Chapter 2: Stunned

‘Sup, Warren?’ asked Theodore approaching Warren in a mall in the evening. Theodore was Warren’s best friend. He had an athletic built, an inch taller than Warren and was blonde. His eyes were the same colour as Warren’s except that they were a shade lighter.

‘Not much,’ replied Warren exchanging money for a couple of chocolates at the “La Chocolat Shoppe”. ‘I gotta buy some T-Shirts.’

‘Yeah’, nodded Theodore. Both walked past a few shops in the mall without speaking another word which was absolutely abnormal for the duo. At other times they were busy exchanging conversations and laughing their heart out. Warren stopped at a shop and said, ‘Let’s look in here’. He asked a boy working there to show some T-Shirts to him. While the boy went upstairs to get them, Theodore said to Warren, ‘Listen, hey, in case you’ve got some data stored in your cranium I don’t know about, spill the beans, will you?’

The boy returned with a set of T-Shirts. Warren replied to Theodore rather unconcernedly rummaging a best T-Shirt for himself, ‘No, it’s really nothing!’ ‘Hey, what d’you think about this one?’ asked he, picking out one from the set.

Theodore analyzed it and expressed his opinions ‘It’s good.’ He handed it over to the boy. Picking out another, Warren said, ‘May be I can have this one as well.’ He ordered the boy to pack them. Theodore, once again, without losing his cool, tried to get the truth out of Warren, ‘Your mum says you’re quite quiet these days.’

‘When did you talk to my mum?’ asked Warren drawing his full attention towards the conversation. ‘Well, yesterday I was at your place with Ben and Rick. Hey, you never told me ’bout the HTCT,’ frowned Theodore. ‘The HTCT, where did you get to know ’bout it?’ asked Warren, alarmed in almost the same fashion as he had been when his mother had asked him about the HTCT. Theodore said, matter-of-factly, ‘From your mum, of course! She told me it’s a committee in your organization.’ Warren’s breath took to normal while his heart still raced, as he said, ‘Oh… you just…just tell me wha’ever my mum had said to you yesterday and fill me in with every single detail.”

Meanwhile, the boy handed the packed T-Shirt to Warren who deposited cash on the counter. After taking the receipt, the duo left the shop. Warren enquired of Theodore about his conversation with his mother, again. After walking up to a certain distance silently, Theodore stopped and said to Warren with full concern, ‘What’s up with you? I mean… why on earth do you want to spy on your mum?’ Warren was taken aback. He said, hurriedly, ‘Wha’? I never said I want to spy on my mum.’ ‘What did you mean by “fill me in with every single detail”?’ blurted out Theodore with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

‘Theo, you don’t understand. It’s very important. No time leftuh stay cool. You dunno something serious is goin’ on o’er ’ere. And each ‘n’ every mo’ is important to me. When Terror 909 will commence, there’ll be so much destruction that you can’t even picture it. When Hurricane will step in our world, everyone will step outta their lives. You don’ understand that millions of lives are in danger. You don’ understand that destruction is heading towards us. You don’ understand anything, do you?’ said Warren venting out his frustration in a single breath.

‘Er… rewind to the part where you mentioned Terror 909 and Hurricane. What are they?’ asked Theo, baffled and amazed. Warren clenched his fists and said with gritted teeth, ‘Darn! When will I realize I should keep things to myself instead of giving them away out of sheer aggravation?’
Theo chortled rather disdainfully and said, ‘Wow, so you do hide a lot many things from your best friend. That explains it.’ He resumed his pace. Warren hurried to catch up. He knew that he was at a moot point now and whatever he said would be queried and held wrong.

Before he could frame something that would avert the worst that could happen, Theo broke into a speech which startled him, ‘You know what? Chuck it. It’s OK. You’re my frien’ ’n’ I know that you’ll tell me wha’ever you want to. And I understand that everyone has the right to hold their secrets.’ Warren felt petite and was at a complete loss of words. He knew he had messed it up. He took a few seconds to say, ‘I’mma make it up to you, I promise. Don’t mention Hurricane or Terror 909 in front of anyone, ‘kay?’

Theo smiled and said, ‘Take my word for it. And now - the answer to your question: I went to your house yesterday with Ben and Rick. Thought we’d hangout. But Mrs. Hudgens said that you were asleep. She said that you seemed a bit changed as in a bit more grave and were fretting about the HTCT, the new committee in your organization. That’s all.’

Warren sighed and thanked Theo and apologized. Theo shrugged, ‘You know you don’t stand a chance in front of Dungeon when it comes to unleashing my fury. That moron irritates every bit of me. Hell knows why he studies in the same institution as I do.’ ‘Yeah,’ Warren joined in, ‘He crafts a heavy accent and says- “I’m Dungeon the Dangerous Devil”; what a pathetic way of using alliteration!’

‘Seriously,’ snorted Theo. He announced, ‘I gotta go. Almost time for my classes.’
‘What topic’s on?’ asked Warren, casually. ‘Besides the tutor’s usual trash talk about his old pal- the robot dog, Inter-stellar Mechanics of Galaxy 4.0,’ replied Theo. Warren chuckled, ‘OK. See you then. Bye.’

Warren still had a lot on his mind when he was home, yet he was cheery. His mother remarked, ‘Glad you’re not as apprehensive as you were yesterday. You have classes today?’

He threw himself on a sofa, unlaced his shoes and said, ‘None.’ He watched his mother arrange a book shelf. Whenever he thought of her, he couldn’t help but recollect what Mr. Flog had said. He gathered his guts to bring himself to ask of his mother what it was all about. He even held the presumption that she knew about the HTCT and if that was true, she would know about Hurricane as well because that was all his organization was about.

‘Er, mum?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You know Bruce Flog, don’t you?’

Mrs. Hudgens turned towards Warren who was sitting firmly with his poker face. He added, ‘He’s the head of the HTCT.’ He knew that it was time to let the cat out of the bag. His mother was astounded and she asked rhetorically, ‘He’s the head of the HTCT?’ ‘That’s what I said’, stated Warren, his heart racing. ‘You work for the Hurricane Terror Combat Team,’ sighed Mrs. Hudgens.

Warren knew that it was coming, yet his heart skipped a beat. He was persistent to know more. He did not utter another word. His mother understood the cue and went on, ‘Well… I have been an agent of the HTCT. I have been in the Advanced Level Panel and I have been the head.’ She beamed, looking relieved as she sat on a settee. Warren was utterly confounded. Mrs. Hudgens said, ‘And Bruce was an agent as well. My contemporary.’ Warren asked, baffled, ‘How did he know that you were looking for me this morning?’ ‘Oh, I reckoned you were at the headquarters and so I contacted Bruce. He never told me he’s the head. He said he’s in the Advanced Level Panel,’ said a disappointed Mrs. Hudgens. Warren enquired, ‘Yeah but how did you contact him? I didn’t see him check any communication gadget then.’ She turned scarlet when she said, ‘I’m not supposed to tell you. It’s for the Advanced Level Panel.’

‘Why didn’t you ever tell me you’ve been associated with the HTCT?’ asked an amazed, astounded, elated and bewildered Warren. Mrs. Hudgens was about to state the raison d'être but Warren lay motionless on the couch. It seemed as if he had frozen or turned into stone.

Warren witnessed his mother, the settee, the walls and the furniture disappear from view. He now stood behind a translucent drape. He was restive for a while till he realized he was seeing his Visionary Sequence. He looked around and grasped the panorama. It was a magnificent hall with several round tables arranged at regular intervals in an exquisite fashion. Around a hundred people were enjoying a lavish feast. Warren felt his nerves relax. It was eerie because he knew he was thrilled and terrified a second ago and all of a sudden he was in high spirits. He knew he had felt the ambience in the hall change.

It took him another moment to construe these were Homo sapiens and not nens.

Before he could take in other details, something changed. He felt the adrenaline rush as he saw his mother facing him with apprehension. He was in the living room of his house sitting on the familiar couch. ‘How much time has it been since I was motionless?’ he queried, standing up. He realized he was breathless and his feet were shaking. The ambience in the room was colder than that in the hall where it felt warm and serene. However, Warren knew that the ambience there had been crafted. It wasn’t natural.

‘Ten seconds, approximately,’ answered Mrs. Hudgens. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked, concernedly, ‘What happened?’ ‘Sit,’ she added. He did as she said, shut his eyes, breathed and began, ‘A’ight, there’s this visionary sequence that I see. It’s not hallucination. I’m certain about that. It’s like I’m teleported to another time. I see Homo sapiens sapiens, you understand? They aren’t Homo sapiens nens. It’s happened twice with me. At 9:30 hr today, I was in a sort of a forest and there were two of them dueling. And now, I was in a hall, a real big one. There was a lavish feast. And the time is…’

He opened his eyes, looked at a rectangular screen on the opposite wall and questioned, ‘What’s the time?’ A micro-phonic male voice replied, ’21:33 hr’. ‘Oh boy,’ he said and turned to his mother who had a painful look etched on her face. She said, ‘I have no idea what it is. It’s not normal. You couldn’t be breaking the time continuum all of a sudden. You can only break the space continuum.’ ‘Right! Well, it didn’t even feel the way it does when you teleport. That’s sudden and jolty while this… this was like… the things here… all of them just disappeared but in a different way. The visionary sequence blended with the present and separated very unlike teleportation.’

His mother nodded. ‘You say you saw the first one at 9:30 hr. After about 12 hr, you happen to see the next,’ she said. Warren scowled, ‘This ain’t right ‘cause it has a pattern and is inexplicable, if you know what I mean.’ ‘Scientific,’ stated Mrs. Hudgens. ‘Obscure!’ remarked Warren’. ‘Oh c’mon, be glad it has something you can understand, a pattern, that is. Science is meant to simplify things,’ said his mother firmly. Warren, still scowling, said, ‘It first complicates things, then simplifies ‘em,’ ‘You’re digressing!’ said an annoyed Mrs. Hudgens. Warren heaved a sigh.

He stated resolutely, ‘Let’s get down to work. I’m going to look for nens who know anything about Hurricane.’ ‘What about the…’ said his mother but Warren cut across her sentence, saying, ‘I know there are SOH’s. I’ll be careful.’ ‘Good,’ she said giving Warren a piercing look. ‘Oh and by the way, when I said… quote, let’s get down to work, unquote, I did not mean “us”. It’ll be just me, of course. We should be well-versed with clarity. I’m not risking you,’ he said, determinedly. ‘Kid, you’re an agent in his second year at the HTCT. You’re talking to the ex-head of your organization. And you are in no position to impose commands upon me,’ said Mrs. Hudgens coolly but with her brows raised, ‘Be all ears to my statement. We have to get down to work tomorrow. Go to bed.’ They stared at each other blankly and burst out chuckling at the same instant. Warren hugged his mother, wished her goodnight and climbed the stairs up to his room.

‘Lights,’ he said entering his room, ‘My digital notebook, please.’ The same flew over to him from his desk. Warren went to his bed, unlaced his shoes and lied upon it. Looking at the notebook, he said,
‘Record.

“A Visionary Sequence:
Day 94, 1454 W1.
21:30 hr
A grand feast in a magnificent hall.
Homo sapiens, about a hundred of them.
Enigmatic sudden alteration in the ambience.
No scientific explanation.
Observable hypothetic pattern: The visionary sequence occurs at an interval of 12 hr.”

Stop.’

‘Evans, are you keeping a track of things? Creating back-up files?’ Warren asked. ‘Yes sir,’ replied the micro-phonic male voice. ‘Create ‘em one on disk and one in your memory,’ commanded Warren. ‘I will,’ replied Evans. ‘Thanks and I guess I could do with dim lights,’ said Warren and his orders fulfilled, he dozed off.

*

‘Warren, wake UPP now,’ shouted Mrs. Hudgens at the top of her lungs.

The nineteen year old woke with a start. Wiping off the state of oblivion from his eyes, he landed his feet straight into his shoes and approached the window, following which, the window pane slid into the wall. The twittering of birds broke the silence of the morning, reverberating across the clear blue sky. Not letting any thought penetrate into his mind, Warren traced the path of migratory birds gliding high in the sky.

He was absorbed in the moment so much so that when the chimes played and Evans said, ‘Someone’s at the door’, he jumped up and yelped out loud only to catch the attention of the pedestrians on the street below.

‘What’s wrong?’ shouted an old nen. Everyone else around stopped to learn what had come to pass.

‘Oh don’t bother Mr. Thomas. Staggered by the ringing of the chimes,’ shouted back Warren with a chuckle, half hanging out of the window.

‘Oh…you kid…’ frowned Mr. Thomas and everyone resumed their pace.

Warren turned away and strode across the room, across the dining room and across the living room to the front door to respond to the bell, only to end up discovering Dungeon at the door.

‘Dungeon, Hey!’ exclaimed Warren.

‘Warren’, answered Dungeon.

‘Come on in’, Warren beckoned Dungeon into the house.

‘How’s life?’ asked Warren.

‘Good, technically,’ said Dungeon.

‘Ahan. And, philosophically?’

‘Brilliant, er...’

‘”Er”?’ Warren looked at Dungeon questioningly.

‘Hello, this is - ?’ enquired Mrs. Hudgens as she came in the living room. Withdrawing the conversation with Warren, Dungeon beamed at Mrs. Hudgens, ‘Hello, Mrs. Hudgens, I’m Dungeon. Your son’s schoolmate’.

Mrs. Hudgens beamed back, ‘Oh, yeah…I remember Warren mentioning your name at times. So, you’re “Dungeon the….’

Warren cut across her as he said aloud, ‘SO! Dungeon, how is it…I mean what brought you here?’

‘I need to talk to you about er…’ said Dungeon hesitatingly. ‘Something,’ he added. For a moment, the three nens stared at each other in turns. ‘Please excuse me. I have to leave for work in a while,’ said Warren’s mother, following which, she headed towards her room.

They watched her go. Dungeon said to Warren, ‘About the HTCT.’ Warren hadn’t seen it coming, apparently, for when he heard the words which he could never associate with the most aggravating nen on Earth, he froze. It took him what seemed like ages to resuscitate his intellect when he said, ‘What do you know about the HTCT?’ He might not actually know about it. He might be thinking of it, like Theo does, as a committee in the organization wherein I study, reckoned Warren.

‘The Hurricane Terror Combat Team,’ stated Dungeon. It’s not like I thought. This is getting worse, Warren couldn’t help saying, ‘I’d never supposed “you” would say it.’ ‘Never expected that you would,’ replied Dungeon, matter-of-factly. ‘Take a look at my registration card, if you don’t believe it,’ he suggested. ‘Definitely, yeah. Your R-card,’ said Warren aggressively, not wanting to believe truth to be true. Dungeon passed the R-card over to Warren who, looking at it, could sport nothing but a poker face. He hated the sudden change of circumstances through and through.

‘So even if you are an agent, how come you don’t attend the meetings? How come you’re in the institution where Theo studies when you should’ve been enrolled right in the pseudo-institution-for-a-secret-organization where to I frequent?’ interrogated Warren, thinking it best to keep logic alive. Smiling, Dungeon said, ‘Ever heard about The Geek Technique?’ ‘You’re a member of The Geek Technique of the HTCT?’ asked Warren, adding what more, now? to his train of thoughts. ‘Yes, buddy. The equipments, gadgets and gizmos, satellite imagery and communication to the extent of intruding privacy, if required. The Geek Technique,’ said Dungeon with an expression that said “outsmart me if you can”. ‘Well, then. To my psyche’s content, you’ve explained why you do not attend the meetings. Mind answering the second question?’ asked Warren, prudently. ‘None of the members of the faction is enrolled as a student of the HTCT,’ asserted Dungeon.

Warren heaved a sigh as Dungeon scrutinized his expressions. ‘The purpose of your visit?’ questioned Warren. The other replied, ‘I have a list of SOH’s with their contact address. We’ve searched every nook and corner of World 1. Could get our hands on a few names.’ Handing over the list to Warren, he said, hurriedly, ‘Mate, I need to go. There’s a whole lot of stuff to be done.’ Warren forced a smile and said, ‘Yeah. Thanks for the list. See you.’ ‘Bye,’ said Dungeon as he walked out the front door.

As he shut the door, Warren shouted to his mother, ‘Dungeon’s brought a list of SOH’s with him.’ Mrs. Hudgens rushed into the living room, bewildered and alarmed. He narrated the conversation he had exchanged with Dungeon. ‘Let me have a look at the list,’ she said, taking the list from Warren. She read aloud, ‘SOH’s: Ciara Gill, Patrick Richards, Jason Jones, Sylvester Robin, Theodore Collins, Jasmine Parker, Samantha Rose……er, what? Theodore Collins?

As every expression had been drained out from his face, Warren thought, the worst that could come to pass. I’d love to believe that Dungeon is lying, that every word he speaks is a lie. My best friend who’s more of a brother to me cannot be an SOH. But then, the R-card wasn’t a fake one and nobody can ever make out if the person they’re spending their life with is an SOH.