Lemonade

Photo by Lauren Mancke on Unsplash

“When life hands you lemons, hunt the bitch down and ram them…”

“Harlon, enough! You’re not helping.” Elle spared a glance from the mangled mess in front of her.

“Yes I am. I’m lightening the mood. God knows someone has to.” Harlon launched into all the reasons Elle shouldn’t take life so seriously.

Elle sighed, tuning him out. Harlon always thought he was helping. Even when, as now, he had caused whatever disaster had befallen them. And this definitely qualified as a disaster.

How long before their employer discovered his precious machine was broken beyond repair? Well, not his, exactly. Not yet anyway. Elle and her brother had stolen it from the syndicate this morning. It wouldn’t have been his until delivery—a delivery that would now never happen.

She didn’t even know what the damn thing did. Past tense. The machine was just a pile of junk now, shattered into a thousand pieces. Why had she let Harlan carry it? Oh yeah, because of her broken arm — the result of his last mishap.

Elle had just decided running was their only option when Harlon squatted down beside her. Before she could stop him, he reached for the debris, electricity crackling from his fingertips.

“No!” Elle applied her dampening field, the counter point to her twin’s power, a moment too late. Lightning arced between Harlon and the machine, completely unaffected by Elle’s efforts.

The bits of machine started to glow, then to shake. The electricity coursing between it and Harlon transformed into a sphere which expanded to surround both of them. Harlon’s eyes bugged out of his head; a low moan escaped barely parted lips.

“Harlon, stop!” Terror gripping her, Elle reached for her brother with her good arm. The sphere pulsed, throwing her across the alleyway into a brick wall. Stunned, she almost missed the moment the machine parts drew back together, forming the perfect, unblemished sphere she and Harlon had stolen only hours before.

It lifted from the ground, surrounded by pulsing, blue electricity, to float in front of Harlon. As Elle pulled herself, shaking, to her feet, her brother’s tortured face eased into a look of wonder. The machine floated into his still outstretched hand, then nestled in, almost as though alive.

The sphere of electricity contracted and dimmed until the machine lay inert, a dull black ball in Harlon’s hand. Sobbing, Elle rushed to his side. Heedless of her broken arm, she crushed him against her. “What were you thinking?”

It wasn’t until Harlon gently pulled away that Elle saw the blue glow emanating from his pupil-less eyes. “Oh Harlon.” How could they escape if he was blind? How could Elle keep both of them alive?

“It’s okay, Sis.” Harlon’s mischievous smile looked eerie under his glowing eyes. He took her broken arm in his free hand. Tingling warmth spread from his fingers, deep into her flesh. She felt the broken bone knit together.

“Harlon?” Elle took her arm back and flexed her fingers, staring in disbelief as the glow faded from his eyes, his pupils again becoming visible. She turned her gaze to the intact machine in his hand. “Now what?”

“Now we run.”

“But if we make the delivery, there’s no reason to run.”

Harlon laughed. “Sis, life handed us lemons, and I made lemonade. Trust me, we need to run.” As he reached out to grasp her hand, she thought she saw a blue glow flicker in the depths of his eyes. She took his hand and ran.