Hard Luck Hank Screw the Galaxy(28)

After an hour there, Garm and her men walked up to me.

“Let’s go,” she said, her eyes still scanning. “Nothing’s happening here.”

In the car we talked. I had put off food for as long as I could, I think partially because I didn’t want another story to be about me eating. But I was really hungry and stuffed my face as we drove.

“See, you’re doing it again,” Garm chided, unbuckling her equipment.

“What?” I answered, irritated. “I just stood outside for seven hours tensed and ready for a Dredel Led to come kill me.”

“It was closer to four hours and you sat half the time,” she countered.

I ate in silence.

“It might have known it was a trap. It might be laying low because its partner was destroyed. We have to think how we’re going to flush it out,” Garm said.

“If it’s after me, what more can I do? Walk out there blindfolded?”

“We’ll try again tomorrow. This time we’ll stay ten blocks away from you.”

“Make sure you use guys with good aim. I’m going to be pissed if you shoot me.”



Later, I exited my bathroom and my tele was sounding. It was Jyen and she wanted me to come over. She sounded worried, but she always sounded worried. Or giddy.

I took my time, poured myself a drink that I only sipped, cleaned the trash from my living room and moved it into the kitchen, and basically did everything I could to put off visiting electric Jyen and her loopy brother.

I buzzed their door, and once open, Jyen motioned me inside.

There was still no furniture. The pile of drugs was gone, or at least relocated. The small bit of clothes and belongings were stacked neatly along one wall, and her brother Jyonal was slouched un-neatly against another wall.

Jyen locked the door behind me. She had dropped her traditional-style clothes and had on a slinky little getup that was pure Belvaille. I’d never gone clothes shopping here for women, but I had to imagine the selection was categorized along the lines of waitress, bartender, hooker, dancer. And Garm. But she had her own clothes.

Jyen looked good though.

“Hank, thank you for coming. I want to ask you seriously if we can trust you,” she said.

I shrugged.

This was apparently not the answer she was looking for and she was crestfallen.

“What? I mean I bought you guys some drugs and you shot me with lightning. That’s about as deep as our connection goes.”

Jyen pondered this intently as her brother slid to the floor with a plop.

“Jyonal and I crossed twenty-six states to get to Belvaille,” she began.

“Why?”

“To meet you. A level-ten mutant living what seemed to be a normal life.”

“I’ve explained that I’m not a level-ten mutant.”

“Yes, I know. But when Garm said there were no other level tens because they had died, she was wrong.” Jyen’s eyes were staring straight into mine. I could tell she wanted me to ask her to continue. Push the story along.

But I was completely happy to not do so. I knew. I was certain this story was going to suck—at least for me. I looked at my shoes. How did I get the tread worn out differently on each one? Maybe one leg is shorter than the other?

Jyen had just blue, blue eyes. Her skin was nothing compared to her eyes, which were like crystals. I sighed.

“So. Level tens, huh?”

“Yes,” she seized. “My brother!”

My brow furrowed and I looked at Jyonal. I was pretty certain he had no idea where he was. The idea that anyone was a level ten was pretty far-fetched. The idea that they were on Belvaille was even more so. The idea that one was embodied in the blob of organic matter that was Jyonal was almost too insulting to bother thinking about.

Yet. This was a gal who had known Garm did in fact classify me as a level ten and who was a mutant herself of no small ability.

“And…,” I began slowly. “What’s he do?”

“Anything.”

“Like,” and my head bobbed around a bit searching for words, “what specifically?”

“Anything.”

“Yeah, you said that. But what’s his mutation allow him to do that is out of the ordinary?”

I was again at a different junction than Jyen, which seemed to happen whenever we spoke. I was assuming she was being defensive about her brother, saying in short, “despite his vegetable-like nature, he is capable of being a productive Colmarian.”

“He can do anything, that’s his mutation,” she said emphatically.

“So he can arc electricity like you?” I asked.

Jyen thought about this.

“You said he can do anything,” I jabbed like a prosecutor, while motioning to the drooling demigod in question.