Together We Will Go

by J. Michael Straczynski

  I think it hit everyone else, too. Because there’s a world of difference between hearing about someone dying and watching it happen right in front of you.

  Now it was real, for all of us, and the feeling of connection that had been so strong a moment earlier was replaced by the sense that we were looking at each other from different ends of a telescope. I was at the end of all the choices I’d made in life. I’d had my run and now I was done. But they were still at the beginning of their choices, and someone had to say something about it. It wasn’t my place, and I didn’t know if they wanted to hear it, or if they’d think I was being patronizing, but it needed saying and it needed saying now.

  “Is everybody still good with where all this is going?” I asked. “Seeing what we just saw, feeling what this does, what it means and what it costs, is everybody still okay with giving up all your tomorrows? Because if any of you has any doubt whatsoever, now’s the time to mention it.”

  They looked at each other, and I could see that they understood why I’d asked the question, and why I had to ask it now. The answer was already in their eyes as Karen said it for them. “Yeah, we’re good.”

  Just like that. So much meaning crammed into three words.

  I nodded. “Then I guess we’re doing this.”

  “We should go,” Mark said. “Just in case anybody saw the fire.” He seemed irritated by something, but at that moment I didn’t much care what had crawled up his ass and died.

  As we started toward the bus, I glanced back at the river and imagined Zeke running through a green field with Soldier chasing close behind, laughing and playing. Free at last.

  “Godspeed,” I said, and to my surprise the others repeated it.

  Godspeed.

  * * *

  AdminMark

  That didn’t go the way it should’ve, the way everybody agreed it was supposed to go. I liked Zeke as much as anybody else, but now we’re all screwed because of what happened. When I said we should give him the privacy to do what he was gonna do, I was sure they’d respect that and get back on the bus. Who would’ve thought Tyler would lead the insurrection? The only good thing is that, as far as I can tell, nobody saw what we did—and that’s the operative term, what we did, not just what Zeke did—and I don’t think any of us are inclined to talk about it to outsiders, so we should be able to ride this out quietly, but still: not good. At all.

  * * *

  PeterWilliamRouth

  From: Peter Routh GrailHunterZero@gmail.com

  To: Tammy Routh TamlynRouth2728@ucla.edu

  Subject: Re: Worried

  Hey, Tammy

  “Tammy, allow me to introduce you to the Center of the Universe. I think you two will have much in common.”

  Just kidding but not really. When have you ever known me to be influenced by someone else’s opinion? Remember how you looked up the word “stubborn” in the dictionary and said it had my picture next to it? Whatever I do or don’t do, it’s because I choose to do it and for no other reason. Nobody else is to blame and nobody else gets to take the credit.

  So don’t worry about me. Everything will be clear soon enough, and if it isn’t, I sent a letter winging your way yesterday that should explain everything in more detail. Given the USPS, I’m sure it’ll arrive sometime between now and the heat death of the universe.

  You are my sister and I love you, and you have nothing to apologize for or feel responsible about.

  If you really want to do something for me: be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  Love, P.

  Tammy Routh TamlynRouth2728@ucla.edu wrote:

  I tried to call you yesterday, but all my calls went to VM so I tried the dorm but they said nobody’s seen you since some big party. Please let me know you’re okay and you’re not going to do anything you shouldn’t. I know I got mad and said some stupid things the last time we talked and THAT whole subject came up, but it was only because I love you and I’m scared you might actually follow through. The worst thing in the world for me would be to think my anger pushed you over the edge into doing something stupid just to prove to me that you could do it when I said you couldn’t. I didn’t mean you were a coward or afraid to do it, just that I think you’re too smart to do anything like that.

  I haven’t told Mom and Dad you’re off the grid yet, I don’t want to worry them if it’s nothing. Again, I’m not mad or upset, I’m just worried.

  * * *

  SunnyShanelle

  * * *

  AdminMark

  To: (Almost) Everyone

  From: Mark Antonelli MDAntonelli@gmail.com

  Subject: Moving On

  I know we’re all exhausted, but we need to keep going until we hit Kearney if we’re going to make the next pickup on time. Besides, there aren’t any decent motels between here and there, and with everything that happened tonight I think we could all do with a good night’s sleep.

  I’m sending this as an email rather than just telling everyone because I’m leaving TheresaAndJim out of the chain. We had a good vibe going before they showed up, and since then it’s been really tense and it’s obvious that some of you want them gone (hi, Lisa). I’d be more inclined to give them time to sync up with everyone else if they were contributing or journaling the trip, but they haven’t made a single entry and that’s the price of admission, so I’m making the executive decision to boot them off.

  But I don’t want a scene, so when we get to Kearney, I’ll suggest that we all sleep in the next morning and get back on the bus at noon. While they’re asleep, the rest of us will load up at ten and take off. Yeah, they’ll be pissed, but by this point I think inertia is the only thing still keeping them here and they’ll be just as happy as us to get away from the tension.

  Ping me back to let me know you got this so we don’t end up leaving without you.

  * * *

  * * *

  Karen_Ortiz

  When I finally got into my room—had to get the key recharged twice when it wouldn’t work—I was exhausted but still couldn’t sleep. Everything that happened with Zeke kept running through my head. It was beautiful, but also tragic and devastating and even after I got into bed I still couldn’t stop crying. Sometimes I didn’t even know the tears were there until I felt something wet rolling down my cheek.

  And I didn’t want to be alone with that.

  So I called Dylan, which was silly because he was literally across the hall but it would’ve been weird to show up at his door in the middle of the night, but I really needed to talk to someone who would care. We spoke for nearly half an hour, then he said this is silly and I should just come over. So I went across the hall and we kept talking. By now it was almost two a.m., and we were both tired and I knew I should go back to my room, but we were on the couch together and I didn’t want to leave, so I asked if I could stay with him.

  At first he said no, concerned that after everything that happened earlier I wasn’t thinking clearly or making good decisions. And maybe that’s true, but I think there’s a time and a place for bad decisions, and if this was one of them, I was fine with that. So I talked him into it, but he said that nothing could happen between us that night because he wouldn’t feel right about it. The trouble with gentlemen is that they can be a real pain in the ass, but I pinky-swore I’d be good and we climbed into bed and passed out.

  When I opened my eyes again, I was spooned behind Dylan, my left arm under his head. Careful not to wake him, I peeked past him to the bedside clock: 7:45 a.m. He’d set the alarm for eight. So I had fifteen minutes to make this happen.

  I reached around and lightly stroked his chest. I guess army guys learn how to shut out the world when they sleep because he didn’t even move. Okay, challenge accepted. I let my hand drift south until it slipped beneath his shorts. I’d never touched a penis before, and I was surprised by how soft it felt. They were always so rock hard in porn that it never occurred to me it could be this soft and velvety. I felt a thrill go through me, li
ke an explorer who had just discovered a whole new country.

  Then it twitched, and I knew Dylan was awake.

  “What are you doing?” he asked without turning around, his voice low.

  “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

  “We had an agreement.”

  “Yes, we did,” I said, but didn’t remove my hand. “We agreed nothing could happen last night. It’s not night anymore.”

  “Still, we probably shouldn’t do this.”

  Aha! He said probably! His dick finally got his brain on the line.

  I tightened my hand. “There’s someone down here who disagrees with you.”

  He rolled over to face me. “I don’t want to take advantage—”

  “You’re not,” I said. “That’s why I made the first move, so technically, I’m taking advantage of you.”

  “That’s a first,” he said, and smiled.

  “I like you,” I said, “and I’m going to be gone soon, and I don’t want to be by myself for whatever’s left. Don’t send me back to my room alone.”

  He studied my eyes until he could see the truth in what I was saying, then nodded.

  The clock chimed eight o’clock.

  He turned it off, rolled back, and kissed me.

  As he moved down my body, I didn’t tell him that this was technically my first time. I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on him. I’d seen enough porn to know what to do and how to do it. His touch was so gentle, knowing how sensitive I am to pain, and his eyes kept meeting mine to make sure I was okay.

  I braced myself as he started to enter me. I’d already been opened by toys, but I was always in control of the motion so I could back off whenever it started to hurt. Now he was in charge, and I tightened, anticipating the pain, but he was so careful as he entered that there was no pain at all, and he held himself up off my body so we only joined at the soft places. It felt amazing, so different from the toys, and so warm… I’d never considered that part.

  There’s another person inside me, I thought, and he’s keeping the Spider at bay.

  I came quickly, probably because I wasn’t expecting to. It just kind of slipped through when I wasn’t looking, and when I glanced up, Dylan had a big grin on his face. “You’re very proud of yourself, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, and started moving faster now that I’d come, like I’d given him permission to enjoy himself.

  When he got super hard, I could tell he was about to finish, and he started to pull out. “No,” I said, though I could barely talk by now. “Inside.”

  “You sure?”

  “I want to know what it feels like.”

  “What do you—” he started to ask, but I wrapped my legs behind him and pulled him in hard, my arms tight around him as he came.

  Once he could breathe again, he finished the sentence. “What did you mean, what this feels like?”

  When I told him the truth, he had the most stricken look on his face. “Oh God, I’m sorry, you should’ve told me, I would’ve… I don’t know… made it special, or—”

  I told him I didn’t want that. I wanted to feel it like every other woman does, almost casually. I didn’t want to make a thing about that part; I wanted it to be about us, right then, and nothing else.

  He said he understood, and I think he actually did, just a little.

  Then he glanced past me at the clock. “Shit! Nine fifteen! We gotta go, but—”

  I could see that he didn’t want to cut the moment short, still concerned about making it Special.

  “You’re right,” I said. “You should stay in bed for a bit longer.”

  “Okay—”

  “That way I have first dibs on the shower!”

  Then I kissed him, flicked his nose, and ran into the bathroom, laughing and slamming the door behind me.

  * * *

  IamTheo

  I awoke a little before dawn and couldn’t get back to sleep. With four hours to kill before the Great Escape at ten a.m., I decided to work on one of my stories for a while. When I hit a good stopping point, I popped into a group chat that some friends from college started about a year ago. Others joined later, friends-of-friends, many of them deep into the anime/cosplay community. Since everyone’s spread out over half a dozen time zones, there’s almost always someone hanging out online to text with, but I don’t talk as much as I used to; mainly I just lurk and watch the dynamics of the conversation. I like to think of it as my own personal human terrarium.

  It’s funny how rarely people in my “demographic” ever actually see each other in person. Instead of getting together to party, hang out at a bar, or get in a car and go out to dinner, most of us just text each other. So for us, watching old movies like Diner or American Graffiti, where everyone sits around a table in big groups, having long talks late into the night, is like visiting a foreign culture for anthropology class. We work, watch TV, or study, mostly alone unless there’s a roommate, and at the same time we’re texting back and forth to each other. Sometimes we text to the person in the next room because it’s easier than getting up and making actual human contact.

  It occurred to me recently—did I mention I overthink everything?—that most of what society considers “normal social interaction” is the by-product of the sex urge. Twenty years ago, going out on dates, getting dinners, and hitting parties was essential to getting laid. Sex workers aside, you couldn’t just order in orgasms with a side of pizza. Sexual frustration leads to personal frustration leads to blue balls, which leads to Let’s get out of here and go to a club and pick up some chicks or something. Cars, bars, dinners, and late-night clubbing equaled sex, and sex equals Thank god, now I can finally get back to whatever the hell I was doing before my hormones kicked the shit out of me.

  Hookup apps and a lack of disposable income swept away most of those mating rituals. Swipe left, swipe right, open the door, fuck, and go back to your life. If even that’s too much work, there’s the latest hands-on sex-tech. Used to be that women had tons of fancy dildos and guys just had blow-up dolls and pocket pussies, which even they couldn’t take seriously. Now if a guy gets horny, he fires up porn, pulls out a Fleshlight or one of the other ten zillion high-tech masturbators that can vibrate faster than any human being and don’t need to be fed or entertained and gets off, after which he can spend the rest of the day playing video games. And yes, as just noted, women also use toys to get off, but they have a greater inclination toward conversation and community, so the post-orgasm door isn’t shut as tightly as it is for men who just need a dick break, a beer, and a first-person shooter to be happy.

  Wouldn’t First-Person Shooter be a great name for a male sex toy?

  The need for sex, particularly among men, fed the socialization machine. But once they could get what they needed through simpler, alternative, and less time-consuming methods, there was less incentive to actually go out and spend money they didn’t have or face the dick-shrinking embarrassment of going dutch. Socialization has decreased so much that nearly everyone I know feels shy, like they don’t know how to hold a conversation or go on a date or function in a group. They’re not sure they have anything interesting to say, and no one tells them otherwise because no one’s talking, just texting. I have friends who are “dating,” but they only hook up every other week when one of them texts to come over for sex, then they go their separate ways until the next time the Fleshlight breaks down.

  And that’s why there are no cell phones, smartphones, iPads, or laptops in the Silver City of my stories.

  Okay, it’s coming up on nine thirty and I’ve killed enough time. My co-conspirators should be slinking onto the bus any time now. On with the Great Escape!

  * * *

  VaughnR

  The morning was unusually cool, with a low haze that hovered over the parking lot. Everyone except Tyler was already on board, and while we waited for him, I walked over to where Mark was standing by the door, ch
ecking his watch for the tenth time.

  “You sure we’re doing the right thing?” I said. I’d promised Jim that I wouldn’t tell anyone else what he told me at the bar, but now that we were about to dump him and Theresa, I was having second thoughts. “Maybe we should give them another chance.”

  “No way,” Mark said. “We were doing fine until they showed up, then everything turned toxic. Best to ditch their sorry asses and move on.”

  I was about to press the point when Tyler came out of the motel and waved to us. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “Overslept.”

  “It’s okay,” Mark said in a voice that said the opposite, and let him go up the steps ahead of us.

  “All right,” Mark said as Dylan closed the door behind us, “onward.”

  Dylan nodded and aimed the bus toward the exit.

  It’ll be all right, I told myself. Jim didn’t like the tense atmosphere on the bus any more than we did. Maybe the shock of being dumped and having to deal with this on their own will make Theresa more open to reconsidering their path.

  It was a comforting thought. But there was a part of me that didn’t believe it for a second.

  * * *

  SunnyShanelle

  Mama once said, “You know what the definition of a bore is? Somebody who brings nothing to a conversation but his presence.” That was Theresa and her man. They never brought anything good to the group dynamic. We’d be laughing and talking and then they’d show up and chase the fun right out of the room. So nobody minded much when we left the motel without them.

  Once we were out of Kearney, we stopped at a diner for breakfast. Vaughn had a coffee and some bread, then said he was going outside to get some air. After a bit I looked out the window and saw him sitting all alone on a bus bench like somebody just broke up with him, so I finished my eggs and left the rest behind because it’s not like I’m gonna suffer from a lack of pancakes, though they were pretty good, and walked outside to join him.