gObLiN

We stayed up a good portion of the night playing Super Smash Bros on my Switch.  Mason refused to sleep until he’d mastered the little controller.  Thankfully the single joycon they give you on the switch was just big enough to be a bit larger than keyboard size to him.  He was decent — clearly he’d played games like this back in his world.  The only thing stopping him from beating me was the fact that he had to use both hands to move the joystick.  I still let him win a few times.  He called me out on it for most of them, though.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I was shaken awake by Mason.  He gestured around to the bed then to himself and I eventually realized he was asking for his own place to sleep.  Nodding tiredly, I helped him down off the bed to the floor.  He only needed a single pillow as a mattress and a small blanket as a whole comforter.  I’d just put away all my gaming stuff and slid into bed when he spoke.  “Ritchie?”  It was strange hearing him speak my name.  So much of what he said I didn’t understand.  

“Yeah?”  “Tha.. Thank…  Knaht uoy.”  Well, at least he was trying.  I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for, either.  Maybe everything.  “Re- Re’uoy emoclew.”  Damn those contractions are hard to pronounce.  I peered over the edge of the bed at him.  He was sitting up on the pillow, grinning at me from below.  “Goodnight!” I called quietly, settling back into my bed.  “Thgindoog!”

Groggily sliding out of the covers the following morning, I nearly gave myself a heart attack.  I’d missed stepping on Mason by a mere few inches.  Thankfully, he was still asleep and hadn’t noticed.  Just as I returned from the bathroom, my mom hurriedly opened the door to my room.  I yelped, quickly coming up to the entrance to block her view of the little bed on the floor, and the small person sleeping soundly in it.  “H-Hey, Mom!  Why are you up so early?”  “What do you mean?” she asked me, “I have to drive you to school in twenty minutes!  I came to see if you were ready for breakfast.”  Her confusion turned to stern exasperation.  “Ritchie, don’t tell me you forgot.  You have six weeks of summer school, young man!  You better get up and get ready!”  “Alright, ok!  I’m up!  I’m getting ready!”  She sighed and closed my bedroom door.

Up until then, I’d forgotten about summer school.  Probably because it sucks.  At least it’s shorter than normal school.  I hurriedly readied myself in my room, stuffing things haphazardly into my backpack.  As I sat on the edge of my bed to yank on my socks, Mason stumbled blearily into the space, still half asleep.  “Tahw…  S’tahw gniog no?  Yhw era uoy pu os ylrae, edud?”

He grumbled something at me, then yawned.  “I have to go to stupid summer school,” I told him with a groan.  Mason stepped back slightly, giving me a slightly hurt look as if I’d grumbled at him.  I held up a hand, “No, no I’m not angry at you!  I’m angry at school, see?”  I picked up my backpack and placed it in front of me, zipping up the pocket I’d been stuffing things into.

Immediately upon seeing my backpack, Mason’s eyes dulled.  A knowing, almost disgusted look spread onto his face.  “Yeah,” I sighed unhappily, “school.”  Mason waved a hand at me dismissively and turned to go back to sleep, but froze in his tracks before he could reach the pillow.  Whirling back around, he ran across the room to me, excitedly talking nonstop.  “Woah!  Slow down!  I only know like.. five words in your language!  And you’re talking so fast I wouldn’t understand a single one!”

He stopped next to my backpack and yanked the zipper back open, pointing to himself then to the open bag.  “You’re kidding…  Why would you willingly go to school?”  Just like I’d been taught a few things by Julie, Elenor had also taught Mason several words in English.  ‘Why’ was one of them.  Mason stammered a moment.  “I tsuj.. tnaw ot og htiw uoy.  Ees erom tnaig secalp, I sseug.”  He stammered awkwardly, glancing away from me.  Whatever he just said, I understood ‘you’ and ‘giant’, and the fact that he was suddenly at a loss for words.  I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I didn’t see why he couldn’t come.  It would probably make classes a bit less boring, even if Mason couldn’t exactly get out of my bag without being seen.  “Alright,” I nodded, “Let me just rearrange a few things in-”

“Ritchard?  Are you ready up there?”  I flinched, blood running cold.  “You have ten minutes to be in the car.”  Quickly grabbing Mason, I hastily slid him into my backpack — tucked between my binder and the side of the bag where the zipper was.  He gave me a wide-eyed look as I went to zip it up.  “I’m so sorry, man.  I just- my mom’s gonna kill me if I’m not ready.  Just.. try to make yourself comfortable in there, ok?”  Sliding a more gentle hand in, I settled him more comfortably so nothing was in danger of hurting him and especially his leg.  “Ok, gotta go.  I’ll see you at school, buddy.”

Zipping up my bag, I cautiously slung it over my shoulder and made my way downstairs.  Placing it on a chair at the table, I quickly snatched up some breakfast as my mom warned me again about being late.  While I finished eating, I felt a tug on my sleeve and glanced down.  A little arm had slid out of my bag, trying to get my attention.  It slid back inside once I noticed it, and Mason’s face peered through the gap where his arm had been.  He pointed to the table and mimed biting something.  “Oh yeah!” I whispered, “I can get you breakfast, one sec.”

While my mom went to put on shoes, I grabbed a bagel off the counter and slipped it into my bag beside him.  “All good?”  Mason gave me a thumbs up and I zipped everything up again.  Nothing too extraordinary happened on the way to school, but I made sure to treat my backpack with a bit more caution than I usually would.  With it on my lap, I could feel Mason shifting around inside, still trying to get comfortable.  Guiltily I remembered how hastily I put my things inside it.  Whenever I get to my locker I’ll have to rearrange it for him.

However, I didn’t realize that during summer school, you don’t get a locker.  You just bring your bag right to class — in front of about a dozen people.  I had no choice but to leave him there.  Class went by agonizingly slowly knowing there was someone else hidden right beside me in my backpack.  When lunch came and I headed to the cafeteria, I pretended I’d forgotten something and went back — secretly hoping to check up on the survivor.  But of course teachers just have to eat in their room.  Defeated, I trudged back down the hall to get lunch.  At least I could bring Mason something to eat whenever I returned.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea bringing him with me.  His presence was only making me more anxious.  Thankfully, I managed to wrap up some of the school’s meatloaf — which was really just random meats stuffed suspiciously together — and returned to class.  It would probably leave a huge mess in my bag, but at least my secret friend would have something to eat.

Actually, he might not even have that.  Mason was gone.  The zipper to my bag was open wide when I arrived.  I cursed under my breath, carefully rummaging through everything in my backpack.  The only sign of him was a partially-eaten bagel and the little empty place he’d constructed for himself.  Desperately, I wanted to call out to him, but I could only sit quietly at my desk, glancing accusedly at the people around me.  Did someone steal him?  Who would’ve gone through my stuff to find him?!

I dreaded it the whole time, but as the end of the school day arrived and the bell rang, I sat at my seat and attentively watched everyone’s bags and hoodies to see if anything could hint at a survivor stashed away inside.  Once I became the last in the classroom, I began peering around the floor.  “Ritchie, is there something you need help with?”  I jumped as the teacher eyed me confusedly from across the room.  “I- I think I lost something,” I said numbly, “but I can’t find it.”  She let me stay for a bit longer, but eventually even she had to leave, and I was left standing alone in the school.

By then my bus had long left.  I was stranded, but not so much as Mason might be, so I kept searching.  “Mason!” I whisper-yelled through the empty halls, “Where are you?!”  My phone started ringing, making me jump as I slunk around.  I glanced at the caller ID and paled.  It was my sister.  My mother was still at work, but my sister was at home, waiting to see whether I’d come back from school.  “Shit!  I can’t let her know about Mason!  She won’t let him stay with me if she finds out I lost him on the first day!”  

Up ahead, I heard the sounds of a custodian in the next hall and quieted my voice.  I peeked out from the corner, planning to make a quick dash past the hallway’s opening while he wasn’t looking.  He seemed distracted enough, so I angled myself to make a run for it, but froze as a shout echoed down the hall, followed by a loud slam.  A survivor scrambled to their feet and ran for the end of the hallway, followed by the custodian with an empty bucket.  I watched in horror as Mason was roughly scooped up into it.  

With a huff, they walked around to the end of the hallway, and tossed the bucket’s contents outside.  Oh thank god, he’s just letting him out.  I raced away down a different hallway and out the side door.  My side ached by the time I got to the door where Mason had been tossed out of.  He was there!  He was.. helping someone up?  I stopped in my tracks.  Mason helped another survivor to their feet.  This new survivor was the first to spot me watching them, and upon realizing I was there, he started screaming — dashing away into a nearby bush and tugging Mason along.

“Wait!  Mason!” I yelped, rushing forward.  The survivor skidded to a halt, letting the other continue hiding.  “Ritchie!”  I fell to my knees at the sound of the relief in his voice.  He ran up to me, scrambling up my bent legs like a ramp before hugging my chest tightly.  In that way, I could feel both of our heartbeats pounding in our chests.  We sat together like that for a while before my phone rang again, startling us both.  Mason stood practically glued to my side as I hesitantly picked up the call.  

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, RITCHIE?!  I KNOW YOU TOOK MASON BECAUSE HE’S DEFINITELY NOT HERE!”  Oh.  “YOU BETTER NOT HAVE GOTTEN HIM KILLED!”  “N-No!  He’s fine!  He’s right here!  He wanted to come to school with me!”  “He wanted to, or you wanted him to?” she asked.  “He wanted to!  You can ask him yourself!”  “Mhm,” she grumbled disbelievingly.

“Anyway, can you come pick me up?  I’m still at school; I missed the bus.”  A groan rumbled out of the speaker.  “Alright, I’m coming.”  The call ended.  I breathed a sigh of relief and glanced back down at my survivor friend.  “What happened?” I asked Mason, opening my bag and pointing to the empty spot where he’d sat earlier.  “Where did you go?”  “I was taht yug!” he told me, pointing to the bush where the other survivor was hidden. “Eh saw gnilaets sgniht morf eht moorssalc eht tnemom eht rehcaet deppets yawa, os I-”

Mason stopped, recognizing the growing confusion in my eyes.  I didn’t understand him.  If only I could just, like, watch a video or something and understand his language.  He sighed, also clearly wanting me to understand him as well.  Never in my life have I wanted to actually learn something language-related until now.  It’s.. kinda the reason I’m in summer school in the first place.

Stepping a little ways in front of me, the survivor motioned for me to follow him.  We made our way back to the bushes in the exact opposite way as the day I found him — with him in the lead and me cautiously following.  When I neared the bush, the other survivor whimpered something to Mason.  I could see him cowering deeper and further away from me.  Mason briefly began to speak, then his eyes lit up with an idea.  He raced over to the dirt, broke a small stick off the bush, and began to draw.  

When he was finished, I slowly peered down at it.  The drawing showed a sad little stick figure behind the bars of a cage, then Mason pointed at the other survivor.  “Ohhh,” I realized, him nodding along with me.  “Eh saw dnuof yb a tnaig dik,” he explained, drawing a larger stick figure with a mean face standing beside it.  “Adnik ekil woh uoy dnuof em, tub eht tnaig ohw dnuof mih saw.. a tol esrow.”

I watched as he gently coaxed the other survivor to come out.  He stepped up to the very edge of the bush, but stayed beneath it.  The little guy looked awful — much more like the wild survivors I’d seen before I met Mason.  His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with purpled bags beneath them, and everywhere on him were the telltale signs of either bruises or starvation.  He looked older than us, but I couldn't tell if he was actually older, or if his awful tortured state made him look that way.  It was probably both.

“Wh- Who would do this?” I asked quietly.  Mason rubbed away parts drawing to show the survivor escaping a backpack.  He’d been living in the school since his escape.  But today was the first day of summer school.  He would’ve had to have just escaped today!

Shocked, I looked to Mason as he stopped drawing.  His expression darkened for a moment, then he turned and looked up at me — not with an accusing ‘you might’ve done this to me, too’, but a thankful ‘you might’ve done this to me, too’, only I hadn’t.  I’d hurt him by frightening him, but I’d never intended to do anything that would make him look like this new survivor.

With a shaking hand he reached for me, leaning more heavily on his good leg.  I gently took his hand and sat him in my other palm.  The new survivor physically flinched at our interaction, as if I were touching him instead.  I brought Mason to my face and scrutinized him for a moment.  “Are you.. thgirla?” I asked, remembering only one of the words I meant to ask him.  He pressed a bit closer to my hand, but nodded.  If I was so horrified by seeing the poor state of the new survivor that I’d previously grown used to seeing, I could only imagine how Mason must’ve felt finding him — how he must’ve felt when the survivor told him that a ‘giant’ my age in my school had done that to him.

He squeezed my finger as if to say he knew I wouldn’t have done that sort of awful thing, then turned to the other survivor.  “Ees?  S’eh a yldneirf eno, I raews!  Eh nac teg su tuo fo ereh ot erehwemos efas!”  “Dna woh gnol evah uoy nwonk mih?”  He seemed to have said something either really smart or really scary because his reply quieted Mason for a moment.  

“I- I t’nevah nwonk mih gnol, tub I wonk s’eh doog!  Sih retsis-”  “Won s’ereht a retsis?”  “Ehs swonk ruo egaugnal!  S’ehs neeb sdneirf htiw a namuh rof sraey!  I t’ndid tsurt siht tnaig ta tsrif rehtie, tub ehs detalsnart rof em; eh sdnatsrednu.. emos sgniht tuoba su.  Eht tnatropmi sgniht!  Dna s’eh gnoig ot nrael erom!”

The two survivors almost sounded like they were arguing, but I think Mason was just trying to explain to the other guy that I wasn’t going to hurt him.  Damn, why did ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ have be part of today’s useful phrases to learn instead of yesterday’s?  After a back and forth that went on for several minutes.  Mason said something decisive.  Moments later, the new survivor begrudgingly slid out from beneath the bush.  

After some half-arguing, he approached me with his head down as if he were being marched to his doom.  I slowly lowered my other hand for him to climb onto.  Tucking Mason against my chest — which he didn’t seem to mind — I was able to keep a steady both hands on him to ensure he would have as comfortable a ride as possible.  Still, the survivor struggled slightly in my grasp — repositioning himself every few seconds while frightfully glancing back at me.

I made it to the pickup line where Julie’s car was already sitting.  A jolt of guilty fear zipped through my chest, but I braced myself for her yelling and headed over.  Sacrificing my hand that held the new survivor’s back, I opened the car door.  Julie was on the verge of yelling at me, but then she realized the survivor in my hands wasn’t Mason.  Then she realized I was carrying two survivors.

“Where did you-?”  “Mason found him in school.  He said that this guy was caged up by another kid.”  Julie gave the new survivor a pitying look — anger rapidly fading from her expression.  “By the state of him, I wouldn’t doubt it.  Come on, get in.”  I deposited both survivors onto the dashboard so I could get my backpack off and my seatbelt on before reaching out and picking them up again.  The new survivor struggled in my grip, but Mason slid down to happily sit on my lap.  He called up to the guy in my hands and his struggles slowly lessened.

“S’tahw ruoy eman?” Julie asked the survivor in his own language.  He turned to her, wide-eyed.  “T- Tahw?” he asked.  She repeated what she said, nodding to him.  “Ym eman.. si Sirhc.”  “Sirhc,” she repeated, “Ll’uoy eb efas htiw su, I esimorp.  Revetahw deneppah ot uoy erofeb, s’ti revo won.”  The survivor stilled in my hand, and stayed fairly quiet for the whole ride back, except for occasional questions he’d ask Mason or Julie.  Again I had that sense of not belonging.  Everyone in the car had either asked or answered questions throughout the drive, while I sat in silence — only able to guess at what was said.

Back at home, Julie took the new survivor off to the kitchen to get him something healthy to eat and drink.  On my way to my room with Mason, she asked me to tell Elenor what was going on.  I poked my head into the seemingly empty room across the hall from mine.  “Elenor?”  The survivor appeared from behind my sister’s bed.  “What is it?” she snapped.  “Julie wanted me to tell you that we found another survivor.  He was in my school escaping from a kid that had caught him.”  She sighed, said something under her breath in her own language, then nodded and waved a hand dismissively at me.

In my own room, I finally put Mason back down.  He stepped out of my hand to the surface of my desk.  I gave him a long look, then sat down tiredly, head resting on my crossed arms.  “I want to know what everyone’s saying,” I told him quietly, “But I barely know any words in your language, and I’m even worse at pronouncing them.”  Mason came and sat down directly in front of my arms, scrutinizing me with concern.  “English,” I tried, pointing to myself, “you?”  I pointed to Mason.  “Hsilgne,” he replied.  “Hs.. ill.. gn-e?” I repeated questioningly.  We spent a while repeating the word for his language back and forth, then Mason eagerly grabbed a pencil and tugged a piece of paper closer.  In his hands, both items looked massive.

He tried to write something, but kept fumbling with the pencil.  “Hold on,” I said, opening a drawer and digging through it.  “I put a pencil through a sharpener for a bit too long…  Aha!”  I pulled out a very used wooden pencil — the tip ground down all the way to the edge of the eraser.  It still looked thick around in Mason’s hands, but it was small enough that he could use it much easier.  Mason wrote down a word in his language, then pointed to the last letter.  Looking up at me, he nodded towards the larger pencil.  “You want me to write?” I asked, picking it up.  He nodded, made room next to his word on the paper, and pointed to its last letter again.

Confused, but intrigued, I wrote the letter he pointed to: ‘h’.  He went down the strange word, pointing to each letter from the end of the word to the beginning.  ‘h’, ‘e’, ‘l’, ‘l’, ‘o’.  Wait.. what?  I looked at the word I wrote then at the one he wrote in his language.  “Hello?” I tried.  “Olleh!” Mason replied happily, pointing to the papers.  “Wow!  Ronele t’nsaw gniyl; ti yllaer si sdrawkcab,” he mused to himself.

Excitedly, I wrote a word in my language, then pointed to the last letter.  Mason immediately got to work copying it down.  Soon we began learning how to properly talk to one another without having to mime everything.  Through the paper, he told me what had happened without me at school while I occasionally repeated larger or important words I wanted to commit to memory.  I learned that Mason had heard the new survivor — his name was Chris — trying to gather some supplies from the room to try to hole up in the school for a while.  He’d escaped whatever awful kid had taken him by breaking out of the plastic lunchbox they’d kept him in — continuing to kick the latch until the cheap plastic snapped open.  

When Mason climbed out of my bag and made his way over to him, Chris had thought he was also escaping.  However, after learning that he’d befriended a ‘giant’, Chris had begged Mason so vehemently to run away, and tried to convince him that he wasn’t safe, that the teacher in the room nearly found them and they both had to run and hide outside the classroom.  From there, Mason had to chase down the other survivor to try to convince him to come with me.  

Of course, they both ended up getting lost.  After the last bell had rung, Mason feared that I’d left him behind.  He’d begun to have second thoughts about chasing Chris when the custodian found them both and kicked them out.  I knew the rest of the story from there.  “Era uoy thgirla?” I asked him after he’d finished relaying what happened.  I’d asked him that before, but I wanted to flaunt my knowledge of his language a bit.  Mason nodded happily, flopping down on my crossed forearms.  

“Haey, m’I tsuj dalg I tog tuo fo ereht dna kcab ot uoy wohemos.  I saw gnitrats ot daerd taht d’I eb gnivil ni eht sehsub niaga…” Despite my efforts to learn, I still couldn’t quite decipher full verbal sentences yet.  Instead, I tried to cheer him up by laying my head back down over my arms, jokingly resting it on top of him.  He laughed loudly, shoving at my chin.  “Yeh!  Pleh! M’I gnieb dehsums!” he yelped.  

The rest of the day passed more easily.  I grudgingly did homework, then went to check up on the other survivor before I got ready for bed.  He’d decided to stay with Julie, which.. fair.  She can actually understand and speak their language.  Apparently, he had a colony of people that he’d been taken from that he wanted to get back to.  Julie had promised him she’d take him early the next day after a safe night’s rest, and ONLY if he agreed to take armfuls of supplies with him to his camp.

"Bothered?"

"E-excuse me?" worry tinted my voice, in spite of me not having anything to worry about.

"You sighed."

"Oh- did I? I apologize!" I feared the titan to be angry - perhaps he thought the sigh to be an expression of frustration, "the rain had simply saddened me, but I am perfectly well!"

"Why?"

The titan sat down in a motion that caused the bolder that I sat on to tremble terribly - almost resulting in my falling to the ground.

"Why?" I repeated, somewhat surprised, "why did the rain sadden me?"

"Yes."

The titan's usage of a word where a simple nod or even a grunt would have sufficed surprised me further, and I attempted to answer carefully.

"We humans are always sadder during the rain," I sensed it might not be enough, and continued before the titan spoke again, "I would not pretend to have a complete answer, but there are a few reasons I am able to think of."

Having paused for a moment to gather my thoughts I noticed the titan's eyes following me with great interest, I did not know what to make of it so I continued speaking - happy at the opportunity for a conversation.

"Rain brings with itself cold and darkness, and these are both things humans tend to avoid - we do not see well in the dark, and the rain constrains our vision further, and the cold is dangerous to us - it weakens and ills us."

The titan hummed in response and looked to the entrance of the cave at the heavy rain. I followed his gaze and we sat in silence for a while.

"You fear us."

I looked up at his face, and was relieved to see it curious instead of angry.

"Well, yes." Attempting to lie of this matter would have been unwise, but that just meant that I needed to tread carefully. "Your great size frightens us as we are all too aware of the harm you are capable of inflicting on us if you so choose."

"And our abilities."

My heart stopped at these words. Everyone knew of the rare powers of the titans, and everyone knew that they never spoke of them with lowly humans. At these moments I feared for my life. Have I spoken too much? Have I irritated the titan greatly enough for them to have decided to rid of me?

Still, I replied, "yes, the abilities scare us most."

The titan - lowering their head - looked away from the rain and inspected me.

"Are you scared of me?"

Yes. Yes, I am terrified.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

My body refused to react as the titan leaned lower - watching me all the while. A strange expression appeared on their face.

"Don't be scared," their voice quiet and gentle as it had never been before, "I won't hurt you."

I found myself unable to move as gigantic hands rushed towards me. In terror and awe I watched the enormous hands as one closed around my bolder, and the other around me. I would have disapproved of this, were it not for the fact that my legs chose that exact moment to buckle. I slowly sat down - using the giant hand as support, and looked up to the titan's face. Fiery-gold eyes met mine, fiery-gold eyes that followed every single one of my movements.

A heavy sigh escaped the titan's mouth, hitting me as a warm gust of wind, "sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he apologized.

That caught me unprepared. Did the titan really just apologize for scaring me? Evidently so. As my heart returned to its regular pace I managed to decipher the large being's facial expression as sorrow or perhaps regret. He really did mean his apology. For a single moment I felt a need to apologize to him for having feared him.

"There is no need to apologize," I reassured the sympathetic titan, "the matter has been cleared now," I smiled - both to help assure the titan of my forgiveness, and due to a true easing of a tension that went unnoticed by me until now.

The titan remained still for a few moments - looking me over with those terribly big eyes - before leaning back to watch the weeping heavens once more. I confess that the sight of his hands retracting away from me filled me with relief.

"What do you know about the abilities?"

I would have preferred some other topic of conversation, but with the titan's reassurance and an unhealthy supplement of curiosity I managed to continue the conversation.

"We do not know much," I began, "we only know for certain that these powers exist, and that they are inaccessible to us. All else are guesses. Are these powers tiring to wield, or do they have to be held back at all times? Do all titans possess them, or are there just a select few who are actually able to make use of them? Many of our scholars debated such questions, but to the best of my knowledge none have yet given a complete and satisfactory answer."

When an amused chuckle reverberated throughout the cave I turned to look at the titan.

"You do fear the unknown."

I do not like to admit it, but I felt embarrassment at the titan's reaction - not just for myself, but for all of humanity.

"We have good reason to," I defended, "much too often the unknown turns against us, or is used against us by some other malicious entity."

The titan thought it over shortly before shrugging.

"Fair."