"Morphin Time" - Part One

 

Part One

            Two months had passed since Craig’s trips through the infinite dimensional corridor ended. So much happened in that time: he, Kelsey, and J.P. discovered a group of plushie-obsessed kids deep within the Creek, a spooky ghoul nearly threatened his candy haul on Halloween, he and his friends traveled to an alternate “Creekiverse” (no TARDIS necessary), and they had the best winter break ever.

            With spring break fast approaching, he was ready to spend way more time at the Creek than he ever had before. On the Thursday before the last school day leading into spring break, he returned home to swap out of his school clothes and into his usual Creek clothes – a yellow long-sleeved shirt with a sleeveless gray hooded vest, blue jeans, and white sneakers. He always double-checked to see if he had his two most prized possessions: his diamond-headed staff and Purse of Holding – a large teal-colored, over-the-shoulder frame purse that he was almost never without on his adventures…not even those in the Infinite…

            No! I’m not thinking about that place anymore! I’m Craig of the Creek, not Craig of the Infinite DC!

            He was nothing but determined to put as much mental distance as possible from the memories of his journeys. It was a lot harder than he imagined. There were so many memorable trips, so much time spent that he could’ve easily aged physically beyond 10 years old, had his exposure to the nuage energy not preserved it. It was the closest he would come to feeling like a Time Lo—

            Nooo! Don’t even think about the words “time” and “lord,” Craig! Not unless it’s time to pray to the Lord!

            In his psychological struggle to purge those memories from his brain, he heard the closure of the front door to the house next door to him and his family – the empty house that Kara and Mireya used as a cover during their stay in Craig’s world. Someone moved in just last week: a young redheaded Caucasian woman. She looked to be 18 years old, too young in the eyes of Craig’s parents (Duane and Nicole) to own a house that big for one teenager. Craig thought she was very beautiful, but no more so than his older brother Bernard did, though he wouldn’t dare admit it in front of Alexis, his girlfriend.

            None of the Williams family had yet to welcome the new neighbor.

            Craig figured he would be the first, since he caught her stepping out of the house, performing some unique stretches prior to her afternoon jog around the neighborhood. She executed a flawless standing split against the old tree in her yard, keeping her hands firmly planting on the grass. She was clearly athletic in her young age – definitely on a superhuman level in Craig’s eyes. Between that and the familiar black hoodie and blue jeans that she wore for her jog, he began to wonder.

            “Uh, excuse me?” he called to her.

            Somersaulting out of her standing split, she straightened her ponytail as she looked over to Craig. “Oh, hi there,” she waved with a friendly smile. “Nice to finally meet you. You’re Craig, right?”

            He froze over her knowledge of him. “You…You know my name?”

            “Well, yeah, I heard your dad say it loud enough for me to hear inside my house,” she noted before imitating Duane’s voice in a low, gruff tone. “Craig! Those burgers ain’t gonna watch themselves! Make sure they don’t overcook!”

            Craig chuckled at her imitation, which was a spot-on recreation of the cookout they had last Sunday. He was relieved to know that was how his new young neighbor was unofficially introduced to his name. “Yep, that’s my Dad for sure.” Glancing at the former house of the “Curtsingers,” he noticed hints of furniture – actual furniture – inside. “Wow…you really moved in, didn’t you?”

            “Um, yeah?” the redhead frowned. “Should I be worried by your surprise?”

            “Oh, not at all,” Craig reassured. “It’s just…well…the last people who moved in there…they…” He wasn’t sure how to explain it to her, without it sounding incredibly weird or reminding him of the friends he forced away. This lady deserved her fresh start as much as he did. No need to involve her in the past. “Ya know what? Never mind. It’s one of the coolest houses on the block. And we’re really glad that you moved next door to us, Miss…?”

            The redhead walked over to the Williams’ property and approached Craig with a handshake and the fresh, sweet scent of Blooming Heather. “Seana…Seana Thomason,” she introduced herself.

            “Nice to meet ya, Seana,” Craig returned. “Perfectly normal Seana Thomason.”

            Seana giggled at the unusual description. “Yep. Last time I checked.”

-----------------------------

            Craig was excited to tell J.P. and Kelsey all about Miss Seana Thomason, as soon as they joined up with the rest of the Creek kids at the Trading Tree. He talked for hours about nothing but his ordinary, red-blooded American neighbor. “And she’s really nice, too! Plus, she likes barbecue! So, we’re definitely having her over for our next Sunday cookout!”

            Kelsey was already bored on the topic; she was so bored that she could barely even enjoy her Choco Roll. “Ugh! Why don’t you marry her then, if you like her so much?!” she griped to Craig.

            Craig blushed. “Well, I don’t know if she would—”

            “Seriously?!” Kelsey snapped in disbelief. “Ever since you stopped going to the Infinite DC with Kara and Mireya, you’ve been so focused on being normal, Craig. You’ve been calling everybody ‘perfectly normal,’ even Mortimor!” She pointed to her yellow-and-green pet budgerigar perched atop her strawberry-blonde head.

            “I don’t even like bein’ perfectly normal,” J.P. confessed. “I accept all of my imperfections, as we all should.”

            “Truth be told, Craig, we miss hearing about your adventures in the other worlds,” Kelsey said. “Are you sure Kara and Mireya aren’t coming back?”

            “Yes, and I’m glad they aren’t,” Craig firmly stated. “You guys may not like being normal, but I do! I’ve been away from this world so much that I’ve forgotten what it’s like to do normal things, like eating a Choco Roll or playing Power Punchers.”

            “Craig, look around you,” Kelsey told him. “The Creek may look like a normal place, but you know it’s more than that.”

            “Yeah, you can’t find any other creek where there’s an entire city made of cardboard,” J.P. noted.

            “J.P., we agreed never to talk about that place again,” Kelsey sternly reminded.

            Craig took the last bite of his Choco Roll and swallowed. “You’re right, Kelsey. The Creek is a special place, which is plenty enough reason for me to stay here and never go back to the Infinite DC again.” He then started walking away from the Trading Tree and his friends. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

            “You’re leavin’ already?!” J.P. exclaimed. “But you just got here!”

            Craig was too somber to say anything more to either of them.

            No matter where he went, there would always be something or someone to remind him of that place he swore never to mention or think about again.

-----------------------------

            Despite how the day at the Creek ended yesterday, Craig was still thrilled about going back ahead of Spring Break week. The annual Creek bottle boat race was coming up, and he worked really hard with J.P. and Kelsey on their boat, which they had built with the intention of Mortimor being the pilot. The prize would be a week of snacks from the Trading Tree, funded by Sailor Boy himself.

            As he was coming home from school that day to change, a bizarre thing happened – something that he hadn’t expected to happen since permanently ending his adventures in the Infinite DC.

            He was ambushed by a bunch of putty men along his driveway.

            They swarmed around him, performing some weird dance as they did so.

            “Ugh!” Craig groaned, knowing this weirdness could only be a result of the Infinite DC. “I am so sick of that place! I meant it when I said that I was done with it!” He swatted at the putty men with his staff, forcing each of them to duck and dodge. “Leave…me…ALONE!!!”

            Unfortunately, one of the putties managed to snatch his staff out from his grip, tossing it out into the street.

            Craig could only watch in abject horror as the putties advanced on him.

            “Leave ‘im alone, ya bleedin’ Putties!”

            He suddenly heard a woman with a thick Irish accent speak out behind him. Before he could have turned to see where it came from, a figure with long, flowing red hair – clad in a green military jacket, blue jeans, and brown boots – breezed in from Craig’s right side. Along with her was the scent of Blooming Heather.

            Craig knew that scent. “Miss Thomason?!”

            No…it couldn’t be her. Seana didn’t talk with an Irish accent. She was as American as Craig.

            Standing between him and the putty men, the Irishwoman glimpsed at Craig.

            He stumbled backwards as he saw the same dark blue twinkling eyes and warm smile that greeted him the other day. Sure enough, this Irishwoman was his new neighbor, Seana Thomason. “I gotcha, lil’ brotha,” she told him with that thick accent of hers that she somehow hid in their last conversation.

            But it was what she said that put a scowl on Craig’s face. “Lil’ brotha?!” he uttered it in the same manner as she did.

            “Not quite as good as I am with imitations, are ya?” Seana snickered. “Yer Irish accent could use a lil’ werk.”

            “You called me your little brother,” Craig said. “Only one other person calls me…”

            “Hold that thought fer a wee bit, lil’ brotha!” Seana belayed.

            She proceeded to engage with the putty men, cartwheeling and somersaulting around them before kicking and punching them with swift, intense martial art skills. Her long fiery locks flowed when it wasn’t tied into a ponytail. Nevertheless, it didn’t deter her momentum, able to catch each of the putty men that attempted to restrain her. One was successful for a brief moment before she stomped his foot and punched the “Z” logo on his chest, disintegrating him. She followed the same maneuver with the other putty men, striking every single one in the same place until there was nothing of them left.

            With the crisis averted, Seana retrieved Craig’s staff from the street before it could’ve been run over by a passing pickup truck. “Here ya go, lil’ brotha,” she returned it to him. “Grand as the day it was made.”

            Furious, Craig snatched the staff out of her hand.

            The unappreciative gesture baffled Seana. “A lil’ testy, aren’t we?”

            “I thought I made it clear that I never wanted to see you or the Infinite DC ever again!” Craig thundered.

            “When did ya make it clear, lil’ brotha? ‘Cause I don’t remember it.”

            Her confusion only made Craig more irate. “Oh, lemme guess. You’re another past incarnation, right?” He let out a loud, irritated groan. “See, that’s what I don’t miss about our adventures – always havin’ to be careful not to tell you things you aren’t supposed to know! It’s the whole reason your dad had me make this!” He reached into his Purse of Holding to retrieve a long, rolled-up spreadsheet.

            Looking at it, Seana inquired, “What’s that?”

            “A guide,” Craig said, unrolling the spreadsheet away from Seana’s line of sight. He looked over a detailed list of names, each one with a face that he illustrated in crayon. It began with “Candace” and the number “1,” and it ended with “Elvira” and the number “24.” He narrowed his search down to the redheads, and there were only two on the list: “Mandy” and “Maureen.” Neither of them was the face staring back at him that very moment.

            “If it’s all the same, lil’ brotha, could ya analyze yer lil’ guide or whatever inside the TARDIS?” Seana urged, uneasily looking over her shoulders. “Yer not safe out in the open like this.”

            Ignoring her, Craig kept looking over the sheet.

            To the right of the columned list was a reminder – a warning – that he had written in red: “ANYONE NOT ON THE LIST COULD BE THE TWILIGHT PHANTOM!”

            Now looking on the Irishwoman in dread, Craig quickly rolled his spreadsheet and returned it to his Purse of Holding. He then threateningly aimed his staff at Seana, who reactively raised up her hands. “Whoa now!” she exclaimed. “Take it easy, lil’ brotha!”

            Craig glanced at her palms; neither had the eye.

            Remember, Craig – it can still close just like a regular eye!

            “Stay back!” he ordered Seana.

            She saw how genuinely terrified he was of her and tried to calm him. “Lil’ brotha, I know ya never seen any part of this éadan befer, but I can explain everythin’ just as soon as we get inside the—”

            Craig had already made his way back inside his house, hoping to use his phone to contact Kara or Mireya. The “super” enhancements were still in place, so he could still make any call across the dimensional corridor with no problem. He just hoped that he didn’t upset them enough to where they refused to answer.

            Rushing through the front door, he suddenly detected how different the atmosphere of his house felt from its usual ambiance; it felt much colder and alien but also familiar at the same time. His nose was hit with the aroma of Blooming Heather from all different sides, his ears were plagued by the hums of ethereal engines, and his feet quivered from soft vibrations across the floor.

            He wasn’t standing in his humbled abode but Neas’s Type-Z TARDIS.

            “Oh, no,” he shuddered in his state of trauma.

            “I’m sorry fer the surprise, lil’ brotha.” He heard Seana enter behind him, shutting the door and sealing them both inside. “I materialized the ship at the doorway, just in case ya did try to run…ya lil’ whopper.” She playfully rubbed her delicate fingers over his short curly hair as she made her way over to the control console. Before Craig knew it, they were back in the Infinite DC.

            Fury rapidly replaced anxiety. Whether Seana was Neas or the Twilight Phantom, Craig had enough of the Irishwoman either way. He gripped his staff and, like a hunter out in the wild, advanced on her while her back was towards him. Once he was close enough, he jabbed the diamond head of his staff at her.

            “Take me back to Herkleton! Take me back home now!” Craig demanded.

            Seana sighed. “Look, lil’ brotha…”

            “Stop calling me that!” Craig roared. “You’re not Neas! You’re the imposter! You’re the Twilight Phantom!”

            “Twilight Phantom?!” Seana snorted in amusement. “Is that why ya been actin’ like a flutered muppet this whole time?” Much as she appreciated Craig’s tenacity had she been the real Twilight Phantom, she had to level with him, “Oh, lil’ brotha. I’m not that pox by a long shot. Truth is, I’m—”

            The sudden jolt of the entire TARDIS delayed her explanation, as it came out of the Infinite DC all on its own. This surprised Seana, who hadn’t touched any of the controls.

            “What the…?!” she muttered, looking over the readouts on the monitors.

            Thinking they had landed back in his world, Craig was relieved.

            “I don’t think we’re back in yer world, lil’ brotha,” Seana warily noted.

            She proceeded to exit the ship, with Craig following behind her. Together, they discovered that Seana was right: they were not back in Craig’s world. Instead, they entered a dark, foreboding room with a sinister-looking throne and a balcony that overlooked the surface of the moon with the planet Earth looming above.

            After two months of readjusting to simple living, Craig wasn’t prepared for this impromptu trip to an evil alien fortress of all places. His trauma resurfacing, he cowered back into the TARDIS, peeping around the edge of the doorway. “W-Where…Where are we?!”

            “Lord Zedd’s throne room,” Seana hissed.

            A loud, boisterous cackle followed soon after Seana identified the location. It came directly from the throne, which turned to reveal an intergalactic being that lacked a skull and skin, exposing its pulsating brain and muscle tissue. It had a chrome endoskeleton with tubes and a faceplate to match with a red visor. The faceplate also doubled as a crown with an elongated rod with a “Z” atop it. The figure wielded a staff that had the same make as its crown.

TO BE CONTINUED...