A Tale of Two Earths

Chapter 1: The Group (Final Draft)

"Give it back before I beat the piss out of you!" Nestor Slaten called out through clenched teeth. The young man stood up, rising a full foot taller than boy he addressed.

"Listen Nest-" Tommy said.

"Hand it over NOW!"

Nestor's demand chimed above the Melwood Square Mall food court chatter. Lean and wiry, his frame modeled the exact opposite of Tommy's short, squat countenance. Their contrast only sharpened as Nestor straightened his back and narrowed his gaze.

Sweeping his leg, Nestor knocked aside a metal chair and took a step forward; his eyes locking onto Tommy's left hand. In it, Nestor's cell phone.

"I told you to turn it off," Tommy said, trying to remain calm. He wanted a rational conversation, but knew that wasn't going to happen with Nestor. After Nestor flipped his lid there was no going back. Tommy also wanted to address the greasy smudge across his glasses, but that would have to wait. Any sudden movement might provoke the beast. Swallowing hard, he moved back.

Sensing the escalation, a woman closed her laptop and relocated to the center of the food court. Brightly lit, the cavern bustled with shoppers eating early lunches and ferrying bundles of bags. All of which moved aside and avoided the five rowdy high schoolers seated near the restroom entrance.

Nestor's fingers curled into their palms as he took another step.

Tommy turned his chubby face and braced for impact.

"Calm down," Darla said, attempting to ease the tension. She shifted glances between Nestor and a pair of uniformed officers at the opposite entrance. Knowing them longer than she could remember, Darla had seen this situation play out numerous times and it never ended well for Tommy.

"I'll calm down when I get my phone back," Nestor snapped. His eyes still locked on Tommy.

"He's turning it off," Darla suggested, "aren't you Tommy?" Pleadingly, she turned to Myron and Vlatko. Darla hoped they would intervene, but the two loafs sat and stared.

Tommy gave a reassuring nod, even though he did not want to move a muscle. It didn't have to come to this, he thought. Why couldn't Nestor follow directions? Is is so hard to turn your phone off? Everyone else did. He wished the cryptic call from his father had come at a better time, a better place, but it hadn't. It came here, at the mall food court; and it said whatever you do, don't answer your phone, it's about to begin. Not an ideal location for the end of the world.

"Give it back," Nestor said, speaking slowly and stepping forward. His short cropped brown hair became a blur as he lunged for the shiny, black rectangle in Tommy's hand.

Tommy twisted his body in a surprising show of agility, keeping the phone out of Nestor's reach. "I can't," he replied. He wanted to tell Nestor the truth. He wanted to tell them all, but there was no time for that. Sure, he could explain how his father knew this or how the protocol worked, but none of that mattered now. Their world was about to change and nothing was going to stop that. Survival was the only importance now, and it hinged upon the simple act of not answering the phone. An impossible request to make of a teenager.

Nestor surged for a second attempt and Tommy dodged again. As he did, the phone vibrated to life in Tommy's hand spewing forth a rendition of Beethoven's 5th symphony, composed entirely of farts.

Knowing that his next move would be the last straw, Tommy closed his eyes, braced for impact, and spiked the phone to the floor.

Horrified, Nestor watched his phone skipped across the tile. It came to a rest in one piece, giving Nestor a sigh of relief. But, then it lit up, revealing a spider-web like design etched across the face. The weakened dam, holding back seventeen years of hormonal rage, cracked and Nestor jumped on Tommy.