Fencing Knights

“I used to lick the bottoms of my shoes. For my microbiome,” Sol said eventually.

“Deadass?” Des said.

“Mm-hm.”

“Did it work?”

“Not sure.”

A hum kicked up somewhere in the beer cooler closest to them.

“Peach,” Sol said.

Des unloaded seven peach yogurt cups off the shelf into Sol’s arms and took a vanilla one up to the register for himself.

“Did you hear about the unicorns?” Sol asked.

Des squinted into the late-afternoon sun. “Which ones?”

“What?”

“What kind of unicorns?”

“The animal.”

“Huh. What about them?”

“What other kinds are there?”

“Tech stocks. Like Uber.”

“No. I was talking about the animal.”

Des crumpled his burger wrapper into the bag and twisted it shut. He folded his arms over the railing. The water under the bridge was sluggish and too green for June.

“What about the unicorns?” he asked.

“They’re supposed to be migrating.”

“Where?”

“South.”

“Where are they now?”

“North Dakota-ish.”

“Huh.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Where’d you hear about it?”

“Some guy was talking about it on the phone in the bathroom while you were ordering.”

“Oh. Did you look it up or anything?”

“No.”

Des sighed.

“Do you want me to look it up?”

“Nah. It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Des looked around for a garbage can. He didn’t see one.

“It’s probably not real,” he said.

Sol shrugged. “Why not? Lots of things are happening.”

“Yeah, never anything good.”

Sol nodded contemplatively.

Des sighed and reached for his Juul.

“He seemed trustworthy,” Sol said. “The guy who was talking about it.”

“Huh. Thanks.”

The minivan’s window rolled down. A pack of ferrets stared up at Des, frozen.

The ferret standing on the window buttons was quivering with terror. More ferrets clung to the steering wheel and braced themselves against the shifter. Two small heaps of them covered the pedals. One was curled around the top of the rearview mirror. A masked ferret sat on the headrest with its tail curled around its feet.

“Hey, Sol?” Des called.

“We have to get to Portland,” said the ferret on the headrest.

There was a long, confused silence. It broke when a white ferret brushed against the volume knob on the radio. Static burst out of the speakers, with what might have been “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” flickering behind it. The noise startled one of the other ferrets. It leapt into the air, flailed, and landed on the edge of a cupholder.

The white ferret swatted the volume knob back to mute. The only sound was the other ferret’s claws scratching against the plastic in a frantic battle against gravity.

Sol leaned against the minivan next to Des. He nodded to the ferrets. “Hey, guys. You parked us in.”

“Yeah,” Des said. “Um. Could you back up?”

“Or go forward,” Sol offered.

“Sure.” Des nodded. “Either way works.”

“We have to get to Portland,” said the ferret again.

“Hm,” Sol said. “Can you start heading for Portland now?”

The ferret on the headrest kept staring at Sol until the window rolled all the way up. Sol and Des stepped back. The minivan felt its way out of the parking lot and managed a jerky turn onto the highway.

“Huh,” Sol said.

“Were those ferrets?” Des asked.

“I thought they were weasels.”

Des sighed, relieved. 

Sol watched the minivan disappear around a roundabout.

The gas station door opened. Warm air and highway noise drifted in.

The cashier looked over Des’s shoulder. Her face set, and she sighed through her nose. Then she spun the card reader around.

“Fifteen eighty-four.”

Des opened Apple Pay and typed his passcode in wrong. He swore. 

The cashier tapped a nail on the counter.

“ ‘Sup,” Sol said. 

No one answered.

The card reader buzzed. The cashier slid the bag across the counter. 

“You’re all set. Don’t worry about, um…” She pointed at something behind Des.

A human circulatory system stood on the rough black mat inside the door. A heart squeezed in the left side of its chest, sending tiny surges of blood rippling through its body. Its chest rose and fell gently. Its feet hovered a fraction of an inch above the dusty black mat in front of the door, like it was still standing on skin.

“Sorry,” the cashier said. “It’s harmless. See you next time.”

She could see it too.

The veins walked to the toiletries shelf. Its head bent. The bulbs of veins where its eyes should be swiveled and landed on the deodorant.

“Does that happen a lot?” Des asked.

“Yeah. Most nights.”

Sol wandered into the checkout line, carrying an Alaskan King-sized pack of peanut butter cups. “Does it ever buy anything?” he asked.

“Uh…” She looked like she couldn’t decide whether he was fucking with her. “No.”

“I guess it doesn’t have any money,” Sol said.

Nobody ever wondered whether Des was fucking with them. They just assumed. He didn’t know why.

Sol’s head was tilted to the side like he was listening for something. He still hadn’t put his peanut butter cups on the counter. The cashier half-reached for the barcode scanner, then went back to tapping her nails on the counter. They were white and sparkly.

“Is it always the same?” Sol asked. “Or are there more than one?”

“Um…” The cashier frowned. “I think it’s just one?” She pointed at the measuring tape on the door. “I could look at the security camera recordings and check if it’s always the same height.” 

“Good idea.” Sol slapped his peanut butter cups on the counter. “I forgot my card,” he told Des. “Venmo request me.”

Des opened Apple Wallet and typed in his passcode wrong again.

“Is it a problem for you?” Sol asked.

“The…” The cashier pointed. The veins were slowly walking along the back of the car-maintenance aisle. “That thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Sol nodded. “We can help.” He pulled the offer letter from American Budget Fence out of his pocket and flattened it on the counter. His starting salary was highlighted in orange. 

The cashier frowned at it.

“We work on the holes and the stuff that comes out of them.” Sol pointed at Des. “He had a letter too, but he recycled it.”

“I have a PDF.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need to see it,” the cashier said. Her eyes unfocused. She reached for a piece of her hair that was falling out of her bun. 

Then she let her hand drop and pushed the offer letter back across the counter. “Okay. Let me call my manager.”

“What’s your name?” Des asked the cashier.

“Jo.”

Headlights flashed into the parking lot.

Jo sighed through her nose. “Just yell if someone tries to check out.” She disappeared into the back, tapping on her phone screen.

“She had a name tag,” Sol said, after the door closed.

“Oh. Really?”

Reggaeton blasted in from the parking lot. Des looked up. So did the veins. Then a car door slammed, and the gas station was quiet except for the song on the store speakers. Des was sure he’d never heard it, but he couldn’t stop trying to remember what it was called.

“It said Josephina, though.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Any time.”

Your verification code is 806692. Do not share this verification code with anyone. If you did not receive it, please wait another 90 seconds before retrying.

No one was coming, but Des hit the “walk” button anyway. 

Sol jogged over to a blue metal trash can and threw away the empty Rockstar can. Down the block, a guy was singing “Behind Blue Eyes” with an acoustic guitar, an amp, and a red lawn chair. No one was listening.

The tall man was leaning against the walk button on the other side of the street. He was still smiling.

Jo pointed. “Is that guy following us?”

Des looked at Sol. 

Sol waved to the tall man. He touched the brim of his hat and stepped off the curb.

Up close, he was even taller. No matter how far back Des craned his neck to look at him, it didn’t feel like enough.

“I can help you.” Something about the tall man’s voice sounded off. 

Jo buried her hands in her hoodie pocket.

Des flashed the smile from the LinkedIn photo he’d taken at Career Services during his first and only semester of college. “Tell me more.”

“I can help you with your problem.”  The tall man’s voice didn’t sound like it came out of his mouth. 

“Go on,” said Des.

“I can help you with your problem, if you give me your shadows.”

Jo shook her head fast and hard.

“What problem?” Des asked.

“Your problem is the veins.”

Des wondered how he knew what they’d been calling the thing in the gas station. “Can I just Venmo you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of asking for your money.”

“Twenty bucks?”

“All I’m asking is your shadows.”

“Thirty bucks.”

“I’m asking your shadows. You’re not even using them.”

Des shrugged. “What if we need them later, though?”

Sol tilted his head, frowning at something behind his own eyes.  “How do we know?”

“Yeah,” Des said. “How do we know we’re not using our shadows?”

“Wouldn’t you know if you were using it?”

“I don’t know,” Sol said. “I’ve always had it.”

“Of course you’d know,” the tall man said. “It’s with you all the time.”

“Not when I’m in the dark.”

Des thought the tall man took a second to decide Sol was serious, but he might have been imagining it. His expression hadn’t changed all day. “Yes. Exactly. You’ve already been without your shadow. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Or,” Sol said. “Maybe it was still there. Maybe it’s always there, and you just can’t see it if there’s another shadow on top of it.”

“What do you think?” the tall man asked Des.

“Night,” said Sol, “is the shadow of the Earth.”

“Shit that’s deep,” Jo said.

“Nah,” Des said. “I might need it for something.”

“But the only reason it’s dark at night, when there are all those suns in the world, is because they’re so far away. Do you ever think about what it would be like if we could see all the stars?”

“We can see all the stars,” Des said. “What do you mean, ‘get rid of’ the veins?”

“But imagine if we could really see them.”

“Don’t you want to get rid of it?”

Des remembered. “Well, we can see half of them. Depending on the season.”

“Aren’t there some we never see?” Jo asked. “Like the Southern Cross?”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Why do you want them?”

“You’re neglecting them egregiously. I want to give them an agreeable and loving home.”

“What I mean is.” Sol squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating. “Does space cast a shadow? Is that why it’s so dark here?”

“Do you need your meds adjusted?” Des asked.

Jo laughed before she could stop herself, then looked at Sol, panicked and apologetic.

“No, I’m locked in.”

“How long has it been since you fed them?”

Des shrugged. “Couple hours.”

“Is that why they call it dark matter?”

“That sounds wrong,” Jo said. She sounded bored, but she’d taken her hands out of her hoodie pocket to mess with her hair and her fingers were tightened into claws.

“Soon, they’ll make it illegal.”

“They’ll make what illegal?” Des asked.

“Soon, they’ll make it illegal to neglect your shadow.”

Des frowned. “Won’t it be illegal to sell it, then?”

“It’s illegal to neglect animals, but it’s legal to sell them,” Sol said. “And kill them. Do you ever think about that?”

“You could go to jail.”

“We’re actually going to leave the state soon, so unless it’s a federal crime, we’ll be—you’re not a vegetarian.”

“I know. Weird, right?”

“How can you claim to care about your shadow, when you don’t even know if it’s with you in the dark?”

“Well, yeah. I can’t see in the dark.”

“Well, I guess she’s not leaving the state,” Des said. “Are you?

“No.”

“It’s going to be a federal crime.”

“Really? Why?”

“The interstate commerce clause,” Sol said. “Civics. Remember?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Des said. “Even murder’s a state offense. So neglect is, too, right?”

“You can be in one state while your shadow’s in a different state,” Sol said.

“What does that have to do with commerce, though?”

The tall man looked at Jo. “What about you? You seem judicious and charitable. Will you let me take care of your shadow?”

“No thank you.”

“Wouldn’t you like the veins to go away?”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“How do you know these two can take care of it for you?”

Jo shrugged.

Sol straightened up. “How do you know I don’t take care of my shadow?”

“What?”

“You said you’d give my shadow a loving home. How do you know it doesn’t already have one?”

“How much do you know about shadows?”

“A lot. I’ve had mine my whole life.”

“I have lots of shadows.”

“I only have one, so I can focus on it.”

“Yeah,” Des said. “He can take better care of it.”

“That’s not what it says. It says you’re failing. It says it wants to leave you and come with me.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“I can hear shadows. I can hear every shadow in the world.”

“So are we in the shadow of space right now?”

For a second, the tall man was silent. Then he said, “I’ll take just one. Just one shadow.”

“Can you take like a third from each of us?” Des asked. “Would that work?”

Jo stiffened.

Des made a “calm down” gesture. She still looked suspicious.

“Are we in the shadow of dark matter right now? Think about how much light would be here if we could see all the light from the other stars.”

“The Earth won’t give me its shadow. It doesn’t care about it. It drags it all the way around the planet every twenty-four hours. Think about how sharp the buildings are. Think about how cold the polar nights are.”

“Rip,” Des said.

“But you can make a difference.”

“Are you sure?” Des asked.

“Think about how much light we could see if we could see the back of the sun.”

“What about other peoples’ shadows?” Jo asked.

“Yeah,” Des said. “Why don’t you take someone else’s?”

“Because your shadows hate you.”

“Why are you trying to buy them?” Des asked. “Why don’t you just take them?”

Jo glared at him.

“I would never do something like that.”

Jo didn’t relax.

“Or why don’t they go by themselves?” Sol asked. “Can they do that?”

“No. You won’t let them leave.”

“Can’t the government take away your pets if you’re neglecting them?” Des asked.

“I’m not affiliated with the government.”

“But I could take away someone else’s pet. I mean, it’d be a crime, but I could. And it’s not even a crime to steal someone’s shadow.”

“Would it be?” Sol asked.

“How would the cops know it was you?” Des asked.

“Would you steal, if it wasn’t illegal?” the tall man asked.

“Yeah, probably,” Des said.

“Well, I understand why someone as egregiously unprincipled as you wouldn’t give up your shadow to help someone else.”

“That’s okay,” Jo said quickly. “You should hang onto them.”

“Not even you?” the tall man asked Sol.

He shook his head contemplatively. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

He touched the brim of his hat and stepped off the curb again.

Jo let out her breath. “No. Hell no.”

“Weird,” Sol said.

There were two seconds left on the walk light. Des took out his Juul.

“Can I hit that?” Sol said.

“Hit your own one.”

“It’s empty.”

“Fine.” Des handed it to him.

“Do you want any?” Sol asked Jo.

It only took a couple seconds for her to decide. “What flavor?”

“Kiwi.”

“Yeah. Sure.” 

Jo’s hands had mostly stopped shaking when she handed the Juul back to Des. “Thanks.”

“Totally.” He put it back in his pocket. “Why did you get so freaked out? What do you think would have happened if we did it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

The guy down the block was still playing “Behind Blue Eyes.”

“Have you seen that guy before?” Jo asked.

“No. Not before today.”

“We weren’t actually going to do it,” Sol said.

“I hope not.”

Des looked both ways. The light was still red, but no one was coming and the tall man was gone. “Let’s just go.”

“I had a dream last night,” Sol said.

“Which exit is it?” Des asked.

“One forty-six.”

Des switched lanes.

“It was at that TJ Maxx,” Sol said. “The one on Wisconsin.”

“East side or west side?”

“What’s the difference?”

“I don’t know.”

They passed exit one forty-four.

“You were there,” Sol said.

“What was I doing?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Fuck. One forty-six A or one forty-six B?”

“B.”

Des relaxed a notch. He flipped the turn signal.

“It was in high school.”

They’d redone the ramp. It was one of those fucking diverging diamonds now. Des squinted through the salt crust on the windshield.

“So it was before the migration. I didn’t dream that they came back.”

“Yeah, I figured.” All the arrows on the FOOD sign at the end of the ramp pointed to the left. “It’s a left up here, right?”

“Yeah. Then straight for three and a half miles.”

“Damn. Really?”

“It’s on the other side of town.”

“Still seems too far.”

It was in the sixties and the speed limit was about to drop to thirty-five. Des rolled down the windows. Wind popped in his ears, then went quiet.

“But they renovated it. Instead of red they made it green. They had Christmas ornaments up for camouflage. You know the little holes? In the metal shelves in stores?”

Des thought. “Yeah.”

“They had Christmas ornaments in all of those. They were all mirror balls because all the lights were off. And instead of TJ Maxx music they were playing radio static.”

“Huh. Were they trying to stop it from migrating?”

“I don’t know. I forgot about the migration in the dream.”

They were coming up on a roundabout. “Straight through, right?”

“Yeah.” Sol checked his phone. “There’s going to be five more. Go straight through all of them. But they renovated it, so all the changing rooms were empty.”

The second roundabout had two lanes. Des didn’t do anything wrong, but someone still honked at him. He flipped off the sky and hoped they saw it.

“The point of a changing room is to be empty, if you think about it,” Sol said.

Des did. “Huh.”

“But they took out the minifridges.”

“Did TJ Maxx changing rooms have minifridges?”

“No. But they did in the dream.”

“I never went to TJ Maxx.”

“Really?”

“Why would I?”

“Homecoming.”

“I got all my suits at Target.”

“What about the girls you went with?”

“No clue.”

“Nobi went to TJ Maxx to get a dress. Both times we went.”

“How do you know?”

“She took me with her.”

“Why?”

“To see what I thought. You never went with Laxmi or Viola? Or…”

“D’Arcy.”

“I remember.”

“You met her like three times.”

“I thought it was twice.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Des switched lanes and floored it past a semi. “I think Viola asked me to go shopping with her, actually, but I didn’t go. I just told her to get whatever she wanted.”

“But they took out all the minifridges.”

The light was yellow, but Des could still make it.

“And there were holes instead of the floors, too, but nothing was going to come out of them. But I was still really thirsty, so I had to go to the walk-in freezer to see if they had anything to drink.”

“Where was the walk-in freezer?”

“Housewares. So you could see how shit would look in the freezer if you bought it.”

The next light was already yellow. Des took his foot off the gas. A white Ford brick blew past them blasting “Walk of Life.”

“They wouldn’t let me in, though.”

The car waiting next to them was also playing Dire Straits. “Why?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Anyways, there were a bunch of people who—you remember that chemical contamination thing, at those apartments downtown?”

“The ones by the park?”

“No, the other one.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. A bunch of people were there because they needed to replace all their shit.”

“That happened when we were in elementary school, though. Remember? Because they fucked up Willow’s test results and we all thought she was gonna die for like a week.”

“She’s still fine, right?”

“Yeah. I have her on LinkedIn.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a teacher. Somewhere in the U.P., I think.”

“In the dream, it was the one with that apartment block, but we were in high school. But even if they let me in to get a drink, it wouldn’t unfreeze by the time we had to get back to school.”

“Why were we at TJ Maxx in the middle of the school day?”

“I don’t know. I was thirsty. Turn right on W.”

“Is it this one?”

“Yeah.”

The light was red, but there was a parking lot on their right that he could use to cut the corner. Des swung up the ramp and skated around a cart rack. They were on W before the light changed, and the car that had probably honked at Des was at the back of the line. He smiled.

“Two more miles,” Sol said.

“Goddamn.”

“It’s actually in the next town.”

They passed the sign. Population eleven hundred and forty-six. “This one?”

“Yeah. I just said it was in Corsica because it’s bigger.”

He’d said it again. “I thought it was ‘core-sick-a’.”

“It’s ‘core-syke-a’. ‘Core-sick-a’ is the island.”

“Yeah. That’s what I mean.”

“If they were both ‘core-sick-a” you’d get them mixed up.”

Des snorted.

“But then I woke up and I was still thirsty.”

Des sighed. “Fuck. Now I want a drink.”

“There’s a gas station in three-quarters of a mile.”

“What kind?”

“Shell.”

Des sighed again.

“There’s a Kwik Trip, but it’s behind us.”

Des shook his head. He was really thirsty. “Shell’s fine.”

“It’s the kind with a grocery store.”

“Hm.” They might have the good kind of Monster.

“It’s gonna be on the left. After the state park.”

Someone else passed them. Foreigner this time.

“Your playlist is over,” Sol said.

“It’s been over for like twenty minutes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You can have the aux.”

Sol picked up Des’s phone. He tapped in his passcode right on the first try.

An alarm hammered the air. 

It was Des’s phone. Someone at the next table looked up.

“Shit,” he hissed. He pried it out of his pocket and turned it off. “Sorry.”

He didn’t think he’d gotten any new texts, but the last oyster cracker in his soup was already mostly dissolved and the French vanilla creamer had formed a skin on his coffee. He stirred it back in while he scrolled through his notifications.

It was the same three he’d had all week. His mom, How are you? Pearl, a link. HR, his W-2. He was about to reset his alarm when his phone buzzed again.

Arkansas area code. They were always Arkansas area codes.

Forward This text to SIX! Friends ❤️ Within twenty-Four Hours ⏱️. Or You Will die! 🫨

He’d been so close.

“Fuck,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Another text came through from the same number. 

Thank You.

Des took a sip of his coffee. The skin wasn’t all the way dissolved yet.

Sol was chasing the last shred of cole slaw around his plate with his fork. “ ‘Sup?”

Des copied both texts, just to be safe, and hit “send.” “Check the group chat before this time tomorrow.”

Sol’s phone dinged. 

Des winced. He’d forgotten Sol left it off silent.

Ice clicked when Sol pushed away his blue plastic Pepsi cup. He set his phone down in the circle of condensation it left on the table and unlocked it. He was still using the Motorola default wallpaper.

“You should de-list your number,” he said.

“I tried that.”

“It worked for me.”

“I know.” Des leaned against the window so he could jam his phone in his back pocket. “I swear to God one of these days I’m just going to stop forwarding them.”

“Mm.” Sol took a drag from his straw. It rattled.

Des’s phone buzzed again. “Was that you?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it’s probably fine.”

Sol was poking the straw around the bottom of the cup, hunting for more soda.

“Viruses get less lethal over time, right?” Des said.

Sol hooked his jaw on his palm. “Maybe only if they’re from this dimension.”

“But how would you know?”

“You’d have to wait and see if the viruses from other dimensions get less lethal.”

Des took another drink of his coffee. The vanilla creamer didn’t stick to his teeth this time. He realized he’d forgotten to reset his alarm.