by RD Hale
Branches are stacked into a lofty cone and Killow lights a piece of paper, placing it amongst kindling. We stand not too close as crackling fire slowly lays waste to lumber and swirling red plasma flourishes like a burning spirit. Embers drift and mesmerise as warmth reaches my palms and circulating smoke simultaneously unsettles and calms my olfactory system; the smell of danger and remnant of passion.
'Where's Mila?' I get to my feet as the gang sit with arms around shins.
'She's off somewhere with her friend. Still collecting wood, I think,' Killow replies.
'I'm gonna see where she has gotten to. Which way did she go?'
'That way mate. Don't get lost again... or eaten!'
Intuition generates an indeterminate air of suspicion as I stalk my untrustworthy friend through the twisted woods. Something about this starey new girl is just not right and several minutes of fortuitous marching leads to ever so gentle voices.
Peering through a bush, I see elusive suspects exchanging glances as they sit on a log with a strange closeness between their turned backs. Since the moment Cari materialized Mila's attention has been stolen and replaced with an excessive level of hostility. These shameless square pegs have refused to separate for even a second and their whispering sends paranoia rippling through my blood.
'You seem to get me more than the others and you don't annoy me like they do. I actually like being around you,' Mila says.
'I'll take that as a compliment, I thought everyone annoyed you! You're so damn spirited, you're sharp tongue makes me smile,' Cari replies.
'I like that it makes you smile.'
The slender gap between their slight frames is scarcely wide enough to show the tomboy's gangly leg brush against Mila's, whose delicate shoulders stiffen. The duo lean together like mirror images and turn face to face, waiting. Their breathing becomes ever more noticeable. Fragile. Fearful. Rapt. Unmatchable hands touch with a vile sweetness and my stomach is twisted by revulsion as horrendously their lips touch.
Their kiss is like watching a horrific accident unfold and it is impossible to look away. Mila could choose anyone and yet her choice is a stupid, freaky girl boy thing who is far weirder than any monstrosity encountered in the forest of ruins which would more aptly be named the forest of nightmares. The only solution is to run and if I get far enough away maybe this aberrance never happened.
'Wait, what was that? I hear f...'
Before they have a chance to confirm my presence I sprint through trees with intestines tied in knots. Tightening hamstrings propel me as far away from this horror scene as my strength will allow and my pace deteriorates into unsteady walking. Doubling up in a fit of wheezing I dig fingernails into trembling knees and vomit trickles out of my mouth.
With eyes burning I hammer these restive fists against a tree, breaking my skin as bark crumbles. I twist and turn with swollen, bleeding claws poised to lash out, to break anything that crosses my path.
'Why? Why? I did everything right. Everything I wan... I don't understand. She... Why? Ugh!'
Shoulder blades scrape down the lumpy bark of the brutalised tree until my backside thuds on roots and shaking persists as a strange sensation fills my eyes, then my cheeks. Water. Lost, empty and hopeless. I cannot move or think and the blackening sky provides the only clue to the continuation of causality. Goosepimples cover my skin as inactivity causes my body temperature to plummet.
As time passes the possibility of hypothermia reminds a living, breathing creature that biological functions must be maintained, spurring my trembling frame into action. With no idea which direction leads to the others I blunder through thorns and nettles, allowing them to scratch, bruise and sting because the physical distracts from the more intense psychological pain.
'GUYS!' I yell, getting no reply and my bones ache from cold but I ignore discomfort. 'GUYS WHERE ARE YOU!?'
'You're going the wrong way, son,' a voice says.
Spinning around I see that glittering figure whom I have met once before and his presence is just as dubious as it was in the jungle canopy, but this welcome sight is probably the only 'person' who can understand my turmoil, even if he is another flashback of my drug abuse, another symptom of a sensory system which forms its own undisentanglable internal reality.
'You'll catch your death if you stay out here much longer, son. And we can't have that can we?'
'D-Dad?'
'You're a mess, son. It's not good seeing you like this. My boy has always been strong, you look weak...'
'Well I've had a bad day, worst of my life... Sh-she was kissing a g... I love her... You know?'
'It hurts? It always hurts when it's the first time. You can get over it.'
'No, I can't.' Dropping my head, I squeeze eyelids but the kiss of betrayal burns ever brighter in my mind.
'Of course you can, son. You've got untapped potential and dreams to fulfil. You will move on.'
'How can I fulfil my dreams if all they contain is her?' Drooping my head, I squint at my feet. ' Y-eurgh... I... I always wanted to make her proud... to get us out of this. You know? Our days are so empty. We wake, eat, sleep, sometimes get high but it's futile. Every moment apart from the moments when I see her face. Then I feel determination. When I think about going places, achieving things, it's all about her. If I don't have that I don't have anything. We live in a wasteland and the other side is inhabited by brainwashed morons. What's the point? I don't want to continue like this.'
'The point is you can change things. The pain can hinder you, but it can also help. Greatness stems from adversity. You've had things stacked against you and now your ray of light has been snuffed out, but you don't know what tomorrow brings. You get one shot at life. I missed mine, don't miss yours.'
'If I'm alone I'm just surviving, but I don't want to survive. I want to live. So what if we change things? History is filled with revolution. If we succeed we'll become just like them. It's a cycle, a struggle with no end.'
'Maybe there is no permanent solution but if you change things for the better, for just a lifetime, what more could you ask? I'd give anything for another chance. Your mother was the light of my life. I was angry, isolated. She was fun, vibrant. We were so young when we had you, but so proud. You know why I joined the army? So I could support you. I wasn't a conscript, I chose to go. I wanted us to win the war. I didn't care about the politics. I wanted to create a safer place for you to grow up, but I wasn't cut out for it. I didn't last long. And now your mother, she's a shell. I w-'
'Arrturroo!'
I glance towards the bellowing which has interrupted our father-son bonding time. When I turn back to my non-corporeal confidant his stars have faded without allowing me the chance to ask those haunting questions which I so often pretend do not need to be answered.
'Wait, you mean she's still alive? What happened?'
Point of No Return
Flickering light emerges through haunted woodland, unveiling facial features between morphing shadows. Killow is grasping a burning branch and as we turn around ungratefulness dissipates into self-pity. The one-hobbit search party should at least lead back to the glade in good time.
'You get lost? I've been walking in a stright line, common sense really. We better hurry back before this thing goes out,' Killow says.
We return to the diminishing bonfire where I must confront the ramifications of that shocking event which can have no agreeable solution. The misery of abandonment and poverty, of imprisonment without due process, none of it compares and yet there is no-one alive to confide in. She was the only one. The light which led away from my history of grievous injustice is no more, yet I must keep quiet for the sake of credibility.
Grabbing a bottle from the van, I sit with the group who are enjoying the company of sasquatches with no idea of the pain I am forced to endure. Every chuckle triggers an awkward wincing as I turn the cap and sour-tasting froth fills my mouth but I withhold the gag reflex. My hand stems foam seeping from the bottle as I join a game o
f truth or dare.
'Agnarok. You strongest sasquatch?' Kumal asks.
'Truth. Truth,' Agnarok booms, shaking fists.
'I'm not sure you guys are getting the idea of this game.' Lel's sigh is drowned out by sasquatch hoots.
'Algos. Humans puny and feeble,' Agnarok suggests.
'Truth. Truth,' Algos replies.
Lel retrieves the bottle which was spun out of the circle by a sasquatch hand and she spins it between participants. There is a twinkle in her pupil as the bottle settles on someone who is naive to the monkey business she no doubt has in store. An unsightly smile breaks Oscar's face but it is a matter of time until Lel's creative mind turns an eager expression upside down.
'Dare. Dare!' Oscar pleads.
'Kiss Kumal on the lips!' Lel says with a commanding finger point.
'What? No way!'
'Kumal mine,' Agnarok grunts.
'No I am not!'
Oscar stiffens like rigor mortis as Kumal rubs hands together and lifts the object of her affection, egged on by the mixed-species crowd. She plants slobbering lips over Oscar's scrunched nose and mouth to the sound of tear-coaxing laughter and Algos captures the tender moment with his camera.
Once Oscar has recovered from the ordeal of his first kiss he spins the bottle and dares a profusely protesting Bex to sit on Agnarok's shoulders. 'Oh no!' Bex holds out her palm, backtracking as the big fellow looms with delight written all over his hairy face. She who usually controls males with ease is swept off her feet, squealing and waving as though she is caught in a whirlwind. The sasquatch king stumbles as Bex tears the crown of antlers from his head and clings onto a tuft of his hair for dear life.
'Stop! Stop! I'm going to fall,' Bex complains and when Agnarok returns her to ground level she dusts her clothes down. 'Eww, monkey germs!'
An involuntary fit of laughter comes to an abrupt end as Agnarok reattaches his prized headgear, because it is my turn which is not a time for humour. And I do not hesitate to spin the bottle which settles between Lel and Mila, giving me the perfect chance to humiliate the evil bitch as she sits beside her stupid girlfriend.
'Mila. Truth. Have you ever betrayed anyone?' I scowl; cheeks twitching, burning.
'What? Me? Never.'
'She's lying. She's out.' I sit back with forearms crossed.
'No I am not. What are you talking about?' Mila's hair flops as she leans forward, gawping.
'Too late now, you've had your chance.'
Bex takes her spin and the bottle settles closest to yours truly but she is welcome to suggest her most devious imaginings because no silly game of truth or dare can faze the only mature member of this group.
'Arturo - truth or dare?'
'Truth.'
'Have you ever been in love?'
'Aha, course he has!' Killow points a finger, holding his belly.
'Yes I have but she was a liar... and a slag.'
The entire group, sasquatches included, gasp and fawn over a face of feigned blamelessness. Every single one of them intuitively aware of the target of my vitriol; the fiend who treated my heart as a plaything whilst privately mocking the dreams she actively encouraged. Mila laps up sympathy and her fleeting eyes burn through mine as others join the demonisation with castigating scowls which would be withdrawn if they had any idea.
'Ooh, what happened?' Algos asks.
'Are you talking about me? How dare you call me a slag. You know me and you are just friends,' Mila says, daring to seize the moral high ground.
'Friends? After what we've done?'
'Whoa! What have you two done? Bex howls.
'That was a mistake. Get a grip. You know it was a mistake.' Mila scowls, her wrinkled mouth turning purple.
'Whoa, you two really? About time,' Killow adds.
'No it wasn't like that,' Mila waves her arms and stares around pleadingly.
'Wasn't like what? Remember what you said to me?'
'I wasn't myself. I didn't mean-'
'That's cause you're a heartless bitch.'
'What did you call me? How dare you. I never did anything wrong. You're an idiot. Don't ever speak to me again.'
My heart tears upon the realisation any punishment levied will only intensify my own suffering and I desperately want to repair the damage, despite the line of no return being crossed. My old companion anger has reared its hideous head once again and managed to turn the true victim into the bastard.
Mila storms into the van, slamming the door shut and her stupid girlfriend is left to crouch nervously and as talkative as ever. The upturned nose poking into our world has brought a mixture of indifference and disgust and the lack of a friendly face soon causes Cari to knock at the van door. Although I would prefer not to take another glance at that pastey complexion the thought of them alone together invokes nausea.
'Time to leave sasquatch civilisation behind and return to squalor,' Killow suggests.
'Fine, but I'm driving,' I insist, shaking the van keys.
'You go home?' Agnarok asks with sadness in his eyes. 'Come back to see us. Bring more water.'
'Cider Agnarok. Yes, we'll come back one day. And we'll bring cider! Kumal, you two make up, okay. Bye sasquatch friends!'
My ribs are constricted by Agnarok's biceps as the gang climb into the back of the vehicle, revelling in the drama which will fuel their gossip for the next month or so. Killow climbs into the passenger side as I battle free of my sasquatch friend's grasp and climb aboard. I could swear there is a tear welling in Agnarok's eye as I put the key in the ignition.
Wheels spin in dirt as the engine revs and we accelerate away from the glade. In the rear-view mirror I see sasquatches clapping above their heads, probably perceiving self-propulsion as a form of magic or maybe divine intervention. Turning the radio volume up, I reach behind to close a shutter of white paint and rust which enables me to vent in privacy.
'You and Mila, eh?'
'There's no me and Mila.'
'It's no secret you've loved her forever. Women can do strange things to your mind. It's understandable.'
'Nothing about her is understandable.' I squeeze the steering wheel tight.
'So there's no hope for you two then?'
'Not after what I saw.'
'Why? What did you see?' Killow asks with sudden eagerness.
'I don't wanna talk about it.' I grimace, glancing at red and white fingers as I relax my grip.
'Okay, it's probably for the best. She was stringing you along, it's time you moved onto another girl. Just make it so next time she's the one that likes you. It'll give you the power, you see?'
'Yeah, you're right. I'll show that bitch.'
'That's not what I mean. Forget about Mila, she's made her choice. Whoa, be careful!'
In a state of drunken exhaustion, I return eyes to the rubble road as my hands slip from the steering wheel and our van swerves into the opposing lane. Passengers shriek in the windowless rear as I wrestle to regain control of the vehicle juddering over a pothole.
'Not really a good idea for you to be driving like this. Maybe you should slow down,' Killow suggests.
'Fuck that, watch this.'
I floor the accelerator pedal and the shaking van nears top speed, overtaking an old muscle car. The driver speeds up to race alongside us and I raise my middle finger at four scowling lads and a lass as we reach one hundred and four miles per hour, but they gradually regain the lead. A car coming in the other direction forces them to break and swerve back into our lane. Our rivals close the distance in the rear view mirror as we decelerate to slingshot around a roundabout. Our van balances on two wheels and bounces back onto four, stabilizing and zooming off to the sound of further screams.
'ARGH! Arturo, stop driving like a maniac!'
'Haha! Whoo!' I howl and the added excitement prevents my sleep-starved brain from drifting into auto-pilot as Killow joins in: 'Whoo!'
'Pass me a bottle!' I say and Killow follows my instruction, unscrewing the lid before h
anding the bottle over.
My throat aches under the strain of five quick gulps of cider and I return the bottle to Killow, wiping my dribbling mouth. Our rivals catch up and attempt to overtake a superior driver on a gradual bend with a powerful engine they lack the skill to handle. Tyres lose grip as their muscle car careers offroad and spins in dirt. Fortunately there are no trees or solid objects in their path.
'Haha! So long scuzzballs!' Killow laughs.
Exiting the outer hub, we slow down and cruise through the neglected streets of Medio city, only to be met by the sight of hoverbots floating intrusively, out of bounds. Dozens of mechanical pawns swarm into shanty towns and diverge, leaving trails of steam. A pedestrian coughs violently upon inhalation as a droid of unfamiliar design swoops overhead to enter the open window of an upper floor. There can be no good reason for an invasion of machines designed to be hostile to any face not registered on the STG database and they must be avoided at all costs so I re-accelerate.
'Strange, you never see hoverbots in these parts,' Killow remarks.
'Whoa, there's two of them in the distance over that way. Best get home quick.' I focus on the opposite side of the motorway as more unfamiliar droid models emerge from behind an apartment block; their combined trails of steam forming a thick mist.
'What's with the steam? This is weird,' Killow asks.
'I've never seen this many hoverbots in my life, not even in the hubs. We better keep our heads down. They know what Mila and I look like,' I advise and we whizz along the motorway without encountering any more suspicious droids for the remainder of our journey.
Upon arrival I head to my room and muscles twitch with the urge to destroy any stray object. I grimace in a state of exacerbated confusion, feeling like the oxygen has been ripped from my lungs. Unwanted memories force me to question whether it would have been preferable not to survive capture because my future has been stolen like a limbless soldier who may as well have perished. And there is only one solution - repress it all.