Verik waved his hand and the outline of a door appeared in the black rock wall ahead of him. The rock appeared to be liquid between the outlined frame of the door. He and Apiecie, his old black cat, walked through the liquid.
“I have always liked that illusion, Apiecie,” Verik said with a smile.
Apiecie looked at Verik with his one good eye, then gave out a short meow that sounded like a combination of a bag of gravel being rolled with a little laryngitis. Verik extended his arms and lifted them towards the ceiling. The cloaking veil lifted like a theater curtain revealing the laboratory.
The large room was lit by shards of lightning rock sitting in the palm of the hand shaped sconces attached the walls. The room was filled with shelves from floor to ceiling. Some loaded with potions and others filled with all sizes and colors of books. A waist-high white granite top table sat in the middle of the room. It once sat ten for meals, but now it was cover with small burners, open books, and dust. Verik walked to the table and outlined four rectangles in the air. He lodged his cane in the brass holder at the end of the table.
“Let’s see what the animals see, Apiecie.”
The four rectangles sparked to life. Apiecie slowly hobbled up a cat sized ramp to his blue satin pillow that rested on the seat of a high stool. The arthritis in his hips was excruciatingly painful today. He again gave a rough and pain filled short meow. Verik watched his longtime friend struggle to ease himself down on the pillow.
“Time for your medicine I see, my old friend.”
Apiecie just looked at Verik with his good eye.
Verik waved the rectangles out of his way and walked to the counter. He pulled down a clear glass bottle and set it on the counter in front of him. He positioned his right hand over the top of the bottle then placed his left hand on his right. He closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh.
A small stream of green fog slowly snaked its way from the middle of his palm to the bottom of the bottle. It spiraled its way around the bottle and stopped halfway up the sides. Verik opened his eyes and the fog turned into a green liquid half filling the bottle.
He took a white saucer from the shelf in front of him and placed it on the counter. He carefully filled the saucer with the green liquid. Verik held the saucer close to Apiecie’s mouth. A green vapor rose from the saucer and found its way to the cat’s nose as he lapped up the liquid.
“That’s it. Take it slowly my friend.”
Verik stroked the head of his friend lightly with his free hand. He watched as the cat’s black fur began to fill in bare spots. He saw the swelling begin to subside in Apiecie’s hips. He heard Apiecie’s breathing become less labored. Apiecie sighed, signaling that he was finished drinking and a nap was soon to ensue.
Verik gave the cat another gentle stroke on the head then stood up. He cleaned up what was left of the liquid with his index finger and rubbed it on his gums. He shuddered a little when he pulled his finger from his mouth.
“Must work on the taste of that.”
* * *
Randy had just lit a cigarette when the doorbell rang.
“Sounds like the kids are here.”
The doorbell rang three more times.
“Sometimes I wish I had never started that,” Randy said, slowly shaking his head.
Rudy chuckled.
“Why did you do that anyway,” Rudy said, he lit a cigarette.
“Well, there was always a fight to see who got to ring the bell when we went anywhere with a doorbell. I got tired of fighting and whining, so I just told them everyone gets to push the button on their way in. Problem solved.”
Rudy blew out some smoke.
“Yea, not really.”
“Did for me,” Randy laughed. “Better you guys suffer with four doorbell rings than me putting up with four whining kids.”
“You are a dick,” Rudy laughed.
“Why yes I am,” Randy proclaimed with a smile. “Dude.”
“What.”
“Hit a ball up in the air. Let’s see if I can hit it with this butt.”
“Alright,” Rudy said, he picked up his club and ball.
Rudy bounced the ball on the grooved club face twice. Each bounce a little higher than the last. The third bounce traveled higher than the deck railing. Randy pinched his cigarette butt between his thumb and middle finger. He flicked the butt towards the ball. The butt spun end over end three times then hit the ball dead center. Orange sparks flew off ball and the butt.
“Whoa,” the brothers yelled in amazement.
“That was so cool,” Randy said.
“I know,” Rudy said, some amazement lingered in his voice.
The brothers sprung to their feet and gave each other a loud high five.
“What’s all this racket out here about?” a voice from the doorway said.
Randy and Rudy turned their heads towards the screen door.
“Cindy!” they exclaimed.
Cindy Horton, Randy’s second eldest child at twenty-five, pushed open the screen door. Her straight chestnut hair touched the shoulder of her navy blue “Urlacher” jersey. Her bright orange cargo pants had two blue stripes running down the side. A blue fitted baseball hat was worn backward so that the orange embroidered “BEARS” showed. Large round orange and blue sunglasses covered her hazel eyes.
Cindy walked over and hugged her dad.
“Glad you could make it,” Randy said in a low voice.
“Glad you decided to do this again.”
She let go of her father and walked over to her uncle.
“Good to see you again, kiddo,” Rusty said as his niece hugged him.
“Good to see you too, Uncle Rusty.”
Cindy sat in the chair left of her father’s. She pulled a pack of cigarettes and pink lighter out of a pocket on her right pant leg.
“Cold beer,” Randy Jr.’s voice boomed from behind the screen door. “Ice cold beer here.”
He was carrying a large blue cooler in front of him by the white handles on each side. “TITANS” was boldly embossed on the front of the cooler.
“Let me get that door for you,” Randy said.
He hurried to hold the door not thinking about the shock he had suffered earlier. He saw the forearms of his eldest child bulging from the weight of the cooler.
“Put it over there in the corner, Hercules.”
“Alright,” RJ said. No strain from the weight was divulged in his voice.
He carried the cooler to the far end of the deck and set it down then let out a large sigh.
RJ’s broad shoulders wore his white “GEORGE” jersey well. The bill of his powder blue baseball cap was curved so the apex lined up with the middle of the “T” logo on the front. His powder blue basketball shorts came down to just under his knees.
“Whatcha got in there?” Rudy inquired.
“Oh…” RJ said, lifting open the white top of the cooler. “Just a couple of cases of beer and this.”
He took out a bottle of orange juice then set it on the deck. RJ reached into the cooler again. The rustle of ice cubes could be heard.
“And this.” He held up a large bottle of “Grey Goose” vodka.
“Well…looks like we’re drinking the good stuff today.” Rusty said, then began laughing. He gave RJ a high five.
“Did someone say the good stuff?”
The second to the youngest, Kurt, walked his six-foot-one-inch, broad shouldered frame through the door still being held open by this father.
“Thank you, my good man,” Kurt said, slightly tipping his cap. “I’ll tip you on the way out.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” Randy said, giving a slight bow.
Kurt wore his scarlet “YOUNG” jersey. His baseball cap was black with a scarlet oval on the front. A white “SF” was embroidered in the center of the oval. His knee-length shorts were black with a scarlet stripe going down the side.
Kurt put a bottle of “Talisker” ten-year scotch on the round glass table.
“Oh my,” Randy said, still patiently holding the screen door open.
“Yes sir,” Kurt said with a smile. “Why are you holding the door open?”
“You’ll let all the flies in the county in,” all of Randy’s children said in a loud mocking tone. Even Tad’s, the youngest, voice was heard from the inside of the house.
Rusty started laughing and pointing at Randy.
“Fine,” Randy said, then let the door close. “Just trying to be polite.”
“No need to change now, Dad,” Tad yelled from the kitchen.
All but Randy broke out into a raucous laughter. Randy just looked down and slowly shook his head.
“Thanks buddy,” Randy yelled into the house.
RJ walked over to his father and gave him a hug.
“Glad we’re doing this again, Dad.”
“Me too.”
RJ walked over to his uncle, shook his right hand, and gave him an over-the-shoulders hug with his left arm. Kurt followed RJ with the hugs then went inside.
“Man, this doorman service here sucks,” Tad chuckled.
Randy sighed then opened the door.
“Thanks, old man.”
“My pleasure.”
Tad, the tallest child at six-foot-three inches, and the broadest shouldered, wore his black “BETTIS” jersey. His baseball cap was black with a gold bill, the “Steelers” logo was centered on the front.
Tad placed the wooden football shaped tray that he carried from the kitchen on the glass table. He had loaded the tray with a plate of six perfectly shaped hamburgers, a package of hot dogs and a small plate of sliced Swiss and American cheese.
“Now we’re talking,” Randy said. “Grill should be at temp.”
Kurt came out of the house with six, silver rimmed, smoke colored cocktail glasses and a green glass bowl of ice on another football shaped wooden tray. He pulled a silver flask from his left pants pocket.
“Whatcha got there, Kurt,” Rusty inquired.
“Oh… just some hundred proof cinnamon schnapps” he said, unscrewing the top. “You old guys up for a shot?”
Randy looked at Rusty, Rusty looked at Randy. They both looked at Kurt.
“Old guys!”
The four children started laughing.
Kurt poured even amounts into the six glasses. The whole Horton clan stood by the table, each one picking up a glass. All eyes went to Randy.
Randy sighed before he raised his glass.
“Here’s to all of us here, and to the two who are not.”
The Hortons reached in and clinked glasses. All the glasses were emptied in one gulp and returned to the table with authority.
An impromptu moment of silence ensued.
The silence was broken up by Randy first.
“Well, that was a pretty potent shot.”
The rest of the Horton clan broke out in laughter.
Randy picked up a black remote control off the table and handed it to Kurt.
“Turn on this damn stereo. I still cannot figure it out.”
Again, the rest of the clan broke out in laughter.
“All you have to do is push the red button then hit play,” Kurt said as he slowly shook his head. “Like this.”
The outside speakers came alive with “Turbo Lover” by Judas Priest.
The kids looked at each other, then back at their dad.
“Like I don’t know how to work a stereo,” Randy said, he shook his head.
All participated in singing the song. Randy and Rusty accompanied the rowdy and slightly off-key singing with enthusiastic air guitar playing. After the song was over, Kurt held up the flask.
“Shots!”
Kurt lined up the glasses and began pouring the schnapps.
“I remember us doing that a lot when mom wasn’t home,” Tad said.
“Yes, we did,” Randy agreed. “But we took it a bit too far on our trip to Chicago.”
“How’s that,” Rusty asked.
“Well, I had a ninety-minute cassette,” Randy started his tale. “But I only had time to finish recording on half of it before we left. The radio was broken, so the tape was all the music we had. To make a long story short, we sang “Turbo Lover” four times in two and a half hours on the way to Chicago. Annie made a strong request not to hear that song again the rest of that day. So… we rode home in silence.”
“Yea, but I heard mom humming it a time or two,” Tad said.
“Yup,” RJ said.
“Me too,” Cindy added.
“I saw her air guitar too,” Kurt said.
Kurt poured the rest of the contents of the flask, the last of it ending up in Randy’s glass.
“Last drop, first shot” Kurt said, he looked up to his dad and smiled.”
“Funny how that worked out,” Randy said in disbelief.
He raised his glass, looked at his family, and smiled.
“Go, Packers!”
“Oh, hell no,” Rusty complained loudly.
He looked at Cindy and raised his glass.
“Da Bears.”
Cindy smiled and lifted her glass.
“Da Bears.”
The rest followed.
“Titans”
“Niners”
“Steelers”
The drinks were finished in one swallow and the glasses were firmly placed on the tabletop.
“Smooth,” Randy said like he was losing his breath.
Rusty did a quick jerk of his head.
“Yea, buddy,” he groaned with his right eye closed.
The kids had a good chuckle at their father’s and uncle’s antics.
Tad opened the grill as the rest of his family found their seat around the table. He took the plate of meat off the table and placed it on the cutting board attached to the grill. He carefully placed the burgers on the grates. Immediately the sounds of grilling meat filled the air. He pulled the grill lid down and joined his family at the table.
The family, except for Kurt and Tad, lit cigarettes. Randy let out a puff.
“Couldn’t ask for a better day for this.” Randy said, he took a drag off his cigarette.
“No lie,” Rusty agreed. “Not a cloud in the sky.”
“Oh yea,” Cindy said. “Then what’s that.”
She pointed to a small gray cloud in the distance. Randy turned to the direction Cindy was pointing.
“Somebody’s grill must be burning too hot,” Randy said as he spotted the cloud.
“Bet they poured a whole bottle of lighter fluid on the charcoal before they lit it,” Rusty added.
“No doubt,” Randy laughed. “Weatherman said to expect near perfect weather for this time of year.”
RJ turned to see what they were talking about.
“Where?” he said, searching the sky.
“It’s gone,” Cindy said, a little disbelief in her voice.
Randy folded his arms on his chest.
“As I said,” Randy said smugly.
“Oh brother,” Cindy said, rolling her eyes.
The aromatic wisps of smoke from the grill began to pass over the table.
“Damn. Tad, that’s smelling good already,” Randy said.
“There’s nothing on the radar,” Kurt said, looking at his cell phone.
Kurt’s words were still fresh in the air when a deafening clap of thunder exploded. The shock waves rattled the windows of the house and vibrated the glasses on the table. An ominous snake-like black cloud began to form above them. It chased its tale in a clockwise motion, picking up speed with every heartbeat. Wire-like lightning formed spokes in the middle of the cloud. Faster and faster, it spun.
The Hortons carefully rose from their chairs, eyes glued to the phenomenon forming above them.
“Juju, Bwanna, juju,” Rusty said, staring at the cloud.
“I think you’re right. That’s some mega bad magombo.” Randy replied without moving his eyes off the skies.
“What the hell are you guys talking about,” Kurt said loudly.
“Lines from the old “Jungle Jim” movies we watched on our black and white TV when we were kids.” Rusty said, eyes fixed on the cloud. “Roughly, it means something bad ahead.”
“I think we better…” Randy’s words were cut off by a burst of wind.
The powerful burst made him lose his balance slightly.
Leaves were being stripped off the trees surrounding Randy’s property. The Hortons ducked and protected their faces from the tree shrapnel with their arms. Another clap of thunder roared from the cloud.
An intense white lightning bolt shot from the middle of the spokes. It sizzled through the air and hit the ground with a menacing hiss. Another bolt, just as intense, shot from the cloud. It sizzled next to the first bolt.
The bolts staggered slightly as they approached the deck. Scorched turf was left in their wake.
Shading their eyes with their hands, the Hortons stood frozen with fear and awe as another pair of brilliant white bolts hammered the ground. Slowly, they followed the previous two, making new scorch marks on the lawn. Two more bolts pounded the ground, one white and the other a vivid blue. The smell of scorched turf filled the air.
The wind and thunder were deafening, light blinding; and just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
So were the Hortons.