A cascading waterfall poured from the ceiling, branching off into smaller streams lined with lush greenery. The four of them found the only dry spot in the corner to bed down. Marisha and Colleen spread out their blankets, keeping only their dry underlayers on, and cuddled up to one another.
“Well, looks like it's just you and me, boy,” Lito said, beckoning Jackson to come over. The tired dog plopped his fluffy head on Lito’s chest and let out an enormous sigh. He stared into Lito’s eyes and burrowed his paws into his armpit. “Thanks for protecting her yesterday. I don’t know what I’d do if we lost the two of them,” Lito said, planning to only be loud enough for Jackson to hear, but Colleen had heard him. She gave a small smile, not sure how to take it.
Pretending to ignore it, she called over to them, “Just a heads up, he slobbers when he sleeps. Don’t be surprised if you wake up to a wet spot on your stomach and his tongue hanging out.”
“Thanks for the warning. It’s a small price to pay to not freeze to death,” Lito said.
Colleen kept stroking Marisha’s hair, “He likes you, you know that right?” she said, “that’s the only reason I hadn’t totally given up on you as a human being. If he sees something in you, then you must not be all bad,” she shot Lito a wink.
“Thanks…I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” she smugly nodded and rolled over, “and no, that doesn’t mean you can steal my dog.”
Sunlight poured in through the windows as birds sang sweet songs, morphing the building into an entirely different place than they had found last night. Marisha found enough dry wood holed away in a corner and started a fire, letting everyone thaw out and dry their clothes on a makeshift clothesline. Lito did wonders with what limited resources were on hand, making a breakfast that would have no leftovers.
The trio stepped outside—they were immediately blown away by what they saw.
“Oh wow, I can’t believe it's still standing. We couldn’t see it through the pouring rain last night,” Marisha announced.
Lito rubbed his eyes. “The whole city is like a jungle. Race you to the top,” he pointed to the building rising from behind bombed-out office buildings, a mischievous smiled growing larger. The skyscrapers were a playground of concrete and asphalt laden with a cornucopia of vivid flowers. The skeletal frames were woven with vines winding through the steel girders and streetlights. Framed in the middle was the breathtaking Space Needle—a gorgeous tower that seemed to have defied the decaying world of The Shifting.
Between two imploded buildings, the Space Needle was a beacon of hope with its luminous tripod, topped with what looked like two plates sandwiching panes of glass. The broken glass was the only sign of disrepair.
“You aren’t going to catch me anywhere near the top of that,” Colleen said as she pointed to the steel lattice structure running up the middle, identical to the one in Tacoma.
“It’s not so bad,” Marisha said, “There’s a staircase up to the top. I took my parents up there not long before they passed. It was a heck of a time trying to get Mom and Dad up there. I never tried again after that, but they acted as if they had never seen it before every single time we passed it. I admit the idea of being in awe of something over and over had a certain appeal, but at the time, it just made me realize how far gone they were.”
Marisha sniffed and rubbed her eyes. Colleen reached out a hand in comfort, the feeling of guilt stirring inside her, but Marisha waved her off and turned to face the two of them, “I know we are just passing through, but there's something I’d like to do before we move on.”
“Visit your parents?” Colleen asked. Marisha nodded and stroked Jackson’s ears.
“Today’s going to be a good day to travel. I think we should keep—” Colleen cut her eyes, shutting Lito down.
“He’s right, you know. We couldn’t have asked for a better day to make up some ground,” Marisha said, shooting Colleen a fake assuring smile.
Colleen shook her head, she wasn't falling for the act, “Nonsense. If I had a chance to see my mom, in any state, one more time. I’m not asking permission; I’m just doing it.”
Lito jumped in before Colleen could say anything else, “I get it, but we should split up then,” he quipped. “We need food, so I’m taking Jackson with me. I can already hear enough wildlife around us that will give me a chance to use that bow I grabbed back in Tacoma.”
“Sounds good. It shouldn’t take us more than a few hours. Let’s meet back here when the sun is highest. Say, at the Space needle?”
Lito gave a halfhearted thumbs up, gathered up Jackson, and headed off to some of the more lush areas.
Once he was gone, Marisha pressed her lips together, her tired eyes growing wider. “Um, don’t I get a say in any of this?”
Colleen stammered, “Yeah, of course, I was just—”
Marisha cut her off. “Chihuly, that’s where they are. I’m not sure I know what I’ll do when I get there. Maybe breakdown, freeze up, punch something, or maybe a combination of all three.” Her face was a mixture of fear, sadness, and anticipation.
“I can handle that. You just tell me what I can do to help,” Colleen said.
“That’s why I love you,” Marisha gave her a crooked smile, her eyes still moist.
“There you go again,” Colleen chuckled, “using that L-word and catching me off guard.”
Marisha jumped up and put her foot in the stirrup, throwing her other leg over. Looking back, she held her hand out, “Come on, leave Mr. Butters behind. He needs the rest more, and there’s no point in taking two.”
Colleen climbed up behind her and they shot off between the buildings. Neither of them spoke a word. It didn’t take long before they could see their destination in the distance. Almost directly below the Space Needle was a relatively modest glass atrium, surrounded by trees that had begun to lose their leaves. Those that remained were all manners of oranges and yellows. The flowers wilted and were now shadows of what must’ve been their former glory, and the only feature that hadn’t succumbed to time was the elaborate glass sculpture. These artistic installations represented every color, from voracious violets to ravishing reds. As they approached, Marisha slowed down, pulling up short.
“This is it?” Colleen reached forward and put a hand on her thigh and timidly squeezed. Marisha's eyelids looked heavy, and her chin trembled. The tears were gone and the sadness that was creased in her face was now replaced with something much sadder—fear.
Marisha nodded, “moye serdtse bolit.”
“What was that?” Colleen asked, knowing she had said something in her natural language.
“It means, my heart hurts,” she said in a dull, monotone voice.
Slower still, the two of them sauntered up to the garden. Marisha pulled on the reins, and the horse obeyed, coming to a stop. She stared out, her eyes focused on the late morning light dancing off the colors. Silently, she swung her leg over and jumped off the horse, softly landing on the ground. She kneeled down and grabbed her chest, bunching up her shirt in clenched fists and shaking her head back and forth. Without a tear shed, she stood up and continued on into the center of the garden.
Colleen trailed behind, unsure of what to say or do. Although she had lost her mother too, it was escaping her on just how to help Marisha as her heart broke all over again. Dismounting, she followed her, choosing to stay far behind but never letting her get too far away. The path led to an old tree, which the rest of the garden branched off from. The glorious tree was a sight with its thick gnarled trunk and voluptuous arrangement of branches, even without its green leaves.
Marisha fell down to her knees, then doubled over as shaking hands dug into the moist soil. Reaching out, she pointed, signaling towards a mounded area. It looked just like another flower bed to the unknowing eye, but once she knew, the purposely placed arrangements of colors were unmistakable.
“Prostite,” Marisha whispered, “prostite, prostite, prostite.”
A wailing sound, unlike
anything Colleen had ever heard, escaped from Marisha. The noise tore her heart in two, she couldn't help but feel sad to see the one she loved in such pain. She should have told her; how could she keep this secret from her any longer?
“I'm sorry, Mama. I’m sorry, Daddy. I did what I thought I had to do. Can you ever forgive me?” Marisha said, bowing her head.
I have to say something. She is dying inside. It’s not fair to her, to not know that my family had something to do with this. I can’t take it any longer.
Colleen walked up and slowly put a hand on Marisha's shoulder, “It’s not your fault,” she gulped down, readying herself.
“It’s my fault!” she screamed. Tears flowed down in rivulets, pooling below her bowed head. Marisha gripped her disheveled hair and pulled, crying out, “I killed them!”
“No, no, no. You didn’t kill them. There’s nothing you could've done.”
Marisha looked up at Colleen with eyes that showed her broken soul, “You weren't there, I killed them.”
“There’s something I need to—” Colleen tried to say, but Marisha cut her off, her words spewing rapidly.
“They were empty shells of what had been my parents. I couldn't see them like that anymore. We had gone to the garden one last time, and they still didn’t recognize it. I couldn’t take it anymore.” Marisha paused, sobbing more, then wiped her eyes again. She pressed her lips together as if trying to stifle an escaping moan. “I walked them here, kissed them on the forehead, turned them around…”
No, she didn’t…
Her pulse raced.
“And… and… I pulled the trigger.”
Thirty-Three
Toby
“Hey, you see that huge guy walking towards us?” said a stocky man peering through a makeshift spyglass. “There’s something I don’t like about him. Grab my rifle. It should be down there by your left foot.” He held his hand out, waiting for it to be placed in its clutches.
“That seems to be a bit of a stretch. He doesn’t look to be over five feet tall, and I can tell that all the way back here. Are you sure that thing works right?” Finley looked at him skeptically, tapping it with his finger.
“Don't touch it! Of course, it works,” he snorted, then fiddled with the dial on the side, “I made it myself.”
“I know, that’s why I asked.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toby said, sticking his tongue out as he sat up, making himself appear bulkier than usual.
He gently tapped the spyglass against the metal railing of the 3rd story observation deck, then shook it vigorously. The dry late September heat in the Texas panhandle felt good, making days bearable and nights perfect for hunting. Placing the contraption back up to his eye, he turned the dial, “Huh, well, that’s odd. The…umm…mirror thingy must have been off. This might need more testing.” He scrunched his eyebrows together, studying the device.
“You think?” Finley rolled his eyes.
“You don’t always have to be so judgy. Let’s see you try to build something with your own hands,” Toby snapped back.
“You mean like rebuilding the greenhouse or the bunker?” He arched a gruff eyebrow, looking down at him.
“Those were nice and all but,” Toby peered through again, then slowly pulled it away from his eye, “yeah, it’s just a kid. Probably thirteen or fourteen.”
“Congratulations, you almost shot a kid. I’m glad I was here.” Finley exhaled and shook his head.
“I wasn’t going to actually do it. I was being prepared,” Toby muttered, extending a hand like he was showing off his greatest invention. “You remember how you were at thirteen?”
“Yeah, a turd, but I don’t believe I did anything that warranted being shot over?” Finley gave him a once-over and scoffed.
Without the scope's aid, the two men saw a thin boy of olive complexion with long raven hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. His head panned around, keeping an eye out for danger. Toby adjusted his position; unfortunately, his broad backside knocked his rifle down. The clanging that followed as the rifle tumbled to the ground gave away their location. The two men ducked down, but it was too late; they were spotted. The boy strafed to the left, appearing to keep an eye on the sound's location until he was behind sufficient cover.
“One point for my big butt,” Toby sighed.
“You said it, not me. This is why Lily goes hunting and not us.”
Toby glared at Finley as he clenched his fists so hard he dug crescent-shaped imprints into his palms.
“Calm down, I said Us, not you,” Finley said, shooting him a tight-eyed glare.
Ping ping ping, the sounds of gunfire on metal. Each shot drew closer to them. BANG! The last shot ricocheted off the top of the metal fire escape that zigzagged up the four-story bank building, landing just a few feet from them.
“What did I tell you about underestimating a thirteen-year-old kid?” Toby yelled with his back pressed against the metal wall.
“Now’s not the time to gloat,” Finley shot back. “If it's any consolation, those small rounds don’t have a chance of penetrating this steel,” he said, slapping the rusty steel plating, separating them from the shooter. The rusty ladder they had taken to get up there rattled loose and slid down, colliding with the floor below. The violent collision provided just enough energy to cause a chain reaction of rusty steel rending, tearing, and collapsing in on itself.
In seconds, half the structure piled in a heap on the ground.
Finley looked down, refusing to make eye contact with Toby, only shaking his head back and forth. They sat there for what felt like an hour, but in reality, it couldn’t have been more than a minute. The shots had stopped, and silence now filled the air.
Toby grabbed his rifle and aimed it over what was left of the railing, firing a few warning shots.
“I bet he’s out of ammo,” Toby whispered, “dumb kid must’ve shot it all.” He puffed his chest up, raising his chin with a pleased gleam in his eye, “That’s what age has over youth: superior planning, and execution.”
Finley rolled his eyes, “He’s the one who got the jump on us.”
Toby reached into his back pocket and pulled out his spyglass. Crawling on his hands and knees, he moved to a position so he could get another look at the kid.
“Looks…like he’s gone. I don’t see him anywhere. He must have just been trying to escape. Good for him.” He took another look, trying to get another angle without drawing attention to himself.
Turning the dial, he zoomed in, “I could have sworn I saw some movement over there.”
Behind a charred delivery truck, the boy stood up, aiming something entirely different.
“What in the—” Toby said but never finished his sentence.
The boy flicked a lighter, lit the piece of cloth hanging down, and released his shot. The flaming projectile came rocketing towards them. It exploded against the top edge of the observation deck, raining fire down on them. It had been a perfectly placed shot.
Smoldering debris shot out in every direction, and even a few of the larger pieces landed inches from the two men. Finley looked at Toby. "Do you smell something burning? Like besides the explosion?" his gaze dropped down to the small pinhole-sized fires that burning into his shirt. He quickly swatted at them to put them out. The smell of singed hair stung Toby's nose as he wrinkled it, watching the spectacle.
“Ok, this isn’t some ordinary kid,” Finley said through gritted teeth, stamping out burning embers. “I want to see Amelia again, so just stay down.”
From down below, only closer now, the kid spoke. “You boys done messing with me, huh? There’s more where that came from, so, if you want to live, back off.”
His voice echoed through the staircase's oxidized metal, giving the young boy's voice an eerie ping.
“We don’t want no trouble,” Toby called down, “that’s not the type of place we run here. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Shooting at people
usually does that,” the boy yelled back.
“Hey, why don’t we introduce ourselves,” Finely said. “What do you say? I’ll go first. My name is Finley. My brother here next to me is Toby. Now, what is your name, young man?”
“Which one of you is the dumb one?” the boy deadpanned.
Finley snorted, nearly bursting out in laughter, “That’s uh—uh Toby.”
Toby flipped his hands out in disgust, “Thanks, brother. Way to throw me under the cart.”
“Still didn't get your name?” Finley asked. He inched along with their cover, trying to get a better view of the boy.
“What’s it matter to you?” Toby yelled, but his voice cracked, showing his fear. “Like, I told you, we aren’t here to hurt you.”
“It’s just a regular question,” Finley followed up.
If they were honest, the kid didn’t have much of a reason to trust them. They had already exchanged gunfire, but the kid just seemed scared, no matter how tough he tried to talk.
The young boy sat there as if contemplating what to do next. He put his weapon in his back pocket. “I guess it can’t hurt. I’m Mohan.”
“Mohan? That’s an odd name,” Toby whispered to Finely.
“You headed somewhere? We’ve got an empty bed if you need one.” Finley said.
“No,” Mouthed Toby, faintly shaking his head.
“No, thanks. I’m actually here looking for a couple of people. A friend sent me,” Mohan said, “they said I should meet up with them if I ever needed help, and well, here I am.”
“What’s your friend's name?” Toby asked, the boy piquing his interest.
“It’s not he. It’s she,” Mohan said. Toby ticked his head, realizing the sound was farther away than before. Was he leaving?
Finley looked down to see the boy speed off down the stairs. The last thing he saw was the boy’s ponytail flash as he jumped off the stairs.
The Maddening: Book 2 in the Terror Saga Page 17