Supercharged

Latvia popped back into existence right above Estonia’s coffee table, smashing it to bits and collapsing to the floor. “Crap!” she groaned, pushing herself sideways on the heap of splintered wood.

“What the hell did you do to my coffee table?” Estonia roared, stepping into the room, a tiny cup of tea in her hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” snapped Latvia, still nested in shattered wood, her hair sticking out every which way. She flung a stick at Estonia’s legs and missed.

“How’d you get in?” Estonia barked.

“Estonia,” said Latvia, clearly frazzled. “Do I look like I know?”

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Estonia’s eyes lit up, and she slurped her tea in a single gulp. “You mean you teleported?” she said, tossing her empty teacup onto the couch. “You teleported like me?”

“Give me a hand,” Latvia grunted, extending her hand. Estonia hoisted her sister up from what was left of the table. “Yes, I must’ve teleported, I guess. Or maybe someone teleported me, I don’t know.” Then she thought of her mother’s book, and whirled around to find it lying there, sprawled haphazardly in the pile of rubbish. Latvia snatched it up and opened it, but the pages were now blank.

“What is it?” Estonia asked.

“I don’t know if I have time to explain,” Latvia said hurriedly. “It’s a book of mom’s. But whatever chased me back at my place can probably find us here too.”

“Chased you?”

Latvia nodded. She realized she was a little jittery. “Big dark figure. Hooded. Creepy. Typical bad guy. He could fly, I think.”

“What?”

“Estonia, mom told me to bring this book to you, and then to go with you to Lithuania.”

Estonia’s expression was blank. “First,” she said, suddenly snarky, “Mom is gone. Second, Lithuania is in another country, way beyond the reach of my still out-of-control teleportation powers. So how do you expect—”

The book hovered before Estonia’s eyes, opened, then slammed shut in her face before plopping back into Latvia’s hands. Estonia stared wide-eyed at the book. Latvia smirked. “I think that was mom telling you to shut up.”

“Latvia!” Estonia objected. “Explain!”

Latvia looked out the window. It was pitch black out. “Alright, but there isn’t much time.” So Latvia sat on the couch and explained everything that had happened—from her vision of Lithuania in the woods, to her inexplicable dialogue through the book with her mother, to the hooded creature crashing through the attic roof. “And I think,” Latvia continued, “That that thing knows I’m here.” Estonia snuck a glance at the window. “I also think we’re about to get really paranoid,” Latvia mumbled.   

“Shhh!” Estonia snapped, pressing her finger urgently to her lips. “Someone’s outside,” she mouthed. Latvia held her breath, expecting to hear footsteps. How did Estonia know?

Estonia rose from the couch, slowly. A shadow could be seen through the crack under the apartment’s front door. Latvia pressed her mother’s book close to her chest, staring fixedly at the door. Estonia inched closer to the doorway, trying to decide whether to yell at the mystery person, open the door suddenly, or stay quiet—but the shadow vanished before she could make up her mind.

A few more seconds, then both sisters exhaled in unison.

“He’s gone,” said Latvia relieved.

“He left something,” said Estonia, nonchalantly flinging the door open and picking up a small blue box from the floor. Latvia jolted, half-expecting the creature to still be standing there, then recognized the blue marble box. “Oh no,” Estonia said. “Not another one.”

“Wait,” said Latvia, rising from behind the couch, her eyes on the box. “Mom said the blue specks only brought us closer to who we really are.”

Estonia closed the front door and bolted it. “Yeah?”

“Which means that box, if it has more blue stuff in it, can only help us.”

“Listen,” said Estonia flatly, “I don’t know you, but I don’t particularly like being a teleporting freak of nature, much less a supercharged teleporting freak of nature, which, if I remember correctly, is precisely what this little box will turn me into.”

“Estonia—” 

“Remember last time? I was disappearing and reappearing like crazy! I even disappeared while taking a poop and reappeared in my cubicle! You know how embarrassing that was?” 

“Estonia, you’ve learned to control it.”

“Barely! And I don’t want to go through another steep learning curve—”

The book in Latvia’s hands flipped open, and blots of ink began taking shape. Open the box, it said. “It says we should open the box.”  

“Let me see that!” Estonia snapped, snatching the book from her sister’s hands.

OPEN THE BOX NOW, read the ink.

And then the entire apartment shuddered. “What the hell was that?” said Estonia. An ear-splitting crack. A fissure sliced through the ceiling above.

Latvia snatched the book back and held it tight. “The box, Estonia! Open the box!”

The room grew cold. Latvia and Estonia felt their breath catch in their chests. A strange sensation, like that of artificially induced terror. They couldn’t breathe. They could hardly move. Another loud crack. The glass and mirrors throughout the apartment exploded. “The box, NOW!” Latvia cried.

Estonia opened the box. Immediately, the sisters were enveloped in blue specks. Latvia gripped Estonia’s hand, closed her eyes tight, and together they thought of Lithuania.

A moment later, they were gone.