Auntie Murtle’s oddly familiar and frankly inappropriate teenage mutant paranormal romance bedtime story:
Once upon a time, there was a human girl living in a human world—or so she thought.
Her name was Michella, but for some reason she hated this name, and preferred that everyone call her “Shella.”
Shella’s parents were separated, and lived in totally different parts of the country. Usually Shella stayed with her mom Lena in Chicago, but when her mom remarried, Shella felt everything in her world had flipped on its back, so she might as well make a clean break and move in with her dad, Marley, who also lived in Chicago. —Wait, sorry, who lived in the suburbs of Chicago.
Everyone at Shella’s new school was enthralled by the arrival of a new student from the glamorous big city. The boys wanted to be with her, the girls wanted to be her. But Shella found them provincial and dull. She already knew everything the teachers were teaching, except she couldn’t make heads or tails of their brutal suburban activities like volleyball and basketball. So she was quiet, and reserved, and generally regarded her classmates with a blank stare.
Perhaps that is why when another blank stare met her own, it changed her life forever.
There was a small group of students at the school that weren’t like anyone else and didn’t associate with anyone else. She first noticed them in the cafeteria. But they didn’t eat the standard-issue human meals which were all some combination of processed meat with processed bread. It seemed like they didn’t eat anything at all. It didn’t make sense, because how were they getting the nutrients needed to maintain their beautifully arched spines, long graceful necks, and shimmery complexions that seemed to emit a green glow under the florescent lighting?
Anyway, one of these special human boys—whose name was Deadwood Sullen—kept meeting Shella’s eyes from across the room. She was both attracted and repelled, confusing feelings which seemed to be mutual. She couldn’t tell if his eyes burned with disgust or desire; it seemed to change by the moment and the day. She couldn’t hold his gaze, yet she couldn’t look away.
Then one day the two of them were assigned as partners in biology lab. “Hi Shella, looks like we’re partners,” said Deadwood. Shella was speechless. How did he know that she preferred to go by ‘Shella’? No one else knew that.
Minutes later when he reached for the microscope, his skin brushed hers and she felt an electric jolt move through her, even as she realized that his skin was startlingly cold. Was he a living corpse, or was this love? Shella wasn’t sure.
Shella noticed that most of Deadwood Sullen’s movements were incredibly and beautifully slow. At the same time, he was so good at human school that they were done with the lab early and struck up a conversation. They skipped the small talk and got right to the big talk. “Why’d you move to the suburbs?” Deadwood asked. Again, Shella was so shocked, she struggled to find her voice. No one had ever asked her this before. She found it impossible to lie to Deadwood, who continued to regard her inscrutably as she divulged her entire life story, fighting back tears by the end.
“What about you?” Shella asked Deadwood as she tried to compose herself. But then the bell rang, and he was gone. How had he moved so fast? It was uncanny. Usually it took him ten minutes to cross the room. Was he avoiding her? Was he a superhuman?
But an even more extreme example of Deadwood’s speed would be on display the following morning. An evening rain had frozen overnight, creating dangerous driving conditions. But Shella drove a garbage truck, and had no problem navigating her way to a parking space. As she stepped down from her ride, suddenly she saw him—Deadwood Sullen. He was about a dozen meters away, staring at her blankly!
Almost at the same moment, Shella heard a screech of tires and realized a classmate’s car was out of control and headed straight for her. This was it—she was going to die. But then, the next thing she knew, she had been thrown to the ground by something that was not a car. It was Deadwood Sullen. He was right in front of her, somehow having stopped the car with his shell—sorry, his back. How on earth had he moved so fast? And how was he uninjured? This was impossible. This was not human. Shella demanded answers.
“Okay, so I’ve got this skateboard,” Deadwood explained sheepishly. “Please don’t tell anyone. Please keep my secret. Also, we shouldn’t be friends. Stay away from me.” He hopped back onto his skateboard, belly first, and with a kick of his limbs, disappeared in a flash of green.
Shella kept his secret, though it continued to bother her. After all, he had said they shouldn’t be friends. Why should she do anything for him? Was it because she was in love with him, or was she just bored?
A few weeks later, Deadwood looked uncomfortable upon entering the biology classroom, then immediately disappeared, before the teacher had even noticed him. The skateboard. Also, that day they were dissecting crayfish, so the smell was indeed repulsive. Shella ended up nearly fainting and got sent to the nurse’s office to recover. She encountered Deadwood Sullen in the hallway, and he told the nurse that he was going to drive Shella home. “Sure, whatever. That checks out,” said the nurse, not looking up from her computer screen. No laws out here, Shella reflected again on her strange suburban life.
Deadwood indeed gave Shella a ride home in his sportscar, and he seemed to be in high spirits after their shared experience of skipping biology class. “You know what, Shella,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t want to be your friend. It’s just that, it might be dangerous for you. I might not be a good person. I might not be a person. I might be evil. Or I might be a reptile. Probably I’m both. I might like to live slow and die old. But at the same time maybe I can’t. Does that frighten you?”
“No,” she said, perhaps a little too eagerly.
“How old are you, Shella?” Deadwood asked. He sounded sad for some reason.
“Seventeen,” she said.
Deadwood cursed under his breath. “But you’re mature for your age, right?”
“That’s what everyone tells me,” she admitted.
“Good.”
“You know what, you also seem mature beyond your presumably sixteen or seventeen years,” Shella told him.
Deadwood turned slowly toward her and winked. Then they both smiled.
Before dropping Shella off, Deadwood had convinced her—not that she took much convincing—to go out with him for another drive the following weekend. It couldn’t be this weekend, because Shella had already agreed to go to downtown Naperville with her dull classmates, and Deadwood had to go camping with his hot adoptive family.
On the Naperville trip, Shella mostly kept to herself (per usual), but there was a boy there, a couple years younger than Shella, who recognized her name and struck up a conversation. His name was Joe Possim, and it turned out their fathers were besties. In fact, the garbage truck that Shella had been driving—well, Shella’s dad had bought it directly from the Possim family. Shella expressed her appreciation for the vehicle, and it was a bonding moment for the two of them. After that, Shella took a page from Deadwood’s book. She decided to skip the small talk and get right to the big talk. With a hint of seduction.
“So, Joe, what’s up with the Sullen family, and is there like, something supernatural going on in these suburbs or what?” Shella winked at him.
Joe normally wouldn’t have told Shella this information, and had in fact joined a blood pact in agreement not to ever speak of it to anyone, upon penalty of a painful death, but she had managed to ask in a sufficiently seductive way, and he decided he would tell her everything.
“You know, my family has deep roots in this area, and we have all kinds of stories and legends. One in particular, goes back all the way to 1942. Did you know, that the first nuclear reactor in the world was built right here in Chicago?” he asked.
“Here? You mean in the suburbs?” Shella asked.
Joe continued. “After achieving a self-sustaining reaction, they took the reactor apart and buried it out in a forest. That should have been the end of the story.”
“But it wasn’t,” Shella surmised.
“That’s right. The radiation entered the earth, the water, the trees. It did things to the animals, dark things. We mutated. Er—they—mutated. But this earth isn’t big enough for two species of apex mutant. So the Possims, and the Sullens, we’re mortal enemies. That’s about it.”
“I’m sorry, but what does all this have to do with the Sullen family?”
“Oh–well, they’re one of clans, I guess you could say… I think you would call them, mutant turtles.”
Shella gasped.
“Of course these are just stories. But at the same time I’m also one thousand percent serious. Stay away from the Sullens,” Joe warned. “Lol,” he added, to lighten the mood.
The rest of the week, Shella moved through her life in a daze. At one point, she found herself firing up her dad’s desktop and entering a ridiculous search query (“mutant turtle”). But she couldn’t make heads or tails of the information. There was a little anthropomorphism going on, and some skateboarding, but nothing seemed to match up exactly. None of it could explain why Deadwood was so alluring—or why he might be dangerous, unless he was also a ninja. But ninjas could fight for good, couldn’t they? Shella clung to that hope. Because part of her already knew… she was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with Deadwood.
After a week spent casting increasingly flirtatious glances back and forth across the cafeteria, the big weekend finally arrived. Deadwood showed up early Saturday morning and told Shella he was going to show her someplace special. He directed her to drive down a series of increasingly untrafficked roads into a rural area, from where they walked through a dense forest. It seemed like they had been walking for over an hour—where the heck was this place?
“Are you frightened to be alone with me?” Deadwood asked playfully.
“Absolutely one hundred per cent no, not at all,” Shella replied honestly. For some reason, this made Deadwood look confused, disappointed, perhaps even a little angry. They walked on in silence, and after a little while they stopped, having arrived at a swampland.
“Here we are,” Deadwood said, happy again. In the light of midday and the haze of the swamp gas, his skin shone and glowed an unnatural but beautiful shade of green. Mesmerized, Shella could only gape as Deadwood ripped off his shirt, dove into the murky water, paddled over to a large, flat rock, and stretched out to bathe his perfect back in the sun. Shella was accident-prone around water just as she was around land, but eventually she worked up the courage to paddle over to him. They sunbathed together in silence until their swamp-soaked clothes had dried. At which point, Deadwood began to seem a little uncomfortable.
“What is it, Deadwood?” Shella asked.
“It’s just… being so close to you now, I can smell your blood. Your delicious blood. And I’m trying to suppress my instinctual urge to feast on your flesh until you are a lifeless and dried-up husk of a being. But also, I like you very much. You intrigue me. I love you. I would never hurt you. But also, I might. I can’t express enough just how much danger you are in right now. And how much danger you will be in if this continues any further.”
“Cool, cool…” Shella tried to keep calm, but her heart was pounding hard in her chest. Had he really said what she thought he said? “I love you more,” she countered.
Deadwood sat up, agitated. “How on earth is that your reaction to everything I just said?”
Shella avoided his gaze. It was time to come clean. “I just might… might have researched you on the internet. I mean, I’m not completely sure what you are or what it means, but the Possim boy told me you were a mutant turtle, and that’s fine, because… you are really hot. And I didn’t know this would mean you’d be eating my flesh or drinking my blood, but I’m willing to be open-minded about it.”
Deadwood jumped off the rock and began furiously paddling laps around the swamp. “That’s insane! What’s wrong with you!?” he screamed repeatedly. He did flips in the water for another 45 minutes. Finally he seemed to get ahold of himself and swam back over to their rock.
“Sorry about that. I really almost ate you there. But you know, the longer I’m in your presence, the easier it will be to resist temptation. And you’re worth it.” Deadwood slowly reached out a hand and touched Shella’s face. His skin was hard and cold as a corpse, yet Shella found herself melting.
They continued to sunbathe and hold hands for the rest of the afternoon. Shella had a million questions, too, which Deadwood did his best to answer.
Sure enough, Deadwood was an undead monster, half-man, half-turtle mutant doomed to live an immortal life of eternal youth and beauty by dining on the blood of other live creatures. He didn’t have very clear memories prior to the incident that made him. He vaguely remembered being a turtle, minding its own business eating its worms, but also being a normal young man walking by the forest. And then something happened, the two joined but also warped, becoming someone—something—new. Something with entirely random superpowers, killer looks, mad skateboarding skills, and a green shine. Deadwood’s superpower was that he could read minds, except Shella’s for some reason. His so-called “family” were just the same, immortal turtle-mutants created by the radiation’s cursed touch. Once they’d found each other, they’d been a group, and for the past half century they’d been traveling around, living off the grid. It was just recently they’d felt drawn home and returned to the place they’d all come from. As a bonus, they were getting to experience what it was like to be the hot new kids at a high school. Except the two who served as “parents” for the group.
Deadwood explained that he and his family generally avoided feeding on humans because of the legal ramifications, but he had never wanted to drink anything or anyone’s blood as badly as he wanted to drink Shella’s. At the same time he just wanted to take her to the prom. There was something special about this connection between the two of them, whether mystical and fated or chemical and meaningless. Either way, Deadwood had decided he was all in. He was going to make this interspecies relationship work if it was the last thing he did.
“Are we going to bang?” asked Shella. “Not that I’ve ever even kissed a boy before, I’m just thinking ahead.”
Deadwood met her gaze, serious and sad. “No, Shella. If I get too aroused, I will kill you. Don’t ask me how I know this. I just do.”
“Ah, bummer.” Shella pouted. But she had a feeling he’d change his mind someday. Turtle or not, guys are guys.
It was starting to get dark, so to save time, Deadwood gave Shella a ride back to her garbage truck on his skateboard. Then he had to drive because the skateboard ride had made her swoon. When they got to Shella’s, her dad was still out, so she invited Deadwood inside.
“I wish you could just sleep here tonight,” she sighed, feeling torn up at the thought he’d ever have to leave her side again.
“I don’t sleep,” Deadwood told her. “It’s part of the curse.”
That didn’t make much sense to Shella, but whatever. “You could watch me sleep,” she joked.
“Yeah, I do that every night already,” he admitted.
Shella blushed. He did care!
So Deadwood hid outside when Shella’s dad got home, then crept back in through her window once she had eaten dinner and gone upstairs to sleep. As promised, he stayed with her all night, and was there regarding her with a blank stare when she woke up in the morning. Shella’s heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness. What a romantic he was! She just hoped she hadn’t passed gas in her sleep.
Fortunately, Shella’s dad spent at least 14 hours away from the house every single day, and he was out already when Shella got up. Another day with Deadwood! “So what’s today’s agenda?” she asked as Deadwood watched her scoop cereal into her mouth.
“If you don’t mind,” he grinned fiendishly, “I thought you might want to officially meet my family.”
“Great!” said Shella. “Let me go find something to wear.” She started to head back upstairs.
Deadwood stopped her with a cold reptilian grip. “Wait, aren’t you afraid? To go to my lair, without anyone else knowing where you are? To be surrounded by blood-drinking nonhumans in their own territory? With no way to outrun us or call for help should anything go horribly wrong?”
Shella regarded him blankly. “No,” she said.
“Then why do you have goosebumps? And an elevated heartbeat?”
“Sorry, I’m kind of turned on.”
Deadwood sighed. “Fine, go get dressed.”
Shella bounded upstairs. This seemed like an important occasion, so she pulled out the only dress she owned. It was a casual one at that. She quickly changed and came back downstairs.
Deadwood froze in place when he saw her.
Then in a microsecond he was standing right beside her. Shella hadn’t even seen him move. Now his arms were around her and his lips were gently brushing the side of her face. “How could you be so stupid!?” he whispered harshly. His breath was like cold moss.
“Whattidido?” Shella questioned listlessly, intoxicated by his touch.
“Don’t you know how alluring this outfit is to a turtle?”
Shella glanced down at her dress. It was a brown pattern dress with snails, toads, mushrooms, and logs.
“Should I change?” she asked.
“Nah, let’s roll,” Deadwood managed to pull himself off of her and they headed out the door.
Soon they were at the Sullen’s immaculate modern mansion, where Shella was formally introduced to the whole group.
“This is Tortisle, Tortme, Turmett, Turtalie, Tortice, and Snapper,” Deadwood indicated each member in turn. “Everyone, this is Shella.”
“Wonderful to meet you, Shella. Welcome to our home,” said Tortisle, their leader and father figure, with warm sincerity.
Shella began to say how happy she was to meet them, too, but the way Snapper was clapping his jaws together and the dramatic exit that Turtalie made in the middle of Shella’s response gave her pause. Just as soon as she’d officially made everyone’s acquaintance, they all found reasons to exit the room, leaving Deadwood and Shella alone.
“Am I not welcome here?” Shella whispered.
“Don’t worry about Turtalie. Her mutant superpower is being a huge bi-”
Deadwood cut himself off. “Sorry, Mom.”
Shella raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, Tortme can psychically communicate disappointment. She’s a natural mother.”
“Okay… well… what’s up with Snapper?”
“He’s just hungry,” Deadwood explained. “… Maybe stay away from him. Come on, let me show you my CD player.”
The hours passed pleasantly in Deadwood’s room, where after a while Tortice joined them.
“So what do you think of our place?” Tortice asked.
“It’s great,” Shella enthused. “It makes my dad’s house look like complete crap. There’s just one thing that kind of surprises me.”
“What’s that?”
“Well… I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting your aesthetic tastes to be so modern. Weren’t all of you born in like… the 1920s? I was expecting more old people vibes. No offense.”
As Shella was finishing up her question, which was really more of a comment, she noticed Deadwood shoot Tortice a hard, meaningful look. Tortice sheepishly looked at her feet. “Um, yeah. But you know, the ‘20s invented modern. You should have seen it. Oh, hey, look, it’s my husband!”
Snapper poked his head into the room, his mouth dripping with wriggly entrails. Shella screamed and fell back onto Deadwood’s couch.
“Oh, did no one tell you that we’re all married?” Tortice asked. “Except Deadwood, of course.”
“NO, WHAT’S IN HIS MOUTH?!” Shella put her hands up in a defensive posture as Snapper slurped up the last of his meal.
“Shella! They’re just worms,” Deadwood patted her shoulder reassuringly.
“Sorry,” Snapper said. “I should have turned on my superpower first.”
Shella instantly felt calm and agreeable.
“Hey Shella, do you want to go play baseball in a thunderstorm?” Tortice asked.
“Yes!” Shella exclaimed. “I love thundersports!”
Of course that wasn’t true, but Snapper’s emotional manipulation powers had her in their grip. She hoped he would keep it up, too, or she was about to have a terrible time.
Shella and the seven mutants piled into their vehicles and set off for their favorite makeshift baseball field—somewhere secluded and poorly lit so their inhuman athletic prowess could go unnoticed.
“Are you having a good time?” Deadwood asked as he and Shella were alone again in his sportscar.
“Yeah,” Shella said. “I’m already pretty much ready to abandon everything I’ve ever known, everyone I’ve ever loved, and everything I’ve ever dreamed of doing to become a part of your family I just met.”
Deadwood raised an eyebrow. “Well… okay. But I was just going to say, these next few days, there might be some… others… coming through town. So I’d like to keep you in my sight at all times. And also make sure they don’t figure out that you have any connection to me whatsoever.”
That seemed counterintuitive to Shella, but if this plan meant more time with Deadwood, then she wasn’t about to question it.
“What do you mean ‘others’? Others like you?”
Deadwood made a pained face. “Yes and no. The difference is, they’re not civilized like we are. They don’t go to high school, they don’t wear name brand clothing, they don’t have a classical CD collection, and they travel the world hunting and killing humans for sport.”
“Well, why are they coming here?” Shella asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
“We don’t know. Tortice’s superpower only allows her to see the third most useful piece of information about the future.”
Shella lapsed into silence, wondering what the other pieces might be. But once they arrived at the field, she quickly got caught up in the action. (Watching safely from the sidelines, that is.) Even as it began to get dark, frequent flashes of lightning made it possible to continue spectating. But then, all of the sudden, Tortice called a stop to it.
“They’re here,” she said ominously.
Their uninvited guests had found them—sooner than expected.
“Gosh, thanks a lot, Tortice,” said Turtalie sarcastically as she jogged in from the outfield.
Sure enough, three figures soon emerged from the surrounding trees, dressed in non-name-brand clothing.
“Are we too late to join the human pasttime?” asked the mutant in front.
“Sorry, we just wrapped up,” responded Tortisle coolly. “But we’d love to have you over to our human home for some human-style conversation.”
The three strangers were visibly taken aback. “Like… a building? You don’t live in a swamp?”
Tortisle shook his head.
“It seems we have much to discuss. Oh, by the way, I’m Torrent. That’s Rain, and that’s Victortia.”
Tortisle then introduced each of the Sullen clan in turn, including Shella. So far so good. They didn’t suspect her!
Torrent started to explain where they had come from and where they were headed next, but a sudden gust of wind came through, ruffling Shella’s log dress.
Torrent, Rain, and Victortia, all downwind of Shella, took an unconscious step toward her, opening their mouths hungrily. “A human!” Torrent cried in surprise. “Can we eat her?”
“NOOOOOO!” Deadwood stepped in front of Shella protectively, rapidly twirling the baseball bat in his hand like an overcaffeinated martial artist.
The three newcomers were more taken aback by Deadwood’s passionate defense than they were by Shella’s presence in the first place.
“Now I only want to eat her more,” Torrent pouted.
“Speaking of our human friend,” Tortisle said, “it’s about time we got her home, isn’t it, Deadwood? Tortice? Turmett? The rest of us will guide our guests to our own abode.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” Torrent said, wiping drool from his chin. But his eyes kept darting back to Shella.
Shella got in the car with Turmett and Tortice; Deadwood was behind the wheel. He immediately began speeding in the opposite direction of their suburb. “Where are you taking me?!” Shella shouted. “My dad might be home any minute!”
“I won’t let them have you! Only I get to be tempted by the sweet scent of your blood!” Deadwood cried.
“What’s the big deal? They’re going to your house, not mine.”
“I saw their minds. Only Torrent is actually going to our house. Rain is on the hunt, and Victortia is helping him.”
“What? Why?”
“I told you,” Deadwood said in desperation, “You smell delicious. And in that dress…”
Shella took a whiff of her arm. Maybe she should stop using that strawberry body wash. But what if Deadwood didn’t like her as much then? She made a mental note to order a crate of the stuff once she got back home. Speaking of which…
“Deadwood, my dad will never let me date you again if you don’t get me home RIGHT NOW!”
“Well I can’t date you if you’re EATEN BY WILD TURTLES, either.”
“Can’t you take them? You’re like, more than they are. And have more total superpowers.”
“Hey, bro,” said Turmett. “She’s got a point.”
“No! That would be premature! They want to hunt her. They want us to hunt them. They want us to craft a solid plan, then figure out how to defeat us using their superior intellects. If we make it too easy, it’ll be too easy.”
“Oh,” said Turmett. “Right on.”
“Shella, what was that you said about being willing to abandon your family forever?”
Shella frowned. “Yeah, but I meant abandon them to long lives of loneliness, regret, and simmering resentment, not to a swift death by blood-drinking reptile-men.”
“Don’t worry, I psychic’ed Mom to keep watch over your dad.”
“What about my mom!” Shella suddenly remembered she had forgotten to talk to her mom for the past two months.
“Well, there’s no reason to think they know where your mom is. You probably don’t even know where your mom is,” Deadwood guessed. Shella hung her head.
“Unless… we were to tell them… where she likely is,” Turmett said, the wheels in his head beginning to turn. “And then we also go there.”
There was a moment of silence in the car. “I like that,” Deadwood finally said. “Reverse psychology. This is high-level stuff.”
They pulled over to the side of the road and made Shella roll around in the grass to leave her scent. Then she dropped her driver’s license, which had her mom’s address on it. Shella called her dad to tell him she was suddenly homesick and would be staying with Lena. Tortice and Shella switched clothes, and Tortice stayed behind. She’d lay a false trail and catch up with them later. Shella and the guys were headed for Chicago.
“Shella, I notice you eat a lot of heavily processed foods out of plastic containers,” Deadwood mentioned as they were approaching an organic foods store. “The microplastics are probably what gives you such an alluring scent profile…” he mused. “But just for now you’re going to eat clean.” Deadwood skateboarded through the store, loading up on garlic, onions, broccoli, asparagus, and hard liquor. “This is your diet now,” he commanded upon return to the vehicle.
Shella unhappily took a swig from one of the glass bottles.
Fortunately, the group was able to find and indefinitely book a boutique hotel room right around the corner from Shella’s mom’s apartment building. But Lena wasn’t even there right now. In her drunken haze, Shella could hardly recall the logic of their plan. She had gone down to the front desk and left a message for her mom telling her to come home immediately, and giving her their number at the hotel. But then realized that the message would only be on the answering machine at Lena’s apartment. Oh well.
After a day, Tortice and Snapper arrived, swapping places with Deadwood and Turmett so they could go join the hunt. Without Deadwood, Shella was immediately depressed. But she did want to ply Tortice with questions.
“How are you holding up?” Tortice asked, handing Shella another onion and gracefully sitting beside her on the bed.
“I just want to eat some Pop-Tarts and drink a Coke,” Shella whimpered.
“I know,” Tortice said soothingly. “You smell awful.”
“Now that we’re best friends, Tortice, I want to ask you something.”
Tortice furrowed her brow. Maybe Shella had been too presumptuous. “What is it?”
“Can you tell me about how… and when… you became a mutant turtle?”
Tortice stood from the bed and paced over to gaze out the window. “Deadwood wouldn’t want me to,” she said softly.
“Please.”
Tortice sighed. After a long pause, she began to speak.
“I wasn’t created in the ‘40s like most of the others,” she admitted. “I woke up in 1972. And nowhere near a nuclear site. That means some other turtle did this to me, deliberately.”
Shella was shocked. “But… how is that possible?”
“Have you heard of vampires?”
Shella nodded. Creepy!
“It’s kind of like that. But with radiation and turtle stuff. If we were to control ourselves halfway through a meal, and stop, the leftovers would come into their second life.”
“Awesome,” said Shella. “Sign me up.”
“It’s too difficult for most of us, though,” Tortice said, turning to face Shella, “to stop once we’ve started. The bloodlust is all-consuming. I don’t remember who made me, but it was likely someone much more powerful than Deadwood.”
“What about Tortisle? Isn’t his superpower self-restraint?”
“Oh, yeah. In fact, he made Turmett. Turmett’s human body got hit by a car trying to help a turtle cross the road. He would have died anyway. Tortisle had to change him, on principle.”
“So why can’t he change me? I can easily get hit by a car.”
“The transformation process is incredibly painful. Deadwood wouldn’t want you to suffer.”
“Doesn’t he see my entire life is suffering anyway? Like, I have to go to gym class. And try to make conversation with my dad. Or listen to the conversation of my mom and her boyfriend. And turn down all those boys who want to take me to the prom. And not have any particular hobbies or interests. I’m in hell.”
Tortice frowned.
Just then, the room phone rang. Tortice picked up.
“SHELLA!” screamed a woman’s voice. Tortice violently pulled the phone away from her ear.
“Oh, it’s my mom!” Shella bounded over to take the call. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“Hello, Shella.” A creepy man’s voice said. “Do you want to die?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do here,” Shella admitted. “I mean, what’s wrong with your voice, Mom?”
“This isn’t Mom. This is Rain. But I am here with Lena. She finally came home, like you wanted. Say hello,”
“SHELLA!” the scream came again. Now Shella could recognize the fear in her mother’s voice.
“Mom! It’s going to be okay.” Shella tried to keep her voice calm.
“If you want me to let her go, you have to come over here without your babysitters following you. Can you do that?”
“No,” admitted Shella.
Rain sighed. “Figure it out! You have five minutes.” He hung up.
“Everything okay?” Tortice asked. “Wait. Don’t answer. I’m getting a vision.” Tortice’s eyes rolled back in her head. Snapper went over to her, sufficiently distracted from Shella’s agitated state.
“There’s a problem with the room phone,” Shella told him. “I’m going to the lobby to try calling back.” Before Tortice could finish her vision—which was most certainly something about Shella’s imminent death—Shella was already out the door and sprinting to that most familiar of apartments.
Shella, of course, was not very athletic, and in the panicked rush of trying to get to her mother’s place in time, she ended up falling down two flights of stairs and crashing through a window. Everything went dark.
When Shella woke up, she was surrounded by Sullens.
“Am I dead? Is this heaven?” she asked weakly.
“No, you big dummy! You’re in the hospital,” grinned Deadwood, ruffling her hair violently.
“Everything hurts.”
“That’s to be expected,” said Tortisle. “You lost a lot of blood.”
Each member of the Sullen family licked their lips.
“What happened? Is my mom okay?”
“Oh, yeah. She wasn’t even in Chicago. Rain was just playing a clip from a home movie into the phone to make you think she was with him. You really fell for it, you idiot!” Deadwood laughed.
“Oh. Are we still being hunted?”
“Nah. Tortice saw that Rain had tricked you, so she and Snapper ran over right away. Snapper put Rain into a peaceful, loving mood and then Tortice ripped him into shreds, put him in a dumpster, and set it on fire!”
Tortice blushed. “Rain and I had a very revealing dialogue before I ended him, too. It was a big day for me. Real main character energy.”
“Then I got here as soon as I could,” Deadwood whispered, pressing his lips seductively against Shella’s cheek. “And haven’t left your side for a moment.”
“What about Torrent and Victortia?”
“Eh, Torrent’s cool. And Victortia… honestly we forgot about her. But I think she’ll think twice before messing with us,” Tortisle said.
Shella’s mom appeared in the doorway. “SHELLA!” she screamed.
“Mom!”
“Who are all these people? Are they filming a hospital drama in your room?” she asked angrily.
“No, Mom. This is my boyfriend, Deadwood. And his family.”
“Why are they all the same age?” Lena asked.
“Adoption,” explained Shella.
“Then why do they all look different from all other humans I’ve ever seen in exactly the same way?”
“Diet and exercise.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry, everyone. Can I have a moment alone with my daughter?”
The Sullens nodded politely and filed into the hallway.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” Lena sat down and took Shella’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you from the staircase and your boyfriend’s family. But that’s going to change from now on.”
“What do you mean?” Shella panicked.
“Felipe won the lottery and we just bought an entire island in the Caribbean. The three of us can live there together. I already found a tutor for you so you don’t have to go to school anymore. I knew you’d like that.”
“Whoa, uh… That’s cool, but… I think I’d rather stay in the suburbs.”
“But you hate the suburbs. You told me that in your last email two months ago. And you had literally run away from the suburbs when you had your accident.”
“What about Marley? He’ll be lonely.”
“You told me he only comes home to sleep and to eat dinner, during which you just stare blankly at one another.”
Shella tried to think of more excuses.
“This isn’t about THAT BOY, is it?!” Lena said accusingly.
“Well… it might be,” admitted Shella. She caught a glimpse of Deadwood’s face peeking around the curtain, looking pitiful.
“Good grief, Shella. Don’t throw your life away just because a boy finally noticed you.”
“I won’t, Mom… He’s just a passing… infatuation. I just want to finish out high school like a normal kid.”
“Normal? That’s not like you,” Lena frowned. “I guess I won’t stop you, but I’m going to tell your father that this boy is bad news. Now I have to go to a shareholders’ meeting. See how hard I work to provide for you? I hope you’ll rethink your choices.” Lena gave Shella an angry kiss on the forehead and left.
Shella let out a long breath as Deadwood reappeared by her side.
“A passing infatuation?” he looked dejected.
“That was a lie, obviously.”
“It still hurts to hear you say that.”
“I’m sorry! I love you,” Shella said.
“And I love you. Which is why, I don’t think we can stay together.”
“WHAT?” The beep of Shella’s heartrate monitor spiked to an alarming frequency.
“It’s all because of me that you ended up in this situation.”
“I mean, if it weren’t for you, I’d have become a road pancake. And if it weren’t for your family, I’d be turtle food.”
“Regardless… you should be able to have a normal millionaire’s life on your mom’s private island. I don’t want to rob you of that.”
“I don’t want that life, though! I want to become a mutant turtle!”
Deadwood froze with the horrifying realization that Tortice had shared the dark secret. “No. Never.”
“Why not?!”
Deadwood didn’t answer, he just pressed the call button so the nurse would come with a little something to put Shella back to sleep.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
She glared at him until she went under.
One month later
The final weeks of the school year were passing more or less uneventfully. The only difference was that Shella needed a little extra help getting around school because of her leg cast and new fear of stairs. Deadwood was always by her side, though he refused to hear any talk about turning her into a mutant turtle. Shella finally stopped talking about it, but still got her hopes up one day, when Tortice dressed her up in one of her formal gowns, with one stiletto heel, and did her makeup. Then Deadwood, wearing a tuxedo, took her hand, blindfolded her, and began driving her off to parts unknown. Shella could only assume he was going to take her someplace romantic—maybe that swamp—and begin to drain her of blood. She was giddy with anticipation.
But when the blindfold came off, they were at a banquet hall. Shella saw many familiar faces in formal wear.
“What the %*@)(!” Shella cursed. “You were taking me to prom this whole time!?”
Deadwood laughed devilishly. “Got you good.”
“You know I hate dancing and socializing with non-Sullens and all I want is for you to make me into an undead reptilian monster!”
“There’s more Sullens inside. And if I have to, I’ll make Snapper come out here,” threatened Deadwood.
Shella acquiesced, taking Deadwood’s arm. She knew it was pointless to resist.
It turned out that prom wasn’t that bad when your boyfriend had lived through decades where people actually learned how to dance instead of just gyrating on top of one another. Even with her broken leg, Shella was having a fun time. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Joe Possim! And he was five times hotter than the last time Shella had seen him, though he still had room for improvement, to where like, he’d actually be a competitor for her affections.
“May I borrow the lady for a dance?” Joe asked, his voice cracking with nerves or puberty. Deadwood glared at him with undisguised hatred, but saw that Shella was unbothered by the idea, and silently retreated to watch from the edge of the gym.
They clumsily began to slow dance, even though the song that was currently playing was “Get Low.”
“Do you even go to school here?” Shella asked.
“Nah. My dad paid me to come to your prom. But I had to bribe the staff at the entrance to let me in. So if you could give me 20 bucks, I’d appreciate it.”
“Why does your dad want you to dance with me?”
“Oh… it’s not that exactly. He wanted me to pass along a message.”
“What’s that?”
“Well… haha. It’s kind of silly. My dad is superstitious!”
“Just say it, I won’t be offended.”
“Okay. Well, he told me… that he knows what’s going on, and he knows who they really are, and he knows that you know, but he wants you to know that he knows that you know. Also, he doesn’t think you really really know. And… we’ll be watching you.”
“Um, excuse me?”
“Honestly, haha! Just take this with a grain of salt. But also it’s obviously really important to him. I think you should listen… and be wary.”
“What does ‘we’ll be watching you’ mean? Are you part of this?”
“I honestly am not sure. He could mean anything by that. I’d love to see more of you though, if you know what I mean. But that’s just my, um, personal feeling,” Joe blushed. “My dad only wants you to break up with your boyfriend because he’s concerned for your safety. And to maintain the balance in local and cosmic politics, blah blah blah. You know how dads are!”
Shella was only more confused, but the song was over and Deadwood was suddenly stepping between them.
“Oh, ha. Right. I’ll see you around this summer!” Joe’s voice cracked again as he ran toward the exit.
After a few more songs, which is all Shella could handle, Deadwood led her outside, where they rested on a bench. With just the two of them in the romantic moonlight, Shella’s hopes that Deadwood would end her mortal life were rekindled.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Deadwood admonished. He knew what she wanted.
“Why not?” Shella asked.
Deadwood paused as if reconsidering. “Okay. Sit still.” He opened his mouth as wide as possible and slowly inched toward her jugular. Shella closed her eyes. She was ready.
She opened her eyes again when she heard Deadwood’s laughter. “Ha! You won’t get me that easy.”
“What’s the big deal? I just want to be with you forever.” Shella moped.
“You’re the one who told your mom you just wanted to finish out high school like a normal kid.”
“That was a lie!”
Deadwood shrugged. His eyes had a faraway look. “I didn’t get to have a normal life. I don’t think it’s something you should give up so easily. That’s why I forced you to come to prom. You should learn to love life, or you don’t even know what you’re giving up.”
“Wow, that’s… that’s deep. But ultimately unconvincing.”
“Okay, let’s leave this tension unresolved indefinitely.”
Shella smiled as Deadwood leaned in for a kiss. She’d get him someday. She’d become a mutant turtle. It was her destiny.
The End?