Steer Clear of SUVs by Johnny Ostentatious

Friday night in the Somerton section of Northeast Philadelphia. It was around midnight. The evening’s thick humidity signified the impending summer. Lightning bugs and mosquitoes danced around, announcing their presence with flashes and bites.

Thirteen-year old Amy Thompson walked on the sidewalk of Red Lion Road. She was with the Menon brothers, Ajay and Kirti, 10-year-old twins. The three of them sauntered under the newly opened movie theater, the Devon. The marquee lights flickered quicker than hazard-warning flashers.

Kirti pulled out his red laser penlight and pointed it at the marquee. “Die, flashing lights, die, die, die!”

“Quit fooling around,” Ajay said, “and put that thing away before you burn somebody’s cornea out.”

“You better be nice to me,” Kirti said, “or while you’re sleeping tonight, I’ll lay my laser on you and keep it there until there’s a huge hole in your strumming hand.”

“Oh grow up.”

Amy smirked at the brothers’ banter. It felt good, especially after tonight’s fiasco of a show. Their band, Bowling For Bollywood, headlined an all-ages punk show at a YMCA in the borough over: Bustleton. For their last song, “What I Wouldn’t Give to Bitch-Slap Ghandi,” Amy donned a pair of fit-over sunglasses—the kind senior citizens wear over their spectacles. During the middle of the song, when the punk-rock beat slowed to a lethargic pace, the Menon brothers were supposed to whip out their laser penlights and shine them on Amy’s sunglasses, one laser beam on each lens (as a safety precaution, Amy would have closed her eyes). But things didn’t go as smoothly as they did during rehearsal. Ajay couldn’t find his penlight and Kirti kept dropping his. Amy had to admit, she was more than a little disappointed that the mini light show didn’t work. Her drum kit was near the back of the stage, where the lighting was poor. Having the red laser penlights reflecting off her sunglasses would have looked really cool.

With the movie theater behind them, Bowling For Bollywood turned the corner onto a residential side street with no streetlights. The trio cut through a children’s playground that was the size of an effects pedal. On the other side of the playground was an outside mall, McDermott Plaza. Bowling For Bollywood stepped onto the mall’s parking lot. They walked around an abandoned Dodge Ram. Mist descended from the sky. An SUV coasted across the empty parking lot towards the exit, headlights reflecting off the wet asphalt.

Amy wondered if she should tell Ajay and Kirti that she felt like quitting the band. She was tired of acting as manager: schmoozing for shows, borrowing eight-tracks for record sessions and hustling for their songs to appear on compilations.

“Guys,” Amy said.

“What’s up?” Ajay asked.

Amy looked back and forth at the two brothers. Ajay was carrying his guitar in a handheld leather case, while Kirti’s bass was strapped over his shoulder in a soft case. (Amy’s drums were still at the Y. She and her dad would pick them up tomorrow morning.)

“I quit,” Amy said.

“You quit!” the Menon brothers chorused.

Amy nodded.

“But you can’t,” Ajay said.

“You won’t,” Kirti said.

“I am,” Amy replied.

“But why?” Ajay asked.

“Because I have no free time,” Amy answered. “I have to do all the grunt work while you two are off writing songs and doing God knows what else.”

“It’ll be different,” Ajay said.

“Yeah,” Kirti said, “we’ll change.”

“I’m sorry.” Amy walked away. The Menon brothers were on her heels quicker than you could say fame, fortune, MTV.

“C’mon,” Kirti pleaded, “you can’t quit. You’re the best drummer we ever had.”

“I’m the only drummer you’ve ever had.”

“Quit trying to change the subject,” Kirti said impishly.

Ajay grabbed Amy’s wrist. All three of them stopped. They stood in the fire lane near the mall’s strip of stores. Amy glanced down. She was standing on the edge of a murky puddle full of newspaper shreds, cigarette butts and paper coffee cups. Her right big toe felt wet, so she stepped back. The Menon brothers mistook her movement for flight. They stood on either side of her, avoiding the puddle, each grabbing one of her hands.

“You can’t quit,” Ajay said.

“Yeah,” Kirti added, “me and you have such a kick-ass rhythm section.”

“Right,” Ajay said. “I need a strong rhythm section to play my chords and solos. Without you two, I’m just another singer/guitarist. You can’t have a band without the bass and the beats.”

“I’m sorry, guys,” Amy said.

“We have to do something,” Kirti said to Ajay.

“How about this,” Ajay said, “we meet tomorrow and brainstorm on ways to split up the workload so you’re not doing all the managerial stuff.”

“I like it,” Kirti said.

“I can’t,” Amy said.

“Why not?” Ajay asked. “It’s Saturday. There’s no school, and you always do your homework on Sundays.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Why,” Ajay asked, “what’s up?”

“Yeah,” Kirti said, “what’s up?”

“It’s nothing.” Amy released herself from the Menon brothers’ clutches. “I have plans.”

“Plans?” the Menon brothers said.

“Yes, plans.”

“What kind of plans?” Kirti asked.

“You know . . . plans.” Amy rubbed her palms together. Was it her or did the humidity level just skyrocket?

“What kind of plans?” Ajay asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“Come on,” Kirti said, “tell us.”

Amy sighed. “I have a date.”

“A date!” the Menon brothers said.

“With a boy?” Kirti asked.

Amy rolled her eyes. “Yes, with a boy.”

“That’s disgusting!” Ajay said.

“Gag me with a snot rag,” Kirti said.

“I don’t have time for this.” Amy started walking again.

Ajay and Kirti followed her, the former asking, “Who’s this alleged date with?”

“None of your business,” Amy said over her shoulder.

“Tell us,” Kirti said.

“No!”

“Tell us, or else,” Ajay said.

“Or else what?” Amy said.

“Or else we’ll write an unflattering song about you,” Kirti said, “and we’ll make it reeeeal catchy so it’ll be like our signature song.”

Amy stopped. “Fine. I’m going out with Brad Dupack.”

“Brad Dupack!” the brothers said.

“Yes.”

“The high school quarterback?” Ajay asked.

Unwillingly, Amy nodded.

“You have to cancel that date, Ame,” Kirti said. “We heard about him.”

“Yeah,” Ajay said, “he was at this birthday party, and they were playing spin the bottle, and he and Jennifer Quigley had to go in the closet.”

“We heard he dragged her in there and kissed her,” Kirti said.

“On the mouth!” Ajay said.

“They were in there for like 10 minutes. Brad came out first, and he was wearing this maniacal grin. Then Jennifer came out. She was smiling and had this glassy look on her face. People tried talking to her, but she was like in a total daze.”

“She was like that for a week,” Ajay said.

“Yeah,” Kirti said, “seven days!”

“At the end of the week, she got a cold.”

“So?” Amy said.

“So,” Ajay said, “he gave it to her.”

“He’s a walking germ farm, Ame,” Kirti said, “a walking, talking, smooching Outbreak.”

“Oh, please,” Amy said.

“Hey,” Kirti said, pointing towards the mall exit, “what’s that?”

* * *

Across the parking lot, two white lights zoomed towards Amy and the Menon brothers. The lights were circular and didn’t leave the asphalt. They reminded Kirti of car headlights reflecting off the ground. Except unlike headlights, these didn’t move in tandem. They zigzagged all over the place, staying close to one another but never crossing.

Kirti was so dumbfounded by the appearance and movement of the two lights that he didn’t know how to react when they reached Amy.

One of the lights slipped under Amy’s feet, the other rose off the ground at a 45-degree angle. It hovered over Amy. She extended a hand.

“Jay! Kirt!”

Amy’s voice was cut off. White light erupted from the two lights, creating a tubular cocoon around Amy. Her pleading arm, from her elbow to her hand, which was outside the cocoon, kerplunked to the ground. Kirti didn’t gawk at it. The light from the cocoon was too bright. He covered his face with his arm. The light made a sound similar to a G minor chord played with distortion and reverb.

The sound and luster faded. Kirti lowered his arm. Peripherally, he saw Ajay lower his hands from his face.

Amy and the cocoon were gone. Vaporized?

The circular light—the one that had hovered over Amy—returned to the wet asphalt. Kirti noticed it didn’t touch the ground as much as slip between the wetness and the asphalt.

Kirti felt Ajay tugging his shirtsleeve.

“Come on!” Ajay said.

* * *

Ajay tugged Kirti’s sleeve one last time. His brother finally snapped out of the trance Amy’s death had put him in.

The two lights were still on the ground like a couple of possessed car headlights. They inched towards the Menon brothers.

“Come on!” Ajay said.

He and Kirti sprinted across the parking lot, backtracking the way they had walked from the show with Amy. Ajay sensed Kirti slowing down. Ajay was about to grab his brother’s hand when he saw him shrugging off his bass. Because the bass case crossed his torso, Kirti had to stop for a second. He threw the bass on the ground. Ajay knew it wouldn’t be damaged—if the two lights didn’t get to it—because the bass was built stronger than Sakti.

They reached the children’s playground. Ajay set his guitar case on the grass.

“Think we’re safe?” Kirti asked.

“I don’t know,” Ajay said, bending down on one knee.

The two lights reached the edge of the playground’s grass. Ajay crouched down to study the two lights. Remaining on the asphalt, the lights tapped the edge of the grass, making a sound similar to a shovel patting wet sand.

Suddenly, the two lights slipped under the grass.

Ajay jumped up. “Crap!”

Grabbing Kirti’s arm, Ajay backpedaled into the tiny playground. They bumped into a plastic, colorful slide, then climbed it: Kirti springing up the steps, Ajay bounding up the slide. Once at the top, the brothers clutched each other in fright.

Below, on the ground, the two lights were still under the grass. Their location was evident by the bumping up of grass. It reminded Ajay of that movie his father recently bought on DVD, Tremors.

The lights were obviously looking for Ajay and Kirti. Like in the parking lot, they zigzagged all over the place, staying close to one another without crossing each other’s path.

“What are we going to do?” Kirti asked.

“I don’t know,” Ajay said.

One of the burrowing lights hit a pole of the park’s swing set—the part of the pole underground. The swings shook. Ajay wondered if the light merely banged into the pole or cut through it like a handsaw. He soon had his answer as the light reached another pole of the swing set. The light was slicing through the poles in the ground. The swing set shook some more, then toppled, the other two poles bending near the base.

“Uh-oh,” Kirti said.

Ajay gulped.

Halfway between the swing set and the slide was a merry-go-round. The other light must have passed under the merry-go-round because it shook, rattled, and shot up into the air. Ajay and Kirti gasped in unison. Ajay watched the merry-go-round somersault higher and higher and higher and higher. . . . Ajay didn’t even think about it landing on him and Kirti. He was too amazed by the sight of it.

The merry-go-round reached a height of 50 feet. It stopped somersaulting and began its descent. Ajay and Kirti quit holding onto one another. They each grabbed the bar at the top of the slide.

The merry-go-round crashed on the ground, a few feet from the brothers. Vibrations traveled up to the top of the slide. Ajay held onto the bar for as long as he could, but the vibrations were too seismic. He tumbled down the slide. Kirti fell off, too, but he didn’t appear hurt, Ajay observed.

The two lights continued burrowing under the playground grass. Their speed seemed to pick up, as if agitated.

Ajay seized Kirti’s T-shirt sleeve. “Let’s go!”

* * *

Kirti followed Ajay out of the playground. They sprinted for the mall. Kirti questioned the wisdom in running this way. Wouldn’t they be better off heading the other way, towards the movie theater? Then again, running this way took them in the direction of their house.

Kirti and Ajay reached the mall’s strip of stores. As before, none were open; all the lights were out. And the parking lot was still emptier than the stadium of a New Wave band’s comeback concert.

Kirti, jogging, glanced back. The two lights exited the playground. They were back on the parking-lot asphalt, zigzagging, aiming for the strip of stores.

“Hold on a sec,” Kirti said to Ajay. Kirti stopped jogging and bent over to catch his breath.

In the parking lot, the two lights quit zigzagging. They slowed down to impulse power upon reaching the sidewalk curb of the strip of stores. Both lights tapped the curb, as if probing it.

“Hurry up!” said the jogging-in-place Ajay to Kirti.

Kirti held up a finger. He only needed a few more seconds of rest, then he and Ajay could sprint to their house. It was less than a quarter-mile away.

Kirti was about to start running when he saw one of the lights leap from the fire zone to the sidewalk. Faster than a speeding atom, the light slipped under his feet.

“Ajay,” Kirti said, “I can’t move my legs!”

Ajay stood on the sidewalk in shock.

The other light vaulted from the asphalt to above Kirti’s head. A cocoon of white light encircled Kirti.

“Jay!” Kirti said.

Kirti couldn’t move. He was completely paralyzed. A hum filled his ears, sounding like bassy feedback. And he was beginning to have trouble to see. The lights’ white cocoon was getting thicker and thicker.

Despite his diminishing vision, Kirti was able to make out Ajay digging around in his pocket. Ajay pulled out his laser pen and pointed it at the light above Kirti. Kirti closed his eyes. The red beam from his brother’s laser pen was hurting his pupils, plus, his innards were beginning to quiver. Was this what happened to Amy? Did her organs implode before she vaporized?

Kirti’s insides stopped quivering. The cocoon of white light around him faded. Instinct told him to jump away from the two lights. He did, and he wasn’t standing next to Ajay for two seconds when the light that had been above him seemed to solidify and crash on the sidewalk. It fell at a slight slant, missing the light on the ground. The solid light smashed into a dozen pieces. Ajay kept his laser pen on it.

“Look!” Kirti said.

The light that had been under Kirti’s feet started twitching in erratic circles. It left a trail of light, similar to someone jerking a flashlight around a dark room.

Ajay turned off his red laser pen and pocketed it.

“Aren’t you going to put it on the other light?” Kirti asked.

“No,” Ajay answered. “It’s dying. It can’t live without the other.”

Kirti and Ajay stood on the mall sidewalk, an arm around the other’s shoulder. Grinning, they watched the light panic on the parking-lot asphalt until it faded away.

[[END]]

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