The Green Ones

Episode 5, Part 8

“Xoxochueyi,” Yetic swears, “all the pelotas are at the bottom.”

“You mean we climbed up here for nothing?” Olin’s cool demeanor is cracking.

Neca interrupts. “Not all of them are at the bottom.”

We turn to see the dark-skinned masazin spinning a ten pound pelota on his finger.

“How did you—” Yetic lurches forward.

Neca blocks him telekinetically. “Let the games begin.”

Psychokinetic sparks fly between the two as they burst into combat over the pelota, nearly knocking the rest of us off the ledge.

After catching Zorrah, I huddle her and Olin away from the feuding idiots. “We’ve got more than two and half minutes. All we have to do is gather three pelotas and hold onto them.”

“Not a problem. I can do this.” Olin searches the curtain of rain concealing the majority of the court below us. “Except, I’ll need to see them first.”

I swear under my breath. “We’ll have to go down.”

“Wait.” Zorrah stops me before I take the leap. “It’ll be easier to defend the pelotas up here, in case others have telekinetic abilities.”

“She’s right,” Olin agrees.

“I can stay here,” Zorrah says. “You help Olin toss the pelotas my way, and I’ll secure them.”

I scan the rest of the top ledge. No one else is left. Even Neca and Yetic have disappeared.

“Agreed.” I nod to Olin.

He narrows his eyes, grins and nods back.

“Here goes.” The two of us hit the slope on our butts and slide. In a spray of water, we quickly cover the thirty plus meters to the bottom. Striking feet first, we pop up and follow our momentum into center court. “There, ten o’clock.” An uncontrolled pelota skitters away from two people chasing it.

“Got it.” No sooner than Olin says the words, the pelota radically changes course, pops over the heads of those pursuing it and rockets toward the western hoop. “I’ll make sure Zorrah gets this one. You find the next.”

“What if I lose you?”

“Listen to your thoughts.”

“Right.” I toss my braid and wipe rivulets of rain from my forehead. It’s going to take some time to get used to sharing even my thoughts with my brother. He disappears under the curtain of rain, and I focus on finding the next pelota.

The search doesn’t take long. They must have released a hundred. Then again, there are probably a thousand people fighting over them. I spot four or five, each tucked into the gut of different participants hoping no one with stronger telekinesis decides to rob them. At least two of them are going to be disappointed. Olin? I flash a thought toward my brother.

Instantly he responds. Zorrah’s got the first. I’m heading back.

I’m thirty meters north of where you left me. Do you have a problem with taking candy from babies?

Not if it’s in the form of ten pound pelotas.

While waiting on Olin, I sense a shadow looming behind me a split second before hearing its hum. I duck a rocketing pelota in the nick of time. “Coming right at you!” I shout the words out loud as the pelota splashes down and hydroplanes out of sight.

When Olin doesn’t respond, I decide to chase the stray pelota. I don’t mind stealing, but this seems a bit more honest. After a quick sprint, I find Olin in the process of floating the second pelota up to Zorrah.

“That was a close one. How much time?” He huffs.

I scan the upper rim of the court for a glimpse of the nearest game clock. “Thirty seconds, and remember we each need to be in possession of a pelota to get the extra marks. Can you hold on to that one and still give me a hand?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to stay within sight.”

“I doubt it. I bet you can see whatever I see if I think about it hard enough.” Catching my breath, I gaze up the slope and see Zorrah perched above us.

“I’m willing to try if you are,” Olin says.

Meanwhile Zorrah jumps up and down, waving her arms.

At first I think maybe I’ve misread the clock. Then I spot a flash of light amidst shattered rain drops and realize the dueling idiots are heading straight for us. “Olin!” I barely have time to shove my brother out of the way.

Rain blasts past me, pounds the stones, and flares away from the point of attack. A second later, I do the same. Repulsed by the shockwave as it rebounds off the slope, I tumble toward the center of the court. Striking the hard surface on my hands and knees, I roll several times and come to a stop.

Dazed, two thoughts run through my mind. Clock. Pelotas. Before I can get up, a blur resembling Yetic hurtles overhead. I decide to remain face down in the standing water.

Olin sparks my thoughts. I’ve got one. We still need another. There’s only six seconds!

Pushing onto my knees, I scan the section of the court I can see through the pounding rain. There. Shooting a rooster tail of water behind it, I spot a rogue pelota rolling away uncontested. I’ve got it.

I have to get it. This is for our future, all of us. I drill my focus into the center of the pelota and block out everything else. Be a leader, Calli. Be a leader. I repeat the words, even as I mentally latch onto the errant pelota. Now bring it in.

Two seconds! Olin shouts into my thoughts.

I reach out with both hands and strike my thoughts together like metal on metal. The pelota responds, rocketing toward me. Oh crap. I brace for impact as the heavy rubber strikes me in the gut and lifts me off the ground. Bouncing on my back, I hear the buzzer echo across the court at the same moment I slam into another participant.

Yetic reaches down to pull me up. He’s empty handed. “How did you, where did that…you took my pelota!”

Olin jogs over to join us, holding a pelota of his own. “Nice try, but it looks like the Golden Boy has lost his balls.”

Neca lands beside the group, puffing and flicking water out of his eyes. He’s empty handed as well.

Both Yetic and Neca try to speak but are interrupted by a scream coming from the heights where I last saw Zorrah.