Sort of Dead

47 - Stones Are Bombs And Lizard-Heads Are Fast?

Dreams. Such a funny sensation, knowing that they only last while you’re asleep.

I wake up from a dream about playing catch with Mum while Dad was grilling sandwiches or something to the sound of importunate water and yelling noises. And a barking dog. And a singing spirit.

Oh, and also, a big splash of filthy water laps right onto my face.

Not a good alarm, if you ask me.

I look over the portside of the boat to see unnaturally fast lizard-kids – exactly how Es had described them – following us on the land on our left. Their body is human, naked. Their heads are . . . textured. Lizard-y. Their feet are paddles. Or something like that, I can’t get a clear look.

And they have fangs. Razor-sharp, deadly fangs.

So that’s Es's idea of cute and sweet? I’m enthralled now that I know that. She might just marry a scorpion spirit or something one day. I sure hope not. She deserves a lot better.

But these lizard-heads – they’re fast. Have I mentioned that or have I mentioned that?

(They remind me of Mrs. Lizard Thinny the Librarian. You remember her, right? Yeah, you remember.)

Aar steps on my foot. ‘Ow!’ I wince. Trust me or not, in that moment, this little foot-stepping was more painful than dying.

He ignores me. Shouts: 'Es! Could you be any slower?’

Aar, The Guru of Brutally Honest Sassiness, ladies and gentlemen.

‘I’m going fast as I can,' Es sings (hisses). ‘I’m going fast as I can, fast as I can, faaaast as I caaaaa - '

‘Hate to break it to you, Es,' I say, my systems finally up, 'but this isn’t a duet battle.’

'How has singing ever harmed anyone?’ Es says, even as she tries to focus and her spirit-force propels the boat faster.

‘Well, your singing definitely got me half-deaf at night, girl,' Mr. Om says. Oh, I’d almost forgotten he was here too. Sigh. ‘Praise Satan, our lives are in the hands of this girl now.’

Her three-fourth transparent hands, my brain thinks. Blame my brain, not me.

Aar draws a breath. ‘We’re all gonna die, Mar. We're all gonna die, Bee.’ He produces the rotten-heart-stone from his pocket. ‘We’re all gonna die, little rock.’

And he chucks the stone over to the land, where the lizard-heads are chasing us relentlessly.

As soon as the stone makes contact, there’s an explosion. And I don’t mean a tiny cracker-explosion; I mean a literal, bomb-scale explosion. We are all nearly blinded by it, and our ears deafened. They ring; a mad screeching fills my cochlea. The blast radius doesn’t include our boat, thankfully, owing to the width of the lake, but the lizard-heads have gotten caught up in the fulmination.

I am most obviously in shock.

Es accelerates the boat. We’re probably safe now.

Probably.

I turn to Aar, ears still ringing. ‘You’ve been carrying that thing in your pocket this whole time?! We even played catch with it!’

He shrugs casually, but his face is ashen. ‘Different place, different rules. How was I supposed to know the bloody stone is a bomb? All I know is-' he pauses here dramatically, placing his hand on my shoulder '-I just saved your life, pal.’

‘By chance,' I say, shaking Aar's hand off my shoulder even as Es resumes her songs. 

It might be fatal, but it's also fun to undergo life-and-death situations with your friends.