Back to Part 37

Finals Game 3

The Regents stared at the newly formed Leftovers.

YOU’RE NOT PART OF THE LEAGUE.

“Neither are you,” Rammy said.

YOU CAN’T PLAY.

“Try and stop us,” Dash said.

The Leftovers came together in a huddle. “What’s the plan, boss?” Annabella asked Oliver.

“I’m not the boss,” Oliver said shakily. “Rammy’s-“

“You brought us here,” Rammy said. “We’re your Leftovers.”

“Okay, but then Janet-“

“Management asked you, Trashcat,” Janet said. “They trust you.”

Oliver’s ears dropped. “Okay,” he said. “Okay…” He took a deep breath. “I’m here because I wanted to join a rec league and meet people and get exercise. And when I started couldn’t have cared less about winning anything. And now I’m here, and I’m with all of you, and if we’re going to face down some asshole gods, there’s no one I’d rather do it with.”

PLAY BALL.

The Regents watched impatiently.

“FUCK YOU, WE’RE HAVING A MOMENT,” Dash shouted back.

“Okay, we gotta do this.” Oliver closed his eyes. “We gotta win. I love all of you and I’m going to do my best for you.”

“We love you too, Oliver,” Janet said.

They broke their huddle. Oliver led the team to the fans behind the plate. “Who are we??” He shouted.

“We’re the Lefto’ers,” Dash and Janet shouted back.

“The Mighty Lefto’ers!“

“We’re the Lefto’ers from Saint Louie,” the three of them sang at the same time.

The fans behind home plate followed their lead.

It’s when we’re drinking

WE’RE ALWAYS DRINKING

To a Lefto’er

Victory!

Oliver grinned wide, feeling alive, like he was dancing on the blade of a guillotine. He shouted, “No one likes us!”

And the fans shouted back:

NO ONE LIKES US!

No one likes us!

We don’t care!

We’re the Lefto’ers

The mighty Lefto’ers

We’re the champions

Of Saint Louie!

Oliver shouted in joy, and jogged into the dugout, setting out a batting order for the team.

Spencer Agami stepped onto the mound.

CUTE.

Dash put a batting helmet on and started towards the plate. “Motherfucker, we’re adorable.” The False Spencer wound up and threw. Dash smiled, and he swung, and sent the ball into the 200 section beyond the outfield wall. Spencer Agami stumbled backwards.

Oliver went over the field in the dugout.

“Amylee-“

“I’m ready, put me out.” The fire in her eyes couldn’t have been extinguished with 40 days of rain.

“You need a break,” Oliver said.

“I can take them all on.”

“I know. But you’re going to hurt yourself, and then you can’t help us.” Oliver looked over to Annabella. “You’re going out first.”

“No,” Annabella said. “What? No, come on. Rammy is right there, or Dash, or-“

Oliver put a hand on her shoulder. “You can do this. We’re all behind you.”

“I could lose this for all of us,” Annabella said. “I’m the disappointment here.“

“When it mattered,” Janet said, “you have always come through.”

Annabella scanned Janet, trying to read her intentions. She nodded. “Okay,” she said softly.

Dash came back to the dugout. “One to nothing!” The dugout high-fived him. Janet stepped up to bat. Spencer Agami kicked the mound, watching its new foe. In the stands, the newfound Leftovers supporters chanted, jumping up and down and waving the flags of United and the Thunderbirds.

“Mariya, you’re on deck,” Oliver said.

Mariya nodded, grabbing her helmet. “Oliver, I have a concern.”

“What’s wrong?” Oliver watched her carefully.

“There is a chance we will be hurting the other team,” she said.

“Almost certainly! Dash said, beaming.

“It’s just that… you care about Spencer and Amylee cares about Crasher and Tommy is out there and-“

Amylee stood and carefully hugged Mariya. “It’s beyond our control,” she said. “What you can control is keeping us safe.”

Oliver nodded. “It sucks but… given the choice between them or us…” He didn’t finish. Mariya understood. She climbed up to the field and stood on deck.

Spencer Agami pitched to Janet, on the outside of the plate. She let it go past. 1-0.

“Is that all you got?” She shouted at the Regent on the mound. Spencer Agami grimaced and pitched again, and Janet had to duck out of the way. 2-0. She laughed.

“Easy, Turbo!” She said.

Spencer Agami wound up for another pitch, right over the plate. Perfect. Janet sent it back over Spencer Agami‘s head, and down for a double. Spencer Agami stumbled again.

Mariya high-fived Janet as she passed. She stepped into the batters box, trying to ignore the soft person she had known on the mound, the one that she knew made her friend happy. Spencer Agami just stared at her, as if it was looking for targets.

Mariya readied her bat. She eased into her batting stance. Spencer Agami grinned, baring its teeth. It threw hard, hitting her in the side. Mariya doubled over, holding her side, dropping her bat.

Rammy screamed. She grabbed a bat and started up to the field. Dash and Oliver caught her.

“NO NO NO!” Oliver said, pulling her back.

“THEY HIT HER,” Rammy said, murder in her voice. She spoke words that could have sliced a Regent’s head off. “THEY HIT HER!”

“What are you going to do?” Dash said. “They’ll kill you too.”

Rammy tried to surge out of their hold. She collapsed on the field, grabbing at the turf.

Mariya stood up, easing upright, her side aching. She felt the burning, felt it build inside her. She braced herself. She looked at Spencer Agami, deciding she’d rather go staring her murderer down. Spencer Agami took two steps back, and for all the world it looked terrified.

Mariya looked back at her team, who watched wide eyed, not out of fear, but awe. She felt the burning. She felt it inside her.

And it felt incredible.

She looked down at her hands, and her hands burst into flames. She reached out to Jo Tuning, who squatted behind the plate. Jo Tuning burst into flames, shrieking, and crumbling into embers.

Mariya laughed. And then she cackled, and looked back to Spencer Agami. She ran as fast as she could at the mound, and tackled Spencer Agami. The Regent wailed, glowing bright red in her arms, and by the time she hit the ground it was gone.

The Leftovers in the dugout cheered, the fans screaming, shouting Mariya’s name. Oliver watched the body of Spencer turn to ash. His breath hitched in his throat. Amylee stepped up next to him. She didn’t say anything, just took his hand.

Rammy scrambled out to the field, sliding to a stop next to Mariya.

“Mariya!” Rammy shook her. Her glow had gone, and she looked peaceful, serene. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Hi,” she said.

Rammy hugged her. “Don’t scare me like that!” She said.

Mariya started to speak, but Oliver and Janet ran onto the field, both holding bats, getting themselves between their teammates and the Regents.

“Get back to the dugout,” Oliver said. “They look hungry.”

Rammy helped Mariya up, and they retreated to safety. On the bench, Rammy held Mariya tight.

“I’m fine,” Mariya said. “I’m just sleepy.” She stroked Rammy’s hair, and held her in her arms.

On the field, another Regent appeared on the mound, the thing that inhabited Heater Pants.

CHEATERS!

“Oh shit, we’re still playing,” Dash said.

Oliver put on his helmet. He walked to the plate. He thought of a thousand things to say, but didn’t, just got ready. He held his bat up, his focus unwavering. He didn’t notice his tongue blepped out just a little. It didn’t matter.

Heater Pants threw, and Oliver hit right to Elliot Keel. It laughed at him.

OK TRASHCAT.

He limped back to the dugout, stumbled, collapsing onto the field. A sharp pain pierced his ribs. He held his side, struggling to stand. Dash and Mariya rushed out, Dash pulling Oliver’s arm around his shoulders while Mariya glowered at the Regents, daring them to approach. Dash hugged him when he got into the dugout. “We got you, buddy.” And Oliver marveled as the pain slowly disappeared, the bleeding stopping.

Rammy stepped into the batters box, eying the thing in her friend. It grinned at her, spreading its arms out, and behind it, two ethereal wings.

BE AFRAID.

Rammy gasped, faltering, almost falling to her knees. She shook her head, and readied her bat. Heater Pants struck her out clean.  She swore the entire way back to the dugout, throwing her bat at the wall.

“Let me get a piece of them,” she growled. “I’m going to destroy them.” Mariya just pulled her down until she was sitting on the bench next to her. She held Rammy.

“I know,” she said softly. “I know.”

Heater Pants struck out Janet, and brought the top of the inning to a close.

Oliver put Mariya on catcher, Dash in the infield, and Janet in the outfield. He stayed back to manage, the pain in his leg keeping him back.

Amylee warmed up with Annabella. “You know what you’re doing,” Amylee said. “You know how to pitch. You know what you do best. When you’re on the mound, it’s just you and them. The team will be behind you, and our fire eater will be there for you.”

Annabella nodded. “What if I can’t do this?”

“What do you have to lose?”

“Everything,” Annabella said grimly.

“Then pitch like you have everything to lose.”

Tommy Lombax walked up to the plate. It growled, gripping its bat. Mariya growled back, a hint of fire in her eyes. Tommy Lombax did not look at her again.

Annabella threw a sinker into the dirt, but got the swing she wanted out of Tommy Lombax. Mariya called for a fastball outside. Annabella agreed. She blistered the ball past the plate. Strike 2 looking.

One more, AyBee, she thought. One more. Mariya asked for another fastball. She threw hard.

Tommy Lombax connected, smashing the ball over Annabella’s head. Janet watched it, tracked it, began running, and dove into a catch. Tommy Lombax limped back to the dugout.

Rammy and Amylee and Oliver cheered from the dugout, encouraging her on. The fans cheered like she had won the game, waving their flags, singing her name.

Elliot Keel strode up to the plate, still smiling. It looked at Annabella, and she could have sworn it winked at her. She shuddered, and willed the urge to throw up back down.

“Boooo!” Annabella looked around. Elliot had shown back up in the dugout, a few more people behind her. “Take that creep out, AyBee!” Elliot shouted.

Annabella laughed. She caught herself. She actually laughed. She could die if this thing in front of her hit a home run, and she laughed. Sure, what the hell? She rolled her shoulders, took Mariya’s sign, and threw a curveball way inside. Elliot Keel jumped back. It started towards her.

Mariya stood, lifting her mask up. “Don’t.”

Elliot Keel hesitated. It went back to the plate. Annabella threw another curve, trying to drop it in the dirt, but Elliot Keel hit, right to Janet.

Two down, AyBee. One more.

The False Heater Pants stepped up to the plate. Mariya eyed it, then dropped a sign to Annabella. She nodded, wound up, and threw an off-speed pitch. Heater Pants popped it up foul. Mariya threw off her mask, chasing it down, getting under it, and sending the Regents back to their dugout. The crowd screamed their joy, waving flags, pounding on the safety glass.

The Leftovers stepped up to the plate, one at a time, and one at a time, the Regents sent them back, bloodying their jerseys. And each time, each Leftover came back to the dugout to a hug, stopping their bleeding, easing their pain.

Annabella sent the next three batters packing, and the crowd, what little there was, jumped and screamed and sang. The Regents watched gloomily from their dugout, hiding back in the shadows as much as they could.

Janet, Dash, and Mariya all made valiant attempts at getting hits, but Heater Pants sent them back one at a time.

Annabella worked through the lineup in her head. The False Zia and Lafayette were gone in game 2. Jo and Spencer were gone in this game. They were running out of players, down to 4. That was a heck of an attrition rate. She felt a renewed energy as Heater Pants came back to the plate.

Heater Pants got into position. Annabella leaned forward, turning the ball in her hand behind her. She nodded at Mariya’s signs, and threw low. Heater Pants got under it, taking a piece out of the ball, sending it right past Annabella. In a blink, Annabella stuck out her glove, snatching the ball out of the air. The fans in the stands went ballistic, screaming, waving their flags, taunting the Regents, running behind their dugout, throwing trash at them. Heater Pants wailed and stumbled, struggled back to the dugout.

The Pretender Crasher Katz came to the plate. It stared at Amylee, a knowing smile spread across its face. Amylee stared back, stared at the thing that was not the Crasher she knew. She leaned over to talk to Oliver, who drew back, looking at her, his ears perked. Annabella couldn’t hear him, but she could see him ask, “Are you sure?”

Amylee nodded.

Oliver called a time out. He approached the mound, still limping. Rammy and Amylee followed, and Mariya, Janet, and Dash all came forward to the mound.

“Wait,” Annabella said, small, pitifully. “I got this.”

“You do,” Oliver said, his hands in his pockets.

“I’m doing good,” Annabella said, wounded.

“You are doing wonderfully,” Amylee said. “The best you’ve ever done. I mean that. And I am sorry. I need to do something that I would never dream of asking you to do.”

Annabella looked into her eyes, scanned her intentions. She handed Amylee the ball. “Thank you for believing in me.” The team patted her on the shoulder, and then retreated to their positions. Oliver put his arm around Annabella and led her back to the dugout. Before she could duck back in to the dugout, Oliver turned her back to the fans. Their cheers swelled when they saw her, singing, “Annabella is a credit to the team!”

Oliver just smiled, looking over at her. She took off her hat and waved it at the fans. They cheered back that she was going to save them all.  Annabella stepped back into the dugout.

Back on the mound, Amylee said to Mariya, “Hi. You think you can do your trick again?”

Mariya’s eyes grew wide. “Amy, you don’t have to-“

“Can you do it again?”

“Yes,” Mariya said. “If you’re sure.”

Amylee looked at the thing waiting at home plate, the thing that pretended to be the one person she cared about the most, the person she would move mountains for. “Yes. I am sure.”

Mariya put her hand on Amylee’s shoulder and nodded solemnly. “Thank you for trusting me with this.” She turned back to the plate and got in position.

Amylee positioned herself on the mound.

THERE SHE IS. THE BEST. NUMBER 1.

It stared, watching for her reaction. She looked down at the seams of the ball.

YOUR BEST COULDN’T SAVE THEM.

She snapped her eyes up to the Regent.  Crasher Katz stared her down. Good. I hope you remember all of this, she thought. We are not your playthings.

Amylee wound up, and pitched, firing the ball right into Crasher Katz‘s ribs. The fire started spreading instantly. Mariya stood, grabbing on to Crasher Katz, bursting into flames again. Amylee stared hard as the thing that had been Crasher crumbled in Mariya’s grip. Her tears flowed freely, and she did not wipe them away. Let them stain the mound.

Mariya cackled again, and ran to the Regent’s dugout, looking like a fire elemental, as a being from Hell itself. She swiped at the Regents, catching Heater Pants, who burned in a flash. She reached for Tommy Lombax and Elliot Keel, but her fire started to fade, and she stumbled backwards, back to safety.

When Mariya was stable again, she squatted behind the plate. There was still one out left. Tommy Lombax crept out of the dugout, looking less sure than it had before. Amylee struck it out in three clean pitches.

As the Leftovers returned to their dugout, Tommy Lombax and Elliot Keel came out to the field and bowed, dropping to their knees and kowtowing.

IT IS CLEAR WE UNDERESTIMATED YOU. WE WOULD BE HAPPY TO CALL THIS A WIN FOR YOU.

The team looked to Oliver all at once.

“Are you asking to forfeit?” Oliver asked, standing at the dugout rail.

IS IT NOT OBVIOUS?

Oliver considered this. “And with that forfeit, you’d let all of us go? Let us leave? Release us from our contracts?”

OF COURSE.

“And you’d leave here? Because you are done with us? You promise to do that?”

YES.

 Oliver looked back at his team, who nodded, as if they could tell what he was thinking. He turned back to the Regents. “What good is the promise of a boot to an ant?”

Tommy Lombax and Elliot Keel stared at him. He stared back.

“You wanted a fight,” he said. “You got your fight. Get back on the field.”

Reluctantly, the remaining Regents crept onto the field.

Oliver looked out at the board. There was no score. They weren’t playing for score anymore. The Regents on the field struggled to stand. A home run would take them out. Mariya prepared to bat. He called her back.

“Janet,” he said.

“Trashcat,” she said, anticipating what he was about to say.

Oliver held out her bat to her. “Win this.”

Janet laughed. “Fuck yeah.”

Elliot Keel watched from the mound. Janet stepped into the batter’s box.

“You look like you want to be done with all of this,” Janet said.

Elliot Keel stared at her, furious.

“Let me help you,” Janet said.

Elliot Keel pitched, sharp and inside. Janet stepped back. She swung. The crack of the ball on the bat echoed around the stadium. The fans leaned forward, collectively holding their breath. Elliot Keel watched the ball go over its head, and turned back to Janet, terror in its eyes. Janet stepped back from the plate as Tommy Lombax fell apart, breaking up into nothing. Elliot Keel stepped off the mound, and collapsed like a house of cards. The ball landed beyond the outfield wall, bouncing off an empty seat, sounding like cannon fire.

Janet stood stunned at the batter’s box. The field was silent. No booming voices, no disinterested sea life, no wannabe despots. Just silence.

Janet screamed, loud, tired, and most importantly, victorious. She screamed, and she ran to her team screaming. They poured from the dugout, rushing to meet her. They all collided, shouting, all incoherent, all of them alive.

In the stands, the fans went ballistic, screaming, chanting, hugging each other. They were singing again, but Oliver would never remember what.

The witches Elliot had brought with her swept out too, looking over the field for the dust of the Regents. They collected what they could, binding the arena to never let the spirits of the arena back in.

“Hey!” Janet said. “Do we need to be here anymore?”

“I don’t think so!” Oliver said.

“Good, let’s get the fuck out of here!” They turned to the fans, holding each other’s hands up like they had done so many times before, and bowed to deafening cheers. And they left the field, left it behind, not looking back.

-g

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