Taquitos and Heroes

By A. C. Williams

“Here’s your pay, kid.” The foreman of the road crew dropped a few crumpled bills into Karl’s hand. “Now scram.”

“Come on, man.” Karl moaned. “What does it even matter? I’m sixteen. So what? I can scoop up dead raccoons better than anybody else on your crew.”

The foreman took the shovel from Karl’s other hand. “Off the road. You’re done, kid.” He turned his back and sauntered away.

Karl stared after him bleakly before shoving the wadded-up money into his dirty jeans. He shed the yellow safety vest, tossed it over the road divider, and sank his hands into his pockets as he marched dejectedly northward up the Oklahoma turnpike.

The pavement sizzled under his worn sneakers, and the fierce summer wind baked the sweat off his neck and brow.

“This sucks.”

He trudged along under the furious July sun until he reached the nearest exit—some nowheresville speck on the Oklahoma plains—and made a beeline for a sleezy-looking gas station.

No cars. No people. As he neared, the smell of greasy pizza and roller-heated taquitos made his stomach grumble, and the handful of bucks in his pocket began to burn.

But who knew when he’d get paid again? The smart move would be to skip the grease.

“Water fountain.” He spied the hunk of gray metal hung on the wall between the outside doors to the restrooms. He slurped the cold, metallic water, and then straightened, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and stared out over the rolling red hills. “Now what?”

The fifth job in a week, lost because he couldn’t keep a lid on his age. What did it matter that he wasn’t eighteen? He was a hard worker. He was strong. And, more importantly, he was hungry. Cheeseburgers didn’t come free.

He dropped onto a bench nestled against the side of the gas station and rested his head on the sun-warmed window behind him.

The bench creaked, and Karl glanced at a man with long silver hair sitting down next to him.

“Dude!” Karl jerked. “Not you again!”

The man smiled at him with kind, dark eyes. “Hello, Karl Goodson.”

“You got me fired.” Karl pointed at him. “Talking to me. Distracting me.”

“I am sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I am not.” The man adjusted the long, billowing sleeves of the weird dress thing he wore.

Karl rolled his eyes and flopped back on the bench. “Why are you following me, man?”

“I must speak with you.”

Karl groaned. “Can we go somewhere with air conditioning? It’s like an oven out here.”

The man smiled again. “Compared to where I am from, this weather is quite pleasant.”

“Pleasant?” Karl yelped. “Where are you from? Kansas?”

“I am from another world.”

“Oh. Texas.”

That made sense. That made a whole lot of sense.

The man blinked and shook his head. He stretched out his arm and opened his hand. A shifting orb of light formed in his palm.

Karl leaped off the bench, backing away with his jaw open. The light pulsed, glowed, and formed the shape of a tall staff, crowned with a golden ornament and nine jangling rings.

“Dude. What?” Karl whispered.

The old man stood and faced him. “I am from another world.”

“So… not Texas?”

The man sighed and extended his other hand. A small bronze charm shaped like an unfamiliar animal dangled from his fingers.

“Do you know what this is?”

“Party favor?”

The man frowned. “No.”

Karl eyed the charm. “Can I eat it?”

“No.” The man sagged slightly. “You are… different.”

“Could be worse. I could be a jerk.”

The old man chuckled. “Truth. My name is Korin Sado, and this is a key.” He held the charm out again.

Karl raised his eyebrows. “Don’t look like a key.”

“It is called a menuki.”

“Oh. A menoo-key!”

Korin raised his wiry eyebrows.

“Get it? Menoo-key?”

Korin set his jaw.

Karl scratched the back of his neck. “Do they not laugh in your world? Like ever?”

Korin sighed and held out the charm again. “This menuki grants access to a great power only you can command.”

“Me?” Karl drew back slightly.

“You are more important than you know.”

Karl scowled. “I scrape possum guts off the turnpike.”

“You are more than that.”

The wind breathed between them, jangling the rings on Korin’s staff in a tuneless melody that spread chills up and down Karl’s arms.

“You are needed, Karl Goodson.” Korin’s voice resonated deep in Karl’s ears. “Without you, your world is doomed to fall to the evil that destroyed my home.”

“Why me?” Karl met the old man’s dark eyes.

“I do not know.”

Karl sagged. “You don’t know?”

“This power is—complicated. Even I know very little about it.”

“Okay, dude, you got to work on your delivery.”

“I—what?”

“When someone asks you why you want to give them some amazing magic power, you don’t just say you don’t know. You say, ‘because you’re handsome.’”

Up went the eyebrows.

“I’m the chosen one, right?” Karl grinned. “I always knew it. Or is it just because I’m a young, hard-working roadkill scooper desperate for a cheeseburger?”

“Well.” Korin blinked at him owlishly. “Those qualities can only help you.”

Karl laughed. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

The old man smiled softly. “Apparently not.” Korin held out the charm. “Will you accept it?”

Karl focused on the charm. “I’m no hero.”

“Not today. Tomorrow may be a different story.”

Karl lifted his chin. “Can you tell me more?”

“I would be pleased.”

Throwing his arm around the old man’s shoulders, Karl guided Korin toward the doors of the gas station.

“If we’re going to talk about hero stuff, we need food.” Karl dug for the wadded-up cash in his pocket. “Want a taquito?”

“What is a taquito?”

Karl snickered. “You really aren’t from Texas, are you?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A.C. Williams is an author and entrepreneur who loves cats, country living, and all things Japanese. She’d rather be barefoot, and if she isn’t her socks will never match. A proud Hufflepuff, she takes her coffee with cream, her pizza with pineapple, and her stories with spaceships. Follow her travel adventures with Hermes the Frog on social media.

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