The Secret of Zormna Clendar by Julie Steimle (best ereader for pdf TXT) 📕

loud to herself that it was going to be a long evening. The woman didn’t see Zormna crouch alongside her car.

Creeping on the balls of her over the oil spots on the concrete, Zormna slipped into the huge oleander shrub that grew along the curve between the restaurant and road traffic. The kids shouted and pointed—but were ignored.

Squatting among the slender leaves with white and pink flowers poking into her face and against one ear, Zormna attempted to get comfortable in the dirt. There was a space large enough to see out. It gave her a clear view of the painted cinderblock building across the street that had the words Dave’s Auto Pit across the top in red. There was nothing remarkable about the place. In fact, as she sat there waiting for Jafarr to appear, business went on as usual. As those in the shop were working, a large-set man drove up in an SUV calling for service.

Out of the shadows, near a beat up truck, came the one she was searching for. His pitch-black hair was unmistakable. And though he was dressed in a filthy tee shirt and relaxed jeans like any local punk, he still held his head with a confidence that was unusual among men of his class. He did not see her, thankfully.

Zormna hunkered down more comfortably so that she could watch for a long time if necessary. The car in the drive-thru had long passed, and the drivers in the subsequent ones had not noticed her. She was out of their line of sight.

Jafarr gestured to the man who had just driven up to pull in further where he could work on the vehicle. The sound of his words did not extending across the street. As the man obeyed, another person came out of the auto shop—a recognizable blond head on that familiar tall body. Al strolled to the customer as the man turned off his engine. The customer climbed out of the font seat, his bulging gun hanging over his belt showing flabby skin so repulsive that Zormna closed her eyes. It made her think about her great aunt, actually. It was a mystery how an educated person from Home could let herself go like that. Zormna wondered if it was because of the high sugar content in the food she ate or the lack of exercise. Of course, she might have simply overeaten. Food options were plentiful, after all. And one might go crazy attempting to sample everything available. Of course, gazing at Jafarr and Al, they didn’t seem like they had gained any significant weight. Though they did appear to be healthier. A little more color was in their cheeks, but that was probably from being out in the sun.   

Al popped open the hood to the SUV to look inside. After a mild perusal, he called over to Jafarr. His voice barely carried across the street. With a smirk, the pretended kid brother left his project to take a peek at the new one. Zormna tried to listen to what they were saying, but all she could hear was the latest rock song blasting from the radio along with their occasional laughs.

Zormna watched the man with the floppy midsection waddle down the street to the bus stop. Fact was, he didn’t look like he was from Home at all. Just a customer. His brown hair aside, he was too Germanic in build. There was something almost caveman about him.

Sighing, Zormna continued her vigil.

But the afternoon wore on. It was hot and Zormna was getting a little dehydrated. Both boys continued to work as if that was their prime concern in life. Al frequently called to Jafarr, asking about things as he dug his hands into the car. He even lifted a few items out to show. But most of the afternoon, Jafarr busily toiled under the hood of the beat up truck he had been working on when she had arrived. It was at least two hours before much of anything else happened. By that time, all that changed was that Alex cleaned up, closed the hood of the car he had been fixing, then went to his own truck to head home.

Zormna had also been watching the other worker, but they didn’t look like they were from Home at all. One was Asian. The other Hispanic.

The day was a bust.

Zormna settled against the ground with a sigh, wondering what she ought to do next. Go to their house and wait for when no one was home, then bug their communication lines? Attempt to tap into their Wi-Fi and spy on their communications that way? That was even more dangerous than watching Jafarr at this workplace. Of course, Zormna wondered if the brothers possibly had a routine, which could consist of making subtle contacts on their way home. Rebels usually worked things out in such inconspicuous ways back Home. It would be easy to do that here. After all, Zormna had once heard of the rebellion passing a code through student report cards and presumed test scores.

Al called over to Jafarr before leaving, but Zormna could not hear what they said over the music. Jafarr waved without even looking up from the car engine. There were about three cars in the shop by then, and he was now assisting the Hispanic fellow on something that required two sets of hands.

Zormna leaned on the bushes enviously, sighing.

After tightening the last nut, ‘Jeff’ closed the hood of the truck. His smile crooked up on one side. He wiped his hands on a greasy cloth and walked into a back room where Zormna could not see him anymore. The light was just too dim in comparison to the glare of the concrete and bleached asphalt outside. She wondered, perhaps if that gave the perfect cover for anything illicit that might go on inside that shop. She would have to choose another day to inspect the place in more detail.

A tiny electric two-seater driven by a petite Asian girl picked up the Asian worker, then drove off. Then the Hispanic man walked out, going around the corner to a small hatchback. After three minutes inside, Jafarr returned to the front of the auto shop and pressed a button on the wall near the garage doors. Then he stepped onto the street. The doors rumbled closed behind him.

A man who was difficult to see, probably the owner Dave, called to him from his office with a grin, scratching himself across his chest. Zormna saw enough of Dave to realize he wasn’t one of her people either. He had really hairy arms, for starters, dark enough to be seen from across the road.

Jafarr smiled with a fleeting glance across the street. Taking in a breath while savoring his freedom, he squinted at the setting sun, then walked back inside the shop. It was another five minutes before he came out again. Slinging his freshly new red-and-black Pennington Pirates letterman jacket over his shoulder, he grinned with pleased exhaustion and walked down the hill to the corner.

No truck. Al had taken it already.

Watching him tramp across the street, breathing in and out with that same stupid smile he had that entire afternoon, Zormna slowly got up. She let Jafarr get ahead for at least a block before following. Maybe he really did have contacts along the way home through Pennington. It was worth it to at least check out.

Trailing someone wasn’t her best skill. Tackle and pin had always been, along with piloting flying craft. But Zormna recalled her training well enough to keep her distance and remain inconspicuous. As she followed Jafarr, her eyes set on his letterman’s jacket—the prize he had earned while wrestling that year. She could see the awards and pins on it, gleaming faux gold with the Jolly Roger patch on the shoulder showing the year. His state champ pin gleamed brightly on it.

She chuckled. How much of this integration into American culture was for an alibi? Or, like the job at the auto shop, was pure guilty pleasure? She knew Jafarr enjoyed the freedom. Everything he did at school showed it. This place was where he wanted to be.

Envy swelled within Zormna as she continued to follow him. Jafarr had escaped. Their old ways no longer held him captive. For the first time, she wished she could escape too—pretend she was just an immigrant from Ireland, to blissfully forget the past. But her life was at stake, and she could not afford to be distracted.

Jafarr reached the bottom of the hill. So far, he didn’t look behind himself at all—at least not until he crossed the street where there was a three-way stop. But he just kept his eye out for traffic. Zormna followed, keeping him just in sight yet not making any noise to draw his attention. However, she figured he wouldn’t check until they passed into her neighborhood anyway. If he got uneasy, Zormna decided, she would just slip back to the McLennas’ house and that would end that. But Jafarr didn’t really look behind himself until they passed her great aunt’s place on Kennedy Street. By then, Zormna kept farther distance, watched from the shadows, and tracked him at a more careful pace.

The first time he stopped, his eyes scanned the neighborhood, almost piercing through the shadows. But he did not see her. He looked beyond, back to the old house.

Perhaps it was time to cut her losses, Zormna thought. After all, Jafarr had made no contacts along the way, and it was becoming more apparent that the only people he knew in town from Home were those he lived with and the McLennas who were not even aware he was from Home.

Jafarr soon continued on his way.

Zormna decided to keep following, if only a little further. She knew where he lived anyway. Jennifer had told her, and Todd had given her his address in the hopes that they would reconcile their differences. She could always sneak over another day to inspect the house and its inhabitants.

After a couple blocks, Jafarr paused again. Looking back with his hands clutching his new jacket, his eyes scanned the road behind him again, sharper, more irritably. But he wasn’t looking near her at all this time. Maybe he could sense her. People of his mother’s caste were like that—psychically in tune.

But he continued on, then went a little faster, though not quite a jog.

Zormna kept her distance. She knew Jafarr’s march would lead him towards the outer edge of the suburb. She could already see the distant trees at the end of Greenwood Road where he lived. It was a long street where he would have to go straight for several blocks to make it home. It was connected to the trash can alley setup, and had many shadowy paths in that direction. Zormna counted on this as she kept track of his progress ahead of her.

He still made no contacts along the way. He hadn’t even stopped off at Brian Henderson’s. Yet, more than a number of times, she noticed that Jafarr had veered off his straight course along Greenwood Road to take an alley. He ducked into the shadows and vanished from sight like he was trying to lose someone. But Zormna stayed true to the course, got ahead of him then stepped into an alley of her own, pacing it just right so Jafarr would never see her. He came back onto Greenwood with a glance at the bare street, sighed with confidence, and walked straight again.

Zormna went farther on in a parallel alley and waited for him inside shadows of the large bushes. She had a clear view of the road from there. And he would soon pass by. They were closer to the edge of the town by then. Only a few more blocks.

But that was the alley he ducked into next.

Quickly becoming part of the fence behind the garbage cans, Zormna held her breath. She