Free Last Summer of the Death Warriors by Francesco X Stork

named Stu. And seven years later, it’s suddenly become very important to her to be a mother, which means getting involved in my medical treatment.” D.Q. paused to catch his breath. “This therapy that I’ll be undergoing in Albuquerque is intensive chemotherapy. Typically, what I have is treated only with radiation. The tumor is too diffuse to remove with surgery. I picture it like a low-lying fog that won’t go away. Chemotherapy so far hasn’t been successful for it. Nevertheless, there are always clinical trials that are trying different combinations of chemotherapy and radiation. My mother signed me up for one. It’s complicated. She’s threateningto get a court order. She and I have different views on what’s best for me.”
    “Maybe she’s right.”
    “No, she’s not. I’ve done the research. It’s a trade-off. Maybe I get a couple more months, but at what price? I need to have my strength and wits about me. What strength and wits I still have. There are so many things I need to do. I need to finish the Death Warrior Manifesto. I need to get ready. I’m not ready. I need to train you to be a Death Warrior. I need to use what time there is to get both of us ready.”
    Pancho was going to ask what exactly he needed to get ready for, but he didn’t. Some of the things D.Q. said were just crazy. They didn’t always sound crazy when you first heard them, but they sure seemed crazy when you thought about them. He could tell that it would be impossible to question or argue with every crazy statement he made.
    “How long will we be there?” Pancho repeated.
    “The initial phase of the treatment lasts two weeks. We’ll stay at this outpatient home called Casa Esperanza while that’s going on. Then there’s a two-week period to recuperate and wait for some initial results.”
    “A month?”
    “My mother wants me to stay with her during the waiting period, after we leave Casa Esperanza. She lives on the outskirts of the city. It’s a very nice place. You’ll like it.”
    “I didn’t sign up for family drama.”
    “No, that’s true.”
    They were both quiet. Then, as if embarrassed by what he wasabout to say, D.Q. spoke. “There’s something else about the trip to Albuquerque that I should tell you.” He stopped. “The last time I was there, six months ago, I had to spend a few days at Casa Esperanza.”
    “And…”
    D.Q. cleared his throat, then he made a smacking sound, as if his lips had stuck together and needed to be separated by force. “There was this girl that worked there. Her name was Marisol. I’m pretty sure she’s still there.”
    Pancho waited for more. Was this information something that in any way concerned him? D.Q. was lost in some kind of memory, but it didn’t look like a happy one. Finally, Pancho interrupted. “So?”
    D.Q. bent down to scratch his feet. “I wanted to tell you all the reasons for the trip. She’s part of the picture, part of the preparations. The scariest part of the trip in many ways.”
    Pancho thought about it. Why would seeing that girl be the scariest part of the trip? He seemed to be on the verge of understanding when a pecan fell, hit him on the head, and bounced to the ground.
    “Look.” D.Q. chuckled and pointed at the pecan. “Someone’s trying to tell you something.”
    “And what would that be?”
    “Knock, knock. Let’s go, Mr. Pancho. Let’s go to Albuquerque.’”

CHAPTER 11
    “ W hat are you carrying in here, a ton of bricks?” Memo asked D.Q. He was dragging a red duffel bag to the van parked in front of the school. Behind him, Pancho carried his backpack and a suitcase in each hand, his own and D.Q.’s. D.Q. was in his wheelchair waiting for them.
    “Careful, my books are in there,” D.Q. said. “Put the bag next to where I’m sitting. I may do some reading on the way.”
    “You’ll be too busy yapping to read,” Memo predicted.
    “Where’s the Panda?” D.Q. asked.
    “He stopped by the kitchen to pick up