Chaos Descending

The Jungle

Chapter 11

Opening the door, Vycandor bowed graciously before me. "Your chariot awaits."

The Corvette was too small to seat all three of us. My shoulder still hurt, so I knew flying was out. I also knew Vycandor would never allow anyone else to drive one of his precious cars. "Where's Thomas going to sit?"

"You two go ahead," Thomas offered. "I need to stretch my wings anyway."

I watched as he removed his black leather jacket, followed by his white T-shirt. Turned slightly away, I had a perfectly unobstructed view of his back and his giant wings that folded outward from two pockets deeply recessed beneath his shoulder blades. True to his word, he stretched them out—ruffling his sparkling white feathers directly in my face and glitter bombing me again.

I put my hands up to shield my eyes from a bright light that shown from somewhere deep within his twenty-five foot wing span. "Hey, put those things away before you hurt someone." I quickly lowered my voice. "Hurry, before someone sees you."

He tossed me one of his famous lop-sided grins. "Chaos, no one can see me if I don't want them to. Remember?"

My forehead crinkled in surprise. "No one can see me either if I shield myself?" He nodded. I punched him swiftly in the chest. "Then why are you always bothering me about using my powers in public?"

And why was I still whispering?

If possible, his smile widened in reckless abandon for a moment before he lunged for me. Pulling me toward him, delicate soft feathers completely encircled me once more and tickled my cheeks. "Because you forget to shield yourself from humans."

Vycandor cleared his throat as if to remind us he was still here. "You seem to have recovered quickly from bloodlust."

Aware that we still had an audience, I ducked under a wing a hopped in the car. "What can I say? It comes and goes."

Thomas glared openly at me, pushing off with his feet and soaring into the air. I lost sight of him as the sun vanished over the horizon, allowing the calm darkness of the night sky to ease the dread slowly creeping over me.

Vycandor dropped down into the black leather seat, pushed down the clutch, grabbed the key, and started the Corvette. The engine roared to life and the tiny car shook from the RPM's. With the clutch still pushed all the way down to the floor, I watched as he revved the accelerator until the air filled with the smell of gasoline and carbon monoxide. Finally, he put the car into first gear, let up on the clutch with his left foot, and simultaneously pushed down on the gas pedal with his right. The Corvette lurched forward, causing me to gasp at the unexpected roar of power.

We peeled out of town, taking US-131 South all the way to Paw Paw. An hour later Vycandor pulled into a deserted parking lot off of Easy Street. Coming around to my side of the car, he opened the door to help me out and bowed dramatically in my presence once again. Vycandor the gentleman was nothing if not incredibly attentive and polite.

Not to mention hot as sin.

Taking my hand, he guided me to M-40. Once we'd safely crossed the country highway, I saw the outline of a red brick bridge that rose up out of the water — the end of which was completely swallowed up by a thick fog. Shivering from the cold, I craned my neck to look over my shoulder. I couldn't see the Corvette anymore, never mind the end of the road we'd just passed. It was like being caught in a blizzard. Everything was just...gone.

Almost as if a nuclear winter had reduced everything to dust in the blink of an eye.

Fog like this wasn't just weird, it was super weird. Like it had the power to transport us back in time. Every so often tall, Victorian gas lamps began popping up out of the fog to light our way. Ornate in their appearance, they matched black wrought iron benches dotting the sides of the suspended bridge that seemed to go on forever. Only the five mile bridge to Mackinac Island seemed longer, but not by much.

Hard pressed to keep moving forward, I gave a little yip of surprise when my feet finally touched marshy ground. Thomas swooped down out of the fog to stand beside Vycandor and I. The air around us smelled wet. Rainy. Not raining, exactly. More like how grass smells after it's been cut with a lawnmower and it's still wet with dew. That kind of wet. But it was also more than that. The air smelled like teen spirit. It smelled like freedom and revolution. But, perhaps most of all, it smelled like money. Money and animals to be exact.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," Thomas finally admitted.

"Where are we?" I asked Vycandor, confusion plain in my voice.

He answered without skipping a beat. "You're in the jungle, baby!"