Date Published: 08-10-2021
Publisher: Cinnabar Moth
Though he doesn’t know it, Marcus Talent is special. Unfortunately for Marcus, he discovers this unexpectedly when he wakes up in an unfamiliar forest, has his prosthetic arm eaten by a horrifying monster, and then wakes up in his own bed, terrified and bleeding.
Marcus’s dad, Deacon, has answers. He heals Marcus’s new injuries, promising to answer all of Marcus’s questions about what happened the next day after school. But when Marcus gets home, he finds his dad missing and a ransom note appears out of a screaming hole in the sky. The only demand: travel again to get him back.
Helped by his human friends, Marcus sets out to find his dad in a world filled with creatures he couldn’t have imagined. Some of them are friendly. Some of them want to murder him. Or each other. They’re not picky. And everyone seems to know of his famous father, who has been hiding a lot more than an entire other world.
Marcus Talent stretched slowly as he woke. He opened his
Marcus looked toward the desk near his bed, loose dark curls
tumbling into his eyes. Impatiently, he shook the hair away. Why hadn’t his
phone gone off?
He sat up, reached to his left to grab the cane leaning against
the wall nearby, and pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. The phone’s black
screen on the desk made it obvious why the alarm hadn’t gone off. He’d tossed
it on the desk last night instead of placing it on its charging pad.
What time was it? His mom hadn’t come to wake him yet, so
hopefully he wasn’t too late; getting ready took him longer than most sixteen-year-old
boys. No time for a shower this morning.
He pulled on a Black Panther t-shirt and grabbed his prosthetic
arm. He’d used one since the accident when he was nine years
old.
These days it only took a minute to put on his myoelectric
prosthesis. He’d forgotten to charge his phone, but at least he’d remembered to
charge his arm; he had a body-powered version but didn’t like wearing its
necessary harness, and it didn’t mimic his hand and skin very well.
Marcus sat to put on the rest of his clothes. Four back surgeries
in the years since the accident had restored some of his ability to bend, but
the pain from doing so was still severe.
He almost tripped on the way down the hall because he was in such
a hurry. Not knowing the time made him anxious. He wanted enough time to enjoy
his breakfast.
“Oh, by the way, Marcus,” his mom said as he entered the kitchen,
“I forgot to grab bacon at the store yesterday, so it’s just pancakes today.”
He looked at the clock. He still had twenty minutes before the bus.
“Ugh,
Mom, bacon is half the reason I look forward to breakfast.”
“I
know, Marcus, and I’m sorry. You’ll have to eat your pancakes without bacon
today.” She set his plate on the table, then reached up and tenderly seized his
face in her strong hands.
Marcus
realized consciously for the first time that he was taller than his mom. He
shared her hazel eyes, brown skin, and black hair, but got his curls from his
dad, and his scars were on his torso rather than on his face. His mom gave his
face another squeeze and kissed him on the cheek before letting him go.
The
missing bacon was a disappointment, but at least his mom made the best pancakes
anywhere. He’d rather eat her fluffy, buttery pancakes any day than go out to a
restaurant. He ate the pancakes slowly, showing her he appreciated them despite
complaining about the bacon.
When the time for the bus was close, Marcus couldn’t find his
science homework. He was positive he’d left it lying on the desk in his room
after finishing it the night before, but he had to abandon it and hurry out the
door to catch the bus, almost late. The driver would wait for him, but only for
so long.
Marcus eased into an open seat halfway back, grimacing in pain. He
dug through his backpack. Maybe he had slipped his science homework into the
bag and then forgotten. The bag was stuffed full of papers, and he tried
pulling them up one at a time to look. When that failed, he set the backpack on
the seat next to him to make the search easier. It tipped over before he could
catch it. Papers slid out of the open bag, some sliding across the floor to the
other side of the bus, some falling to the floor beneath him. Giggles and
muffled chuckles erupted around him as other kids noticed his plight.
His face burning with embarrassment, Marcus squatted carefully in
front of his seat and picked up all the papers he could reach. His back burned
in pain as he reached to grab some from the floor. A couple kids in the seat in front of
him passed back the ones that had slid all the way up there, and a new girl in the seat across from him grabbed the papers from
the aisle and those that had slid further over her way. She had a pretty, round
face with olive skin and long, dark, wavy hair.
“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the papers from her with his left
hand.
“Sure,” the girl said. “It sucks when that happens. You saving all
that stuff for something?”
Marcus laughed. “I was just asking myself that question.”
“I’m Sadie,” she said. “I just moved here.”
“Marcus,” he said. “What an embarrassing way to meet the new
girl.”
“Don’t worry about it. What grade are you in?” She flipped her
hair over her shoulder
and slid into the seat beside him.
“Sophomore.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m a freshman.”
“Oh. So, where did you move here from?”
“Korea,
actually.”
“You’re
not serious.”
“Why
wouldn’t I be? Is my English too good?” she laughed, but he sensed he had hurt
her feelings.
“No,
not at all. I don’t think like that. It just seems like such a long way away
and - aren’t the schools better there?”
She
seemed to relax as she chuckled. “I think they might be, actually, but my dad
is American military and was just reassigned to the base here.”
“Oh,
that makes sense. That has to be kind of difficult – always moving around.”
Sadie
smiled. “It can be. But I find that I meet the most interesting people moving
from place to place. It’s hard to make new friends and then leave them behind
all the time.”
“I
think it would be hard – at least for me. I’ve gone to school here all my life
and the kids are still hard to deal with.” Marcus indicated his cane and his
right arm.
“Can
I ask – what happened? Or is that terrible of me?”
“It’s
fine, don’t worry,” he said. “It was a car accident. My mom was driving me home
from a school program when I was nine, and we were hit by a drunk driver. The
car hit us on my side in the front. My right forearm was crushed. I’ve had four
surgeries on my back, including two fusions. Some of the bones that are fused
in place didn’t give or grow right. It makes it difficult to walk, and hurts
“Oh
my god, I’m so sorry!” Sadie exclaimed. “What about your mom, was she hurt
too?”
“She
was burned on her face and right arm. She’s had to have several skin graft
surgeries.”
“So,
what happened to the drunk driver?”
Marcus
looked down at his hands, squeezing the fingers of his prosthesis with the
fingers of his left hand. “He, um… he died. His airbag didn’t go off and he
wasn’t wearing his seatbelt.”
“I’m
so sorry, Marcus. It sounds awful. How are you doing now?”
He
looked up to see that Sadie was looking him right in the face, not staring at
his prosthesis, or the cane leaning against the seat next to him. She made him
feel better than anyone had, other than his one best friend, for a long time.
“I’m
doing okay. I used a wheelchair for a long time, but I had a lot of physical
therapy, and I can walk now with a cane. If I want to go somewhere that I would
have to walk really long distances, I still have to use the wheelchair. I’m so
used to my arm now it’s not a big deal – other than phantom pain and itching.”
Sadie’s
eyes widened. “What is that?”
Marcus
laughed. “It just means that sometimes I still feel pain or itching in the hand
and part of my arm that isn’t there anymore.”
“What
can you do when that happens? You can’t scratch your parts that aren’t there
anymore!”
“Sometimes
it helps if I rub or scratch the same area on the other side. Sometimes I just
have to distract myself. My back pain is actually much worse than my arm. Even
with all the surgeries, it still hurts all the time. I’m glad I don’t need the
wheelchair all the time now, but sometimes my back hurts so much I wish I had
the chair when I don’t feel like I can walk anymore.”
“You’ve
really had a rough time of things, haven’t you?” Sadie said.
“Please
don’t do that,” Marcus said.
“Do
what?” Sadie sounded confused.
“Don’t
pity me. Everyone who isn’t mean to me treats me with pity.”
“I’d
never do that,” Sadie said. “I’m just saying that life has been rough for you.
It can’t be easy to concentrate on homework and teachers’ lectures and other
students’ babbling when half your mind is feeling pain.”
“I
don’t think anyone has ever explained it like that,” Marcus replied. “But it’s
dead-on how I feel every day. Oh, man, we’re here.” The bus was pulling up to
the two-story brick school building while kids piled out of buses that had
already arrived.
“Hey,
I’m glad I met you,” Sadie said. “Great first friend!”
“Yeah,”
Marcus said as they made their way off the bus. “Maybe I’ll see you at lunch.”
Sadie waved as she ran ahead to join the crowds entering the school.
Marcus waited by his locker for Leopold, his best friend. The two
boys had been close since kindergarten. After the accident, being best friends with the blond,
blue-eyed boy with the easy laugh had definitely made life a little easier for
Marcus. Leopold had visited every day while Marcus recuperated, even when
Marcus didn’t want to see him. During the first difficult days back at school,
Leopold had been by his side. Leopold was often the loud center of attention
against Marcus’s quieter personality. That didn’t matter. They were best
friends no matter what their differences were.
When Leopold
hadn’t shown up after fifteen minutes
Throughout the morning, Marcus looked for Leopold. Leopold wasn’t in third period
English, the only class they had together.
Lunch was Italian Dunkers, a fancy name for dry breadsticks and
tasteless tomato sauce. It was the lunch Marcus disliked the most. Usually, he’d complain to Leopold
about how horrible it was to expect kids to eat unhealthy bread and tomato
sauce for lunch, but today he stood silently in line, sliding his tray along to
accept his food. Once he was through the line, he turned toward the tables,
tucked his cane under his right arm and carried the tray with his left hand.
Walking without his cane was difficult and painful, but sometimes necessary.
Marcus had become used to having Leopold there
to carry things for him. He put the tray down and worked his way into the
chair. Leaning his cane against the table, he looked around for Sadie but
didn’t see her. She must have ended up with the second lunch period. He’d be
sitting alone today, which was his usual situation without Leopold since the
other kids at school avoided him, if they weren’t making fun of him.
The
breadsticks were even drier than usual, and the tomato sauce even more bland.
After forcing them down with some milk, Marcus got up to leave the cafeteria.
As
he was heading to drop his tray off, he saw Sadie with some other freshmen walk
in the door just ahead of him. At that exact moment Jamie and Thomas, two of
the popular kids in his grade, walked past. Marcus was hanging back waiting for
Sadie to leave the cafeteria. He was a little embarrassed about the food he
hadn’t eaten.
One
of the boys in his grade knocked the tray from Marcus’s hands, spraying tomato
sauce across the floor and Marcus’s jeans and shoes.
Sadie
noticed. Marcus was left staring down at the mess in
embarrassment, knowing he couldn’t even clean it up.
One of the cafeteria
workers attempted to wipe as much sauce as she could
from his clothes and shoes, and Sadie walked over. She picked up the tray and
returned it, then followed him when he left the cafeteria.
“Does that happen a lot?” she asked.
“Not really. I’m guessing today just looked like a good
opportunity to them because Leopold isn’t here, and they felt like they had an
audience.”
“Leopold?”
“My best friend. Usually, we eat together at lunch. Leopold’s pretty loud, and he’s not afraid of
taking on anyone – not that he fights physically, or anything.”
Sadie laughed. Marcus realized he was becoming used to the sound
of that laugh, which wasn’t a regular thing for him, outside of his friendship
with Leopold. He liked it.
“You should go back and eat, though. I’m just going to grab my
books and head to my next class. It’ll take me a while,” Marcus said.
“Are you sure?” Sadie asked. “I can stay with you.”
“No, I’ll be fine. You go ahead.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. I am hungry,” she said.
“Thanks for your help back there,” Marcus said. “I really
appreciate it. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Back atcha,” she said, pointing at him as she dashed away down
the hall.
The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Hunger made it hard to
concentrate. His science teacher didn’t care that he had really done his
homework, and there was a pop quiz in math that Marcus got a D on.
At last, it was time to go home. Marcus took a seat on the bus
with relief and stared out the window. Someone sat down beside him. He turned to find Sadie there.
“Hi!”
she said. “What a day, huh?”
“Tell
me about it. At least it’s over. Although it wasn’t all bad,” he stammered
quickly, so she wouldn’t think he regretted meeting her.
“Did
you ever sort out that mess in your backpack?”
Marcus
laughed. “Yeah, actually I did. I don’t know why I had all that stuff in there,
it was almost all garbage. Just a book and some homework in there now,” he
said, patting the bag beside him.
They
talked. She told him about her friends in Korea and taught him a few words of
Korean. He marveled at the sound of her laugh and the way her eyes lit up as
she talked. Why had it taken someone coming from all the way across the world
for him to finally feel seen?
When the bus slowed at his stop, he felt glum.
“Do
you have your phone?” Sadie asked. “I can give you my number.”
“I
don’t have it today, I forgot to charge it last night.”
“Give
me your number, and I’ll just put in my phone.”
Marcus
rattled off his number quickly as she stood to let him out. He grabbed his
cane, shifted his backpack onto his back, and said, “Bye. I’ll see you tomorrow
morning.”
“Definitely.”
Marcus
hoped the good end to his school day meant he would find something positive waiting
for him inside.
His mom came out of the kitchen to meet him, wearing an apron over
a t-shirt and jeans. At first, he was hopeful this meant she was preparing a
wonderful dinner to
fill up on after his long, hungry day.
“Hi, son. Get your homework done before supper, because Derek and
Gina are coming over.”
Marcus was filled with dread. Derek was his uncle, and Gina was Derek’s new
girlfriend. While Marcus was always
happy to see his uncle, Derek’s favorite food was
liver and onions, and Marcus’s mom often cooked it when he visited.
“Please tell me we aren’t having – “
“Sorry Marcus, I love to make my baby brother’s favorite supper,
you know that.” She tried to sound sorry, but it was clear from the slight
smile on her face that she didn’t really feel that bad.
“Probably should have seen it coming,” Marcus muttered to himself
as he walked down the hall to his room. It seemed so much worse since he was
hungry from not eating much at lunch.
“Hey mom!” Marcus called down the hall. “How about a snack?”
“No, I don’t want you to ruin your supper!” she called back.
Marcus collapsed onto his bed. If he told her he was hungry
because he hadn’t eaten lunch, he’d just get a lecture about not eating lunch.
This day just wouldn’t end. If only he could just go to sleep and be done with
it.
He peeled himself off his bed and grabbed his backpack to do his
homework.
“Argh!” he yelled. What else could go wrong? The cut wasn’t
bleeding a lot but hurt as much as a bee sting.
He texted back. Me too.
See you on the bus!
He sent a smiley emoji, saved her number in his contacts, and
turned back to his homework.
His math homework was long but not difficult. He had
just finished when his mom called him for supper.
As
he made his way down the hall, Marcus heard the happy sound of his father’s
booming voice. His parents, his uncle Derek, and Gina were sitting at the kitchen table
waiting for him. His father, Deacon, was sitting in his usual place at the end
of the table saying something to Derek, who was
laughing hard. Marcus’s uncle looked just like
his mom. His girlfriend, Gina, had wild curly blonde hair, white skin, and startlingly golden eyes. In
fact, Marcus noticed as he sat down, those golden eyes were looking at him
right now. She winked at him, then looked away. Weird, thought Marcus.
Marcus’s father was a big man, taking up most of the end of the
table. He was still dressed in his work clothes: a blue dress shirt with blue
and silver patterned tie, which had been loosened and his top button undone.
His skin was very pale but covered in red freckles. His light blue eyes stood
out in his colorful face. Marcus loved his dad but was glad he hadn’t
gotten the man’s freckles.
His mom stood up and kissed his dad on the cheek, laughing. She
wiped a little lipstick off his face where it had smeared. She put the platter
of liver on the table and sat down. “Dig in, everyone!” she said.
“Kate, this looks and smells amazing,” Gina said, using her fork
to slide a piece of liver onto her plate.
“Yes, it does,” added Derek. “My big sis is the only one who can
cook it the same way that Mom did.”
“So,
Gina, what do you do?” Marcus’s mom asked as she held out the plate of liver to
him with a pointed look. He groaned and took the smallest piece he could find,
avoiding any of the onions.
“I
work in fashion photography, but I’m hoping to become a designer someday,” Gina
answered. She was looking at Marcus while she answered the question. What the
heck? He looked over at his mom to
see if she noticed, but she was grabbing the vegetable bowl and passing it his
way.
To his dismay, not only were they having liver and onions, but his
mom had cooked green beans, the vegetable he hated the most. He scooped as
little as he thought he could get away with onto his plate and passed the bowl
to Gina. She took it, grabbing
his hand along with the bowl. He pulled his hand away, wondering what she was
doing.
Once
she had served herself, she turned and started chatting with his mom.
“Can I get the ketchup?” Marcus asked.
“Yes, Marcus, you can make your liver taste terrible by putting
ketchup on it,” his dad chuckled. Then he turned to Derek again and asked
something about Derek’s job. Derek was a freelance journalist, and Marcus knew his dad was
fascinated by the stories Derek got to track down. His uncle had even been
embedded with soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Marcus got the ketchup from the refrigerator and squeezed it onto
the liver on his plate until all he could see was a ketchup covered lump.
Then he ate the green beans first, because as bad as they tasted warm,
they tasted far worse cold. He knew his parents would make him eat them before
he would be allowed to leave the table. After each mouthful, he quickly took a
drink of milk to help swallow it. A couple of times, as he raised his glass to his mouth, he
saw Gina looking at him.
Finally, he turned his attention to the dreaded liver. He had put
enough ketchup on it that mostly he tasted ketchup with each bite, but it was
still hard to chew and swallow. It was challenging for him to cut the meat
one-handed, but he had gotten proficient at it with his parents’ insistence.
Still, it slowed him down enough that with the addition of the ketchup, his
liver had turned cold before he was done eating it. By the time he was
finished, he felt like he had just fought an epic battle like something out of Lord of the Rings.
His
parents, Derek, and Gina were talking and laughing,
but Marcus was so tired after his long day that he didn’t even feel like being
part of the conversation, which he hadn’t heard while focusing on eating. He
also wanted to get away from Gina and her weird behavior.
“Can I be excused?” Marcus asked.
“Of course,” his father said, but gave Marcus a funny look.
When he was in his room, Marcus changed into his shorts and
t-shirt. He lay on his bed on his belly and sighed. He didn’t feel like messing
around on his computer, playing any video games, or anything.
His dad knocked on the door. “Can I come in, Son?”
“Sure, Dad.” His dad came in and sat on the edge of Marcus’s bed.
“What’s going on? I can tell something’s bothering you.”
Marcus turned his head so the upper half of his face was covered
by his pillow. “Nothing’s really wrong. I’ve just had a long day,” he said, his
voice somewhat muffled by the comforter.
He felt his dad
put a hand on his back. “Let’s talk about
that. What kinds of things have happened to you today?”
His father’s hand felt warm and heavy, or
maybe it was just the weight of the day.
“Just
- one of those days where things kept going wrong. Like, my alarm didn’t go off
this morning, so I was running late. I dumped my backpack all over the floor on
the bus, so this new girl ended up helping me pick up papers that scattered
everywhere.”
“Whoa,
hold up. New girl? That doesn’t sound like such bad luck to me,” Marcus’s dad
chuckled.
“Well,
you know, I guess that wasn’t the bad part of it. Sadie’s really nice.” Marcus
rolled over and looked up at his dad, the grin on his face making him feel a
little foolish.
“Oh,
Sadie,” Deacon said. “Is that her
name?”
Marcus
felt his face getting hot. “C’mon, Dad…”
“I’m
glad your whole day wasn’t terrible, Marcus. “
Marcus felt a little better. He was also very tired. He sat up and
gave his dad a big hug.
Deacon
hugged him back, then held his son’s chin. “Lord, but you look like your
mother. Getting so tall, too.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Marcus said. “I’m so tired. I know it’s early, but I
think I’m going to get some sleep.”
“That’s a good idea, but you do still have to brush your teeth
first!” His dad laughed as he walked out of Marcus’s bedroom.
By the time Marcus got back from his bathroom, he could hardly
keep his eyes open. He slid between his sheets and curled up with his pillow.
In seconds, he was asleep.
About the Author
Cynthia was born in Richmond, Virginia in 1972. She spent her early adulthood raising two sons with her husband and then, after returning to college, enjoyed a fulfilling career as a Respiratory Therapist and a Respiratory Supervisor. This included several years of volunteer work on the Wisconsin state respiratory board, which concluded with a term as the President of the board.
She started writing in her forties, after the diagnosis of a low-grade cancerous brain tumor forced her to stop working outside of her home. Cynthia has also lived with disability throughout her adult life, as advancing degenerative disk disease and multiple surgeries have caused her to live with chronic pain and made it difficult for her to remain involved in activities outside of her home.
She and her husband recently moved to Oregon to be closer to her oldest son and his family, including her beloved grandson, whose toddler years are adding a lot of delight to her life! Her two German Shorthairs are also a big part of her family, as dogs always have been.
Contact Links
Twitter: @mccindy72
Publisher Links
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