Secrets, Lies and Dragonflies

Chapter 35

Early Christmas morning, before the sun was up, mom crept into my bedroom with a box wrapped in newspapers. Sitting on the edge of my bed, she rushed me to sit up and open it. I was giving her such a hard time for coming in so early, my grumblings stirred Rob to wake. When he found us, he went berserk. More berserk than normal. There was talk about losing the house and money problems before, but things were different that day. He was always clear that I wasn't his responsibility and my brother was his little pawn. Something snapped in my mother when he yanked the gift from my hands. Just hours later, I was staring at her corpse. I play that day over and over, wishing I would have boarded the plane for Florida with Spencer when she begged me to.

After Spencer and I moved in with Aunt Amy, she insisted I open the gift. Apparently she was with mom when she ordered the embroidered volleyball. It's been tucked away in my closet ever since. How it got in my backpack is baffling.   

Ms. Morris follows us to an open spot just shy of the lifeguard tower.  "Remember, you are gifted in ways unlike the others.  There will be things you will see the others will not and often it can be quite unpleasant."

"What am I looking for?" I ask, lobbing the ball back to Ms. Febronia. 

"Invaders are peculiar.  Hard to describe since not one is the same," Ms. Febronia says, returning my volley. 

"Oh. You've seen one, then?  But I thought only Thyatirans could see them?" I try to tone down the sarcasm.

"Yes, but only after they know a Thyatiran has detected their presence."

"And that's when the Shillelagh swoops in for the capture," Ms. Eunice says.       

"Spencer, you must wonder why you're such a failure at everything you do.  Surfing?  Really?  Sissies can't surf." The one called Shrewdy's thick voice echoes loudly, sounding just like Rob. "These waves are way too huge for a scrawny kid like you.  Beat it before you get yourself hurt, why don't ya."

"Ah, com' on, Shrewdy. Give ththththe little runt a break, why don't cha.  He can't help being pathththhetic,"  Calculous hisses.   "I sssay we let em get buried by the nexsssst wave and sssee what a big shshshhot he thinks he is then.  Lisssten, kid.  When you realize what a pathetic lossser you are, come sssee me.  I'll teach you a thing or two on how to be a real man."

The ocean is flooded with surfers and more are pouring in.  Zeroing in on suspicious movements beyond the little blonde kid, anticipating that I'd find Rob's forehead glistening against the sun, I squint harder at two distorted images hovering close to the boy. My breath escapes me. "I— I can't believe what I'm seeing."

"Keep going, Mackenzie.  You're doing fine," Ms. Febronia says tossing the ball back to Ms. Morris. 

"I see something sitting, side saddled on a surfboard to the left of a boy, who looks like my brother.  And another to the right of him, lying on its board.   And....you're not going to believe this, but their heads are full of....scales.  Like a snake...a really giant snake...or lizard maybe.  Definitely not human.  The one sitting on the board has really short arms and it looks like webbing under them. And, and...I think I just saw a tail come up through the water right behind the one laying on the board.  That's it, I'm going after him."

Ms. Morris grabs my arm. "Whoa.  Wait a minute.  Going in will just put them on notice that they've been spotted. And next time, they'll come back with a vengeance." She looks over at Ms. Febronia, "Blue and white board, Febee.  Next to the little kid on the purple board."  

Ms. Febronia nods. "I see the kid. Hair as white as a marshmallow and pasty pale skin.  You're brother, I take it?"

"Yes," I say.  "I don't know how, but it might be Spencer. To the left of him is that...that...that snake thing. The other is maybe twenty feet to the right of him."

"Got it.  Bald man I'd say in his forties is on the right," Ms. Febronia says.

"Wait. That sounds like Rob.  But it can't be." I stare even harder at the creature close to the boy who looks just like Spencer.

"Who's Rob, Mackenzie?" Ms. Lois asks.

"He was our stepfather. But he's in jail now.  That thing sitting on the board out there actually talks like him. And the way Ms. Febronia described him, looks like him, too.  But the other one keeps calling him Shrewdy." 

Ms. Eunice shrugs. "It could very well be your Rob.  He's likely been re-branded by Accuser." 

"This doesn't make any sense.  He hates kids, hates the beach and definitely hates me and Spencer. What is he doing here?"

Ms. Eunice's face turns sour. "He's doing Accuser's bidding.  Great wealth and position are promised to Invaders who convince Targets to willingly meet with Accuser.  That's why new Invaders always first try to locate projections they can easily slip into, usually belonging to someone they know and can easily manipulate."

"That still doesn't explain the monster makeover, though."

"If that is your stepfather--"  Ms. Lois says.

"--was," I clarify.

"Was your stepfather, then I'm guessing he's with his Escort. Their matching serpent exteriors are a telltale sign," she says.   "It's Accuser's way of rewarding invaders whose protégés want to become Escorts in their own right.  Well decorated Escorts are not your run-of-the-mill Invaders.  They're very dangerous. Never attempt to engage with one alone." 

"Escorts?"

Ms. Febronia holds the ball and draws me in. "Targets are brought by their Escorts to be renamed by Accuser.  If he decides they should be Invaders, too, then both the Escort and newly converted Invader are awarded with powerful cloaking abilities." 

"Like jaws of a gator," Ms. Eunice adds. "Headdress of a canine, horns of buffalo, claws of a sloth, which is nothing to shake a stick at, mind you.  Sometimes, they even get matching cloaks."

"And let me guess. Heads of snakes make the cut, too?"

"You got it," she says. 

"Why would anyone want to become such a disgusting thing?"  

Ms. Febronia motions for us to keep playing and tosses the ball in the air.  "Lots of reasons.  Cloaking abilities make penetrating into other's projections easier.  That very well could be your stepfather.  He's cloaked and can take the form of anyone he chooses, but just happens to be taking on his own persona. That tends to be easiest for new Invaders while learning to use whatever apparatus Accuser rations."

"The other Invader is cloaked as a boy a little older than the Target." Ms. Lois says.  "If the Target is indeed your brother, it is likely the Invader is assuming an appearance of someone important or significant to him." 

"So, basically, you're telling me some sicko named Accuser is out there wanting to meet my brother and he's convinced my ex-stepfather and some other random guy to wear a nasty snake costume?" 

"That about sums it up."  Ms. Eunice says.

Ms. Morris puts her hand on Ms. Feronia's shoulder.  "I think it's time to give Peter an update.  And maybe Phillip's Shillelagh is on the ground now."

"Hey, Sssspencer.  Here comes an eeeasssy one," Calculous hisses.  

"Nah, not for him.  Bet he's gonna chicken out," says Shrewdy.

"I'm not a chicken," the blond kid says, as he starts to paddle hard.  He's too far away for me to be certain, but he sounds just like Spencer. When he gets into position and tries to pop up onto the board, his small frame is swallowed by the massive wave. Pummeled, he disappears for what seems like eternity.  Finally his head appears for a brief second before being buried by another powerful wave.  Parts of him flash in the stormy washing machine as he rolls up into the shore pound.