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The first thing Gerard became aware of was the dry heat on his skin and the red glow of a bright light beyond his eyelids.
He blinked his eyes open and threw an arm up to block out the sun, bigger and brighter in the sky than he could ever remember it being. He belatedly realized he was lying down. The ground was dry, hot dirt. He coughed.
"Gerard?"
He looked around and spotted Frank to his left, kneeling in the packed sand. Gerard blinked a few times to clear his watery vision.
"What the fuck are you wearing?" was the first thing Gerard asked.
Frank looked down at himself, his suddenly long, black hair shielding his face. He hands dropped to touch a green vest, a red, white, and blue wristband, a yellow shirt, an acid green gun in a holster on his side.
"You... you're covered in tattoos," Gerard pointed out.
Frank looked up and Gerard was relieved to see that his face was exactly what he remembered.
"You should fucking see yourself," Frank said, eyebrows darting up.
He dropped his gaze to the tight bleached jeans, a yellow bandana tied under his knee, a yellow gun in a thigh holster, a blue jacket.... As he looked, a lock of his hair fell into his eyes and he practically jumped out of his skin.
"My fucking hair!"
"That is the reddest red I have ever seen," Frank said, a grin started to stretch across his mouth.
"It's not- this isn't funny!" Gerard cried. "What the fuck is going on? Where are we? What happened?"
"I... I pressed that button," Frank said. He reached down and drew a number 1 in the sand. As he did the sun glinted off his stolen ring and Gerard looked down to find his own green-jeweled ring still on his hand.
"The rings got hot, and then there was like, a flash of light," Frank continued. "And then this."
Gerard climbed carefully to his feet, feeling blisters forming against the boots he had on. He helped Frank up and they both looked around.
They were in a vast desert. The heat rising off the packed sand made the horizon shimmer but off to the far right they spotted cliffs and sparse brush. Dotted here and there were Joshua trees and brittle bushes. A few dozen feet away, a car was parked.
"Who's car, do you think?" Gerard wondered.
"Uh," Frank said, pointing to Gerard's pocket where the outline of a keychain was easy to see through the tight fabric.
"It's my car?" Gerard asked, pulling the keys out. There were three attached to a ring and a little blue mouse-character head hanging from a chain.
"Let's go check," Frank said, marching off toward the car.
Gerard hurried to catch up, eyeing the car as they approached. It was a muscle car, dirty white and absolutely covered in graffiti and art. With a quick glance he spotted an American flag, a giant stylized spider on the hood, the word 'Destroya' and letter-stickers spelling out 'BULLETPROOF' on the windshield.
"Not really bulletproof," Frank commented as they reached it. He ran a hesitant finger over a ragged hole in the metal body that was surrounded by a scorch mark.
"Why did someone shoot my car?"
"You sound very protective of a car you literally just got," Frank grinned.
"I just wanna know why someone apparently shot at us," Gerard frowned. "Okay, what the fuck. How are we even in the desert right now? And where did you get all the fucking tattoos?"
Frank looked down at his arms. "They're pretty sweet, right? My knuckles say Halloween."
"Don't you have a bunch of tattoo ideas already for when you turn 18?"
"Yeah, I don't know if I'd ever go as bold as 'Halloween' on my knuckles though. Especially since my right hand just says 'ween'."
Gerard snorted and reached out to touch Frank's arm.
"These are already turning green with age though, like... how long have you had these?"
"I've had them for like two minutes, I don't know," Frank said, rolling his sleeve up his biceps to look at the rest. "Look, holy shit! That's... that's my fucking grandmother."
"What's the first tattoo you were thinking of getting?" Gerard asked.
"A pumpkin on my back," Frank answered immediately, tearing his eyes away from his grandmother's face to yank his green vest off. He spun around and Gerard hiked his shirt up, looking at the top of his back.
"Yeah, it's there. A creepy jack-o-lantern," he sighed. "And... a tramp stamp of crossed guns, nice, Frankie."
Frank twisted around trying to see but Gerard let his shirt drop.
"Okay hang on, we have bigger problems than your tattoos. How are we in the desert? I think that desk fucking... teleported us or something."
"Like Narnia!" Frank said, spinning around to face Gerard again. He pulled his vest back on quickly, covering the gun strapped to his ribs.
"I never watched those movies," Gerard admitted.
"Oh my God, they're books, first of all. And in the first one there's like, all these different universes that the kids can go to through these ponds or something? I haven't read it in forever, but they used rings to get there and back! Oh my God," he repeated, getting a far-off look in his eyes. "The guy who lived in that house was Uncle Andrew!"
"You read too many books, Frank. Also, if you didn't notice, this isn't Narnia. Also that journal entry or whatever that freaked you out? He signed it, and his name was William, not Andrew."
"Ruin all my fun," Frank muttered.
"We are really off topic here!" Gerard shouted, waving his hands in the air. "How are we gonna get back?"
Frank looked around the desert, ran his eyes over the graffitied car, then looked Gerard up and down. Gerard tired not to blush, even though he skin was already heated up from the sun.
"The kids in the book had to put the rings on to like, jump back to their world or something? But they had two rings, one to go out and one to come back... Oh my fucking God, what if we forgot the Go Back rings?!"
"Frank! This isn't Narnia!"
They both fell silent for a moment, then Frank slipped his ring off and set it on the hood of the car. Nothing happened. He put it back on, twisted it around, put it on the other hand. Nothing happened.
"Okay, I'm out of ideas," he admitted. "Also I'm really thirsty."
Gerard sighed. "Maybe there's water in the car."
They searched the car over and found bottled water in the trunk. While Frank rummaged through the random items, Gerard slipped into the driver's seat.
One of the keys on Gerard's key ring fit into the ignition and he turned it on just to see if they had gas. The gas dial rose to about halfway full. He was about to turn it off when the radio spluttered to life.
"Look alive, sunshine!" came a rumbly male voice.
"Frank!" Gerard shouted. "Come listen!"
Frank rushed around to the front of the car and leaned in through the open roof where half the door was missing.
The man on the radio was chattering away, using slang words Gerard didn't understand and occasionally rhyming.
"...This is Dr. Death Defying, signing off for now."
The radio clicked and filled with static.
"What station is that?" Frank asked.
"109 fm," Gerard said, checking the old dial.
Frank shrugged. "Never heard it." He popped open his door and slumped into the seat. "Well, now that we know there's other people in this random desert, you wanna go for a drive? Maybe we can figure out where we are and how to get home."
Gerard had only had his license for 7 months, and he was suddenly grateful that his mom had forced him to learn how to drive a standard. The muscle car was difficult to handle at first, but Gerard figured it out soon enough. They drove in the opposite direction that the car had been parked since, as Frank pointed out, it would probably lead them back to wherever they had come from.
They drove for over an hour, splitting the water bottle and taking turns fiddling with the radio to try and find a station that wasn't static. Eventually though, they spotted a run down gas station on the shimmering horizon.
"Stop and ask for directions?" Frank grinned.
"I guess we probably should, right?"
Gerard pulled up in front of the station and shut the car off. They listened to the tink-tink-tink of the engine cooling for a few moments before getting the courage to open the doors.
As they approached the gas station, Gerard suddenly remembered the gun blast on the car and the guns they both had strapped to themselves. What if the people in this desert were dangerous or crazy? What if they guarded their gasoline like gold and shot him and Frank on sight?
Frank banged through the rickety screen door and stepped into the station. The shelves were mostly bare, but a few white labeled cans were stacked here and there. A magazine rack held issues of Shiny and Modern and Murder. Flies buzzed around and an old fan spun lazily on the counter.
"Hello?" Frank called, plodding deeper into the store.
A man appeared from a door in the far wall, smiling wide and nodding.
"Welcome," he said. "How can I help you?"
Gerard looked the man over; he was dressed just as oddly as they were, in bright colors with patches and a bandana and fucked up hair.
"We're... sort of lost," Frank said. "We're looking for directions?"
"You lose your map? I can sell you a new one for 2 carbons, but they're not much use blank. For an even five I can fill in some important stuff for ya."
"Uh, Gee you got any money?" Frank asked, looking around at him.
Gerard searched through his pockets and pulled out a few crumpled papers and some coins. One of the papers had a five on it.
"Yeah, um, here you go." Gerard handed Frank the paper and Frank turned back to the gas station attendant.
The man held out his hand with a smile.
"Map first," Frank told him.
He chuckled and reached under the counter, pulling out a folded paper. "Not as lost as you seem then, eh? No problem, map first."
He spread the paper out on the counter and pulled a black marker from his leather jacket. Frank and Gerard stepped close to watch as he started drawing. The map consisted of six rings of color, marked with numbers, radiating out from a black circle in the center labeled Battery City.
"Right here is my station," he said, marking an X in the 4th ring and adding Bullet Gas under it. "Over here is the Paradise Motel. There's another station over here... and here. All in this section is heavy patrol, so I'd avoid it unless you feel like goin' out with a bang. The Nest is right around here, if you're looking for a place to stay tonight or somethin'. If ya'll are looking for a crew, I'd head there. Plenty'a kids there with no where else to go. Plus, you got a car and not many people do. I'd say you'll have your pick of the litter."
"Thanks," Frank said as the man wrapped up his speech and capped his marker. He slid the five note onto the counter and picked up the map in its place. The attendant folded the carbon and put it in his pocket.
"What do you think?" Frank asked Gerard, looking over the map. "Head for The Nest?"
"I can't think of anything else to do," Gerard shrugged. He drew a line with his finger from Bullet Gas to The Nest then paused. "Which direction is it from here?" he asked aloud.
The attendant gave him a funny look, then rolled his eyes. "The sun's setting," he said, pointing out the window. "That's east and that's west, so you wanna go straight on that way. Directly west of here."
"Right, of course," Gerard blushed. "Thank you."
Frank led the way back out into the desert, Gerard quickly following behind. "Woah, check it out," Frank said, pointing to the corner of the gas station. "Vending machine, cool."
"I don't think we should waste our money on candy, Frankie," Gerard sighed as Frank darted over to the white machine.
Frank stopped in front of it and shook his head. "No candy here," he said.
"What?" Gerard walked over and paused, looking the machine over.
There was no glass front, instead the white plastic wrapped all the way around with a black smiley face plastered on it. In the corner was a black circle with white letters spelling BLI. The buttons were labeled Ammo, Batteries, and H2O. The largest button, at the top, just had a picture of a gun.
"That's weird, right?" Frank asked, fingers tracing over the Ammo and Battery buttons that were starting to get worn from use.
"I guess people have different priorities here?" Gerard guessed. "Come on, let's get going before it's dark."
Gerard drove again, since Frank didn't know how to drive a standard. Instead of fiddling with the radio, Frank spent the drive inspecting the map, his gun, the contents of his pockets, and everything in the glove compartment.
"So, as far as I can tell, this is a real gun," he concluded. "There's a battery pack right under the barrel by the trigger guard. I think it shoots lasers."
"A laser gun," Gerard said tonelessly.
"Yup."
"How is that even possible? Aren't lasers just light? How could it damage anything?"
"Pull over, let's try it out."
Gerard reluctantly stopped the car. He checked the horizon for a moment as Frank hopped out of the car and started pacing away. The sun was near the desert floor straight in front of them.
"Gee! Come on!" Frank called.
Gerard climbed out of the car and headed over to where Frank had his gun out and was pointing it at a cactus, one eye squeezed shut and his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth.
"Keep both your eyes open dude, didn't you ever watch Pocahontas?"
"Oh yeah," Frank laughed. He wrapped both hands around the grip and sighted down the barrel at the cactus. "Dude, five carbons says I can hit it the first try."
"Well, I'm not entirely convinced anything's going to happen when you pull the trigger, so you're on."
Frank grinned and fired. The PEW of the laser startled them both and Frank dropped his gun. They stared at the smoking hole in the cactus, a few inches wide and surrounded by a black scorch mark.
"Holy shit," Gerard swore.
"Yeah, no kidding," Frank said, picking his gun up off the ground. "You owe me five carbons."
Gerard rolled his eyes and handed over one of the papers from his pocket.
"Okay, now you try," Frank insisted. "My laser was yellow, I wanna see what color yours is."
"Shouldn't it've been green?" Gerard wondered, eyeing the acid green gun now back in Frank's holster.
"Whatever, just shoot."
Gerard pulled the yellow gun from his thigh holster and tested the weight. It was pretty heavy. He took a deep breath before he shot at the cactus.
His laser was pink, or so Frank claimed. Gerard said it was light red. He hit the cactus though, first try, and left a smoking hole just below Frank's.
"This is awesome! We have laser guns!" Frank cried.
"It's not awesome at all!" Gerard retorted. "Why do we need guns here? How fucking dangerous is this desert if two teenagers need to carry actual, working guns?"
That seemed to calm Frank down for a moment, but he bounced back after a second, just as excited.
"Whatever! We're crack shots dude, who cares how dangerous it is? Come on, let's get to this Nest and see if they have anything to eat, I'm fucking starved."
Frank jogged back over to the car and Gerard followed after, sighing.
The Nest, as they approached it, was a riot of color and noise and lights. It sat in a valley so that the noise and lights didn't blare out over the dark miles of desert. There was a steep incline on one side but the other three were sloping and easily driven down. Frank counted 6 motorcycles and two cars as they drove in, all in various states of grafittied and rusting. The actual Nest was a sprawling building that looked as if it was a small house that had rooms added on as time passed.
"It's a fucking party," Frank said as they parked.
"These people might be dangerous," Gerard said.
"Then we'll be dangerous back."
Frank hopped out of the car and Gerard hurried to catch up to him, stuffing the car keys in his pocket. Almost no one spared them a glance as they stalked up to the building and pressed inside the crowded rooms. There were more colors than Gerard had ever seen in once place; dozens of teens with dyed hair and bright clothes and flashy guns, strings of lights hanging from the ceiling. There were faded posters tacked up on the walls along with signs and flags and spray painted graffiti.
"They love their color, don't they?" Frank shouted to Gerard over the music.
"I guess so," Gerard shouted back. "Come on, let's find some food!"
They pushed their way through dancing bodies until they found a room that must've been the kitchen, or what was once the kitchen. There was a girl with neon-pink hair sitting on the counter next to a beat-up cardboard box with two guys standing on either side of her like bodyguards.
"You're new around here," she said as soon as they were close, shouting a little over the music.
"Uh, yeah," Frank answered. "This is our first time out this way."
"Well, I'm Vanity. You looking to buy something?"
"Food," Gerard answered. He wondered if she was going to try to rip them off. She smiled, catlike, and he knew she would try to rip them off.
"Food at a fair price," interrupted a voice. Gerard looked over and nearly froze; the guy looked exactly like his younger brother, if his brother had grown up in this dangerous, colorful desert. Frank shot him a look out of the corner of his eye.
"I wasn't gonna over-charge them," Vanity protested, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah you were," the Mikey look-a-like said, deadpan. "Two cans and two spoons."
One of the girl's bodyguards turned and dug around in the cardboard box, eventually pulling out two white-wrapped cans and two dented and scratched metal spoons.
"Twelve carbons," she demanded.
Frank shot a look at the Mikey look-a-like, who nodded, and then pulled out the necessary papers and coins.
"Pleasure doing business with you," she snarked.
Frank and Gerard turned away and followed the Mikey look-a-like out of the kitchen and into what seemed to be a dining room.
"Thanks," Frank said.
"She should know better by now," the guy answered. "If I had a carbon for every time someone came back here pissed off with their finger on the trigger, I'd be a rich, rich man."
"What's your name?" Gerard asked, nearly desperate to find out if he was named Mikey as well.
"Kobra Kid," he responded. "You?"
"Uh," Gerard stalled. Giving their real names didn't seem like a good idea.
"You're that new, huh? Haven't even picked code-names yet?" Kobra wondered.
"No, yeah," Frank chuckled. "We're working on 'em."
"Well, you let me know when you figure it out. I'm here most days." He nodded, then turned to leave. "I'll let you eat."
Frank waited until they were alone before turning on Gerard.
"Was that-?"
"Yeah," Gerard gasped. "I think so."
"How is that possible? Does that mean we exist here too? And all our friends and family?"
"I don't- It's too much to think about right now, okay?" Gerard said. "Let's just eat."
Frank handed him a can and a spoon, then peeled back the lid of his own can.
"Uhg, oh God, what is that?" Frank choked. He poked at the contents with his spoon.
Gerard turned his can over, reading the packaging. "Uh, it's called Power Pup, and it's got the same weird smiley face from that vending machine."
"Do you think it's vegetarian?" Frank wondered, sniffing at a spoonful and grimacing.
"I haven't really seen any farms or livestock, so... probably? You want me to try it first?"
"Please."
Gerard hesitantly dug his spoon into the brown, congealed foodstuff then took a tiny bite. He chewed for a moment while Frank watched his face closely, like he was about to hurl.
"I think it's... beans? But all blended up. It doesn't really taste like anything, but the texture's awful."
"Fantastic," Frank rolled his eyes.
They ate as fast as they dared, swallowing the brown chunks down.
"Uhg, the worst part is I left pop tarts and soda in my bag back at the house," Frank whined.
"I don't think we could've taken them with us anyway," Gerard shrugged. "I mean, our clothes didn't come with us."
"This is so weird, when can we go home?"
Gerard set his empty can on the floor, then licked his spoon clean before tucking it in one of his jacket pockets. They paid a carbon for it, might as well hang onto it.
"I dunno, Frankie." He glanced around the dark room; the windows were boarded up and the floor was filthy, with little piles of trash in the corners. Any furniture that might've once been there had been dragged away a long time ago. "Do you wanna try to find somewhere to sleep? It was already like eleven when we got to the house, we probably should've gone to sleep hours ago."
"What if we can't go back until we like... complete some task or something?"
"Or maybe we'll go back as soon as we fall asleep."
"You're just tired," Frank grinned.
"You're not?"
"I guess I am now that I'm not hungry," he admitted.
"Let's go see if Mi- Kobra Kid knows where we can crash."
It took them a while of wading through the dancing teenagers to find Kobra again. He was in the corner of the main room, passing a bottle of water around with two other guys.
"Hey, Kobra Kid," Frank called as they approached.
He looked up and raised an eyebrow.
"We were wondering," Gerard cut in, "if there was someplace we could sleep, or if we should just camp in our car?"
"You have a car?" he asked, the first real expression passing over his face; surprise.
"Uh, yeah?"
"Can I see?"
Frank and Gerard shared a look, and Frank decided for the both of them.
"Sure! Come on, it's out front."
He followed them out, the music dampening to reasonable levels once the front door closed behind them. Frank spread his arms wide when they reached the car, like he was displaying it on a showroom floor.
"Not bad," Kobra said, eyeing the car. "It's just you two?"
"Yeah," Gerard nodded. He thought back to what the gas station attendant had said. "We're not looking for a crew right now, not yet."
"When you do, lemme know," Kobra answered, running a hand over the car's side. "I can point you in the right direction on some people."
"You know a lot about stuff out here, huh?" Gerard said.
Kobra shrugged, dropping his hand and turning back to face them. "I just try to help where I can."
Frank was already climbing back into the car and reclining his seat, but Gerard hesitated.
"Why us? Why'd you help us?"
Kobra stared at him for a long moment, then dropped his eyes. "You remind me of someone." He shrugged again and started back toward the house. "Sleep tight."
Gerard decided to definitely not think about that until morning, so he slipped into the driver's seat and laid back.
"'Night, Frankie."
"'Night, Gee," Frank yawned.
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Gerard woke up sore from sleeping in such a weird position. He lifted a hand to massage his neck and his knuckles brushed against a hardwood floor.
"Holy-!"
He jumped up, scrambling to his feet. They were back in the house and it was dawn.
"Frank! Frankie, wake up!" He kicked at Frank's still-sleeping form and the boy jolted awake.
"What- woah! We're back!" Frank looked all over the room like he expected something to be different.
Gerard checked his watch. "It's almost 6am."
Frank pushed himself up and looked at the desk. "The button popped back up. Remember how it stayed pressed? It's not pressed anymore."
"But, hang on," Gerard shook his head. "We were in that desert for more than six hours."
"Maybe... maybe we got back at the same time we left?" Frank guessed. "Maybe those six hours we were just here, sleeping."
Gerard opened his mouth to say something, then shut it.
"Okay, I'm too tired to think about this. Let's just... can we go home now?"
"Yeah, yeah let's get back to your place before your mom checks on us."
They carefully shut the top of the desk and left the room, closing the door behind them.
"Can't forget that shirt for Jimmy!" Frank said, dashing over to the closet door where he had hung it.
"Right, wouldn't want to lose a bet now that we know alternate universes exist," Gerard sighed, rolling his eyes.
"It's still a hundred bucks, dude."
They grabbed their bags on the way out of the old house, Frank stuffing the off-white shirt in his. As Gerard went to close the front door behind him, he caught sight of the ring on his finger.
"Should we leave the rings, do you think?"
But Frank was already at the edge of the overgrown yard, heading for the dirt path that led to the road, and didn't hear him. Gerard shrugged to himself, trying not to picture Kobra Kid doing the same thing, and followed after Frank.
He wondered what would happen to the car they left behind, or what Kobra Kid would think when they weren't there in the morning.
Or if any of it had been real at all.