Chapter 10

                                        

                                              

We fell on hard concrete, which did wonders for my knees and ankles. The darkness swallowed us up, and I couldn't see my hand when I held it up to my face. Silence echoed in my ears, and I realized the sirens were gone. Were they gone, or had we found another entrance to somewhere not-quite-home?
"Mac?" Del was close. That was more comforting than I could put into words. As weird as it sounded, if I had to be stuck in a weird, darkened basement with anybody, I was glad it was Del.
"Here," I said. "You okay?"
"Oh, yeah," Del said. "I love diving into random basements where I can't see anything. That's what I do for kicks."
"No one says kicks, Del."
"No?"
"I say kicks."
I hadn't spoken. Neither had Del. If I was any good at math, and in this case, it was basic addition, that had to mean someone else was in the room. My already frazzled nervous system kicked into overdrive.
"What the actual fuck!" Del screamed, and in most cases, that's usually a question. The way Del said it just then was most definitely a statement – one I had to appreciate. 
"You're the one who wrote on the glass." I forced myself to take a deep breath and clenched my hands into fists. Whenever Captain Amygdala and His High-jack of Doom came out to play, I used my little tricks to try to take back control of the situation. Sometimes they proved successful.
"Yes! Yes, that was me!" They sounded excited – almost proud of themselves. 
"This may be rude or presumptuous – " I started.
"Presumptuous?" Del asked. "I didn't know you knew that word."
"Del! I know lots of words! My life isn't all Tyrant Kings and hanging out in your game store! I have read a book on occasion!"
"And that book had presumptuous in it?"
"It did! And I had to look it up! So I definitely know what presumptuous means!"
Our new friend was laughing at us. I didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved. I felt that insulted would more than likely provoke some kind of unwanted conflict between us and the disembodied voice, so I chose relieved.
"Go ahead!" it said. "Presumpt away!"
Now it was my turn to laugh. At least the voice had a sense of humour. Maybe we weren't going to die, after all – not right away, and that again was reason to celebrate.
"It's super dark in here," I said. "I don't know if we're still hiding from the cops or if me and Del – "
"Del and I." Del couldn't help himself, grammar bitch that he was.
"Del!" I snarled. "Not the time!"
"Sorry," he muttered. 
"No, no, it's me that's sorry!" Our friendly voice fumbled over itself. "This form I've chosen lets me see in the dark. One second."
The room was suddenly awash in warm golden light, but not so bright that Del and I had to shield our eyes. Still, I had to blink a few times to make sure that I truly was, in fact, standing next to a bright purple squirrel. 
"You're a purple squirrel," Del said. I could always trust him to state the obvious.
"Violet, if we're getting technical," the squirrel said. It preened its whiskers and reached into a tiny satchel it had slung over its shoulder. "Purple is such a vague, blanket colour. Anyone can slap red and blue together and call it purple. Violet has integrity, commitment. Bruises are purple. Barney the Dinosaur is purple. If you can't distinguish between the two, we'll call the whole thing off now. I'm sure the authorities would love to know who sent those fireballs into the sky."