Grey

A single drop of blood gathered at the end of Joelene’s middle finger. It grew to the size of a kidney bean, broke away, and splat on the crackled blue stage. The dot was perfectly round and in the shiny, convex surface, I could see pinpoints from the colored spotlights above.

I had been about to kill Father, Xavid, and myself, but the brutality of what just happened—the palpable snap of bone—made me nauseous and fearful. And as I gazed at Xavid’s body, I felt shaken that his death had been so violent.

Another drop of Joelene’s blood gathered on her fingertip and hit the floor. Now two circles rested a half an inch apart. Her breathing was slowing. I wondered if she had been hit in the mouth for the red on her chin.

“Improvise!” said the director from the side of the stage. “Invent! Do something good.”

One of the Beavers let out a high-pitched yowl like a strange, exotic bird. The crowd cheered. Someone nearby shouted, “Kick ’em all dead!”

More drops had fallen from her hand. Two formed a figure eight. Joelene was watching me. Her expression was at once angry, victorious, and surprised, as though she had been hoping to kill Xavid, but couldn’t believe she had.

“Come on,” she said. She was gazing at me, and as much as I was glad she was alive and out of the dungeon, my Joelene wasn’t a killer. She knew the fighting arts—she had put Mother in a headlock in a half- second—but this wasn’t my thoughtful, gentle advisor. “We’re going.” Her voice was heavier and harder, and I thought of that time I had heard her swearing early that morning.

“Please bear with us,” said the announcer, “we are experiencing technical difficulties. This is not a breach.”

Someone screamed in pain. In the audience I saw a chair fly through the air, hit a man in aluminum pants, and flatten him. A woman in lavender feathers climbed onto one of the tables as if to dance or proclaim something. As she tore off her plumage, someone knocked her down. She fell onto her head.

Above, a prompter screen read: Michael—I have promised my full support for Xavid Xarry and pledge to…

When I turned back to Joelene, the floor beneath her hand was now a puddle of dots. “What is going on?” I asked her.

“Please remain in your seats and refrain from violent conflict,” said the house voice. “We’ll be right back with the exciting conclusion to this year’s show.” The curtains began closing. The crowd booed and hissed.

“God damn fuck!” yelled Father as if he had finally regained his volume.

His words seemed to energize Joelene. She leaped toward me and put her right arm around my neck. “You’re my hostage,” she said quietly. “Play along.”

She wasn’t hurting me, but her grip was rigid like steel. I stood still, afraid that if I tried to pull away, I would explode.

“Do as I say!” Joelene said to Father. “Don’t move or Michael dies.”

A gold crown covered with sparkling blue and orange jewels hit the floor about a foot from me, with a tinny thunk as if it had been dropped from high above. A handful of the gems popped out and scattered like glittering beetles. The thing rolled past Xavid’s pelt-covered body and stopped a foot away.

“Security!” cried Father. “Xavid is down! Get that woman!”

I felt heat on the side of my face. A huge crawling amoeba of yellow flames spread across the curtains. Clouds of black smoke dimmed the lights.

From both sides of the stage, half a dozen people rushed toward us. They wore cobalt leotards with the word security on their chests. Forming a circle, they surrounded us. They all stood in the same crouched-and-ready position like they were from a tennis academy, and their faces were pale, young, and afraid. Beside Father was his freeboot all in black.

“Let my boy go!” said Father, his eyes panicked. “Just let him go!”

“Keep back!” said Joelene as she jerked me toward her. “I can crack his neck in an instant!” As Joelene gestured with her right hand, I could see bite marks in her flesh. She had chewed off her pinky and ring finger to escape the cuff in the dungeon! I thought of Walter’s nose and the ARU.

“Careful,” I told her, afraid she would knock the suit and blow us up.

“Back off you fucking idiots!” shrieked Father at the security people. He grabbed one of them by the collar and whipped him to the ground.

The crowd roared as the fire ate the curtains away and they could see again. High above, flames engulfed several spotlights. One exploded with a shower of white sparks that arced down like the sizzling petals of fireworks.

The prompters now read: Hiro—Xavid is a man of many talents, who we have brought into our family to help us…

 “What are you?” I asked Joelene.

“Corporate assassin.”

Her answer should have shocked me. Maybe I was beyond shock. “You destroyed RiverGroup,” I said, glancing at Xavid’s body.

“Come on, lady,” yelled Father, who had obviously forgotten her name, “let him go and take me!” In his right hand, he held a clear fashion gun. A neon green bullet glowed in the chamber.

It wasn’t until I opened my mouth that I knew what I was going to say. “You had me shot.”

“Not shot,” she corrected, as she maneuvered us toward the front of the stage. “Precise medical explosives.” Glancing about, she said, “Once the fire subsides, we’ll slip into the audience, and exit through the east wing.”

“Why did you hurt me?”

“’Best way to ruin the company,” she began. Then she smiled a bloody smile and I could see bits of muscle and skin between her teeth. “But I promised you, and we’re going to MKG.”

For an instant everything froze. The curtains were mostly burned away. A layer of acidic smoke hung in the air. In it violet, yellow, and red beams swirled from above. Through it I couldn’t make out the channel cameras but knew they were there. On the other side Nora sat in her dressing room. She was watching. I could feel her obsidian eyes on me.

Joelene had done it. In the middle of all of this, my advisor had done exactly what I had wanted. I was going to join MKG and be with Nora.

A huge, black electronic gizmo fell from above and crashed into the stage like a fallen satellite. Joelene yanked me back, as a blast of sparks shot from it. A burnt-plastic smell filled the air. The audience was howling for more blood.

“…Uh… yes,” I said, barely able to speak. “Let’s go to Nora.”

The prompters said: Xavid—and part of my job will be destruction… in order to revive this mighty company…

In the audience, tables and chairs were being overturned. Ultra freaks ran in all directions. Two goo-covered hospitality women were smashing a man over his head with hearing helmets. A couple in polka dots fucked like dogs. A woman cried for them to go faster.

“Forget the dead man.” I heard the director yell. “Read your lines!”

“Give us room!” shouted Joelene. She waved at Father with her bloody hand. “Give us a path out or Michael dies!”

Father fired his gun. A man fell on his back a foot from Joelene and me. He wore a green jacket with holes for his black-painted nipples. Only his right nipple was spurting blood like a water fountain.

“Keep the fucking audience back!” Father yelled at the security people. “Knock ’em off the stage.”

Another audience escapee in a glowing violet suit, a blinking shirt, and a marshmallow wig like Father’s ran at me. “Business fame!” he hollered. One of the security men threw himself onto Fame, and the two of them tumbled down the steps at the front of the stage.

Father said, “Give my son back!”

“We just want out!” said Joelene as she scouted the audience, as if looking for a safe route out.

“Let up,” I told her. I was not going to make it alive in my nitrocellulose suit. She raised her elbow, and I