King of the Mutants Read online

  “This was planned?” I yelled. “What about the stuff in the black bag and the curse?”

  “Honey, it was just colored sawdust and a bunch of mumbo-jumbo. You could say it was our alarm system.” Darling giggled. “We needed to know the exact moment to make our move.”

  Crap, I thought, they really played with our lives.

  Serafine stepped out of the shadows. “Maverick, Freddie, I was hoping you’d be able to take Burt down on your own, using your wits. That didn’t happen. Still, you proved you were fearless. Next time though, we won’t be there to save you.”

  “Save us from what?” I asked.

  “Whatever obstacles you face.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “Maverick, your calling, dear, is getting to New York City and becoming the King of the Mutants.” Serafine’s serious expression told me she wasn’t kidding around. “But before you set off to claim the future that’s rightfully yours, Darling, Mr. White, and Mr. Black will need your help disposing of Burt.”

  King of the Mutants? What? And hold the phone? We were going to become murderers? I didn’t know if I had it in me. “Serafine, I don’t think I want to be an accomplice in this. I mean, I have enough troubles as it is. Killing somebody, well, it’s just not my bag.”

  “No matter how much I hate this Burt guy,” interjected Freddie, “and as much as I’d like to for Maverick’s sake, I couldn’t end his life—”

  Mr. White and Mr. Black burst out laughing.

  Darling put her hands on her hips. “Who said anything about murder? We’re not killing anybody here. We’re just going to tie him to a raft and float him down the river. Most likely, he’ll end up in the Gulf of Mexico. That’s with a little help from some of Serafine’s gators who’ve been itching to take a vacation. Maybe someone will save him? Maybe they won’t? Hey, I lived in Vegas, I know life is a gamble no matter how you slice it.”

  She was right. Sometimes you just need to roll the dice and take a chance. The game was on. With Burt out of my hair, nothing would stop us! I ran over to Burt and grabbed his feet. Freddie tripped after me and grabbed his arms. We dragged his body a couple of feet toward the river.

  “Where to?” I asked.

  “Yep, that’s the direction,” said Darling.

  Burt woke up to find himself bound to a raft, his eyes filled with anger…and terror. I guess I’d be scared too if I was surrounded by alligators and gagged so nobody could hear my screams. Darling instructed us to gather leaves and branches to cover up his stumpy body. All fishermen or locals would see was a floating pile of sticks being carried by five ginormous alligators. Seriously, would anyone really want to find out what was under them? Darling and Serafine’s plan, I had to admit, was brilliant.

  We watched the mound of sticks disappear into darkness.

  “Ready for your big adventure?” asked Serafine.

  I nodded my head no. “Before we take off, can I have a moment with the gators?”

  “Brilliant idea!” said Serafine. “I’ll bet you’ll be more than surprised how much your soul is connected to theirs.”

  “No doubt,” I whispered. “I just need a minute or two.”

  “Take all the time you need, Maverick.”

  Darling nodded and Mr. Black led the group back to Cherry Pie. I stayed behind, staring vacantly in the water. At first, I didn’t know what to do, how to communicate with my brethren, but something took hold of me, and to this day I don’t know what it was. I made a low guttural sound in my throat, so intense it shook my whole body, and they came. While the dull noise resonated in my body, I thought, “Don’t be afraid. I am your brother. Come to me.”

  One of the larger gators, at least twelve-feet long and over seven hundred pounds, swam gracefully up to me. This gigantic reptile placed his head right by my feet and smiled at me with a huge toothy grin. At first, I was going insane with fear, and I couldn’t stop shaking. Smiling or not, I knew the guy could eat me alive in one big mouthed gulp. But when I listened to this gator’s sounds it was like I could hear him saying, “Go ahead, brother, touch my teeth, my body. I know you’re dying to do it. Don’t be frightened.”

  Crazy, right?

  Even more outrageous—I did it.

  I’d never touched something so powerful in my life. I ran my hands down his spine, on his head, across his teeth, on his tongue, right down to his tail. In the swamp, his crew was doing some kind of crazy cheer, hissing and growling. Perhaps, they were saying goodbye or hello, I don’t know. Turns out, I could only focus on one gator at a time.

  I gazed into the eyes of the giant alligator, removed my fake teeth, and smiled. The giant reptile hissed so deeply I could feel it to my core. Without words, the message he sent into my being was: “You are just as powerful as us, Maverick. Good luck on your journey. But if I were you, I’d keep those plastic teeth of yours on until people can accept who and what you are. See you soon, buddy.”

  With that, he twisted into the water and swam off, the remaining gators following his lead.

  I had a deep revelation at that moment. For the first time in my life, I truly loved who I was. I happily snapped my teeth back into my mouth, and walked back to my amigos with a bounce in my step.

  You could have knocked me over with a piece of popcorn when I saw the swag Serafine had waiting for us. First, Mr. Black handed us three canisters of NOS for Cherry Pie. Then Mr. White handed Freddie a pair of Air Jordan sneakers, an iPhone, a pair of jeans, and a cool red t-shirt that said Lucky Mojo with a black cat on it. I got one of those, too. Snaggletooth was given a collar, leash, toothbrush, brush, shampoo, treats, and food. As for me, my big gift was the best of all. Darling handed me a red Fender electric guitar. If I could have done a back flip, I would have. I was beyond stoked.

  I was now a firm believer in Serafine’s visions.

  She knew me, knew us.

  Barely able to control my high-strung emotions, I blubbered like an idiot.

  “Serafine knows you haven’t been given much in life, what troubles you’ve both had,” whispered Darling.

  “But I c-c-can’t accept this,” I said. “It’s t-too expensive.”

  “Well, Maverick, not accepting a gift from Serafine would be the rudest thing you could ever do to a Hoodoo Queen,” said Darling. “You wouldn’t want to upset her? Would you?”

  “No,” I said, wiping the tears from eyes. Have to admit, I was relieved. I really wanted the guitar. I locked my eyes onto Serafine’s. “Thank you. I’ll do you and our kind proud.”

  “That’s all the thanks I need, Maverick.”

  Everybody hugged and kissed and cried and smiled and shook hands. It was the nicest display of emotion I’d ever seen in all my twelve years.

  Once our emotional outburst had subsided, Darling handed us directions to one of her cousin’s houses near Knoxville, Tennessee. “You’ll need somewhere to freshen up. It’s about seven hours from here by regular car, um, hmmm, about five and a half or six with your souped up bike. Drive there tonight and then make your way on to the Big Apple. I MapQuested the directions myself so you’ll avoid all major roads, cops, and you can put that bike of yours full speed ahead with no worries.”

  Serafine grabbed my left hand, Freddie’s right. “Mav, Freddie, at some point in time you will understand just how connected we all are. I’ve just brought us that much closer together. I know there are a lot of things that have transpired you don’t understand, but one thing you can both count on are your instincts. You don’t have to believe in magic or hoodoo, but you do have to have faith in yourselves. Understand?”

  Better than before, I thought. I nodded and Serafine squeezed my hand one more time, and then released it. “Boys, you have a long drive ahead of you,” she said. “Even though I don’t want you to leave, I think it’s best you be on your way.”

  Before we took off, I had to know one thing. I had brushed over the subject before, but something deep in my gu
t told me something really strange was about to happen in my life. “Serafine, what’s this whole King of the Mutants thing all about?”

  Maybe it was the name of a band? That would explain the righteous guitar.

  “You’ll find out soon enough. As I’ve said before, misinterpreting the future could backfire.” She paused for a moment, and then continued. “Guys, I really hate goodbyes. So do Darling, Mr. Black and Mr. White. Let’s just turn around and go our separate ways,” she said. “If you need anything once you get to New York, I’ve programmed Darling’s cell number right on Freddie’s phone. The bill comes to us.” She pointed into the distance. “There’s something else for you boys hidden by that tree over there. Go get it…”

  Freddie and I walked toward a large cypress, looking hesitantly over our shoulders.

  “That’s the right direction,” said Mr. White. “Yep, right over there.”

  When we got to the tree, we crouched down and moved the fallen leaves and dirt away to reveal two sets of hand-carved nunchakus—those sticks martial artists use. We turned to face our new friends to thank them, but they’d disappeared into the darkness.

  I sighed deeply through my nose, not quite ready to leave the swamp, and we walked back to Cherry Pie. While Freddie goofed around with the nunchakus, hitting himself in the head like a moron far too many times, I played around with my new guitar. Even though I didn’t have an amplifier, I knew I could get a beat going.

  Freddie stopped dorking about, sat back, and listened to my groove. “You’re really, really good, Mav.”

  “Thanks. Think I have what it takes? You know, to become famous?”

  “Totally. Being a rock star is in your blood.”

  I nodded with pride, but then my mood changed. I thought about the puke green Speedo Burt made me sport when I performed at the sideshow. The one with the red GATOR BOY embroidered on the butt. Not exactly a rock star. I slumped my shoulders with shame. “My dreams will never come true. Just like my old poster says, I’m an abomination.”

  “No, you’re going to be famous one day. I can feel it.”

  I rolled my eyes. The truth just hurts, no matter how hard you try to justify it. “What for? Being a freak?”

  “We’re all freaks in one way or another,” said Freddie. He gave me a brotherly pat on the back. “And you, my freaky friend, have got serious talent. I just hope I’m around for the crazy ride.”

  Freddie’s attempt at boosting up my confidence worked. Sometimes all it took was having someone on your side. Maybe one day there would come a time when people accepted me for what I was. Freddie seemed to overlook all my issues.

  I sealed the deal with a knuckle-bump. “Dude, after what we’ve been through, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HOW TO GET AROUND MANHATTAN

  Freddie gave me a quick five-minute lesson on handling Cherry Pie and we switched off between sleeping and driving. Which was awesome. Once I knew what I was doing, especially if I counted on the fact I didn’t have the added pressure of killer clowns trying to run me off the road in a torrential downpour, the bike rode like a dream.

  We cruised like outlaws, the drive becoming more outrageous by the second. Hills, forests, creeks, and mountains surrounded us. The road expanded before us, twisting and undulating like a snake. It was a spine-tingling ride. The fresh air cleared my lungs, the smell of pine trees tingled my nose, the road glided beneath us, just a blur. It was my first taste of real freedom—a feeling I’d only halfway experienced on stage when I performed.

  I cut off Cherry Pie’s engine when we reached Darling’s cousin’s house, hopped off the bike, and staggered slowly up to the front door. That’s when I noticed the note.

  Maverick/Freddie,

  Pool house in the back is yours and the door is open. Sorry I wasn’t able to meet you in person, but I had to catch a flight out of town. Hopefully, we’ll meet one day.

  My heart jumped. I raced to the backyard.

  There it was—sparkling in the moonlight like a fantastic dream—the pool. I don’t know what came over me. I suppose it was because of the long journey and the hot weather, but the urge was strong. Careful with my new prized possession, I set my guitar down on a sun lounger. Then I went for it. I threw off my trench coat and my t-shirt, kicked off my shoes, and dove headfirst into the water.

  I sat still at the bottom of the pool, for what must have been at least ten minutes, when a big splash rocked my body. I snapped to attention and looked up. On the surface, Freddie splashed around like a wounded seal. He dove under, swam toward me, and grabbed my arm, dragging me to the shallow end. Snaggletooth ran around the pool in frenzied circles.

  Freddie coughed, his eyes wide. “What are you trying to do, Mav, kill yourself?”

  “No, I’m fine, really,” I insisted. “I could have stayed under for at least twenty more minutes. Really.”

  Freddie took notice of my back. He backed away from me, regarding me with suspicion. I’d forgotten he’d only seen me with my shirt on. To finally get over his fear of me he needed to face it straight on. I grabbed his hand and placed it on my neck. He flinched, but his hand didn’t move.

  “Weird,” he whispered, his face awe-stricken. “You have, like a 3-D spine. It’s so bumpy…and scaly.” He withdrew his hand. “It’s not a scary as I’d thought it would be. Your back is really cool. Have to admit, I’m a little jealous.” Freddie lowered his gaze. “I’m just a dorky nerd. I wish I was as unique as you.”

  “Careful what you wish for,” I said. “It just might come true.”

  Freddie shrugged, but he obviously had something else on his mind. I shot him a look that said spit it out already. He spaced out for a second and stared blankly at the stars. After a moment, he said, “Hey, our dip in the pool woke me up a little. If you’re not tired, do you want to forge on? I really want to get back to my home base.”

  It was the way he said home. It dawned on me. He needed to get back to where he came from in a bad way. He needed his justice, his truth. He was just like me. I could have slept, but I wasn’t going to let my friend down. No way. “Yeah, I can keep going. I’m a bundle of nerves. Let’s hit it.”

  “I’m feeling strong. I’ll take the first shift,” said Freddie. He flexed a chicken-egg sized muscle and laughed. “Oh, by the way, I called up my friend Ashby when you were under water. He said we could crash at his place when we get to the city. That iPhone rocks.”

  “Killer,” I said—even though something didn’t feel quite right when he mentioned his friend’s name. I brushed off the feeling as overtired paranoia. Once again, we knuckle bumped and made our way back to Cherry Pie.

  According to Freddie’s calculations, it would take us about six more hours to reach New York—but with my rotten luck, who knew? After what we’d experienced over the past two days, I had serious doubts about whether we would make it there alive. We rode on and on, only stopping to switch driving, or the occasional bathroom break. We kept our heads down and avoided any potential mishaps. Soon, we were spitting distance from the Big Apple.

  It was close to eleven at night when the New York City skyline sparkled before us—such a righteous sight after our long trip. Hundreds and hundreds of buildings jutted into the air. Humanity! My heart jackhammered as we went through the Holland Tunnel. And then my excitement turned to fear. The city was so big. I didn’t know where to turn, didn’t know what to do. Our cash supply was getting lower every second and we needed to find a place to stay. I pulled over the bike the second I could, sweaty palms gripping the handlebars.

  “What’s eating you?” asked Freddie.

  My eyes blinked rapidly. “Just a little worried about the cash flow situation, and like, where are we going to stay tonight? New York costs mucho money, you know?”

  “Well, I’ve got it covered. Remember? I called my friend Ashby Vanderholt? He’s a really cool guy, like my big brother. Lives on the Upper East Side—ri
ght on the park. He said we could stay with him.”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Trust me. He’s cool.” Freddie was adamant.

  “Fine. We’ll head there,” I said, regretting my suggestion the instant I uttered it. My tail went mental, like ten thousand volts of electricity zapping down my spine. I assumed it had fallen asleep from sitting on it for so long, so I ignored my instincts. I kick-started the bike to life and we made our way to Ashby’s, Freddie pointing out directions along the way.

  Big mistake. Because the second we got to Ashby’s I wanted to turn around.

  A bunch of teenagers loitered outside the building. They all wore the latest and greatest clothes—the kind I’d only seen on the cover of magazines. Private school kids. Rich kids. I felt like pond scum. Reluctantly, I got off the bike and fought the urge to bolt across the street, right into Central Park.

  The humongous building’s facade was constructed completely out of limestone. Incredible gargoyle sculptures eyed us, carved into either side of the entryway. They were so life-like I felt as if one might swoop down, pick me up, and fly me into the sky. Even the sidewalks were polished to perfection.

  I’d never seen such a display of wealth.

  Freddie grabbed my elbow and ushered me into the crowd toward the front door.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t little freaky Freddie Finch, the dead schoolmarm’s son,” said one of the guys, sneering upon our approach. “You haven’t changed since middle school. I don’t even think you’ve grown.” The guy shouldered into Freddie, pushing him to the side. “Oh wait, I see your big mouth has, indeed, gotten bigger. How do you talk with those big lips, trout pout?”

  Freddie’s face crumbled.

  “Oh. My. Gawd. He actually brought another poor kid with him,” said a nasty blond girl wearing too much makeup. She twirled a long string of white pearls around her neck and lifted up her chin. “Nice motorcycle. Steal it from a convict?”

  “I think it’s pretty,” said another girl. She pointed at Cherry Pie with long, glossy fingernails and then pointed at me. “Pretty ugly—just like little Freddie Finch and his freakish friend. Nice trench coat. Do you always wear sunglasses at night?” Her mouth twisted into an ugly smile. “What a loser.”