everything about the centaurs history, language, and infiltrated them. This included the prophecy production center Dennis was so keen for him to join

4. Technology track - These were the researchers. They had several fields but all advanced Lapith technology however they could.

Once they received their track, they would receive an assignment related to their track in order to receive their first “designation.” As they progressed they would receive three designations before graduating their level.

“Many of you have already been thinking about which track you would like to choose,” Callisto said, “You have until tomorrow night to select a first and second choice and submit them. Ultimately, however, the Lapiths choose. We are here to support our great cause. It is not here to support our ambitions.”

Wow.

Wow.

The spanning monolith of genealogy Quentin showed him filled his memory. They had all been here. Now it was his turn. 

Indigo and Callisto let them go. 

The four strummed along the path. “I know it must be exciting for the rest of you to get to pick which track you’re going to be on, but I’m going to be technology track. The Stathopolous family is always technology. Which is okay. I’m probably best suited to it anyway.”

“If you don’t like it, then pick something else,” Lillian said.

“You don’t pick.”

“If you don’t want technology don’t put it in your top two.”

“That wouldn’t matter. My family is always tech.”

“Yeah. And my family was always home. Until today. No more.”

Paul rolled his eyes audibly.

“What’s my family usually?” Jason asked.

“Leadership,” Paul and Lillian responded.

“That’s not a track.”

“It doesn’t matter what you choose,” Lillian said, “In two years they’ll take you and put you into the leadership track. They pull people out for it. Well by people I mean Castellanoses.”

A summer breeze slid along Jason’s arm pulling goosebumps up as it went.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Paul started again, “even if I could be another track, why would I want to be. My dad was technology, and he was a great technology. Why wouldn’t I want that track. It’s a perfectly good track.”

Paul was still talking about how technology was a completely fine track when his gaze caught Lillian. But she refused to look at him. What track did she want? He should probably ask her so he doesn’t also ask for it. If he was going to be in charge one day, the least he could be is gracious.

“What do you want?” he said.

“Battle.”

A pang hit Jason. Guess he wanted that one too.

“Positions,” Indigo called the next afternoon during battle class.

Indigo had assigned Vanessa, the tall flute of honey, to be his partner. They were practicing Bolo punches. She stood with the blue pad covering her face. The sun glistened across the pleather front.

Indigo leaned against her still visible equipment shed speaking with Owen.

Jason wound his right arm under him like Indigo had demonstrated and rocked it up. Vanessa leaned to the side. Jason missed the pad stumbling and Vanessa tapped Jason with the pad spinning him around and sending him into the ground.

Sam and Callum chuckled. 

He looked to Indigo, but she hadn’t been watching.

“Fighting people’s tough,” Vanessa said, “They’re always moving and stuff.”

Vanessa took her position behind the pad again. She stood one step too far away.

Jason wound up his arm, faked, then came in with a jab on the left side. Vanessa stepped the other way. Jason tried to catch his balance, and re-aim. But he stumbled. He put his arms out to catch himself. But only his left arm hit.

The plastic cracked. Jason screamed out in 60% anger and 40% pain. He unlatched the hand and whipped it at Vanessa, who batted it away with the pad giggling.

“Is this funny?” Jason threw his stub in her face? He was close enough now to get her. Pad wasn’t in front of her face now.

Jason’s arms were grabbed from behind. He slipped his left out easily, but his right was pinned behind him.

“Come with me now,” Indigo dragged him back. “Water break, everyone,” she shouted.

“You didn’t see. She” Jason started.

“Listen to me. Listen to me,” Indigo tapped, “I don’t not care. But it doesn’t matter. Just cool off.”

Jason sunk into the shade. If he had any designs on battle track they were basically over. Two missed punches. What made it worse is that Vanessa was right. Real targets moved. And as soon as she did he was helpless.

He didn’t care about the hand. It was useless. He’d have a better one soon enough.

A deep breath of air tasted like sour cream. Jason coughed it out, then asked to get a drink.

As he approached, The other four were talking indistinguishably by the fountains, and then Owen began to whisper making his timbre distinct enough to pick out.

“. . . but his nephew arrives in the nick of time. Two years for naught.”

“Like he’d pass over his daughters?” Vanessa interrupted.

“They always have.”

Jason scuffled his feet, so they’d know he was coming. 

Vanessa wouldn’t look at him. Owen wanted to be rid of him in the nicest way possible. “Jason has your disposition improved since the unfortunate incident.”

Jason leaned down to the water and slurped.

He looked up. He was going to be their leader. They had known about this their entire life. He walked in one day, and he was going to be their leader. No wonder they hated him. They wished they were him.

Jason loudly announced he was visiting the doctor, grabbed the cracked hand, but returned to his cabin instead. Who was going to stop him? 

He pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote a few notes.

Battle

Pro - Coolest one

Con - He’s obviously terrible at it. Lillian wants it

Home

Pro - Stable, safe, Lillian hates it

Con - Stable, safe

Reconnaissance

Pro - He already knows Kentravosic, spies are cool

Con - They’d keep trying to get him into the prophecy center

Tech

Pro - He’d be good at it

Con - Not as good at Paul, who’ll get it anyway

Jason picked up his pen. He had been debating what kind of Lapith he wanted to be. Not whether or not to be Lapith. He was in. Completely. Totally. And somehow he didn’t even realize he had made the decision.

Jason decided his track didn’t really matter. He would do anything the Lapiths needed.

“What are you doing in here?” Callum asked as he walked in.

Jason waved him off.

“You cannot let Vanessa get to you, Jason.”

“That’s only because you want Vanessa to get on you.”

“I will not deny that,” Callum grinned. “She was very different when I first met her. But after her first summer, she lost her family. Their family home caught on fire. She dragged her father out. But it took her so long everyone else died. Never been the same that one.”

“So, what? I’m supposed to say sorry to her?”

“Not sorry, Jason. Just forgive her.”

Chapter 10: Binders of Blue Prints

The glistening blue beams of the stage transfixed Jason. The power came back on last night. And now he waited for Quentin to appear on stage.

When he gave Callisto his blank track request form, Callisto took two looks then nodded with a smile. No words.

So now he would find out.

Since Paul was sure he would get tech, and Lillian was pushing so hard for battle (not to mention Atlanta couldn’t, and he was terrible at it), that left home and reconnaissance. Reconnaissance was definitely cooler. But home would be good too.  

Owen’s brother Caleb was home-track, and he got to work with animals and rescue Atlanta and stuff. Callisto was home. So anything would be good. Really.

Paul, Atlanta, and Lillian were talking with each other. It looked like mostly Paul was talking. Lillian kept glancing away. She looked as nervous as Jason didn’t feel, because he had nothing to feel nervous about.

Owen walked out of the hallway with Callum. He shook his head, corrected an out of place hair, saw Lillian looking his way and headed over. 

So Jason did too.

“Hey guys.”

“I. Am. Re. Recon. Conna. Reconna,” Atlanta tried.

“We’re speculating about the track announcements,” Paul said.

“Paul’s speculating about track announcements,” Lillian said, “Atlanta’s trying. And I. Well I just don’t really care about what happens.”

Lillian’s mom walked by and gave her a smile. Lillian scrunched her face smile-like.

“I anxiously await tonight’s announcement,” Owen said, blew a double kiss and walked away.

There was no point trying to talk to an angry Lillian or a stuttering Atlanta. 

Back at the kitchen window a girl stood, drinking filling up then drinking again. She looked like she should be in the same group as Owen and Callum, but the only time he’d seen her was singing the night of the initiation.

“I’m Jason.”

“Quentin’s kid,” she said.

“Nephew.”

“That’s right. Do you need something?”

“Just saying hello.”

“Hey.”

Was everyone grumpy tonight?

The rumble of voices behind him droned with an edge.

“What do you do around here?”

“Nothing important.”

Did Jason need this conversation? Why was he pursuing this? What did he hope to get?

“No, seriously.”

“PPC with Dennis. He’s really hoping to get you tonight.”

“You don’t want that?”

“I don’t care. It’s just. Bad day. Sorry. Sonata Chen, nice to meet you.”

Jason turned back to the room. Quentin certainly liked to make an entrance. But even the adults seemed to be getting antsy.

“No. Sorry,” Sonata said.

Jason turned back.

“Do you? Do you um? What was this morning’s prophecy?”

Jason scanned his brain to this morning. “I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember the prophecy on the day of the explosion?”

Jason paused. 

“No, obviously, you don’t even remember today’s. A not quite perfect sunny day. Sun, solar panels, not perfect.”

“Oh, I get it. Yeah. That’s impressive,” Jason wasn’t really impressed.

“Dennis thinks so. He’s telling everyone. Today’s? An active horizon broadens the day.”

“So what does it mean?”

Sonata shrugged. “And no one knew the day of the explosion. So what does it matter?”

The crowd hushed, so Herschel must have walked in. Maybe he didn’t want reconnaissance. Quentin took the stage with four of the older folks. One for each track, probably. 

“We’ll go quickly. Some of our assignments are urgent, so I want our new students to get started on them as quickly as reasonable.”

Urgent?

“Jason Castellanos,” Quentin announced. “Come up.”

Jason made his way to the stage. 

“Jason Castellanos. Battle track.”

Theo swooped in with a handshake and congratulations.

“Atlanta Iasus. Reconnaissance track. Lillian Menippe. Home track. Phoebus Stathopolous. Technology track.”

Battle track? 

Behind him Lillian was mugging. Paul was insisting his name wasn’t really Phoebus. Atlanta was still trying to say Reconnaissance.

Why battle track? He certainly had no aptitude for it.

Indigo did not particularly like him. Battle? He wasn’t an impressive physical creature when he had two functioning hands.

“Congratulations,” Beanbag Ben hugged him, “I knew you could make it.”

Make it?

“You knew I wanted it too,” Lillian whispered in his ear. 

No. No. No. 

“I didn’t ask for this. I’m terrible in battle class. Callisto,” Jason shouted, “He’ll tell you what I asked for. Callisto!”

“I’m surprised as you are,” he bellowed.

“Tell Lillian what track I requested.”

“None. He didn’t request anything.”

“Then why didn’t I”

Callisto’s shrug was so big it interrupted Lillian mid-sentence.

Callisto squealed, and Indigo appeared from behind him laughing.

He did not need more of those two.

“You,” Lillian said, “You made this happen. You asked for it didn’t you.” Jason turned as Lillian ambushed her mother.

“I couldn’t,” Miss Menippe tried. 

“If you hadn’t been so happy to just go wherever they wanted to shove you. Then maybe our family wouldn’t be in this spot?”

“Home is a good track. We’re good at it.”

“No. No. Come on,” she told Jason.

He followed her out the door. “Where are we going?”

The Yosemite night crashed down on his skin as he left the packed room. Jason let out a shiver.

“Have you ever been to the water resource plant? It’s boring. So boring.”

“But there’s other things you can do.”

“Don’t try and make it better.”

Jason looked at Lillian as she stalked a circle in front of him her face contorting.

“Do you hear that?”

“Not really,” Jason tried.

“Exactly. My entire life that’s all my mom could talk about. How to make the water quieter. Yay! We did it. Quiet water.”

She had grabbed him. They were all alone.

Jason imagined grabbing her face and planting a kiss on her. But the only way he imagined it ending was her slapping him away. So he didn’t. 

“Would you trade tracks with me?” Lillian asked.

“Yes. Can we do that?”

“No.” She crossed her arms, and dropped cross legged on the path.

Jason sat next to her. The pebbly dirt rolled under his seat.

What was the problem? Lillian didn’t like her track. He couldn’t change her track. So the only thing he could fix was how she felt about the track. How could Jason change the way Lillian felt about the tracks?

He didn’t know. So he just sat there. Lillian slid next to him and put her head on his shoulder. Jason patted her back, twice. Jason closed his eyes.

The breeze ran steady. Lillian’s waist curved perfectly around Jason’s hip. Her heart beat faster than Jason’s. But her breathing slowed down. He tried to match her breath, so that when she breathed out, he breathed in, bobbing in unity.

“Don’t mean to interrupt,” a voice. Callisto. Jason blinked his eyes. “You headed out before the assignments. You’ll need to get yours Jason. But Lillian.”

Her eyes were still closed. 

“She okay?” Callisto mouthed.

Jason wasn’t going to shrug his shoulder with Lillian on it. So he just blinked a lot. Hopefully Callisto would understand. 

Jason leaned into Lillian’s ear. “You’re a freaking shape shifter. You can do anything.”

She chuckled. She sighed. “What is it Callisto?”

“The northern defensive bunker needs to be turned into a livable space for thirty people for six months.”

Lillian nodded. 

“You’ll need to gather a team. Your mom”

“Yeah. She’ll know who to ask. Thanks.”

Callisto walked away.

“Do they all require teams?” Jason asked.

“A lot of them.”

“Well, I need you on mine.”

“Thanks.”

The others had begun to stream out of the all-purpose room. Lillian stood up, wiped her nose, “Thanks, Jason,” she said, and then just walked away.

“Well the tracks were a big surprise,” Paul said.

“Yeah.”

“No. I was kidding. I got exactly what I knew”

“You. Yeah. Of course. Sorry.”

“You didn’t really expect anyone else to get battle, did you?”

Paul was assigned to develop a weapon targeting system invisible to centaur vision. And Atlanta was put in charge of finding the spy who attacked the solar station. She was working closely with Callum, and Simon the reconnaissance teacher.

No one came to give Jason his assignment.

Just as he and Paul reached the bunk, Indigo ran up panting.

“I’ve got a,” she was bent over, so tapped her forehead instead.

“You have my assignment?” Jason said.

She shook her head. “Quentin”

“Is he okay?”

She nodded. Maybe he should just wait until she could talk.

Indigo finally explained that Quentin wanted to talk to Jason about the assignment one on one. So he turned around and went back to the all-purpose room.

There were a few remaining people scattered. “Quentin,” he called. Unfamiliar faces turned to see who called out. 

The man who shook his hand on stage earlier that night, Theo if he remembered right, came around the crowd.

“Come with me.” He glided across the floor to the back door. And took Jason downstairs.

Jason stared at the fluorescent blue array of equipment like a moth. 

“I’m Cynthia,” a woman with a grandmother’s smile and soldiers’ shoulders shook his hand. She wore her hair in deeply faded brunette ringlets. She smelled like rolls. “Have you been briefed?”

Jason shook his head.

“He’s coming with me right now,” Theo said. But before they could head down the hallway, Quentin walked out.

“What do you know about the CZS?”

CZS? Jason had heard that before. “Is that where aunt Katie works?”

“Oh, yeah. No. No. She works for us at the CZS. CZS is a government agency that protects the centaurs. They view them like an exotic animal, not the threat they are. They’ve recently intercepted our conversations about retrieving a centaur heart to save your mother. The information is currently in a file folder. It needs to be destroyed before it makes its way up the chain of command and they prevent us from saving your mother.”

“Why can’t Katie do it?”

“It’s like the steak at the back of your freezer. You could eat it, but then it wouldn’t be there when you get hungry. You understand?”

Jason didn’t understand. 

“I should call her and see what help I can get. Lillian said we get help on our assignments.”

“Don’t. No. If they find out she’s communicating with you about Lapith business, it could compromise her position. Do not speak with Katie about this. At all.”

“You’ll need to travel to D.C. break into their offices and delete the information the old fashioned way.”

“You want me to break into a government office?”

“Yes.”

“Now that you’ve been briefed,” Cynthia stepped in handing him a stack of binders. Quentin had already retreated to the other side of the room. He approached Dennis who stood up. It didn’t look like a friendly conversation. “Jason,” Cynthia called, “This is dangerous. I need your attention.”

The binders included blueprints, access codes, and false ID cards.

“When do I need to do this?”

“You’re in charge Jason. But it’s urgent.”

As Jason tottered out of the bunker, one of the binders slipped. He tried to grab it with his left hand, so it clanked to the floor.

Yep. He was the perfect choice for a highly sensitive undercover operation.

Chapter 11: Masonic Mountain

The next morning at breakfast, Sam sat once again playing Mario Kart. But Jason didn’t need to figure out how to approach her.

“Why did Mario throw a blue shell right after he had been hit by one? He wanted Justice,” Jason didn’t wait for her to answer. “Can you take me back out?”

“Why not?” Sam shut off the machine, “I’m not doing anything right now.”

Justice and Indigo for power. Then he needed to find Beanbag Ben for tech. Those three should be able to get into anywhere. Jason would just need to follow them in.

Indigo paraded into the room high stepping with Atlanta and Lillian behind her. 

Lillian.

He had promised to bring her along.

What if she really could transform? Then there’d be nothing stopping them from simply waltzing in looking like whatever beaurocrat they wanted.

But there was no way.

“Never mind,” Jason waved at Sam.

“You’re kidding right.”

Lillian wouldn’t be any help. But maybe her mom would be. 

Jason slid past Indigo, “I’ll be late to class,” and sprinted for the canals. It took twenty minutes winding into the furthest corner of camp. The building was made of the same laser lines, but they were bulky, dull, frazzled. A cement panel dropped vertically from the building like a tongue, water blurping over it.

Jason zagged through the stair cases, and threw open the doors. The doors flapped closed behind him sending a long echo across the cavern.

The building must have extending a half mile. It didn’t look this long from the top. He stood atop a catwalk looking at acres of pools in various shades between translucent and poop.

“Hello?” A long hollar came.

At the edge of shouting distance Lillian’s mother walked in a yellow dress and heals. She clicked down the walkway. Jason ran down to meet her.

“Miss Menippe?”

She brushed her hair over her shoulder then let her hands rest on her head like Lillian always did. “Daphne’s fine. Your Jason, right?” she asked with a breathy lilt.

“Can Lillian morph into other things?”

“My, you like to get down to things don’t you?”

“Do you know?”

Daphne looked behind her and leaned in. “Probably.”

“Seriously?”

A waft like fifteen diapers passed under his nose.

“Well silly why did you ask, if you didn’t suspect?”

“I guess I just. What?”

“Mama told me it skipped a generation.”

“Lillian said”

“Lillian never believed me. But Mama could do it. I remember. I was little and she would turn into a condor, pick me up and fly me.”

“Did Lillian never”

The door opened, three men in jumpsuits walked in. 

“She never saw. Mama couldn’t do it once she got old. Must of been really hard on her. She died young.”

Daphne smiled.

“Is it possible that Lillian can’t?”

“Anything’s possible.” 

“But Daphne”

“Hurry along Jason.”

“But I need to”

“Ask Lillian, sweetheart.”

Daphne click-clacked away.

Jason had learned something in his short time as a Lapith. First the world makes absolutely no sense. Second, there is a perfectly rational explanation.

Could Lillian turn into a bird?

No. That’s different. Centaurs are just animals. Lapiths just a club. This was magic? No.

Jason scuffled out of the plant, and headed back toward Little Aeolus. Last time he brought this up with Lillian was the night of initiation. She was not in the mood to discuss it. 

But Jason imagined flying to D.C., the two of them, sitting on the plane breathing back and forth. She wanted battle track so badly. And this was the only way.

Jason went straight to the all-purpose room, and hollered to Troy, “I need a tent.”

“Not the quartermaster,” he shouted.

Jason’s plan was simple:

1. Tell Lillian his assignment was at Masonic Mountain

2. Get lost in the woods

3. Make her think you’re being attacked.

4. Force her to unleash her morphing power.

Masonic Mountain was well before Jason encountered any centaurs, so they should be perfectly safe. But Lillian didn’t know that. And now that he had his assignment, he had the perfect excuse to go back out.

By lunchtime Jason’s heart had nearly beat out of its socket in anticipation.

Jason paced around the all-purpose room. 

Callum came in. He made some snarky comment about missing class that probably sounded more stinging because of the accent. Beanbag Ben arrived. This morning, Jason was going to convince him to come. No more. This plan was better. Crazier. Better.

Then Lillian walked in at the front of the group. She really looked exactly like her mom. 

“Lillian,” that was too loud. “Lillian.”

“What?”

Jason beckoned her in close. “I’m leaving on my assignment. I’m going to Masonic Mountain, he pointed to it looming through the wall at the horizon. 

“To do what?”

Good question. “Set a trap. But I need to start by scouting out the area.”

“Sounds good. I’m surprised they were so secretive about it.”

Good point. “The spy, remember, they were worried they’d hear.” The conversation halted. Lillian looked at him like she had said “So . . .” and was holding out the “o” sound. “I want you to come with me. Tonight. Today. For company.”

“Who else is going?”

He had not thought this out as well as he thought. “They wanted me to take Owen, battle track, you know, but, you know, I didn’t want to go with, well you know.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

“In the dark?”

“Did I say tonight? I mean”

Paul walked up, “What are you talking about?”

“Not talking. Tomorrow. First thing.”

Lillian grinned, tucked in her chin and walked away.

Jason woke up the next morning as soon as he could convince his eyes it made sense. He had asked Brunetta for a backpack, more sensible than the toolbelt from his last trip, filled it with some snacks. No knife this time. As long as he didn’t harass any bobcats, that shouldn’t be any problems.

He stepped out ready to go to Lillian’s bunk. But she was standing right outside his door.

“Someone’s excited.”

“I know, that’s why I’m so early.”

Jason rolled his eyes. She was wearing pigtails and her own backpack. 

The canals should save some time getting to the edge of camp over his last trip. They jumped on and headed due North.

“This is the same direction you went last time, right?”

“Generally, but I went around the mountain not up.”

“Quentin’s not worried about us being attacked?”

“I didn’t meet the centaurs until much further north.”

Jason slid along behind Lillian. The dawn glow reflected off her cheek like fire.

How was Emily doing?

The adventure seemed eerily familiar to his trip with Emily to the ravine. He almost hadn’t gone. Now he’d drag her out there. 

He didn’t mind so much that she was dating Gregory. I mean they had a fun trip, and they had been friends. But Jason had moved on. Lapiths. This was his life now. A lot of them even stayed. He might never see her again.

“Where do you live, when you aren’t here?”

“I grew up here,” Lillian said. “My mom’s a permanent, for the water. She does some other things the rest of the year.”

“I saw her yesterday.”

“My mom?”

“She says you can shape-shift.”

“She says that a lot.”

“But you don’t believe her.”

“She hardly ever comes into camp. Where’d you see her?”

“She saw your grandma do it.”

“That’s what she says, but she was a baby.”

“Do you have any cousins?”

“That’s not really how it works in my family.”

The canal ended in a round puddle, and the two hopped out.

“Where to now?” Lillian asked.

“It’s actually pretty easy from here. If you see the giant bump in the ground, we’re going up it.”

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes.

His shoes left surprisingly little mud behind him. They were taking a different route than he had before since he was aiming to the middle of the mountain, rather than around it. But the terrain looked largely the same. He already knew to take the divets in the hills saving him time learning that trick. 

“What do you mean your family doesn't have cousins?” Jason picked up later that morning. 

“We don't. My mom had one daughter, me. My grandma had one daughter, my mom. My great-grandma has. You get it.”

“Why?”

Lillian shrugged. They were walking side by side now, so Jason looked over every time she spoke.  “Just the way it is.”

“Like do they want more kids but they can't"

Lillian shrugged harder, “Like I'm asking my mom that.”

“Do you wish you had a sibling?”

“I wish I had a friend. Most people with kids don't stay up here.”

“Me too." Jason ramrodded his knee into a shrub. "Yawowouch,” Jason tried to force his scream into something endearing. But yawowouch wasn't so much adorable as it was anime-like. He should have gone for a grunty holler. So far Lillian showed no signs of laughing at him. Out loud anyway. 

Jason picked the thorns out of his jeans. 

“So if you grew up here, you must know this area pretty well.”

“I explored camp a lot. But I never really left except to run errands with my mom in Bridgeport.”

This route north had more trees, but they were still only dotting the landscape. 

What if?  There were enough trees to play connect the dots and stay out of the sun a little bit.

“Race you to the next tree.”

“What?”

Jason dropped into a run. Then heaved for breath under the shade of the next tree. Lillian was only a second behind. 

“You cheated. Race me again. Go!” Lillian shoved Jason backwards and took off. 

If the shove hadn't put him behind the laughing did. At the next tree Jason demanded a rematch.  

They sprinted through nearly a mile of trees, one after the next, until they both collapsed. Jason took a Hawaiian roll out of his sack and ripped it in half for Lillian.

There weren’t often clouds in the sky around here. But today light marshmallow clouds, the kinds that you imagine are things floated along. Talking about cloud shapes, lying under the tree with Lillian seemed like the perfect thing to do. But all the clouds looked like were clouds.

After their water break, they returned to a more steady pace. The sun was turning up the dial, but they should get to the base of the mountain by lunch. A grove of trees was at the base of the mountain, and this is where they would get lost, and Jason would enact his plan. 

“I noticed you haven’t been wearing your hand the last couple days,” Lillian said.

“I broke it. It was just temporary anyway.”

“Broke?”

“I fell on it pretty hard. I don’t know. I don’t think I’d really gotten used to looking down and seeing nothing. It’s kind of freeing in a way. Like this is who I am. No hand.”

“And you like that?”

“I. I am that.”

“Does it hurt if I?” Lillian held the stub in her hand.

“No.” It did hurt, but only a little, so Jason wasn’t going to say that.

They couldn’t have arrived at the grove at a better time. Noon had come, so they set up under a tree and ate the Ritz crackers Lillian brought and the fruit snacks Jason brought.

“You scared to go back into a forest?”

Jason hadn’t told Lillian anything about the centaur attack. But it must have spread around camp.

“Even if the centaurs had gotten this close to camp, I wouldn’t be scared. They’re just animals.”

Jason knew he needed to get Lillian scared. But if he acted scared it’d be too obvious. 

“They’re not just animals, they killed your dad.”

“How do you know that?”

“I grew up here. Your dad was Quentin before Quentin was Quentin. It was a big deal when he died.”

Why didn’t his dad ever tell him? He just disappeared every summer. And yet here was an entire family that he kept secret.

“You’ve never seen one right?”

“A centaur? Never up close.”

“Their teeth are sharper than anything I’d ever seen,” Jason watched Lillian’s face for a sign that it got to her, “But you know. They’re just teeth. I’m not worried. I made it out once. I’ll do it again.”

Lillian rolled her eyes.

“Besides, they aren’t this far south.” After actually remembering the experience, that last line was as much to reassure himself as to keep up the facade. And just to plant the idea, “Besides, worst case scenario, you can just turn into a tiger and shred them all.”

They wrapped up their lunch and headed into the forest. The trees were tight enough, that Jason could let Lillian go first.

He collected a handful of rocks, then chucked one into the forest.

“What was that?” Jason shouted jerking his head back and forth. He grabbed Lillian, “Did you hear that?”

“Just a rustle. Probably a rabbit or something.”

He let her go, and they proceeded further. Despite the time of day the vegetation was thick enough to make it feel like dusk. Only the occasional ray of light slipping through like a drop. 

This time Jason took three rocks, and threw them at once.

“That sounded close. Hello?” Jason shouted. He goaded Lillian into looking around, before they proceeded again. 

The branches were thick, and Jason used his elbows to push them out of the way as they stepped forward. He surveyed the ground closely looking for a final rock big enough to really catch Lillian’s attention.

“It was like this last time,” Jason said, “First it was just rumbles, little things here or there, then it got louder.”

Jason saw it, a softball sized stone, he slipped it up while Lillian looked ahead. He’d need a good trunk to knock it off of to make the most impact. Jason wound up and rocketed into the forest. He jumped back. That really was loud.

“Lillian. Now. We need you,” Jason shouted. Without hesitation Lillian dropped her backpack, unzipped and pulled out a pistol like the one hanging in Justice’s lookout.

“Who’s there?” Lillian shook.

“What are you?”

“You didn’t think I was coming out here unprotected did you?”

“I just. I didn’t.”

Was there a way to reconfigure the plan, or did he have to confess and start from scratch? Lillian haltingly ratcheted in a circle looking for the nothing Jason created.

“Lillian, I’m sorry. I”

Directly behind Lillian a man in a long black pea coat slipped out from behind a tree, slid the gun from her with one hand, and covered her mouth with the other.

He then took the hand with the gun, and gave Jason the shhh finger.

“What do you think you’re doing waving this around?”

“I didn’t”

He gave Jason the shhh finger again.

He had white hair but a stately face. And four legs with hoofs.

“You’re”

He gave Jason the shhh finger which was probably the maximum number of times you wanted to get the shhh finger from a centaur with a gun pointed at your crush. He’d never heard that rule before, but it made intuitive sense. 

The centaur looked around then dropped Lillian. “Wait here. Don’t say anything.”

He stroked the top button on his coat and began speaking, “This is Washington. I’ve come across a trap. I can disable on my own. Dangerous area. Do not approach.” He stroked the button one more time.

“You’re not making this easy, Jason.”

Was now speaking time?

“Homadus and his people will kill you if they have the chance. And I thought that would have been apparent every other time they almost killed you.”

He took short sharp breaths. And looked disgusted like Quentin would whenever Jason misbehaved. 

“You need to go.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of your fathers, so I’d really rather avoid killing you.”

Jason grabbed Lillian by the hand, the sweat had turned her hand into a sponge, and turned back toward camp.

“You can’t go that way. They’ve already taken it. You need to go north to the mountain, circle it east to where the forest breaks, then circle back around outside the forest. Well outside the forest.”

Jason looked to Lillian whose face betrayed no feelings, no thoughts, it just looked like a blank whiteboard with a nose. A very cute nose. And ears. Cute ears.

“Go.”

Jason went to grab Lillian’s hand, but she was standing on his left. So he wrapped his arm around her back instead.

Behind them, Washington spoke again. “I’ve disabled the trap. There appears to be a series of them moving north from my location. Avoid area.”

Chapter 12: Shapeshifter

Once out of earshot, Jason leaned into Lillian, “Are you okay?”

“Fine. You said they weren’t scary. They aren’t.”

The brambles of the nearest tree bounced back and swatted Jason in the face. Lillian laughed. His eye hurt, but it was worth it.

“I’ve got something just for moments like this,” Jason dug into his bag for the music box, “It was my grandpa’s.”

Lillian took the figurine and opened the lid, a menacing monotone drone came out with pounding brass plunks scratching out. It physically forced Jason’s heart into overdrive, like the music right before the boss level that you have to turn down because it freaks out everyone else in the house. 

“So the freak you out box?” Lillian asked.

“It’s always given me the music I needed.” Lillian shut the box, and handed it back to Jason. “It’s not exactly safe here, maybe that is what I needed.”

“Quentin didn’t send you out here, did he?” 

Jason shook his head.

“So what are we doing out here? You trying to get me alone, make me a pull a gun on you?”

“I wanted to make you shapeshift.”

Lillian put her hands on top of her head and sighed.

“My assignment was to break into an office in Washington D.C. If you could shapeshift, we could do it just the two of us.”

“Well I can’t.”

“Your mom says you can.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. 

“She was so sure.”

“You can’t believe what my mom says, okay.”

“Why? What is between you and your. Never mind.”

The trees began to clear and the light flooded in.

“You lied to me remember. And D.C., Jason? I have my own assignment.”

“I’m just. I’m sorry.”

Lillian looked straight into the now visible sky. The clouds were still blazing white, but they had begun to accumulate over Masonic Mountain.

“What are you looking at?”

Lillian pointed to the peak of the mountain, “Let’s go.”

“Up the mountain?”

“To the clouds.”

Jason wanted to ask more questions. Lots more questions, but the look on Lillian’s face. Eyes sharpened. Lips creased. 

“That’s my father.”

“The clouds?”

“No. My mother says my father is a cloud. Let’s say hello.”

She began to trudge up. Her foot slipped, so she turned around, grabbed the branch of a tree and ripped it off and dug it into the ground like a walking stick. Jason scurried to keep up.

They hadn’t gone very far, but up is a little more exhausting than around. Jason would have stopped the sweat from circling his eye, but if he stopped to wipe, Lillian was apt to get away. She was moving with determination. But even she would need to be subject to the laws of climbing this mountain is super exhausting.

“Hold on,” Jason shouted. He slid his leg into a shrub to keep him up. It smelled like the Italian seasoning packet his mom dumped on their spaghetti sauce.

Lillian turned around, and put her hands on her hips.

“Anxious to meet papa?” Jason asked.

“I was having a moment.”

“Was?”

“You lied to me, remember.”

“Serious, what are we doing?”

“Serious, I just followed you here. So just follow me.”

How could he argue?

She wound ten yards one direction then turned around and wound back, making her way up the mountain. The top of the mountain couldn’t have been more than a quarter mile away, but since the only way to get up was to go back and forth, the afternoon disappeared as they walked.

The clouds began to descend lower, hiding both the summer sun, and the tip of the mountain. Every third loop or so Lillian would look back to check on Jason. He started by smiling back at her, then giving her a thumbs up, then just shifting his eyes awkwardly.

As they got closer Jason could feel the clouds as he breathed in. His vision started to close in like a foggy day, and Jason focused on each step.

As they rose above the clouds, Lillian sat at a cliff edge. Jason wasn’t sure it was the peak, but he couldn’t see anything else higher.

Lillian sat down cross-legged and closed her eyes.

Jason laid down and draped his arm down the cliff streaming his fingers in the cloud.

He looked back. Lillian’s eyes were still closed, but her expression had contorted. Anger? Confusion? Her teeth were clenched but her eyebrows were askew. She took a deep breath and put her hands on her head.

She made a face like they make when they have babies on sitcoms.

She made one fist and squeezed it with the other hand and tightened up her whole body.

“Are you okay?”

“There’s something weird about my family.” Lillian wept, “We can only have one kid. We’re all women. No one knows who their dad is. Mom says we come from the clouds, shifting, transforming. But I didn’t believe her. How could I? But Jason, I saw grandma do it. I was a baby. Two maybe. And I saw it. I saw it Jason. Mom was gone, and she turned into a Raven and cawed, flapped around the house. And then she was back, grandma. But how could I believe that, Jason? How could I? It’s not. But. And then you were so sure. And then we were at the mountain. And Mom always said that I’d need to go into the mountain. Into the clouds. So I came Jason. I came up here. I came up for you. I came up because I wanted my mom to be right. I came because I wanted to be special. But all I’m doing is contorting my face, Jason.”

“Come here,” Jason grabbed her by the hand and led her to the edge of the cliff. “Catch me.”

Jason jumped, the cloud rushing by his face. Sitting there would never do it. She needed a reason. And now she had one.

But.

The cloud droplets swept by his face faster than Jason imagined the leisurely poof he would find, but his body throttled to a ground he couldn’t see.

The cloud tore past his face, and suddenly he could see everything. Camp. The centaur filled forest, and the ground less than one-hundred feet beneath him.

Jason curled his legs and covered his face. What was the point? Was there water he could find? A tree he could fall in?

Knives dug into Jason’s skin, clinging but ripping. They pulled him up though he was still dropping. He looked up. A gray medieval bird with checkerboard wings beat against the air.

But his weight seemed to pull the bird down. Each beat of the wings seemed to do less than the last. 

He wanted to scream out in pain. His back. But he couldn’t startle it. Jason tried to look up to see if Lillian was still on the cliff, but he couldn’t see past the clouds.

This had to be her right?

They descended quickly. Jason hit the ground and rolled off. 

The bird rolled over, wings spread, panting.

The bird looked more like his mom at the end of a long day, than any bird he’d seen before.

It’s feather began to melt and reform into skin, then shape into arms.

“You did it!”

“Don’t ever do that again.” Lillian pushed herself up from the ground. “You’re bleeding pretty badly.”

Lillian ripped the sleeves off her shirt and sopped up the blood on Jason’s shirt. She took off her backpack, and put it on Jason to pin the makeshift bandages in place. 

“You forgot your backpack up top.”

Let’s leave it up there. 

It was 9 pm by the time they got back to camp. Jason felt faint, but was still walking. Lillian took him to the med clinic. Brunetta sweeped him into her arms. 

“I’m going to bed,” she left.

Chapter 13: Cryptozoology Service

The next morning, minidoc offered Jason two options. A traditional bandage healing, that would be painful, long, and leave minor scarring. Or the Lapith option. Their lotion would heal the wounds almost immediately, but it would be extremely painful for about 30 minutes, and leave severe scarring.

Jason did not have the time for a slow recovery. Besides back scars would probably look mysterious and edgy one day. 

Brunetta held him while minidoc administered the treatment. He wailed like that bobcat stuck against the wall.

The lotion felt like it was eating away the muscle and then sewing it back in place. But as promised after thirty minutes, the screams went away, and only whimpers remained.

Those may or may not have lasted another thirty minutes. Jason wasn’t saying.

Jason spent the rest of the day moving down his to-do list:

1. Put clothes on again (Always number one)

2. Tell Quentin he was ready to go on his assignment

3. Tell Lillian he was ready to leave

4. Ask Herschel about buying airplane tickets

They were going to take a twin engine plane from Bridgeport to San Francisco, and then a Southwest flight from San Francisco to Dulles.

But before they could do any of that Quentin insisted on sending them off with some fanfare. 

They left the next day.

It was surprisingly nice to leave on an adventure without having to sneak away. They gave him itineraries and expense cards to go with his binders of blueprints. 

As he left he saw Penelope, the woman who had asked to be his ally. He never did go to see her because of the explosion. She just looked at him. Didn’t smile. Didn’t approach him.

Jason did wonder why they were sending him and Lillian off since Lillian refused to tell anyone what had happened on the mountain. Weren’t they worried he was underprepared?

No matter. Jason knew that they were well prepared. Well as prepared as you need to be when you have a shapeshifter on your team. Cynthia, who had given Jason his original briefing, took them to the airport.

They arrived late that night, and proceeded to their hotel. They had been booked rooms three stories apart and in different wings of the hotel. Message received. They had three days before their return trip.

They agreed to meet the next morning at the continental breakfast, before strategizing.

Jason asked the front desk for a meeting room. They spread the maps across the table. 

“Before we can figure out what we’re going to do. I guess we need to know what you can do?”

“What should I try?”

Jason tossed Lillian the ID badge of “Nathan Hill.”

Lillian closed her eyes, dropped her shoulders, sunk in her chair like a puddle, then stood up. A petite girl, with a perfect waist and a fifty-year-old man’s head looked back at Jason.

“How do I look,” she asked with Lillian’s voice. “Eww.”

Jason just shook his head. “Try someone you know.”

Lillian sat back down, closed her eyes, dropped her shoulders, sunk in her chair like a puddle, then stood up.

“Quentin?”

“It worked!” Quentin’s voice too, weird.

“Try someone you know but only from TV.”

Sit. Drop. Puddle. Zendaya?

Lillian held her hand in front of her face. “What do I sound like? Wow. Do you think I can sing?”

She belted out a note. She couldn’t.

“Try something more like an animal.”

She sat down and melted into the eagle. 

“A new one.”

The eagle sat there for a minute. And melted back into Lillian.

“Well hello. You okay?”

“Yeah, but in animal form, I couldn’t transform into something else. It felt more like letting go of the shape, rather than pushing into a new one. I couldn’t concentrate enough to push into the new one.”

“You want to keep trying?”

Lillian nodded, sat, nothing. “I was trying a dog.”

“A cat?” Nothing.

“A pig?” Nothing.

Jason looked around their meeting room. The walls were aggressively beige. The chairs used the same blue fabric as the hospital chairs. This room was so boring. And sitting in the chair in front of him someone was transforming.

“Try a bird again.”

Lillian slumped and melted into a pigeon. 

“Hey little guy.” Jason went to pet her head, but she pecked him.

They learned a few rules in all their experimenting:

1. She can only transform into things she’s seen, or make noises she’s heard.

2. She can turn into people and birds, but nothing else.

3. She can only turn into birds that fly.

4. Yes a chicken can fly.

5. If Jason was thinking hard enough, and he touched Lillian, he could transform her as well.

The CZS was underground of the Interior department offices just to the west of the national mall. They had a public museum available, so Jason and Lillian decided to walk over.

They proceeded to the security guard to get a temporary pass. His woollen hair was graying, but he still had an athletic appearance. Lillian made sure to engage him in a conversation.

They checked out some Native American Art. Details about the national parks. More details about the national parks. And then some more interesting facts about the national parks. Not the best museum.

Jason tried to poke around as much as he could without attracting attention.

The blueprints indicated it was only accessible through the eastside parking garage. But he had to try.

Their next shot was to see if they could somehow meet the actual Nathan Hill. If they could find him, and match it with the ID card they had, they could gain access to nearly any part of the building.

That night, at the hotel’s internet cafe, Jason google Nathan’s name and various iterations of “Department of the Interior staff directory.” He finally found him listed under the Office of Surface Mining. Which to be honest sounded about as real as the Cryptozoology Service.

The next morning, Jason called the office, said he was a school newspaper reporter, and that they had a questions about the process of reclaiming mines to limit the long-term environmental impact.

Jason figured he could probably learn what all of those words meant if he spent the time to look it up, so he didn’t feel bad saying them.

The secretary explained that Nathan was a terrible choice. But Jason persisted until she said they could come down and she’d see what she could do.

Lillian seemed on board with the plan, so they went back down, got passes, and sat on the tan benches in the lobby.

The hallway stretched a good fifty yards in either direction. The only time anyone came into view was when they popped out of one door, just to pop back into the next. 

Nathan couldn’t see him that morning. And after about two hours of sitting, Lillian piped up, “Do you think we could just go get it?”

“Just right now?”

“Who’s going to stop us.”

Lillian pulled out her phone and showed him the photo of the blueprints that she had taken. Good idea.

They could easily walk from where they are into the parking garage without passing a single security checkpoint. 

“But what about getting downstairs?”

“You already have the access pass. It’s not like I have to look like him to be able to swipe that.”

“You don’t think they’ll have iris scanners, or thumb print detectors?”

“I think you’re assuming a lot more people want to break into the CZS than it makes any sense would want to.”

So they stood up and walked away. At first Jason darted his look back and forth looking for anyone coming, but Lillian walked forward naturally. So much so that Jason forgot she didn’t belong. So he decided to adopt the same attitude.

They passed an unusually tall man in a gray suit. Jason nodded curtly, the man responded in kind, and they continued on their way.

A foot or two later Lillian giggled.

The parking garage made Jason feel like he was in a spy movie. The roof low. The oil stains. The midday darkness broken only by the flickering fluorescent lights.

The walked to the lowest level of the garage. At the large “Exit this way only” sign they went the other way. A card reader sat directly on the large red 9 painted on the wall.

Lillian put her hand out for the card, “Shall we?”

“Why don’t you?” Jason nodded.

“The security guard?” Jason agreed. Lillian slumped and melted. He handed her the keycard.

“Should I grab you and tell everyone I’m taking you to the detention block?”

The door slid open a few inches but got stuck, so Jason and Lillian had to grab the concrete opening and drag it open so they could walk in.

So much for high tech.

This part they had memorized.

• Down the hallway

• Left (It was the only way they could go)

• Then they’d pass the first hallway

• Turn down the second

• Fourth door on the left

How would they open the other door? They hadn’t really gotten that far in the planning. Would there even be someone in there working right now? Maybe. 

Inside that office there would be two file cabinets. It would be in the top drawer of the shorter file cabinet, in the folder marked “Central California Centaurs.”

Jason turned left, and out of the first hallway walked Katie. She turned right so didn’t see their faces. But Jason grabbed Lillian by the duty jacket dragged her into the men’s room.

“It smells in here,” Lillian said.

“What now?”

“Let me hummingbird it. See if I can sneak into the office. See if anyone’s there.”

So a sixty-year-old security guard sat on the floor of the men’s room in the secret basement of the department of the interior, and began melting into a hummingbird.

Jason opened up the door, and Lillian fluttered out.

It’d be weird if he was just standing here if someone walked in. Jason headed into one of the stalls to wait, but before he could even get the latch closed he heard pecking at the door, and the unmissable hum.

He opened the door, the glistening bird dropped to the ground and turned into Lillian.

“What happened?”

“I am so hungry.”

“Do we need to get lunch?” Jason asked trying as hard as he could to not say it sarcastically.

“Sorry. I’m fine. I’m not. But I couldn’t even get down the hallway, and I was starving.”

Jason shrugged, “I guess they have pretty small stomachs.”

He waited a beat for her to regain her composure.

“Let’s just do it then.”

Pass the first hallway. Down the second. One door. Two door. Katie.

Jason looked her straight in the eye, and ran.

Just as he passed the door, he reached for it. It opened. He pushed Lillian in. Slammed the door behind him, and turned the lock.

Why was no one in here?

Why wasn’t Lillian pounding down the door?

A large fake cherry wood desk sat in the center of the room. The file cabinets behind.

Jason walked around, and opened the drawer, but it wouldn’t come. He shook it. He could feel it going, but something was stuck.

“It’s not opening,” he turned to Lillian.

She was holding a file folder in her hand, “It was sitting on the table.”

Lillian flipped on a paper shredder in the corner and ran the file through.

The grinding sound satisfied Jason. But this seemed easy. Remarkably easy.

He screwed this plan up, what plan he even had about five dozen ways, and then the door was just unlocked with the file they needed sitting out, so it was no problem that he didn’t ever think that a file cabinet might need a key.

Lillian poked her head out of the hallway, and no one was there. Katie hadn’t come asking question. The office owner wasn’t walking back. Security wasn’t screaming down the corridor.

So they walked out, went to their hotel, and flew back to Bridgeport the next day.

How easy.

Chapter 14: Jason the Centaur Hunter

The night after Jason and Lillian returned, Quentin had planned a formal ceremony to give Jason his first designation.

The usual crowd shuffled in. 

They all waited just a little too long for Quentin.

Finally Quentin pulled Jason to the stage. He had a battle staff.

“Jason, you are the first in your class to complete your assignment. As a reward for completion, I grant you this weapon.”

The crowd cheered politely, except for Indigo who let out a whoop in the back.

“As our students complete their quests, they embed themselves into what it means to be truly Lapith. They taken upon themselves the mantle of our mutual calling. So it is with great pleasure, Jason, that I designate you no longer just Jason the Lapith, but Jason the Centaur Hunter. In destroying the files you have cleared the way for us to do our work this year. You have proven yourself a worthy soldier in our cause.”

The crowd cheered again. 

Jason gripped the rod. He imagined it would be fun to toss back and forth between his hands.

His skin pressed into the crevices of the grain of the wood.

He imagined that one end would pop out into a glowing laser stabber, but he’d have to ask Quentin about that later. It did feel weird standing up and getting all the credit. For one, he didn’t do anything. The entire thing fell into his lap. And two if anyone did anything it was Lillian not him.

She caught him looking at her from the stage and gave him a grin. Her assignment was to prepare the bunker. And no surprise.

Since coming back all anyone could talk about was how their was good intelligence that the centaurs were moving south, and that it almost certainly signalled a planned attack. The northern bunker looked to be a defensive position they could use if the guard towers were not able to contain the attack.

“So please, one and all,” Quentin said, “Welcome him as you have welcomed each other, Jason the centaur hunter.” Indigo’s whooping had caught on, but before the applause could reach a peak, the back door flung open.

A woman in a tan bomber jacket strutted through. Her long red hair slid off her shoulder and over her chest.

“Quentin, you idiot! I did it!” She bellowed.

“Felicia? Someone grab her.”

She presented her wrists with a huff but no argument.

“Sorry for the interruption, everyone, have a great night,” Quentin said.

Jason knew exactly what he was doing next. He hopped off stage, grabbed Lillian by the hand and marched to the med clinic.

Brunetta sat up.

“Again?”

“So they were giving my whole thing,” he showed the staff.

“Congratulations.”

“And just about the time I’m done, a woman, long red hair, and a smile that says, I know something you don’t, but if you’re nice I’ll tell you, barges in. She calls Quentin an idiot. He says her name is Felicia.”

“Felicia Koronis is back?”

“I thought you’d know her.”

“Well I remember her too,” Lillian interrupted.

“So who is she?” Jason asked.

“A Colchian,” Lillian started.

“A who now?”

“Someone who works with one of the other old greek groups. Like Callum or Indigo.”

“She defected.” Brunetta said..

“She’s been living with the centaurs since I was like four or five.”

“There were some rumors she was working undercover.”

“But no one really knew.”

“Officially she was a traitor,” Brunetta said.

“Could she have been responsible for the solar station explosion?”

“Quentin did not sound happy to see her,” Lillian said.

“So what did he do?” Brunetta asked.

“He told the guards to get her, and she surrendered.”

Jason headed off to bed. 

The next day in class, Atlanta confirmed that he was not the only one thinking she may be connected to the explosion.

“I. Interview. Felicia.”

“Is she good. Or no?” Jason asked.

“Good. or Bad. I. Ask.”

Jason tried not to judge her English since apparently she only started learning it a few months ago. But he had no idea what she was saying. But apparently, the team looking to root out the spy was considering it.

During the battle class with the older students, Jason asked Callum.

“Honestly, it’s Simon leading the charge in there. I would not know where to start. But we are learning a lot from him.”

“So what have you found out.”

“I cannot really say what we have discovered. Mostly because I do not know. But she insists that she’s here to help. I think I am going to believe her.”

Indigo made Jason team up with Callum, and after being leveled a few times, Jason had enough. Maybe Indigo was right and with a sparkling new techno-hand he’d be a dazzling fighter. But right now he was just a one-handed boxer getting it handed to him every time he came to class.

Callum tried to apologize on the way back to camp, but what was Jason supposed to say, “No trouble, I’ll happily get embarrassed, it’s not like it’s your fault you’ve been asked to fight a one-handed man.”

The next morning during breakfast, Quentin appeared with Felicia by his side.

“The centaurs have developed a new technology,” he announced.

A slide presentation appeared on the wall getting in the way of the morning view. A figure that looked like the armor horses wore in the middle ages rotated around the screen.

“They call it the Athoritos Armor. But this is a misnomer. It has very limited defensive capabilities. It is made from a brittle, easily destroyed substance.”

This was an unusual way to describe armor, so Jason looked a little closer. Each panel did look like it was almost glass like.

“What makes the Athoritos Armor so unique is that it is hardware run by an algorithm that makes it,” Quentin clicked his presentation pointer, “disappear.”

The crowd oowed even though all he did was make an image disappear from a powerpoint. Although, they probably weren’t oowing at the powerpoint so much as the fact that centaurs could literally be standing in the corner ready to kill them.

“There is no reason to be alarmed. Felicia has the entirety of the computer code that makes this possible. Developing the code took several years, and without it, it would take most of that time to create it again.”

“Sounds like she is on our side,” Jason quipped to Lillian.

Felicia stepped up and took center stage. Her jacket hugged her sides, like it was trying to show her off to the crowd.

“Of course without the hardware element, the code does us very little good either. And building the components of the armor would take much longer for us to than it would take them to rewrite the code. This gives us a window where if we are aggressive we can steal the armor from the centaurs, preventing them from gaining a decisive advantage, and in fact giving ourselves one.”

Quentin came to her side, “Felicia will be building a team to conduct this operation. Everyone will be considered for this team based on the skills they can bring.”

Jason elbowed Lillian.

“I can’t,” she whispered, “I need to start work on the bunker. And frankly you promised you would help me.”

Quentin stepped off stage to let the group return to their meals.

A trip into the centaur base. Do you know what they had at the centaur base? Centaurs with hearts. All Jason needed to do was pin down his uncle, and convince him that they needed to retrieve the heart as part of this trip.

Or better yet, he’d go and do it on his own.

Sure the Centaurs had defeated him easily the first time they met. And the second. But. He was alone those times. Not going in with a team led by obviously competent and swashbuckling Felicia. Now how would he get on that team?

Chapter 15: The Prophecy Production Center

Felicia quickly became a fixture at camp. She ate at every meal, a crowd of admirers floating around her at every turn. 

Jason even overheard Troy telling someone in the kitchen “I’m starting to think we’re going to do it.”

Jason tried to get his head in as she told a story of the centaurs ripping their meat from the bones with their spear like teeth. “I’ve seen them, too, those teeth are crazy,” Jason added, but he was three people deep in the circle, and no one even turned to look at him.

In battle class that morning, Indigo insisted on working with Jason. They had finally begun practicing moves with the first-years. Jason had hoped that with the extra practice in the later class, he’d at least be competent here. But he wasn’t.

Indigo pulled him away from the group, and focused on his feet placement issues. He did okay as long as she was stationary, but once he needed to rotate and maintain the position, everything fell apart. 

“I think I’m going to skip the next class,” Jason told Indigo.

“What for?”

“I’m just tired of being terrible at it.” Jason turned to join Lillian and Paul walking back to camp. (Atlanta enmeshed in her investigation hadn’t been to classes in several days).

“Jason, Jason” Indigo shouted.

He turned around expecting to see her pounding her nose bloody, but she just stood there her head cocked to the side, her mouth opened, and her eyes forward. 

Jason folded his arms across his chest, making sure his left one was in front. “I’m sorry.”

“Go ahead,” she told him, “Come back tomorrow.”

Jason went back to the all-purpose room. No Felicia. He waited for Theo to walk by and began chatting with him as they went downstairs. Theo told Jason that Felicia was using a conference room.

He headed down the hallway to Quentin’s office, but stopped off at the first room.

Felicia leaned over the long table, both hands down, half a dozen maps layered on top of each other spread across the table. This is how he and Lillian would have looked in their little hotel meeting room had either of them been amazingly cool.

“Jason,” she looked up.

“You know me.”

“I know your father, knew your father, quite well.”

“How?”

“He was the Archon when I left, before Quentin took over.”

“When he died you mean?”

“Of course.”

Felicia stayed bent over the table but looked directly at Jason. She ran her tongue across the length of her teeth. She must have been 35, but. No.

“And I’ve heard of you,” she said, “About two years ago.”

Two years ago Jason was about to start seventh grade. He definitely wasn’t involved with the Lapiths, let alone with someone embedded in the centaurs.

“How?”

“Well everyone heard about you two years ago. Most of them just don’t realize it yet. A prophecy came out, it went,” she stood up and looked back into her head, “A half-man shall rule the Lapiths.”

“A half-man?”

She pointed to Jason’s left hand and shrugged.

“The prophecies are nonsense.”

“Maybe, but Quentin doesn’t think so.”

“You lived with them for ten years, huh?”

Felicia nodded, but turned away. Jason had evidently fallen into the trap of the many fawning fanboys that had been following her, and he had lost her attention.

“What can you tell me about my father?” Jason tried instead.

“I’ll almost certainly need you for this expedition Jason. Why don’t you get back to your battle class and hone what I understand are rather impressive skills. Come back tonight, and I can begin to walk you through what I’m considering.”

Jason began the walk back out to battle class, taking as much time as he could to enjoy the idyllic scenery. But he didn’t manage to waste enough time, and was partnered up with Sam when he arrived.

He had the pad, and even still she managed to knock him down.

If he was going to have any chance of getting on Felicia’s team, and going to get the heart something needed to change.

It had been long enough that Jason wondered what was happening with his hand. He went to the med clinic and asked Brunetta if he could chat with minidoc about it.

After a few minutes minidoc called him back.

“Congratulations, I understand you have quite the proficiency in your battle class,” minidoc said, “Nothing like Phoebus, he’s struggling to create this weapon. Although Heath isn’t exactly helping.”

Heath was the technology teacher who was assigned the project with Paul.

They walked into a room Jason had never been in before. On the desk there looked like a hand but it was made out of a neon light similar to most of the buildings, but red, and darker in shade.

“I’ve been trying something new. This technology should work like our buildings do. Those whose implants haven’t been triggered by the laurel crown yet, will see the hand like a realistically rendered rubber hand,” he shoved a photo into Jason’s hand.

He shrugged it was certainly better than the barbie doll hand he had broken.

“What we are working on now,” minidoc looked into the base, Jason leaned down to see, “is building the connections so that it will work seamlessly like any other appendage. I know you’re anxious,” minidoc concluded, “but I’m not sure when it will be finished. Want to see it’s tricks though?”

Minidoc showed Jason some of the new hand’s abilities:

1. It could be reshaped as several different tools: a knife, a screwdriver, a hammer.

2. It could be set to go through solid material and function on the other side

3. It could extend six inches longer.

Jason assumed it could do all the normal things a hand could be expected to do like pick your nose.

Jason touched the hand. It felt like warm glass. 

That night at dinner, Lillian sat next to Jason and knocked him with her whole body, “I need your help tonight. I’m headed out to the bunker to inventory what they have and develop a plan.”

“I can’t, I promised”

Lillian’s face dropped. “You promised what?”

“I’m sorry. I’m meeting with Felicia tonight to discuss the plans for attacking the centaur base. I already told her I’d come.”

“Already told her, huh?”

“You know that if I can get there and find a centaur, I can take its heart and save my mother right?”

“Of course. Yeah. I’ll find someone else.”

Lillian took her food and walked out.

Out the wall he saw her heading north out of Little Aeolus in the direction of the water plant. 

That night Jason met with Felicia, Justice, Owen,and Cynthia as they discussed an attack plan. Quentin and Theo came in at the beginning to explain that with the general southern push, and the increased activity on the border, the centaur base was as vulnerable as it would ever be. 

Jason wanted to go, but despite the persistent rumors to the contrary, he was doing terrible in battle class. And his only “battle” accomplishment was walking down a hallway and opening an unlocked door.

Jason also knew that he would not be able to perform adequately as long as he was missing his hand. And minidoc wasn’t giving him a timeline. So after lunch the next day, Jason jumped on the canals and headed out to one place he had never been before. The Prophecy Production Center.

He had to pass the solar plant. It was still dark and burned out. They clearly had power on, but they had to be operating way under capacity.

The PPC was only a few minutes further.

From the canal you could only see its peak. The building looked like the parthenon, but white. Perfect white. The columns lined up in perfect lines. The eaves were painted an effervescent blue.

But before he saw any of it he heard the whirring.

Jason trotted up the long steps. He felt like he was in a political thriller set on the stairs of Washington D.C. He should have done some tourist stuff while he was there.

The roof soared over his head.

Large computer racks lined the room. Rows of water ran races around the computers and giant fans blew into them.

Giant monitors ran at the end of the cavernous room. Jason thought he could see through them like the all-purpose room, but there were too many windows on the screen to really see anything.

There were a dozen tables lined up through the room, with three workstations each. But only the first few were taken.

Jason nearly arrived to the front when Sonata turned to see him. 

“Jason, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted a prophecy.”

“There’s today,” she pointed to the top corner of the screen.

“The wall creeks as the day breaks,” it read. They had the last thirty running down the side of the board

“I was looking for something a bit more personal.”

“Dennis,” she called.

Owen’s dad appeared from behind a computer stack.

“Jason wants a personal prophecy. Can we help him?”

“It’s not something we normally do,” he said, “What do you need?”

“I want to know if my new hand will be ready in time for Felicia’s expedition?”

“That’s fairly simple. Can you work up the code?” 

“Me? I’d love to take a stab at it,” Sonata said.

Dennis grabbed the young man at the adjoining machine and disappeared again.

“What do you normally do?” Jason asked.

“I’m still the bottom of the food chain here. So I enter all the data. Weather. News. Personality profiles. Intelligence Reports.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize it was so serious.”

“And today we produced something about creaking walls.”

“And breaking days.”

Sonata smiled. “Your request should be fairly straightforward. The algorithm has information about Felicia’s mission, her aptitude and the people preparing with her. It also already has Gus Stathopolous’ information. We could use specifications on the prosthetic. You get me those, and I’ll write up a query request.”

By the time Jason got the specifications from Brunetta, the PPC was almost certainly closed. So he held onto them until the next day.

That morning at breakfast, Lillian sat nibbling her biscuit next to her mom.

Ever since Jason abandoned Lillian to work with Felicia, Daphne had been coming with Lillian for meals. The first time it happened Jason went up to say hi, and Lillian looked at Jason, “I’m sorry, we’re discussing the bunker project.”

So whenever Lillian and Daphne came together, Jason stayed clear. But clearly something was wrong. Jason’s mind was off on getting his own personalized prediction, so he didn’t even notice Indigo stalk across the room to Lillian until he heard the slap, “Don’t you dare.”

Callisto ran across the room, grabbed Indio and dragged her away. But she kept her eye on Lillian as she backed away.

“Are you? Are you okay?” Daphne asked

Lillian blinked.

“I’m going to,” Daphne stood up and walked to the door in the corner, presumably to find Quentin.

“What happened?” Jason asked.

Lillian rolled her eyes with a huff. “Pay attention,” she pointed to the morning’s prophecy.

“Someone who is everyone will displace an outsider.”

What did that have to do with Indigo slapping her? Oh. 

Indigo of course wasn’t a Lapith. She was Ntimbo who came here to be part of the Lapiths. Indigo was an outsider. And if anyone could be everyone it was the person who literally could change what she looked like.

That really was a stretch though. Could that have really gotten Indigo so upset. Anyone could be anyone else with a mask, and it’s not like Indigo was the only outsider here. Still Lillian seemed pretty sure.

It wasn’t until that night that Sonata had the finished prophecy that she brought to Jason, “Prepare to enter the belly of the North.”

If that didn’t mean he’d have his hand in time, he didn’t know what did. 

 

Chapter 16: Uncle Quentin

Jason still couldn’t fight worth anything without his hand. But he knew he needed to get some basics down. He convinced Indigo to help him work with the staff he earned for his Centaur Hunter designation, rather than punches during class, since his new hand would be more like a weapon anyway.

But if Jason was bad at punching with one hand, he was a joke trying to fight with a staff. The only plus side is every time he tried to turn it over he managed to hit someone in class. Just usually not the person he meant to. 

Although when it flew out of his hand and plunked Vanessa on the head, he wondered if on a subconscious level he really did mean to.

Indigo no longer hit Lillian, but she wouldn’t say another kind word to her, and seemed to keep an eye on her throughout all of class time.

By the end of the week, Quentin had begun to announce members of Felicia’s team. The first was Owen. No surprise. He was always the star of battle class, and had even defeated Indigo once or twice.

That night, at the regular time, Jason went downstairs to look over the plans with Felicia. When he opened the door Quentin was speaking with Owen in the corner, and Jason heard him say “Jason in danger.”

So Jason’s first order of business was to ask, “What?”

Felicia jumped from her spot. “I’m sorry Jason. Now that we’ve started an official team roster, we’ll be limiting the planning to those who have been named. I’m sure you’ll make it and I’ll bring you back in then.”

She hurried him out the door. Jason tried to see over her shoulder at Quentin and Owen, but neither would make eye contact with him.

Jason tried to deduce what the sentence could have been.

• I need you to put Jason in danger.

• It’s your job help Jason in danger.

• I want you to protect Jason in danger.

But only one of those sounded like a real sentence, and it wasn’t the one Jason liked. And only one of them would explain why he was rushed out of that room. 

Jason tried to figure out some other configurations of what it could mean. Maybe they were planning their Christmas nativity and wanted to cast him as Jesus. Jason in manger. Maybe they thought he should join the Army Special Ops program. Jason in Ranger. Maybe they thought he would have been a cute couple with Hermione from Harry Potter. Jason and Granger.

But Jason knew only one explained the words he heard, and the actions he saw. The trouble was that one didn’t explain anything that had happened to him over the last two months.

Jason needed to talk to Lillian. He left the all-purpose room, headed for the north canal, but stopped. She would not be happy to see him. Definitely not at the time he had been abandoning her every night. She would not be happy to take her time to deal with another one of Jason’s problems.

He turned around. But the music box. The burger at the restaurant. Taking down that staring waitress. Quentin wanted him here. Why would he want him in danger. Why would he want Owen to put him in danger.

It didn’t make any sense.

He needed to find Penelope. The night after he went out to Justice’s outlook, an odd woman came up to him told him she was his ally, and planned to meet with him. But he never went. And never really cared to.

But Jason needed an ally right now.

What did he know about her? She worked at the water resource plant. But it was too late, no one would be working there now. And Jason wasn’t going to sleep until he saw her. She worked with Daphne. But he couldn’t go tell Daphne for the same reason he couldn’t go tell Lillian. 

Brunetta would know where Penelope lived.

Then the words Quentin had said crushed Jason all over. Could he even trust Brunetta?

Jason couldn’t stop to think about it. He could trust Brunetta to tell him where Penelope lived as long as he had a good excuse. 

He speed-walked into the med clinic. Brunetta turned off her TV and sat up. “What did you break this time?”

Jason laughed, perhaps too enthusiastically. “Oh no, nothing like that. I wanted to throw a party for Lillian.”

Brunetta’s eyes lit up the way adults’ always do when they think they caught you having a crush.

“I was going to do it at her mom’s house, and I know Penelope is a friend of Daphne’s, so I wanted to chat with her about helping me. But I wasn’t sure where she lived.”

Brunetta put out her hand flat and tucked in her pointer and pinky to make a rough map of the Lapith camp. She drew a line to the Northeast a part of camp he hadn’t yet been to, and explained that route Jason would take on the canals.

Jason jogged out of Little Aeolus, and hopped on the canals. He tried to calm himself down. Even if Quentin was a raging lunatic bent on killing him, it’s not like he was going to do it tonight. If he was going to do it in camp, he had plenty of opportunities. He was clearly waiting for something, and that’s in the worst case scenario. So Jason’s heart didn’t have to be running at 19,000 beats per second.

Jason got off at what looked like a cul-de-sac of houses that looked like big versions of the room he had escaped from during his initiation the first night here. He thought he would need to look for the number 12, that Brunetta had told him, but each house proudly displayed it’s number six feet tall on its broad side.

Jason went to the door, he tried knocking but the walls bounced his hand.

“Who’s there?” the door vanished. Penelope was wearing gray sweatpants and an oversized Burger Barn t-shirt. She surveyed the lawn. “Come in.”

Jason stepped in. The interior was a soothing beige color that was flat and didn’t glow at all. Jason didn’t realize how much he missed non-glowing decorations until this moment. There was a pile of laundry in the middle of the floor. The sofa sunk in the middle.

She crossed her arms in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“You said we needed to meet.”

“Over a month ago.”

“It’s been busy at camp.”

“And?”

“And, I overheard Quentin tonight tell Owen he needed to put me in harm’s way when I go with Felicia’s force.”

“I’m glad it took this long. Sit down,” she motioned to the floor.

Jason looked around.

“Fine.” She disappeared around the corner and came out with a chair. 

Jason sunk into it, and it immediately hugged every crevice.

“The reason Quentin asked Owen to put you in harm’s way is because he wants you dead. Just like he killed your father.”

Jason meant to say a word like “What?” or “Why?” or “Say again?” but he mostly just left his mouth hanging open.

“Your father and uncle never agreed about the direction of the Lapiths. Your father wanted to pursue a course of peace. Your uncle wanted to continue the course to violence. It put a strain, but two years ago a prophecy came that a half-man would one day rule the Lapiths. Your dad didn’t give it much credence, but your uncle believed it was a warning against letting the Centaurs, the half-man, get any closer. Your father disappeared. Quentin took the mantle of your father. Only those of us particularly close to your father know what actually happened.”

“So why?” Jason wanted to know why he was here, why she told him, why he wasn’t already dead, but wasn’t sure how to put any of those questions into words.

“I’m surprised you’re here. I thought Quentin would never tell you about the Lapiths. You’re the only other person beside him with a legitimate claim to be the Archon. Well not beside him. You’re the only one. But I guess when you lost your arm he thought you might actually be the half man, no offense, what do I care, take offense if you want. When you showed up to camp I knew the only possible reason was for him to get rid of you.”

“So why hasn’t he done it yet?”

“Are you kidding? How many times have you almost died since you’ve been here? You’re telling me Quentin didn’t have anything to do with any of them?”

He told him to rush into the fire. He all but told him to go after the Centaurs by himself.

“My mom. He told me that I needed a centaur heart to get an elixir to heal my mom. Is that true?”

“Was she around centaurs?”

“They ransacked my house?”

“Why?”

“I had one of their laurel crowns, I guess.”

“You put a laurel crown in your house?”

“No. Quentin did.”

“Well the heart part is true. It’s the only way we’ve made an antidote in the past. If there’s any other way the only other person who would know is Washington. He’s the centaur your father was trying to work with.”

Which is why Washington kept saving him. It’s why he knew his name. 

Jason hopped up. “I owe you my life.”

“Yes you do,” Penelope responded, “Please don’t forget.”

Jason hopped back on the canals to his bunk. Quentin wasn’t trying to kill Jason. He was trying to get him to kill himself. And since he wasn’t managing, he asked Owen to push things along on a dangerous mission far away from camp.

Jason knew he shouldn’t go, but where else would he find a centaur heart? He couldn’t just ask Quentin to have someone else get one, since evidently he was the only reason his mother was dying to begin with.

He’d rather find Washington again. But in their home base was as good a place to look as any. If he was asked, he would go. And Quentin could have no idea that Jason knew.

The next night, Quentin appeared during during, announced that Jason had been assigned to Felicia’s team at the battlefront position because of his excellence in class.

Let’s go.

Chapter 17: Athoritos Armor

The next day Jason returned to their downstairs meetings. He assumed none of them would be foolish enough to threaten his life when they knew he was coming.

And he had to know where the centaurs might play into the plan.

The big frustration during their meeting was that Phoebus (did anyone else know his name was Paul) had not yet finished the new aiming system. Paul had actually been complaining about this to Jason too, because he felt he needed more assistance from his professor Heath.

Jason felt confident Heath also had someone to blame if he was given the opportunity.

But Felicia decided that the weapon was not important enough to delay the mission.

The plan would go as follows:

1. They will take hovercraft to the top of the centaur complex.

2. They will cut an entry point in the roof above the cafeteria kitchen.

3. They will proceed down the back stairwell two stories.

4. The most dangerous part of the mission would be crossing a one hundred yard hallway through the main basement of the facility.

5. They would remove the electronically secure door at the end of the hallway, take those stairs down to the lower level where the Athoritos Armor is stored.

6. They would then come back, run halfway back down that same hallway, go up one story, and break down the rear door, where the hovercraft will meet them.

“And if everything goes just right,” Felicia said, “We won’t even see a centaur.”

They dismissed the meeting. But Jason did not like that final statement. Sure it’d be great for the Lapiths if they could sneak in without any resistance. But Jason was only going for two reasons, to get a centaur heart, and to find Washington.

But despite what Felicia said, those were his reasons. And they might be long shots, but it was the only way Jason knew to save Mom now that he knew Quentin didn’t care.

They planned to leave in three days. Two days later, Jason did not have his hand. He visited minidoc again, but again he told him that the hand was not yet finished, and that if he tried to install it now there would be no way for him to control. 

“It would be like taking a wrench and tying it to your wrist.”

Jason walked back to his bunk. If he really wouldn’t have the hand by tomorrow, why did Sonata’s prophecy say he would?

That morning Justice came into their bunk at dawn. He woke Owen first and together they rose Jason.

They boarded a floating open air bus that skimmed along the surface rather handily, and would have been nice for getting around camp. Not to mention his several excursions up North. Felicia gave the name some kind of long Greek name, but in Jason’s head it was just the hoverbus.

They outfitted Jason with a rifle, even though their battle class had not yet spent a single day on shooting. 

Jason looked awkwardly at Indigo as they handed it to him. She looked back and simply flexed her finger. “That’s all there is to it,” she said.

Jason didn’t believe her.

The forested area, that had taken Jason a half day to reach they reached in just under 30 minutes. The hoverbus rose off the ground and began to skim the treetops.

He could smell the pine and laurel. Maybe he’d find a laurel crown, too. He had given up a lot for that crown. It’d be nice to have one.

When they grew close to the centaur headquarters it immediately reminded Jason of the Department of the Interior. The same gray stone. The same inset windows, square roofs, and angular columns. 

Jason’s usual instinct, if he had a usual instinct for driving in a hoverbus, would have been to stick his head out and gawk at the sight, but considering they could be under enemy fire at any moment, Jason tucked his head leaning it against the chair in front of him.

The hoverbus descended on the north roof. Cynthia took a bright laser sword dropped it into the roof, and let it simmer for a moment before dragging it into a near circle. Justice and Indigo then grabbed a rope, looped it under the cut out roof section and pulled as Cynthia finished the job. 

Owen dropped a roof ladder and they proceeded down. 

The kitchen looked largely similar to what he’d expect to find in any restaurant, except all the counters were at Jason’s chin level.

The cafeteria also featured unusually tall tables, and chairs that only came three inches off the ground.

So far, so nothing. But Jason’s temples were pounding in his head. Logically he should be less nervous than when he came up on his own. He had an entire team of people. No one was planning on seeing any centaurs. Yet, all the accoutrements, the blades, and rifles, and team, reminded Jason with every sight that he was on a very dangerous assignment.

And for a moment Jason wondered if it was his mom’s fault. She could have warned him. She knew what happened to Dad. But she kept him in the dark.

The plan proceeded without consequence down the stairs and along the hallway. But when they reached the door, their tools were having no effect on the most complicated hinges Jason had ever seen.

Felicia dropped into a squat and from her bag pulled two square adhesive patches. Indigo attached them to the door. And then pulled two fist sized explosives.

“Clear,” she announced.

If their intention was to not see any centaurs setting off an explosion in their headquarters seemed like a terrible plan.

Justice and Theodore (Theo’s son who worked in the security towers like Justice) held guard on the rear, and stepped back. The group followed.

Felicia depressed the trigger. One burst. Then a second. The doors blasted off the hinges. The metal splayed into modern art.

Owen and Indigo rushed in and began dragging the door with the most damage out of place. The door gave, and Owen and Indigo splayed backwards.

Drywall and wood splinters covered the floor in the room ahead. Then Jason saw legs slipping in from the ceiling.

He looked around at Felicia, Cynthia, anyone. Those weren’t centaur legs.

Two others ran up from the stairs on the far side of the room They carried an awkward and sparkly pile. The armor. All three wore black khakis and black jackets.

The one who descended from the ceiling pointed a gun at Jason.

“Who are you?” Felicia asked.

Another man dropped from the ceiling. Well not man, really. He didn’t look any older than Jason. In fact. Gregory?

“My name is Gregory Panthea. I represent a delegation of Colchians who have come to retrieve the Athoritos Armor. I intend to leave with the armor, and will rely on violence means if necessary.”

Jason slowly sunk closer to the wall, behind Owen.

“As you can see,” Felicia explained, “You are vastly outnumbered. I do not intend to rely on violence, however, and would be happy to discuss the matter in a less vulnerable position.”

Another soldier dropped from the ceiling, then another, and another.

Jason wasn’t watching to see who, but someone got the idea that it would be better to shoot now before any more came. The bullet missed and dissolved into the far wall.

Jason could see Gregory’s soldiers fingers as they began to pull on the trigger. He reached into his pocket, grabbed the music box and flung it across the hall.

The noise caught Owen’s attention, and Jason used the opportunity to shove him into the path of the firefight and protect himself.

Indigo turned to Jason, her mouth dropped, while dropping fire in front of her.

“What did you?”

“Owen!”

Jason didn’t turn to see who was turning on him. Gregory stepped through the doorway, grabbed Jason by the waist and zipped him up through the ceiling.

“Pursue now,” Indigo yelled behind him.

“Hold,” Felicia said.

“Hold? They’re escaping with the armor,” but pretty soon Jason could no longer hear their voices. 

Chapter 18: Gregory

Gregory’s team loaded him into a flat tank with six wheels on each side as high as the vehicle itself.

They crashed out of the forest

Gregory motioned to one of his soldiers “A12.”

They pulled out a drawer and handed him what looked like a package of gauze. Gregory pulled open the bag, and placed a sticker onto Jason’s forehead.

“What’s” Jason grabbed for the sticker, but passed out before he could reach it.

When Jason came to he could feel the soft mattress cradling his body. He opened his eyes. He was in a bedroom.

A flat big screen TV lined the wall. Shelves of video games lined the room. Next to his bed, there was a minifridge. Jason opened it up and pulled out a rootbeer.

His back felt sore, and he had a dull headache, so Jason guessed he wasn’t dead. Jason stood up. Someone had changed his clothes.

He opened the closet. A large red button rotated the rows of matching clothes. Jason found some flannel PJ bottoms to throw on. And walked out into a massive landing. Bean bags lined a ball pit in the middle.

Across the way Gregory sat at a breakfast bar sipping a drink.

“Jason,” he stood up, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m, great.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. I hope you don’t mind me taking you in. After the incident with your comrade at the centaur facility, I thought coming with me would be in your best interests.”

That’s right. He killed Owen.

“Let me apologize about the first time we met. I didn’t realize who you were. I know your father, of course, but hadn’t put two and two together. I hope my posturing wasn’t taken in the wrong sense.”

“Know?”

“Of course. My sources tell me that you have a budding relationship of your own, so my concern about your intentions with Emily was not warranted. And as long as it stays that way, you are welcome to stay here.”

“Emily? Is she here?”

“I imagine she’s at her home. But that’s only twenty minutes away. I’ll make plans for the three of us to spend time together soon.”

Jason breathed out a few attempts to start a sentence. He wanted to ask “Who are you?” But since he knew his name, where he lived, and who his girlfriend was, it seemed like the wrong choice. But given the hospitality, “Why do you know this?” seemed a bit antagonistic.

“How did you know my father?” Jason settled on.

“I am a Colchian. The Lapiths are far from the only ancient society that has survived. In fact it’s my order that helps maintain the balance between the different organizations. That was my interest in the Athoritos Armor.”

“But you’rer so young.”

“Thank you.”

Gregory went onto explain that the Colchian council, which he participated in, had been encouraging reconciliation between the Lapiths and Centaurs. And that among the Colchian groups, the Lapith’s stance was unique. 

But soon Gregory changed the subject away from the Lapiths to Neural Awakening, one of the video games he had hoped to play this summer. Gregory had already gotten a one handed controller. So the two of them hopped in the ball pit and played all morning.

They ate bacon cheeseburgers for lunch.

Then played all afternoon.

That night Jason nestled into his deep bed and fell into the most peaceful sleep in at least two years.

The next morning, Gregory presented Jason his choice of breakfasts. Waffles, sausage, yogurt.

After breakfast, Jason asked Gregory if they could get out of the house. He tossed Jason a set of keys. He ran downstairs, and in the garage was a glistening Range Rover. Jason just drove.

He only made it down the street since he’d never driven before. But still. He drove.

He burrowed himself back in bed and played Density Glow until he passed out. And then slept until it didn’t feel perfect anymore.

The next day Gregory had Emily over for lunch. She ran to Jason and embraced him. 

“Remember,” Gregory called, “We’re looking for friend zone hugs only, here.”

She asked about his summer, and he mostly lied. 

“Emily,” Gregory called, “Please invite our guest to the table for lunch.”

They headed over. And sat with Gregory and Jason on opposite sides of the table, and Emily at the head. They were eating turkey avocado wraps. 

Gregory peered at Emily. She smiled.

He plonked his hand on the table towards her palm up. She reached over and grabbed it, and he pulled her and the chair close. He kissed her on the cheek.

“How long are you staying here?” Emily asked as she was about to leave.

“I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

“Well I’d invite you to go on another adventure with me, but we know how those end.”

“I’d give up the other hand for an adventure with you,” Jason teased as she walked out the door.

“That would be a truly terrible decision,” Gregory said.

Jason and Gregory played Neural Awakening for a few hours, and then Jason escaped to finish Density Glow by himself. 

Day four Jason woke up and pulled Dragon Rush 5 off the shelf, but after customizing his character he decided it was time to go outside.

Gregory’s backyard Three waterslides, a diving board, a swinging platform that you held onto and swung fifteen feet up. And a jungle gym that was two stories high.

Jason rushed back in and got his swimming suit. Gregory made sure there were plenty of lemonades to make it through the day. They even grilled ribs outside for dinner.

Now that Jason had balanced the inside/outside mix, he wasn’t sure there was a reason to leave until school started again.

But two days later, while Jason was playing ping pong against a remarkably talented robot, a knock came on the door. Gregory got it, and a familiar voice rang out, “I’m looking for Jason.”

Lillian?

He rushed to the door. “Lillian! What are you doing here? Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

“Well you’re r okay, so yeah.”

“Why are you here?”

Gregory excused himself, and Jason took Lillian to the ball pit upstairs. 

Lillian told Jason that Atlanta’s English had improved incredibly. Paul finally finished his aiming tool. And Felicia was going to be made the Lapith Tagoi. Which Jason needed Lillian to explain. A Tagoi was historically a secondary leader. You didn’t need one, and they never came from within the Lapiths. It was usually a friend of the Lapiths. Joining them in as a leader had the effect of bringing your tribes together. And the tradition survived.

But most importantly, Lillian told Jason that since he had been taken away, he’s just about the only thing people are talking about. Quentin made a big deal of publicly forgiving Jason for killing Owen so that he would feel welcome to come back.

“Lillian, I can’t go back. He’s trying to kill me.” 

Jason told Lillian everything Penelope had explained to him. All the times he had put him in a position to try to get him killed. 

“Well no wonder he’s trying so hard to get you back. The centaurs are coming. He probably wants to make them do it.”

Gregory invited Lillian to stay for dinner. And offered her a room to stay as long as she like. 

That night they sat up watching a movie, and when it ended Jason looked at Lillian.

“I don’t know what to do. It’s wonderful here isn’t it.”

“It certainly is easy.”

“Why would I go back? Why would I walk into the hands of a man who has repeatedly tried to kill me?”

“Why would you?”

Jason knew the answer. Save Mom. Revenge Dad. But he couldn’t say it.

“This has been a wild summer, Jason Castellanos, but you’ll do the right thing.”

“I need to go back.”

Jason pushed his arm through the balls, and cupped Lillian’s waist. He closed his eyes and he leaned in. He could feel the crevices of her lips. He could feel her chapstick slip across the lips. She slipped down, and her skin grew silky smooth.

Behind him he could hear a door open. But he held on for a second longer.

“What is happening?” Gregory demanded, “Out this instant!”

“What’s going on? That’s not my voice!” Lillian said.

“Emily?” Jason asked

In front of him stood Emily. Jason jerked away, and Emily melted into Lillian.

“Out!”

“But,” Jason tried, “It’s not.”

“Out!”

Jason grabbed Lillian by the hand and ran down his street, out of the neighborhood, and to the closest grocery store. The assistant manager was able to find them a ride back to Jason’s house. 

He let Lillian use his mom’s room that night. 

The next morning Lillian and Jason made their way to the hospital that Jason had made his home for about two weeks at the beginning of the summer.

They made their way to the ICU, and found Jason’s mom lying unconscious. They had induced a coma when they couldn’t figure out what was going on with her eyes.

“Lillian, meet my mom. Mom, Lillian.”

She reached down and grabbed her hand.

In the lobby, Lillian called for a taxi.

For a moment Jason considered going back to his house to try and rescue Emily. But he would only make Gregory even more mad. Nothing good would come from it.

Jason had plenty of time on the six hour drive to wonder why he didn’t have enough courage to get Emily. Sure he had the “courage” to face down an innocent bobcat. But courage wasn’t stupidity. He seemed to have plenty of the latter. But if he had any of the first he wouldn’t have stayed with Gregory for even one day. What a waste.

Lillian used her mother’s credit card to pay the ludicrous bill, and they hiked their way from the road back to Little Aeolus. 

Chapter 19: Centauromachy

Lillian wasn’t kidding about the buzz for the Tagoi ceremony. A large stage was being constructed outside out of Little Aelous just for the event.

Everyone Jason passed as he marched into town, reached out and touched him. Asked if he was okay. He recognized some of the people. But not all of them.

It was already late when they arrived, so Callisto intervened and took them to their bunks.

The next morning at breakfast, Quentin walked into the all-purpose room.

“Jason has returned to us, like a lost puppy come home. We are so glad you are safe.” The crowd applauded.

Pretty soon the crowd descended on Jason demanding to know the story. Fortunately on their long ride up, Jason and Lillian had fabricated a story of Gregory kidnapping Jason to ensure his safe departure from the centaur base, but happy to give him up when Lillian arrived since he no longer proved useful.

The story caught on immediately, and spread through the camp quickly enough that Jason was able to stop telling it only a day later. 

But the next time he ran into Quentin all he said was, “Kidnapped, huh?”

Jason tried to do lots of observing in the days leading up to the Tagoi ceremony. And there were several developments across camp:

1. The Indigo/Callisto smooching thing had gotten totally out of control. Anytime they weren’t teaching their classes you could find them cuddling with each other somewhere making goo goo eyes.

2. This is with the exception of when Lillian passed by, when Indigo would make “you’re dead to me eyes.” This was probably annoying for Lillian, but at least it provided some variation.

3. According to Herschel, Quentin had announced the wedding through channels sure to get to the centaurs.

4. The centaurs had continued their move south, to the point where their encampments were now visible to the guard towers.

5. Penelope is super mad Jason came back, because “if you owe me a favor for saving your life it doesn’t do any good if you’re not alive.” Admittedly that was a good point.

6. Atlanta’s investigation had proven to be a total dud. There was no sign of who had committed the explosion, even though there was clear evidence it was intentional. But Atlanta could describe this in complete sentences.

Jason spent most of the next two days outfitting the bunker. But the required construction still had at least two weeks before it was ready for use.

The day of the Tagoi ceremony, people in every color and speaking every language began to arrive at camp, and fill up the chairs facing the now completed stage.

Herschel hurried Jason and all the other students into seats near the back. And they waited. Whispers between Sam and Vanessa suggested the ceremony couldn’t start until the sun wasn’t casting any shadows. So noon. 

They had watches, so it seemed easier. But when Dennis Pythia took the stage he realized the reason for the ridiculous wording. 

Seeing Dennis made Jason regret Owen’s death all over again. Owen never actually put Jason in danger. It wasn’t an instinct moment. It was a plan. 

Dennis pulled Felicia and Quentin on the stage.

It was Jason’s right to be up there. He saw the genealogy. The Lapith leaders went father to son. Not father to brother to whoever he wants. And looking at Felicia standing up there in her chest hugging formal gown, he wished it was. He wished she didn’t know what was going on. That Quentin’s plan would shock her, and that he was the one taking the reigns of power with her.

Dennis had them hold hands, and drop colored water into a jug and swirl it around. There were candles. It was all quite high-falutin. 

And then behind him Jason heard a rampaging river. He didn’t need to look back, so he watched as one at a time the heads in the crowd popped around. 

Quentin stepped center stage, “We are under attack,” his voice booming through the crowd, “Take refuge in the village. Jason, our returned hero, lead the attack. Take a heart, for your mother.”

From under the stage, Herschel was handing out weapons. Rifles, battle staffs, even laser shanks.

Jason grabbed a rifle like he had uselessly taken to the centaur base.

Jason put the butt of the rifle into his shoulder and began running. But a man about twice Jason’s height walked into him knocking Jason on the ground. He wore two quivers on his back the leather sashes creating an X across his chest.

Seemed like a terrible place to put a bullseye. His dark brown hair fell across his face in every direction. And in his hand he carried a bow, made of glowing fluorescent blue light. He plucked an arrow, and sent it soaring into the sky into the middle of the incoming centaurs. It landed with an explosion knocking the centaur front line off of its feet.

Behind the giant, another man walked out.

“Jason?”

“Dad?” Jason leapt into his arms. “Dad. You’re. Dad.”

Behind him chest target man send another arrow flying.

“Where have you been?”

“I’ve been trying to convince Xander to come help us. What are you doing here?”

“Quentin infected Mom with centaur dander. I need a heart.”

The first line of Lapiths and Centaurs had met and Jason could hear the grunts like fifty tennis matches all going at the same time.

Quentin hopped off the stage and stalked toward Jason.

“Adam,” he stopped, “I never thought you’d come back.” Quentin pulled from behind him the same laser dagger Cynthia used to cut the roof and cut Dad through.

“No.”

Xander knocked Quentin over, “Run,” he bellowed. He ran headlong into the skirmish. From the right side came a blow to his head. It was a centaur with.

Chapter 20: Mom

Blackness. And. Pain. 

Jason reached out and felt bed. He reached to the other side, more bed. He blinked. 

Where was he? Beige curtains.

The bed he was in was massive in every direction.

“Hello Jason.”

Jason pulled back. Washington stood to the side of his bed.

“I’m glad you’re awake. You’re safe here.”

“You’re in a centaur hospital. After witnessing what your uncle did to your father, I thought you’d be safest here.”

“But the? Why aren’t you killing me?”

“I’m very bad at killing people.”

“I can go?”

“I wouldn’t advise it. But you’re not my prisoner.”

Everything smelled like windex. And constant chirping, like the middle of a robot aviary. 

“Jason, I need your help. Many humans and centaurs died in the battle yesterday. But the centaurs took especially strong losses. The outrage has been immediate and Homadus our long-time leader has been forced to step down. Homadus has always been much more bellicose than I. And enough Centaurs have lost their taste for war that I have the reigns of power. But it is a tenuous power. Many of the centaurs would be outraged to even know you are here.”

“So what do you need me for?”

“Peace, Jason. I need you to take your proper place as the leader of the Lapiths. And together we will have peace. I can’t do it with Quentin. I need an ally.”

The X on the linoleum tile near the bathroom door didn’t line up with the other tiles' X, by a quarter inch. Jason fixated on it.

“I can’t. My mother, she’s sick. Your dander, it’s killing her. I need the heart of a centaur to create an antidote.”

Jason immediately regretted threatening to kill a centaur while currently in a centaur hospital. But fortunately Washington chuckled.

“That is all?”

Jason shrugged, “Yeah? I don’t want to fight you.”

“I will make sure we can heal your mother.”

Washington left Jason in the care of Nicolina. She apologized that their was so little they could do to help him, but she was worried most of their remedies were too powerful and would overwhelm his body. But that all he had was a mild contusion to the head and should be fine.

The next morning Washington returned with a crystal clear vial.

“Jason, this inoculation is very difficult for us to make. We ordinarily use them when a child is born and immediately begins responding negatively to his own body. But it will also heal your mother. We do not share this medicine with outsiders. If anyone knows that I’ve given it to you, anyone, it will create more problems than even you and I can solve.”

Jason walked out of the room, and through the building he had been an armed combatant in just a few weeks before. Some centaurs smiled, but most only glared. 

Down the steps, Katie stood pensively. “Hey buckaroo, let’s get you back home.”

She drove him for six hours straight, and dropped him off straight at the hospital.

Jason ran down the hallway to the ICU, and into her room.

He took the vial and struggled with the cap for a moment. He set it down. The last thing he needed was to spill. When the cap was removed, he carefully opened Mom’s mouth, and dripped it down.

Then he sat. 

Her heart monitor dang slowly and consistent. She was still alive. He made it in time.

Motion. Her eyelids began to flutter. Jason jumped to her side. Her eyes were still gray, but the clouds were visibly clearing.

“Jason.”

A stampede of nurses were not far behind, shoving Jason out of the way to check on their patient suddenly recovering.

He slipped to the side, kissed her on the forehead. “Get well Mom, I’ll be back soon.”

Jason headed back to the parking lot and found Katie. “Could you take me home. I have stump I need to dig out.”