THE OVERWOODS [[Midnight's Notebooks]]

--ovw--XLX--ovw-- [L]

"Keep shooting," I said.

MONDAY

9:00 AM

Northwest of Windcreek

Kaylee shook her head, in what looked like disappointment.

"I should have worn the double layer top."

In front of us and still hard at work protecting us, Sam snorted, in the middle of her favorite Muay Thai clinch, to a step-up kick to a horizontal elbow to a haymaker- putting three Talon down in the process. "Oh, PLEASE." Her accent and speech both were particularly far from neutral when in a fight; it was a shift from her conversational voice. Like if she was an intense fight it was almost the V4 accent in her voice doubled or tripled itself or something. She threw a diagonal kick to another haymaker. "You frontin' like a deadass pine tree whip."

Literally what the eff is a deadass pine tree whip.

ORBIPLOSIONS

Another haymaker, another forward elbow thrust, straight jabs- the one move we probably shared or had in common at all- diagonal kick, punch to the midsection. She spoke between breaths. "Girl, that orange halter Guap you got ova thyeah shoulda gone anyway."

Kaylee looked offended, but she said nothing.

I gripped a blade and threw it, hard, straight into the arm of a Talon woman that was about to lay hands on Sam's head or neck or whatever from behind. She squawked, and stepped backward, giving Sam enough time to uppercut her- the Talon was off the ground when I moved in, forward and onto my right leg, to spin backward with my left foot way above my head for the high, spinning, calculated, diagonal arc that connected into the Talon's face; Sam followed up with what she liked to call her right-right-to-left power cross straight jab to power straight- and this Talon was another one down before she/it/him/they had even touched the ground; wings and arms and limbs flew and then landed hard in the opposite direction.

I observed the subtle motion of very faint shadows on the ground- shadows of very large wings- behind me and to the right.

Sensing the massive Talon behind me, I shifted one very small step to the right and performed the undercut forwards handstand pop (which I very rarely ever did at all, because this maneuver to me was more power than momentum, and I didn't exactly have a lot of power). And it was quite possibly the only way I would have reached this Talon man's jaw at all- connecting hard exactly where I hoped I would; lifting him up and off the ground. I felt that almost-inconspicuous flow of not just adrenaline but also heat from my palms down to my heels, in that half-second transfer of weight. I pushed with my palms, spun into my right in the air- and connected with an elbow to an elbow to a knee into my very common spinning high arc heel. The Talon man seemed to almost crash into the ground, attempting to soften his fall with air resistance and counter force from his wings, but invisible arms wrapped around him- Connor slammed him into the ground before gravity had the chance to do it on its own. I noticed only because of the suddenly and oddly intercepted trajectory- and also the very, very pithy "Goin' down!" sound bite I heard Connor say during fights or video games or SRAs. I soundlessly met the ground, handspringed backward just for extra flight and quadruple twisted in the air on my way back to Kaylee. I flicked my wrist, and the two small black combat knives I'd used at all, flew- in a perfect straight line- back into my left hand. I placed them back inside the leather holder, readjusting the cloth bandages on my hand.

"I think she's beautiful whatever she wears," I said. I also bought her the halter tank top. We both liked orange, we liked delicate-looking things that were pretty; things that reminded her of flowers. I liked green more. On most days red was my favorite color, orange was Kaylee's. I think we liked all colors; Sam hated practically every other clothing item that Kaylee wore. This particular article of Kaylee's apparel was silk and charmeuse, was also straight from mainland U.S., and cost me about two hundred dollars. I remember James telling me to stop buying gifts for the girl that was practically an heiress to a quarter of the U.S. Overwoods division.

I said no.

I really loved James back then...

Connor's sourceless physical voice spoke from somewhere in the melee.

"I'm sorry to distract y'all from yer topic of fashion and all-"

"It looks like shit," Sam interrupted.

"It really doesn't, Sam," said Connor from wherever he was, "but that's not the point-"

As I helped Kaylee cover her harsher lacerations with stielvine, Sam bobbed and ducked and weaved into an overhand right- which missed- when a Talon woman sunk her teeth into Sam's right forearm.

"YOU DUMB BITCH," Sam snarled, smashing the Talon woman's face with her left fist once, effectively knocking her out, and then grabbing her legs, giving her the Samoan drop- and then giant swinging her to maybe a half mile away. She quite efficiently got rid of the rest of the group in the process during the swing rotations. The one Talon man left had only the time to turn and attempt to run when Sam grabbed him by the back, dragged him by the wings, and then gave him the hammerlock suplex.

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Kaylee visibly winced while I took the physical and emotional pain for her, for the moment.

"Ahem ahem," continued Connor, who now reappeared once more and was already smoking a megacigarette- probably the Eggnog Matcha one judging by the smell of it, ugh, it was AWFUL- and walked up to us, showing us the face of his sleek, expensive, cutting-edge, deluxe, $5,000 cell phone. There was a map on it.

Something tugged at my head.

"Wait," I said.

Connor looked at me, like he was examining me, probing my response. Like every fiber of him was scrutinizing my reaction to this... this map.

I took the card, now a crumpled and folded paper, from where it was sealed inside the plastic casing of the back of my cell phone. I straightened it; pressed the folds outwards, to look at it again- but this time, juxtaposed to what Connor was showing me.

"Dumb bitch," Sam fumed again, but at this point nobody was paying attention. "Mother fuckers destroyed my Givenchy watch from 2nd Avenue-"

This map...

"Connor," I said. "Where did you get this?"

His sleepy, slow, Southern-ish voice chastised me.

"How 'bout I ask you the same thing?"

"You mean this?" I said, gesturing at the little card which was now creased and slightly faded. "One of the men that abused me gave this to me. One of the... one of the paying ones. I think I was eleven, or something."

There was a silence, a silence so unusual, so dismal, so full of gloom. That's how it felt to me, with Sam gone almost statue-still, her eyes no longer on her Givenchy watch from 2nd Avenue, rather her eyes locked on my face with what I supposed was some look of maybe shock- unless it was compassion or pity which I DID NOT want at that very minute- and Kaylee and Connor both silently just waiting, perhaps, for something else to be said. They both looked at the ground for a moment.

"There were hundreds of them," I said. "Come on, let's move on. I survived, I lived through it, let's focus on that," I expressed. "At least, for now." I cleared my throat, flexed my fingers, stared down at my left hand. Then I looked up at the soft lilac sky, the green and turquoise snowflakes falling down calmly in light, spiral patterns. "My PTSD's killing me already, okay?"

"Okay," Kaylee said.

"I got this from Belinda's files," said Connor. "After she was taken for interrogation... Caleb and I unlocked her stuff. We found..." He paused.

And then didn't continue.

"Say it, Mr. Benzo Disappear-o," said Sam.

I groaned.

"He doesn't do benzodiazepines," I said.

Kaylee and Sam both gave me some kind of "oh you didn't know?" look.

"Okay," I said. I put my hands up in a dramatic, sarcastic gesture. "Whatever, I don't know. I know nothing, okay?- now what did you and Caleb find?"

More silence. Happy the raccoon was cheerfully riding on Jupiter Two's back, as they delightedly walked into the circle of conversation; Happy playing with a stick he found somewhere during the fight and Jupiter Two with an apple in his mouth. He dropped it on the ground in front of me, and I gave it to Kaylee.

"Hey, Jupiter," I said, patting his big fluffy white doggy Samoyed head as he licked the dirt and blood off my face. "Hi, Happy!" The small raccoon bounded up and onto my shoulder, just like he did at the Thornton Building, where Ember had given them to me just earlier that same day.

Because of the flashbacks of memories, it felt almost like eons ago...

Combine that with the blood and the fighting.

I sighed. "Happy-" I removed the little strands of white dog fur from my bandaged hand and jacket sleeve, as Jupiter shook the snow- and burnt twigs and ash- off himself. "Happy, one little happy apple, please."

Happy produced one immediately. Kaylee made one, too, probably not the exact same healing-caliber but with that same very subtle flash of mysterious, almost captivating light that you saw only for a fraction of a second- then the next moment the plant or the fruit or the stem or the leaf was there. Whichever one they chose, if they were capable of it.

Kaylee threw the normal apple at Sam's chest, where she caught it- with a look of surprise- in both hands.

"Criticize your own outfit choices next time," said Kaylee.

Shush, I said only to Kaylee, telepathically. Not worth it.

Karma is a thing.

I locked eyes with Connor. After a fight, after the invisibility and superpowers, we both had eyes a more metallic, more colloidal, more reflective shade from their original hue- his turned to black like oil and mine turned to gray like ash.

WHAT did you and Caleb find?

Kaylee walked away to go collect her Welwitschia arrows. I waited for Connor's response.

"Nothing," he said. "Nothing else."

Pffffffffffffft. Yeah. Sure.

Sam, who was the opposite of subtle, responded.

"C'mon," she bleated, "d'ya really gotta lie so smooth?" She popped two orange-and-pink colored pills in her mouth and swallowed them dry. "Smooth like poopy chicken ass."

"It's fine," I said. "Whatever it is... Connor will tell me, if it has to be said." I locked eyes with Connor. "I'll just... I'll just guess what it is, until you decide it's time. I guess."

I wasn't sure what else to say exactly.

"Is it bad?" I said. "How bad is it?"

Connor took another huff and another puff, his megacigarette smoke the same dark black that moved like slowly vanishing molasses from the cold and yet still humid Overwoods air. He blew it in Kaylee's direction; she wasn't near enough to really breathe it. I coughed because I still smelled it; Sam cracked her knuckles repeatedly.

"It isn't bad," he said. Happy the raccoon poked my cheek, where my dimple was. I patted his head with my left hand. Connor continued. "But you don't deserve to hate yourself."

"Too late," I said. "I probably already do."

Half of Connor's auburn-and-blue hair was fading in and out of vision, pulsing- this was how it was if he was either nervous, or just used up a lot of his powers, or both. He hadn't shaved for a while and his sky-blue colored stubble was almost that of Caleb's in terms of length and thickness.

He replied with, "That's why I'm not telling you."

--ovw--