Episode 102: Help I’m Alive, Part Two

On a network of transparent grids, a chase was underway. A pudgy blue shape was waddling as quickly as it could manage in an attempt to escape from his pursuer, a smaller blue-black-colored creature with two bat wings flapping furiously to drive it forward. “Come on, bird brain!” the fiendish monster shouted with a sadistic cackle. “Quit trembling and fight me!” To punctuate his point, the small Digimon summoned a floating syringe that would have seemed almost cartoonish if not for the incredibly sharp needle that was aimed at the fleeing bird. With a cry of “Demi Dart!”, the vampiric-looking monster seized the weapon with one of his gray feet, his red nails clicking against the glass, and heaved it at his feather victim.

With a frightened squawk, the avian Digimon threw himself onto the surface of the square that he was on, causing the projectile to barely soar over his round body. Opening his eyes, the blue creature saw a terrifying vision below him. Far, far underneath the small skirmish was a city in night’s dark embrace, albeit lit up in some corners by electric lights and more generally by periodic bursts of lightning. The penguin looked up and saw above him, past a second network of see-through squares, an arctic landscape of ice and snow. It would have looked perfect, save for the unsettling fact that the whole vision was upside-down. The frightened Digimon clutched his head in his claw-tipped wings and shut his red-irised eyes tightly. “Make it stop,” he whimpered.

“I can make that wish come true, fatty,” the other Digimon said gleefully, but before he could launch another attack, a hole opened up in the grid beneath the two and began to draw the two confused creatures in through some attractive force that was so powerful that the surface of the rest of the grid was warping to be slanted towards this opening. The heftier of the two monsters fell into the rip in the night sky with a long, drawn-out honk, and, while the other Digimon flapped his thin wings frantically, he too was drawn into the portal with a flurry of curses. Once they were through, the dimension between worlds was quiet.

* * *

In his bed, Joshua was awoken at three in the morning by a frantic beeping coming from his nightstand. With the mumblings of the half-awake, the teen fumbled around the small wooden piece of furniture, knocking scraps of black plastic out of the way as he struggled for a firm grip on his phone. He looked at the screen of the noisy device, but what he was looking at did not make any sense to his addled brain. He pulled on the pair of glasses also located on the nightstand, but the image did not change. It was a radar of sorts with a compass in the center and two green dots flashing in what looked to be the map’s northwest quadrant. This was no app that Joshua was familiar with, and his phone felt different in his hands. He got up and turned on the light to his room.

Any grogginess was wiped away when the room lit up. In his hand was his phone, except not. It looked like the device was his phone firmly enclosed in a white case with blue accents. But the screen was no longer damaged, but pristine. The case was not only different from the one that his phone had been in when he went to bed, but actually seemed to be completely inseparable from his phone. There was still a home button, and when Joshua pushed that familiar sight he was brought to a main screen that contained several new applications that were not there before, a tile depicting a crude radar being one of them. The phone’s alarms had stopped, but the radar app was still blinking frantically.

More awake now, Joshua opened it back up again and studied his changed phone’s screen. The two green dots were still blinking and, if the radar’s scale was to be believed, whatever those dots were supposed to represent was not too far away from Joshua’s phone. The young man was curious. One on hand, it was two in the morning. On the other hand, there was no need for him to get up early on a Saturday. His mind made up, Joshua got dressed in a simple outfit of jeans and a band t-shirt and pulled his bike out of the garage and took off into the storm to investigate.

* * *

In a home in Edina, just outside of the limits of the biggest city in the state, a phone rang. While his wife rolled over and put her pillow over her ears, a man picked up his cellphone and answered the call with a well-practiced swipe of his long manicured finger. “Situation?” he asked, filling every syllable of the word with the tone of command. He had known who was on the other end of the line before he had even opened his eyes. At this time of night there was only possibility.

“Two Unknowns have begun to breach in Minneapolis, sir,” the male voice on the other end answered.

The man quickly stood up and walked away from his bed and his wife, past his daughters’ rooms and down the stairs to the kitchen in order to make a cup of coffee. “I’m coming into the office,” he said into his phone, a little louder now that he was well out of earshot of his family. “Send a drone to observe the situation as it develops.”

“With all due respect, sir, one of our fliers would be apt to get fried in this weather, a monetary consideration that might attract more attention than we normally like from the feds and the American taxpayer.”

Looking out the window, the middle-aged man saw that, sure enough, streaks of lightning were still arcing across the sky, long after the weathermen had predicted that the storm would let up. One more sign that pointed to this being the real deal. Too many times before had he been the victim of false alarms and missed opportunities, with only a few fleeting successes on the record to balance it off. “Fine,” he said coolly, turning his attention back to the conversation at hand, “but I’ll be there in twenty, no traffic at this hour, and when I get there I want a full report with every detail on this possible lead. If this is a sure thing, I want our people to have everything they need to handle this.”

“Yes sir,” came the reply, and then the call ended.

A small smile threatened to break across the man’s face as he went back upstairs to get dressed. Despite his last minute attempts to hedge his bets with words like “possible” and “if”, he could sense that this time it was really happening. Sense it in the strange circumstances of the night and even the state of his body. The possible smile made another attempt to bypass his defenses at the thought. The first part of that thought made him sound like the well-studied man of science he was. The latter half, however, sounded akin to a half-senile geezer who thinks his knee can predict the weather. Nonetheless, when he went to pour the first cup of coffee of what looked to be a night full of them, his hands shook in anticipation.

Soon enough all of his efforts would have been worthwhile, he told himself.

* * *

In ideal weather, the journey would have been short, but Joshua was careful of the slick roads and the lightning that split the sky in great violent forks, and that, combined with his stopping to check his bearing on his altered phone, lengthened it considerably. Led by the glow of the streetlights, the boy and his bike gradually moved closer and closer to his destination. Finally, on the crest of a small hill, Joshua saw something that made him hesitate. Below him was a construction site that, despite the speeches of politicians and the proclamations on the fence surrounding the largely-abandoned project, would not be anything close to resembling a new office building anytime soon. More strange than the failure of the promised development to materialize however was the only partly transparent fog that engulfed the area. Part of him wanted to turn back, go home, go to bed, and forget all about this. But Joshua had already come this far and was already awake and soaking wet from the weather, so he hopped off of his bike and wheeled it down to the fence line, leaving a long thing line in the mud where the bike had tread as he did so. After leaning his transportation against the barrier, the teen started to climb the chain link wall, going over the top and into the fog.

Once he passed through the mist, Joshua found his visibility less obstructed. On this side of the perimeter, the fog still hung heavy in the air, but seemed far less oppressive for some reason. After wiping the rainwater off of his glasses, Joshua found himself staring at the strangest sight of his life up to that point. He pinched his forearm, but the short quick burst of pain informed him that he was not dreaming. He really was seeing two monsters fighting.

Well, perhaps fighting was the wrong word for it. What Joshua saw was a small flying demon harassing a round blue-feather bird who was waddling around, its large red eyes wide with fear. “Oh my God,” said Joshua breathlessly, “they’re Digimon.”

Both of the creatures in question stopped their conflict and turned to the source of the sound. The airborne one’s eyes narrowed and its lips curled in a sneer. Its victim, on the other hand, ran as fast as its yellow feet could carry it and jumped behind Joshua, clutching at his wet pants leg. “You have to help me,” the avian pleaded, “he’s going to kill me!”

Before Joshua could say a word, the bat-like Digimon snarled, “You’re going to have a human do your fighting for you? Pathetic!” Then the angry creature spread his wings wide and gave a cry of “Bat Flutter!”, causing dozens of tiny bats to begin streaming forth from in front of their summoner. The river of small shrieking furry bodies made a beeline for Joshua and the Digimon behind him and began making dive-bombing attacks on the duo, nipping and biting whatever they could get ahold of and ignoring and bouncing back from any of the repeated efforts to swat them away.

After letting out a curse through gritted teeth when one of the mammals nicked him again, Joshua cried out, “Run!” and took off for the skeletal structure of beams and supports behind them, trying to ignore the sickening squelching sound caused by running through the mud. The bird-like Digimon followed as best he could despite still being beset by a number of the airborne bloodsuckers.

The bats seemed to only be able to go so far from the Digimon flapping his wings to stay in the rain and fog-filled air in the center of the worksite, so Joshua and the stumpy blue creature were able to duck around some of the rusted pillars of metal and find a hiding spot behind a row of long-abandoned portable toilets. Once he thought they were safe, the teen came to a stop, his form hunched over as he caught his breath. “Are you okay?” he asked in-between a couple of undignified gasps.

“Well, I’m alive,” chirped the avian Digimon, “which is more than I hoped for!”

“That’s great. So what’s our plan?”

“I thought that running away and hiding was our plan,” the creature stammered.

Joshua turned around to respond. “We’ve got to take the fight to that flying jerk.”

“Fight? Oh, no, no, no, I don’t fight.”

“Why not?”

“Digimon who fight end up dead,” the azure monster stuttered. “I like living quite well enough, thank you very much.”

“A Digimon that doesn’t fight,” Joshua marveled. “What kind of Digimon is that?”

“Well, I’m Penguinmon.”

“I’m Joshua, Joshua Kleberg,” the human replied, holding out his arm for a handshake. Instead of taking him up on the offer, the feathered creature recoiled in fear. Joshua sighed and retracted his limb, saying, “Never mind.” He looked at the phone still in his hand. “Maybe I can call someone.” He fumbled with the still strange device, but froze when he pointed it at Penguinmon in his scrabbling and the screen came to life. A picture of the Digimon before him was on Joshua’s screen along with all kinds of information on Penguinmon’s species, attribute, attacks, and more. The teen stared at the machine in his hand through rain-flecked glasses, amazed less by the information on his screen than by the fact that it was there at all. “I think I have a Digivice,” he whispered, holding the apparatus with a newfound sense of reverence.

“A what?” the chubby bird queried.

He looked up, but before he could elaborate, Joshua’s eyes widened. Flapping his leather wings frantically and with a sadistic grin on his face, the other Digimon from earlier had rounded the end of the row of toilets and was flying rapidly toward Joshua and Penguin. “Found you!” he cackled, and then produced another sizable syringe in one of his claws. With a cry of “Demi Dart!”, the missile was launched at his startled blue target.

When Joshua raised his faze, his phone had come up with him and promptly identified the assailant as DemiDevimon. The fact was obvious now in hindsight, but the time for kicking himself for getting lost in the fog of three a.m. thinking. No, now was the time for action.

So as soon as he saw the needle-tipped weapon come forward, Joshua dived at Penguinmon, pushing the startled bird over with enough momentum that the pair slid across the muddy ground, causing the dart to fly past them and sink into the muck behind them. The duo had only gone a few feet, and Joshua got off of the Digimon and spat out a mouthful of what he hoped was mud. HE turned to the winged Digimon and attempted a smile. “You alright?”

While the teen’s jeans had been soaked through by mud, his torso had been blemished only by the spray of earth given off by the slide. The small Digimon who had been tackled bore the brunt of the maneuver. Still, Penguinmon looked up, his red eyes blinking through a muddy mask, and gave the best smile his beak could form. “Yeah, I’m okay!”

“Good,” said Joshua. He turned his attention to the airborne foe that had attacked them. “You get away,” he continued to the avian creature, “I’ll try to hold him off.”

“You’re going to hold me off?” Demidevimon laughed. “You’re just a stinking human! Weak, stupid, ugly-“

While the snickering monster had been mocking him, Joshua took a few steps forward and, in the middle of Demidevimon’s litany of insults, reached back and punched the dark-colored Digimon between his eyes. The blow sent the basketball-sized bully spiraling through the air, where he swore and flapped his leather wings as he tried to regain his bearings.

After he recovered, the blue-black Digimon shouted, “What kind of idiotic human are you?”

“The kind of human that’s giving one last chance to take the easy way out,” Joshua responded. He balled his fists and tried to find a stable stance on the soft ground. Despite his words and the fact that he just landed the first punch of his life, the teen was scared.

Demidevimon must have sensed it because his mouth widened into a smile that showed off his yellowed fangs. “Real Digimon always choose the hard way,” he snarled, “it separates the strong from the weak.” The sinister-looking Digimon spread his wings and rasped, “Evil Whisper!” A black fog spewed from Demidevimon’s mouth and surrounded Joshua’s face in a dark mist. The teen’s gait weakened and he sunk to his knees in the mud, his hands clutching at his temples as his vision, already blighted with the falling rain and the fog, was now restricted by this artificial darkness, his nose overwhelmed with a stench of rot and decay, and his ears were filled with the sound of violent, hateful chanting.

Through this violent sensory overload, Joshua could only partly make out his attacker as the flying monster produced one more dart in one of his claws, and said, “Guess you aren’t anything special after all.”

Before Demidevimon could carry out his final assault, Penguinmon stepped in front of the incapacitated human. “Leave him along,” the short creature stuttered.

The flying monster sneered at this interference, but was undeterred and pulled his body to launch his projectile. But before the blue-black Digimon could follow through, Penguinmon spread his stubby wings, as wide as possible and shouted, “Ice Prism!” A soft blue glow emanated from his yellow beak and coalesced in a simple three-dimensional shape. Then, a short burst of energy knocked Penguinmon back into Joshua’s huddled form as the small frozen object rocketed toward Demidevimon. It tore through one of his leather wings, causing the small Digimon to lose his grip on the syringe and sensing him into a tailspin. He landed in the mud with a sickening squelch. The untethered missile spun in the air and then began to descend, its needle facing down, and sunk into the downed Digimon’s face, right between his eyes.

The needle exploded in a cloud of white fragments, but the damage had already been done. Demidevimon’s body was dissolving into a flurry of shimmering flecks, starting from his mangled wing and from the top of his head where the fumbled weapon had pierced him. His breathing came in raspy gasps and his tallow eyes looked at Penguinmon and Joshua hatefully, the latter having been freed from the effect of the dying creature’s last attack. “Losing to you two,” he coughed, “is some kind of sick joke. This wasn’t part of the plan. Not part of the plan at all.” With those last words, Demidevimon finished transitioning into data. The fragments hung in the air for a bit, then floated into the air as the strange white fog lifted.

“Wow,” said Joshua, “I think you just saved my life.”

“Guess that makes us even then!” Penguinmon chirped.

The human looked up at the sky. The heavens were still obscured by heavy clouds, but the lightning and the rain had stopped, gone with the strange fog. Joshua wiped his glasses clean as best he could with his shirt and put them back on. In the light given off by the streetlights outside the construction site, he looked filthy, covered in mud and his shirt and body cut by the attacks by the bats summoned during the fight. He looked at the small Digimon that had saved his life who was also caked with wet earth and looked completely unsure of his next move. “Hey,” Joshua said to the navy-colored avian, “do you have anywhere to go?”

“Um, no. I suppose not,” was Penguinmon’s response.

“Come back to my house with me then,” the teen said. “It’ll be a bit of a hike, but we can get you cleaned up and get a roof over your head. Come on.”

The duo headed to the fences and after Joshua helped the awkward Digimon over the barrier and, after retrieving his bicycle, walked toward the road, leaving tracks in the mud.

* * *

Over an hour later, a long car on that same road housed an angry man. He slammed the dashboard of the imported car with the flat of his hand and swore for what felt like the hundredth time during the drive. He had gone into the department’s office, but although the reports that he had been handed as soon as he walked through the door had all been quality work, the biggest mistake as he saw it had already been made. Over the phone he had been told that the breach was taking place in Minneapolis. The detail that had been left out was that it was occurring on the edge of the city, just over the border from Edina. If he had been told this, if he had had the data sent directly to his phone instead of going all the way to the Department’s headquarters, he might have been able to observe the two Unknowns himself.

Instead he had only found out after driving into the city, and the time spent getting there and back had been valuable time lost. Now the Unknowns had likely dispersed into the surrounding area leaving only a failed opportunity. The man got out of his car and slammed its door shut. He looked out at the fenced-in construction site where the Department’s computers had eventually narrowed down as the most likely location where the Unknowns’ emergences had occurred.

There was no noise at this late hour and the man was about to give up when he noticed an indentation in the mud off of the side of the road. Curious, he took out his phone and turned on its flashlight. It was not just one depression, but a whole score of them, distorted slightly by the erosion caused by the rain, but still stark. There were two sets of tracks. The first consisted of a single line left by a bicycle and shoeprints heading toward the chain-link fence at the bottom of the hill. The second consisted of the same coming back up the slope to the asphalt, but now joined by imprints left by some sort of clawed feet.

The man followed the tracks down to the edge of the construction site and back to the road, ignoring the growing filth on his polished black shoes. The trail stopped dead as it reached the paved surface of the street. There was no following it any further, but the man’s mind was still racing. This was an interesting development. Someone else had gotten here first and had encountered one or both of the Unknowns, taking one with them when they left. As he got back into his car, questions rushed through the man’s mind, all devoted to analyzing this data and trying to decipher who would have had the tools to detect an emergence and the ability to force an Unknown to accompany them.

He drove back to his home digesting this latest development as he drove. Others were taking an interest in these monsters, and that was dangerous. His men needed to step up their work to analyze and contain not only Unknowns, but also to find out what this new force at play is. Still, his previous bad mood had evaporated. There was work too much work to be done.