Joule Lore
Last updated
Last updated
Scratching at her elbows under her ripped up jacket, Joule tells us, “It’ll be the biggest thing we’ve pulled off.” From under the dusty mat she sleeps on, Joule pulls out folded-up papers. “This one,” she says, “this one I got from an army guy, don’t ask how. Okay, go ahead and ask how. Go on. Okay, nevermind. Look.” She spreads out this blue paper and there’s an outline of something we ain’t seen before. Some big machine that walks.
“And we are gonna steal it.” Like it ain’t in a military hangar behind all kindsa guards and cameras and firepower, that’s how Joule says it. She has a plan for that, too. Joule always has a plan for everything. Outta her stocking she yanks out another paper, this one her own creation, a map of the compound, and all our instructions. “We get a buncha smoke bombs. I know Gator is hoarding a bunch. Some flashbangs for distracting. And I know Petey has that anchor he borrowed from the docks. We’ll totally use that like a grappling hook.”
By now, all the hungry kids are milling around Joule’s corner of the floor, rubbing their snotty noses on their knuckles and hoo-hooing at the blueprints. Clover doesn’t like it when we congregate, but none of us are tattlers.
“You can’t pull that off. Ain’t any way.”
“We can. Remember that time I hotwired the flamewalker? This can’t be all that different.”
Nobody’s dumb enough to believe her, but nobody wants to be the one who chickens out. Once volunteers start raising hands, Joule has herself a gang.
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Nobody wants to be a chicken but still, after Chester cuts open the fence, no one goes through. We’re all staring at one another: Chester with his wire cutters, his sis Chatter with her mouth X-taped shut ‘cause she talks too much, Gator with his bulging backpack, SBD and Petey oofing under the anchor, Bell the only one of us with a weapon. Only Joule, hunkered down like a frog, is looking at the compound a short sprint away.
“We all know the meeting spot yeah?”
Just like that, we’re running, maybe just ‘cause she didn’t give us time to think about it. We’re running with red puffy cheeks through the dark yard, running like we’d stole from the Carnies. Can’t see anything in the moonless night, but we know the spot, and we land there at the door marked HEAD in an unruly pile, kicking and grunting trying to get inside first.
Joule’s standing on a toilet, wiggling at the grate to the air ducts with a screwdriver when Chester grunts. “Where’s Chatter?”
We all peek out the door just in time to see the floodlights snap on, and Chatter right in the middle of all that light, yanking at the knob to the wrong door. It’s not even seconds before she’s got guards all over her, barking in her taped-up face.
“She’s gonna squeal,” whines SBD.
“Sure she is,” whispers Joule. “And I told her we were going a whole other direction, so that oughta buy us a few minutes. Boost me up!”
Sure enough, one guard holds onto Chatter while the rest of them go racing off away in the other direction.
“Hurry!” whispers Bell, stuffing her weapon in her pants, and Petey boosts her into the duct.
Only Joule’s pockets make noise. We all know how to be silent, ‘cept for Chatter, but she’s gone and Chester ran off after her. Whatever; he wouldna fit in the ducts anyways.
Bell goes straight toward the security room. SBD, Petey, and Gator head for the distraction points, moving slow with all their stuff. Joule and Bell stop over the security room grate and get busy, Joule with her screwdriver, Bell with a makeshift blow dart she fashioned for the occasion. The hollow reed fits through the grate, but aiming ain’t easy. Joule loosens the grate screws just enough to keep it in place. Nobody’s breathing. Bell gets a clear shot on the guard inside and tap-tap-taps on the duct wall with her fingernails.
One tap, faint from around the corner, answers. The boys ain’t ready.
Bell looks down, and the guard is looking back up at ‘er. Bell curses and exhales, the dart flying with a glob of spittle. But the aim’s all wrong, so Joule stomps her foot into the grate and lets it fall, bam! right on toppa the guard’s melon. Bell bashes her fist three times on the duct wall, ‘cause it’s on now like it or not, and the girls jump down into the security room.
The outer halls fill with the boys’ stink bombs. Guards are shouting and coughing; they grab Petey and haul him outta the duct howling. Bell gets nabbed too, but Joule’s already sprinting toward the hangar door with the KO’d guard’s key card in her fist and a screwdriver in her teeth.
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“Listen up, ya baldy-heads!” yells Joule. “You all know what this is! Flatulo-virus! All I gotta do is open it and we all drop dead!”
When the smoke clears, Joule’s in front of the mechs in the middle of the hangar, waving a little corked vial around. SBD’s leaning on her, breathing hard. Guards flood in, including the ones holding our friends. Two of ‘em tackle Gator, anchor and all. Echoing in the back we hear Chatter wailing. “It’s ooooover! We’re deeeeead!” Soldiers pour in through the choke point, some of ‘em holding us while we struggle, some of ‘em pointing guns right at Joule, who laughs all crazy.
“We’ll never surrender! We’ll die first!” she howls, and yanks the cork outta that vial so hard her elbow bashes into SBD’s belly.
With an “Oooooof,” SBD doubles over and a familiar silent but deadly stink fills the room.
Bell collapses in a guard’s arms, her eyes rolling up. Petey groans, Gator foams at the mouth, Chester chokes. Joule spins and drops, tongue lolled out. Soldiers flee the hangar in a panic, gagging and gasping for air in the massive stench. All around the compound doors slam, sirens wail and a calm female voice on the speakers announces full lockdown due to biological weaponry.
“Eeny meeny,” mutters Joule, wiggling her finger between the two closest mechs. Bypassing a slick black one, she climbs up into the one with the sweet yellow stripes. Bashing on buttons and poking the key card in random spots makes it roar to life. “Look at this thing! Look how cool this is!”
“There’s no way out, dummy!” Bell kicks at the mech’s leg. “How’re we supposed to…” With loud whirring and a clunk of machine joints, the mech lurches forward. Joule nearly falls outta the thing, rights herself and takes another clunky step forward. The huge machine’s fists open and close. There’s zapping sounds from inside the guns. We’re all running for cover while she spins the sword around, whooping like all of us aren’t about to get dead. “One ‘a these things should…” she mutters, then pushes the big red button…
Everything goes silent. The sirens and announcing lady voice stop. We scream without sound, and when the mech starts walking again, we can’t hear it. Whatever button Joule pushed left us all deaf, and a big freaking hole in the opposite wall of the hangar.
We all bail, running like mad for that hole, jumping out and fleeing toward the fence. Joule comes last, Chatter held in one ‘a the big mech fists. There’s no point in opening the fence anymore; she slams it flat under those big metal feet. Ringing starts up in our ears, then we start to hear each other shouting. Slam, slam, slam go the mech’s footsteps as we all trip and sprint toward our meeting spot outside town, where the jungle grows up on the city walls.
“Toldja we could do it,” says Joule, powering it down. She hops off and hides it under thick vines and weeds.
“Yeah sure,” says Bell, “but what’re you gonna_do_with it?”
Joule stops, looking up at the lumpy, camouflaged shape of her new toy. “Um…”
The officer looked from the academy admission test results in his hand to the recruit standing before him: the shock of color in her hair, the worn-down boots tapping impatiently, the crossed arms and the elbows ripped out of her leather jacket.
The other hopefuls stared at her, snickering in their starchy prep school uniforms, their high-and-tights and slicked-back sock buns and their shined-up dress shoes.
“So you want to be a mech pilot.” The officer stared her down.
“I can take the 8002 apart and put it back together again. Can any of these dummies do that?” She jabbed a thumb at the line of hopefuls behind her.
“Which begs the question: How have you come by this knowledge?”
Joule shrugged, wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jacket.
“You’re that kid who stole the 8002 a few years back.”
“Maybe.”
“You should be taken into immediate custody.”
“But I’m not gonna, because I know I aced that test.”
The officer rapped his knuckles on her file. “And you think you can be an officer?”
“Yeah.”
The officer narrowed his eyes. “Let’s begin with ‘Yes, Sir.’”
Joule grinned and straightened her spine. “Yes, Sir.”
“This is soboooooring.”
A week before final exams, all the firsties are buried in books. At three in the morning, Joule’s slumped over her desk, holding up her head with one fist.
“Shh,” hisses her roommate.
“You don’t think this is boring? Four years of studying this poop, guard duty, PT, classes… don’t you wannadosomething?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I wannadrive. We got these next-level mechs with halcyon accelerator cannons, magneto-regulated plasma blades, corvus mark-3 jump jets… and we never even get to blow things up…”
The floor beneath them shudders, cutting Joule’s whining short.
*CRASH*
The dormitory fills with the screams of the alarms.
*ALL CADETS TO BUNKERS. ALL CADETS TO BUNKERS. ALL CADETS TO…*
Orderly lines of half-asleep cadets in their skivvies form in the dormitory hallways.
“This isgreat!” cried Joule.
“Shh!”
“Why was I not made aware of tonight’s drill?” bellows the CO. Another slam against the side of the building shakes the cadets off their feet.
“It’s not a drill.Look!” Joule points at a window right as a giant claw crashes through it, opens and snaps up the nearest cadet.
“Stay in line!” screams the CO.
“Aw, screw that.” Joule breaks out of line as a claw smashes through another window; she runs through the shattered glass in her slippers, grabbing the CO by his collar. “Let’s go!”
The garage is dark for the night, but this isn’t the first time Joule’s had to get into a locked-down hangar. Emergency lights flash blue and red on Joule’s face as she shoves the CO’s face onto the gate lock.
“You’ll get the brig for this,” mutters the CO, but with shaking fingers, he pokes the code into the lock and the gate rises.
“Nah! I’ll just get yelled at. I’ve been yelled at before.” Joule sprints to her mech and climbs up, barefoot, punches the starter. The machine roars to life, its merry lights blinking, as Joule calls down to her CO, “Well? You gonna stand there watchin’, or are you gonna help?”
The line of cadets marches after the CO into the hangar. The CO shrugs, helpless, and everyone scatters to mount their mechs. Joule raps her knuckles on a button and the big door rises. The screeching sounds of the giant beast pierce into the hangar, and the cadet mech army clomps outside.
“Whatisthat thing?” screams a cadet as the giant crab pokes its claws through the dormitory windows.
“Dunno! Let’s kill it and find out!” Joule’s magneto-modulated plasma sword rises, leading the assault of mech cadets. She rocket leaps straight into the crab’s carpus, sinks the blade through the joint and drops the claw to the ground. “Crab legs for dinner!”
“Crab legs for dinner!” the cadets call back like a battle cry, and the beast is enveloped by an onslaught of beams, bullets and electricity. Mechanized swords hack at the digging legs while bullets dent the carapace. Another claw hits the ground. Joule leaps up, slices off an eye stalk as long as her leg and lands square underneath the stumbling crustacean.
“Let’s see what these fancy-wancy machines can really do!” shouts Joule, turning up the dial on the halcyon wave accelerator beam. The mech glows red as Joule aims up at the soft abdomen.
“No, Joule!” cries the CO. “The H-WAB can’t take that much heat! The manual says…”
“Trust me! I’ve been testing overdrives in the field since I was a kiddo!” Joule slams her fist down on the big red button and the night sky explodes with light. The crab staggers, hisses and slams to the ground right over Joule and her mech.
When the smoke clears, there’s a perfect hole blasted through the middle of the crab, and Joule’s standing in her mech right in the middle of it.
“So,” she says, cracking her knuckles, “can I graduate now?”
Joule found the snow monster on toppa the airship tower where sometimes we’d go to set off fireworks. There’d been a ruckus up there the night before; an elevator broke and a bunch of ladies were done for. Whole thing was hush-hush even in the places we eavesdropped, so Joule said we should check it out ourselves. After dark we ducked under the security tape and went up the emergency ladders. Chatter tapped out halfway up, scared of heights, and SBD took longest, but Joule was first. We went right for the chalk outlines in the control room, laid inside them, poked at the buttons on busted equipment, wowed at the big hole in the ceiling. Chester pretended to shove Petey into the yawning broken elevator hole.
Joule climbed up to the landing pad. That’s where she found it: a wiggling military backpack hanging off the edge.
“It’s a cat!” screamed Bell, who was afraid of cats, when Joule pulled out the white ball of fur.
“It ain’t a cat,” said Joule. “It’s a monster.”
Bell had no cause yet to be scared of monsters so she stepped in close, then we all did. For sure it wasn’t a cat or a dog or a hamster or like anything we’d seen before. Also it was hungry, ‘cause first thing, it tried to eat SBD’s fingers.
“Prob’ly has rabies,” said Petey, leaning in close. The monster let out this baby-cute roar, and his breath was so cold that he iced Petey right over, gave him icicle eyelashes and frozen boogers. So none of us insulted the monster again.
“He doesn’t have rabies. He’s an orphan, so we gotta take care of him,” said Joule, and shoved him in the backpack. “His name’s Mac.” She snuck him down the ladder and back home. We fed it bacon and muffins but it liked peppermint candy most of all. Turned out it was a baby when we found it, ‘cause in a coupla weeks, Mac grew curly horns out of its head and pointy tusks out his mouth. He got taller than alla us in a month.
We couldn’t hide him for long. Every time he sneezed, he froze the house, and when he didn’t, the poor guy was sweaty-hot. He stomped holes in the floors. We figured we’d have to shave him or stuff him down in the sewer with the other too-big pets but Joule had this whole other idea. She taught Mac to carry her, and she’d chase alla us around for target practice, tickling Mac’s nose when she wanted him to roar ice. She fed him peppermint candies when he did good, and she used alla us as her target practice, so we had icicle eyelashes and frozen boogers until Joule figured Mac was ready for the big time.
Now, she and Mac run crystal in the Halcyon Fold together. Joule tells us that Mac turned a whole jungle into wintertime with his yawns and roars and sneezes, so after they’ve collected lots of crystal and gold, she tucks him into a fluffy snowdrift and kisses him nighty-night. She makes a hella lotta gold there, which is lucky ‘cause every morning she has to bring him pizzas and pies and candies for breakfast, and that stuff ain’t cheap.
