Genre: Horror/Science Fiction
BYOB
By Randy Romero
PART ONE:
TOXICITY
Sasha spent thirty minutes in the
bathroom, applying her purple lipstick and other cosmetics, straightening her
hair, curling her eyelashes.
Riley had walked over from her house
and was waiting downstairs in the kitchen. Sasha’s mom was sleeping off a
hangover, so Riley brewed a fresh pot of coffee and made herself comfortable.
The recently widowed Ms. Corelli
didn’t have to work another day in her life. She inherited her husband’s fortune
after his untimely passing. And so she spent her nights drinking, bar hopping,
and trying to recapture her glory days. And she did her fair share of bed
hopping as well. Half the time, she wasn’t even home when Sasha woke up in the
morning.
When Sasha came downstairs, Riley was sitting at the kitchen
table, using her history textbook as a coaster for her coffee mug. Tina was
also awake and eating a bowl of cereal that Riley had fixed for her.
Tina’s outfit that day was a pink
princess costume, with glittery pink wings that Tina decided to include in her
ensemble. Sasha wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be a princess or a fairy. But
since their mother was rarely around to see Tina off to school, Sasha let her
sister dress herself. And if Tina wanted to dress as a princess or a fairy or a
ballerina, Sasha was fine with how her little sister chose to express herself.
She could’ve dressed up as a pirate or a Leprechaun for all Sasha cared.
“Ready to go?” Riley asked.
“Yup. I just have to drop Tina off
at the bus stop.”
“Ugh, I hate the bus,” Tina groaned.
“The seats are always dirty and sticky. Why can’t mom drive me to school and
pick me up?”
“Well,” Sasha started, making the
words up as she went along. “You see, mommy is actually a super-secret spy for
the government and she goes on top secret missions at night when you’re asleep.
So she needs her rest in the morning.”
“I’m ten years old,” Tina said,
glaring at her sister. “I’m not an idiot.”
Sasha sighed. “Mom loves you, Tina.
She just has a lot of problems. She still means well. Now come on, let’s get
you to school.” Sasha got Tina’s lunch and put it in her backpack. “I made you
a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for after school. It’s in the fridge.”
“What kind of jelly did you use?”
“Relax. I used the grape jelly. I
know you hate strawberry.”
Tina gave her sister a big hug
around the waist. It was as high as Tina could reach at her age. “You’re the
best,” Tina said.
* * *
It was Friday morning and none of
them were fully awake. They all wore looks on their face that said, “Half of me
is still in bed.”
There’s no place like home, Sasha thought,
daydreaming of her warm, cozy bed.
Milton was on his second Redbull and
starting to perk up a bit.
“Did you guys know that 7-UP used to
contain lithium? In fact, it was originally called Bib-Label Lithiated
Lemon-Lime Soda,” Milton shared.
“I’ll file that under LIGF, for Like
I Give a Fuck,” Riley said.
The five of them met in detention,
just like the Breakfast Club. Which is ironic, since most of their classmates
refer to them as the Breakfast Club from Hell.
There was Tucker, the antisocial delinquent. Sasha, the
spoiled rich princess. Noah, the jock. Milton, the nerd. And Riley, the
apathetic weirdo.
Despite their differences, the five
of them were inseparable. Their bond extended beyond the social barriers of
their high school cliques. They didn’t care who judged or ridiculed them. The
five of them had more in common than their classmates could ever imagine.
Noah’s superhuman strength made him
a force to be reckoned with, both on and off the football field.
Tucker could teleport…anywhere in
the world. It saved him a fortune on gas.
Milton could read minds. For years,
he thought he was going crazy, hearing voices. Until he came to realize that
the voices were in everyone else’s heads, not his own.
Riley could conjure fire with the
will of her mind. A rare and unique gift, but a dangerous one. Play with fire
and you inevitably get burned.
And Sasha could move or manipulate
objects without lifting a finger. If she concentrated hard enough, she could
control a person’s thoughts or manipulate their actions.
Take Ms. Federico, her tenth grade
science teacher, for example. Everybody knew she was a dyke, but she still wore
a faux wedding ring to try and fool people.
One day, Ms. Federico took it upon
herself to humiliate Sasha in front of the entire class. And nobody humiliates
the princess and gets away with it.
Before class was dismissed, Ms.
Federico rose from chair and unwillingly walked across the room, to Melanie
Brown’s desk. She had no control over her actions. Sasha was pulling her
strings now.
With the snap of Sasha’s fingers, Ms. Federico was forcing
her tongue down Melanie’s throat. Sasha had never liked Melanie, so she saw
this as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.
Ms. Federico was relieved of her
duties that afternoon. And Melanie Brown still sees a shrink.
They all had their individual
talents and abilities. Naturally, they couldn’t expose these powers to the
world. The government would lock them away in some top secret underground lab
and poke and prod at them twenty-four-seven. The public would fear them. People
always dread the unknown. They fear what they cannot understand.
Tucker and Riley decided to grab a
smoke in the parking lot before the first bell. And even though Sasha, Noah,
and Milton didn’t smoke, they decided to join them outside. It was better than
sitting around in homeroom and waiting for the chain-smoking hall monitor to
call your name.
“Got a light?” Tucker asked Riley
with a cigarette dangling from his lip. She touched the tip of the cigarette
with one finger and it ignited.
“That is so cool,” Tucker said. “I
wish I could light a chick’s cigarette with my finger. It’d be so romantic.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it wouldn’t freak
them out at all,” Riley said, rolling her eyes.
They saw Mr. Grayson, the gym coach,
pull up in his Buick LeSabre. He got out of his car and shot them all a look of
disapproval as he walked inside.
“Something about that guy just rubs
me the wrong way,” Milton said.
“He probably orders well done
steaks,” Tucker said.
“What’s wrong with a well done
steak?” Noah asked.
“Nobody orders a well done steak.
Only psychopaths order well done steaks.”
“My dad orders well done steaks,”
Riley said.
“And your dad helped spawn a basket
case.”
“Don’t call me a basket case,” Riley
snapped.
“Well, to be fair, you are the Ally
Sheedy of our group,” Noah pointed out.
“Then wouldn’t that make me Molly
Ringwald?” Sasha asked. “She hasn’t been relevant in thirty years.”
“Hey, there’s a party tonight,”
Milton interjected.
“Who doesn’t know about that?”
Tucker said.
“Meh,” Riley said, disinterested.
That was just her personality; apathetic, indifferent. But she also had a vile
temper. And with a power like pyro kinesis, it made her a living, breathing
weapon.
Tucker finished his cigarette and stomped
the butt out with one of his boot. “Well, see ya.”
“What, you’re not going to class?”
Noah asked.
“It’s Friday. Who goes to class on Friday? I’m gonna head to
the beverage distributor and pick up some beer for the party. See you guys
tonight.”
* * *
The Liquor Barn was five minutes away. Tucker made it there
in under sixty seconds.
“Hey, Apu,” Tucker said as he
strolled past the register.
“It’s Muhammed, dick,” the clerk
corrected him.
Tucker grabbed an eighteen-pack from
the back and brought it to the register. The cashier didn’t say anything, just
tapped the laminated sign that was posted below the register. The sign that
clearly said, “We DO NOT sell alcohol to minors. You must be 21 or older to
purchase alcohol.”
“Nice sign,” Tucker said. “How much
for the beer?”
“Can I see your ID, please?”
“I left it at home. Just ring me up,
man. I got to pregame before the big party tonight.”
“That’s very nice. I still need to
see your ID.”
“Come on, man. Don’t hassle me. I
didn’t ask to see your green card.”
“That’s it, get out before I call
the police.”
Milton stepped in front of Tucker
and slammed a twelve-pack on the counter. “Sorry about my friend,” Milton
apologized to the clerk. “I’d like to pay for his beer and mine.” Milton
flashed his fake ID, which looked real enough for the clerk not to question it.
“Just get that Neanderthal out of my
store,” he said, accepting Milton’s money and handing him his change.
They grabbed their beer and left in
a hurry.
“Where did you come from?” Tucker
asked.
“I decided to duck out and join
you.”
“Since when do nerds cut class?”
“What can I say? I’m a rare breed of
nerd.”
“And when did you get a fake ID?”
“Oh, about a month or so ago.”
“Jeez, you’re full of surprises
today. Well, let’s start pre-gaming. I’d say let’s take my car, but I don’t
have a car.”
Tucker pulled a bag of Cool Ranch
Doritos from his leather jacket and opened them up. “I didn’t pay for those,”
Milton said.
“I know. I swiped them. Five finger
discount, dude.”
“Can you go one day without breaking
the law?”
“Can you go one day without
lecturing me?”
“I’ll try.”
“Damn, remember when the small bag
of Doritos was just ninety-nine cents?”
“What’s it up to now?”
“A dollar, forty-nine.”
“Well, at least the bag is bigger.”
“Yeah, more room for them to fill
the bag up with air and rob you of chips.”
A lime green Ford Pinto cruised past
the Liquor Barn. A young man wearing a black stocking cap stuck one hand out
the window and made a gun with his thumb and index finger. He fired one
imaginary shot at Tucker and sped off, tires smoking.
“Friend of yours?” Milton asked.
“Quite the opposite. Come on, let’s
go.”
* * *
2:30 PM. Quitting time at the Redfield Chemical Plant for
Hank Albright.
Today was the day. The day Hank
Albright popped the big question.
Hank’s palms were clammy. His hands were trembling. Hank
struggled throughout the day to focus on his daily tasks. The thought of
rejection terrified him. And that thought was beginning to consume him.
What if Lucy says no? Hank wondered. I can’t handle
that kind of rejection.
He spent all morning, all afternoon just staring at the
clock, waiting for 2:30 to arrive. Hank asked his supervisor if he could leave
early that day and surprise Lucy at work. And his supervisor was more than
happy to oblige.
Hank was in such a rush to punch out, he failed to notice the
warning at his console. A chemical leak was imminent.
Years of neglect and decay had
rusted and damaged the pipes of the Redfield Chemical Plant. Some pipes were
damaged beyond repair.
And now a large buildup of pressure was threatening to cause
a catastrophic leak. As Hank Albright jogged through the parking lot, got in
his car, and drove away from the plant, one of the exterior pipes could no
longer withstand the pressure. The pipe cracked, releasing a toxic cloud of
yellow smoke that drifted through the air and headed straight towards the road.
* * *
Fred Masterson was an alcoholic. It
wasn’t hereditary. Fred drank because he drove a school bus for Redfield Middle
School.
Everyone in town knew that Fred was
a lush. But as long as he didn’t drink on the job and endanger the welfare of
the children, nobody cared about Fred’s private life. As far as everyone was
concerned, Fred didn’t even have a private life.
He lived in a small apartment above a
bowling alley. He never married, never had kids. He wasn’t seeing anyone. He
was quiet, unsociable, kept to himself.
Fred had five more stops to make.
Tina Corelli, Jordan Segal, Ryan Urig, Greg Rawden, and Ava Bloom.
Fred came to a red light and
swallowed two aspirin dry, no water. The purple vein in his forehead was
bulging, throbbing intensely. It wasn’t a hangover. It was the sound of the
children all singing off-key.
“Hail to the bus driver, bus driver,
bus driver. Hail to the bus driver, the bus driver man. He drinks and he
cusses. He stinks up the buses. Hail to the bus driver, the bus driver man.”
The light turned green and Fred made
a left onto Oxford Avenue. Tina Corelli’s block was the next stop. Fred drove
two blocks down Oxford before he came to a stop in the middle of the road. A
dense fog had enveloped the area, making it impossible for Fred to see the road
ahead.
But this was unlike any fog that
Fred had ever encountered. It was a thick, yellow smoke that floated through
the air.
“Kids, close your windows,” Fred
instructed them. But the yellow smoke was already seeping in, invading their
tiny lungs. The children coughed, retched, covered their faces with their
shirts or jackets to stop themselves from breathing it in.
Fred opened the door and screamed,
“Everybody off the bus!”
Tina, pale as a ghost, got up from
her seat and rested one hand on Fred’s shoulder. Fred howled in pain. Tina’s yellowed
fingernails dug into his shoulder, but Fred barely felt it. The pain he felt
was internal. An intense burning sensation spread through his body.
Fred was being burned alive…from the inside.
* * *
Sasha drove Riley home after school and helped her pick out
some decent clothes and make her look presentable for the party. She
straightened her jet-black hair for her and applied a little blush to give her
pallid skin a healthy glow. But Riley drew the line when Sasha tried to get her
to put on lipstick and mascara.
“So if you could fuck one of the
guys, who would you fuck?” Riley asked casually, like she was asking Sasha what
her favorite color or flavor of ice cream was.
“Riley!”
“What? We’re alone. They’re not
going to hear us. Milton can’t read our minds from this far away.”
“I know, but…it’s gross to think
about doing it with your friends.”
“God, you’re such a square. You need
to get laid more than I do.”
“Well, hopefully this party will be
the solution to both of our problems.”
“For the record, I’d fuck Milton.”
“Really?
Milton?”
“I’ve got a
thing for nerds. Sue me.”
“The party
starts at six. That still gives us time to grab something to eat.”
“You want to
go back to your place?”
“Ugh, no. I
really don’t want to see my mom, especially if she’s half in the bag. Let’s
just grab something to eat in town.”
“Have you
heard from Noah?”
“No, but I
saw him outside after school. He said he’ll meet us at the party.”
“What about
Milton and Tucker?”
“They both
cut class. Milton text me. Said they’ll meet us there.”
“Milton cut
class?”
“I know. I’m
just as shocked as you are.”
* * *
Four missed calls.
Noah’s mom was going to kill him. He called her back as soon
as he noticed her calls and text messages.
“Where are you?” his mother cried. “Why didn’t you answer
me?”
“Sorry, mom. I accidentally muted my phone. What’s going on?”
“It’s your brother, Jordan…He’s missing.”
“Missing? What do you mean?”
“They found the school bus on Oxford Avenue, a few blocks
from the chemical plant. They found Jordan’s backpack on the bus. But they
didn’t find Jordan or any of the other kids on board. And Fred, the bus
driver…he was…oh, God…Noah, he was burned alive.”
* * *
Tucker and Milton were already
buzzed when they showed up to the party. Milton was a lightweight, and it
didn’t take much for him to get drunk. Tucker had been drinking all day and he wasn’t
throwing in the towel anytime soon. He was ready for a wild, unforgettable, and
possibly regrettable night. His breath reeked of beer, Cool Ranch Doritos, and
bad decisions.
Sasha and Riley arrived a few
minutes later and Sasha helped herself to one of Tucker’s beers.
“Holy crap,” Tucker giggled. “Your
cheeks are glowing. Are you wearing makeup?”
“Just a little bit of blush,” Riley
mumbled.
“Did you score?” Tucker asked Sasha.
“Yeah, I stopped off and bought a
gram from your buddy, Draven. He said he might show up tonight.”
“He’s not my buddy. He thinks I
ripped him off.”
“Did you?”
“Of course I did. But that’s not the
point. He doesn’t have any proof. He just assumes it was me.”
“But it was you.”
“So?”
“Who’s Draven?” Milton asked.
“The guy with the stocking cap we
saw outside of the Liquor Barn.”
“Ah, now it all makes sense.”
Sasha took out a gram from her purse
and grinded the weed up with her fingers. Tucker watched her fingering clumps
of what looked like dirt or dry moss as she packed it into a glass pipe. She
took the first hit.
Tucker immediately recognized the
smell of inexpensive Mexican produce. And by the smell, he could tell Sasha had
neglected to remove the seeds and stems.
He accepted the pipe and lighter
from Sasha. He took two hits and offered the pipe to Milton.
“I’ve never smoked before,” Milton
confessed, like it was some monumental revelation.
“First time for everything,” Tucker
shrugged.
Milton took the pipe and Tucker
showed him how to hold and light it. Milton exhaled just as fast as he inhaled,
coughing up a thick cloud of smoke.
It wasn’t long before the lingering smell of marijuana
attracted several other partygoers who wanted to smoke with them. By then,
Riley had wandered off in search of something stronger than beer. Pot was never
her thing. And if she was going to socialize and have a fun time, she needed
hard liquor.
In the kitchen, she found an unguarded bottle of rum and
poured herself a glass. She mixed it with some coke from the fridge and downed
it in one gulp.
“That’s a lovely shade of black,” Draven said in regards to
her dress. She hadn’t seen him slip in through the backdoor. “Where’s your pal,
Tucker?”
Milton, drunk and high for the first time in his life, was
thinking out loud. “Do you think the citizens of Gotham and Metropolis have
superhero insurance? I mean, think about it. Superman comes crashing through
your wall. Who pays for that shit? I doubt homeowner’s insurance covers the
damage. What do you guys think?”
Sasha was on the verge of cracking up. “I don’t think you
should smoke ever again,” Tucker said. “It was a bad idea.”
Milton was the first to see Draven pushing his way into the
living room. The party was so crowded, all he could see at first was the
stocking cap on top of his head. But as he pushed and shoved his way through
the crowd, Milton could see it was him.
And Milton didn’t need to read Draven’s thoughts to know what
his intentions were. He was there for Tucker.
Sasha’s phone buzzed. She fished
through her purse to find it and saw one new text message from Noah.
“On my way to the party. Need your
help. Jordan and Tina are missing.”
TO BE CONTINUED
