The Viterals

Chapter 2: Surprise Visitors

The Pokeball landed square in the pink thing's face. The ball opened, revealed an amorphous red light, and sucked the Pokemon inside whip-like. Zakana had seen it too many times to count, on TV, when his mother did it, in his dreams. Somehow, throwing a Pokeball and watching it in real time felt different. There was an unmistakable thrill that came with the real life kind. The Pokeball landed on the rock, bounced there once. It rolled side to side, once, twice, three times, and finally the red light filling the center circle went out. Instantly, the Pokeball flew through the air, and returned to Zakana's outstretched hand.

He stood there dumfounded.

It was easy—almost too easy. Zakana threw a Pokeball and in doing so caught a Pokemon—his first ever Pokemon.

"I told you I could catch one, Mom!"

The anger welling up inside Zakana had not dissipated, and catching the pink thing made him even more confused than before. He had sworn never to catch one of them, never to partake in the world surrounding them, but here he was clutching his Pokeball, fiercely, as though he would never let it go. The winter winds whipped against the open parts of his face, reminded him where he was, what his mother had said. Quickly, he returned to the house.

"Kirish," he began. "Just go to Kirish and she will take care of it. Kirish is the answer always," Zakana said, mocking his mother's iron voice. It had been almost three years since he had seen his older sister, and he really had no burning desire to change that. Whereas Zakana avoided the Pokemon universe at all costs, Kirish threw herself into all its activities. She took the stereotypical Pokemon journey, left Pallet town at age ten, chose her starter, searched the planet to be the world's greatest Pokemon master, like so many before her. And for a while, she did pretty damn good. Of course she did. Kirish was perfect, and the only reason she hadn't made it was because she changed her focus from trainer to breeder.

I just want to feel the love of Pokemon by helping them be happy and healthy, she would say.

Zakana couldn't forget it. It was so trite and annoyingly subtle that it came off to him as aggressive. That was the thing about Kirish. She was bitingly sarcastic, passive aggressive, and as stubborn as the weeds in the backyard. What was so important about getting the papers to her so quickly anyway?

The living room and kitchen were just two stops on Audria's path of destruction. All of the cabinets and closets opened, papers and packs on the floor reminded Zakana of the gravity of his mother's words. She never made a mess, never left the house for more than a few days, and never ever took all her Pokemon with her. On other days, Zakana thought she left some behind just to get Zakana to spend time with them, but it never worked.

Zakana moved to the fridge, and realized the Pokeball was still in his hand. It didn't squirm or shake anymore like it did when Zakana first threw it. It was still, the pink thing inside quietly waiting to be let out. It didn't look or seem dangerous. In fact, it looked like the dumbest Pokemon he had ever seen. Zakana suddenly grew curious. This wasn't his mother's creepy Misdreavous or bratty little Piplup. This Pokemon was different because it was Zakana's. Somewhat against his will, he smiled, tossed the ball to the floor, and said, "Pokeball, go!"

The same red light spilled out of the ball, formed the shape of the Pokemon, then went solid. From up close, Zakana noticed the Pokémon's four white claws and its long, white-tipped tail. The pink dopey thing, eyes slowly focusing, looked up at Zakana and with a slow, raspy voice said, "Slowpoke!"

"God, you even sound like an idiot!" Zakana looked at his Pokemon, his eyebrows raised.

Slowpoke cocked its head to the side, said, "Slowpoke," again.