Worlds War One

v [Quest]

The hanger was unlike anything Quest had ever seen. It was more Batcave than a military base. Technology beyond his experience glowed along one wall like a display of widescreen televisions at Best Buy. For a twenty-five-year-old man who'd been born with a smartphone in his hand and had been able to work a PlayStation controller before he was potty trained, to be impressed by computers was no small feat. He stared at the lights like someone who had been raised on a farm walking up the Strip in Las Vegas for the first time. The bright panels on the hanger walls weren't televisions at all—Ms. Laghari pressed a button on a mobile device in her hand and the screens transmitted incandescent holograms that filled up the massive room. The scene was a recreation of a life-size section of an outdoor promenade. Among vendor carts selling fresh fruit and stands covered in cheap souvenirs stood a translucent representation of a typical tourist. This particular holographic specimen featured a fanny pack, selfie stick, Fitbit, a camelback, a hoodie tied around his waist, and a hat featuring the American flag. The hologram modeled Senado Square in Macau, China. Quest was witnessing a re-creation of the scene of the crime.

Autumn Loloma stood in the middle of the recreated scene—this was where her sister had disappeared in Macau. Ms. Loloma examined surroundings so perfect she might've been transported to that time place. But this wasn't real. The computer-generated a story of what might have happened, no truer than the Kennedy conspiracy or rumors of the Loch Ness monster. But then again, what was true now was not the same as when Quest had woken up this morning.

His fathers told him that the truth can be different for different people. Growing up in Avondale, Arizona, the progression of enlightenment moved at a glacial pace, and there had still been plenty of prejudice against two men raising a son. The Bible was the truth for some, biology for others, and bigotry for a few. For Quest, the truth was that two dads were better than one. And yet, sometimes, he did miss having a mother. The truth was that no childhood was perfect, but his was closer than most. The truth was different for Quest than it was for everyone else.

Now, the truth was different.

Saanvi Laghari had told them a tale. More bedtime story than a briefing, all it had been missing was dragons and demons, but Quest remained unsure if the omission was only in the interest of time. She'd warned them this adventure would take them to fantastic places, and she hadn't been talking about the Himalayas or an African safari. There were realms beyond this one. A Wider World beyond Avondale, Arizona and America. Maybe even beyond Earth.

They watched the hologram as a wave washed across the tourists. Quest stared into the eyes of the traveler at the center of the scene, the look in the man's eyes no more alive than his fanny pack or his selfie stick. Like the candle of his soul had been extinguished. But he still moved. He still stood. But he wasn't the same anymore. Something else was inside him.

Drill Sergeant Cabello took up a position in front of the four greenies, blocking most of the science-fiction scene behind him with a body built from bricks. He had told the young soldiers to call him Drill, and Quest couldn't think of a better nickname. The man belonged in a workshop among hammers and anvils. Quest wondered if soldiers like Drill came off a production line at the factory—jaw squared, frown a level line across the face, nose chiseled from stone and nostrils flared, gray hair bristled like steel wool, eyes like twin points of an awl. Drill measured them up and down with a withering scowl like they were something he'd tracked across his new carpet.

"Anyone ready to run scared?" he barked like he was accusing them all of planning to go AWOL.

"No, sir," responded the quartet in unison. Lie or truth? The truth can be different for different people.

"Anyone want to cry about nightmares?" Drill hollered.

"No, sir!"

"Anyone need to call their mommy for a hug?"

"No, sir!"

"Are you ready to take the fight to these whatchamacallits and show them the good old American way of retribution by overwhelming ammunition?"

"Yes, sir!"

Drill marched in front of a door along one wall that opened automatically as he approached it. The doorway opened into a corridor lit with a bright blue light. The walls were lined with weapons and technology. The Misfits fell in line, following Drill as he stepped inside, boots clacking against the metal floor. Quest caught a look in Drill's eye, a momentary hesitation as his flinty eyes scanned the paraphernalia along each wall.

"All of you take a compass off that shelf there," Drill instructed.

The compass Quest picked up was unlike the one he had been issued by the United States Army. It was a digital screen, backlit in red, a hologram appearing over the glassy surface in an oblong orb. There was no north or south, nothing resembling traditional direction. This was a map of something unrecorded in any atlas of Earth.

Quest shivered.

"Take your weapons," Drill commanded. "One firearm and one blade."

Quest took a pistol. It was a 17- round SIG-Sauer P320, comfortable grip and a nice weight. He holstered it at his hip. The knives were all the same, a Bowie knife with a green blade that looked cut from pure jade stone. The edge was as sharp as the finest steel. Quest slid it into a sheath on the opposite side of his gun. The four Misfits all armed themselves with the same two weapons and a high-tech compass.

At the end of the corridor of weapons waited Lieutenant Robinson, Ms. Laghari, and Autumn Loloma. Saanvi Laghari held out her hand, four objects resting on her palms, two in each hand. They were rings made of intertwined brass and iron and might be about as old as anything Quest had ever seen. On the face, each was engraved with a hexagon resembling the Star of David.

"These rings were forged from the original Seal of Solomon," Saanvi explained. She was wearing one on her right-hand ring finger like she was engaged to the idea. "It's an original Artifact from the creation of the universe."

Quest and Callie and Ji looked at each other, skeptical. It was no less peculiar than if Saanvi told them she'd found Jesus's toothbrush. Fox was nodding like this was simply something lost that was found again.

"God gave Solomon the original ring to ward off evil spirits," Saanvi continued. "The original Artifact was melted down and used to make these seven rings. Drill and Badia have theirs, and I am wearing mine. It will prevent what happened to those people in Macau from happening to you."

"Evil...spirits?" Quest repeated.

"Tip of the iceberg," Saanvi said.

The Misfits took the rings and slipped them on.

Then another door opened. It led to a special part of the hanger where a ship waited. An aircraft unlike anything Quest had ever seen. His experience of the inexplicable seemed to be updated every other minute.

It might have been an airship—flaps tucked in on each side were perhaps retracted stabilizers for flight. It could have been submersible—round windows like portholes and an attachment approximating a periscope folded against the contour of the roof. Perhaps it was a starcraft—something adapted to survive outer space, with a propulsion system at the back that glowed with the same blue as the light in the corridor. A set of six smaller spheres appeared attached magnetically along the bottom perimeter of the conveyance, which could serve as wheels to traverse the land. This vehicle might be adaptable to any environment.

At least, any environment Quest could imagine.

"Load up," Drill commanded.

The Misfits got on the ship without knowing if they were headed for the moon or the bottom of the sea or the center of the world. Or somewhere else.

Probably, it was somewhere else.