by Dan Thompson
Even now, he couldn’t stop from conjuring up the beautiful curves of her body, the way her smile gave way for tiny dimples to crease at the sides of her lips. He had to admit that Abbey had enflamed a desire inside of him, lighting up the old school with her presence through her bubbly personality, tactfulness in times of need, as well as the brightness of her long hair; hair that seemed to take on a life of its own, falling and twisting over her shoulders and in all directions too, as if it was in fact thousands of tiny fireflies all in sync with one another. How Abbey had always pulled the sleeves of her jumper over her hands when she was anxious didn’t go unnoticed as well. Tristan loved her cute habits.
“Her hair,” Tristan said, his eyes seeing Abbey’s orange locks within the dulling flames of the pyre.
“What?” Ryan asked.
Tristan looked over at his best friend, as if he had forgotten he was actually there. “Her hair.”
“What about her hair?”
“She was fine until I mentioned her hair.”
Ryan crouched down in front of him and shook his head. “You need to forget about her, mate. She was crazy, delusional even.”
“No, you don’t get it. Ryan, she was happy, I saw it in her face, her eyes. Then I mentioned her hair and boom! She flipped. It was like a switch inside her had been flicked.”
“Yeah, exactly, mad. She ain’t all there. Her head’s all messed up. Tristan, I’m telling you, she’s trouble, forget about her.”
“I can’t,” Tristan implored.
“’Course you can. She’s already disappeared. Ran off, again! We can go back to how things used to be. You know, jus’ you and me.”
Tristan stood up abruptly and messed his hair up, before smothering his face with his hands. “You don’t understand, Ryan. How could you? There was this thing between us. She liked me, she was happy here, I could tell. It was like she had finally found a place where she really belonged. We would’ve made a good team.”
“I do understand, Tristan, I do. Honestly. I have feelings too, you know and I understand more than anyone what it’s like.”
Tristan turned away from him and clenched his fists as he walked over to the yard wall. He felt like punching the wall, but he kicked it instead, grunting as he did so. He was angry with himself, angry for making the damn alcohol and insisting on both Ryan and Abbey drinking it. He thought it would be a calm, relaxing night. Since Ryan’s episode, a little chilling by the fire was all they needed to shrug off the stressful drama. They needed an official icebreaker to unify them as a trio. They would need to get used to living together and losing their inhibitions among one another would have been the perfect starting point.
Well, Tristan though it would be.
As his head began to sober up, Tristan felt an ache stab at him, right behind his eye. He was getting stressed and worked up, he knew that. Why was he letting that stop him? He needed to go after her, chase her footprints, but they had tried that already. In her defence and eagerness to escape, Abbey had kicked their bridge across the gap into the hole below, and the gap was too wide to jump. He knew that after him and Ryan had tried to jump it a long time ago, which resulted in them nursing not only a few scrapes, but their broken egos too.
What were they to do?
They needed another escape.
“Ryan, come on. We need to go after her,” he said, trying to pull his friend up.
Ryan yanked his arm free. “Tristan, get off! Man up, ‘kay. She’s gone. And stopped us from leaving too and it’s our bloody home.”
“There must be another way out. We’re just used to that way, that’s all.”
“You’re wasting your energy and you know it. We chose this specifically, remember. Only one way in, one way out.”
Tristan sighed and dropped to the ground. Spreading himself out, he looked to the haze-filled sky for a sign. In the back of his mind, he knew Ryan was right, but the thought of Abbey being lost in the city alone terrified him. She was obviously new to it; she wouldn’t last very long with the con-artists and scavengers out there. The outside world was a scary place, not the place for an attractive, young and inexperienced woman.
Ryan kicked his foot. “Stop being such a girl. I’ll go and make us some tea. It’ll help clear our heads, and then we’ll be able to come up with a way to get across that hole. Yeah?”
Tristan closed his eyes. Maybe he should accept it. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Like I said. I always knew she wasn’t all there. Something about her. She was one messed up lass. I mean, the bruises on her back gave it away. What kind of person gets bruises like that?”
Tristan frowned.
“Oh yeah, lots of them,” Ryan answered his friend’s funny look.
“How the hell did she get them?”
“If you ask me,” Ryan called over the clanging of the cooking pot he always used to make the tea in. “There are more secrets in that girl’s head than I beg to think about.”
“Do you think she’s been abused?”
“In some way, yeah, but Tristan, you’ve got to remember that there is always two sides to every story. Can you really believe anything she says?”
Tristan’s hands began to sweat as he mulled over Ryan’s rhetorical question. Was she a good liar? No, he didn’t think so. He couldn’t shake the images of purple and black bruises covering her body. Now he was really concerned about Abbey. Who knew what she had been through, how much suffering she had already endured and Ryan’s comments didn’t allay any of his worries. He was certain she hadn’t lied. Abbey had been vague with her answers, changing the subject on any conversation that got really personal. If she had intended to fib, she would have answered any question easily.
Tristan jumped to his feet and rushed over to the cooking pot just as Ryan was lighting the stove’s tinder.
“No, put that out, Ryan. We can’t leave Abbey out there by herself. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to her.” He tried to yank his friend away, but Ryan resisted.
“Tristan, get off. Man, she went for you, could have done some serious damage. She was that crazy! Stop acting so bloody idiotic.”
Tristan’s head nearly exploded with rage and his heartbeat raced. “Stop telling me what I should do or not do!” Spit flung out of his mouth. “I’m goin’ after her, it’s as simple as that. You either stop being so selfish and help, or stay here and be a coward.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, but instead, paced around the room unsure of where to start, his thoughts all a muddle. Ryan’s usually ambivert personality, neither for or against - rooted firmly on top of the metaphorical fence - had now dispersed and was replaced with a definitive passion to express his opinion. Tristan found it exasperating.
“How are you even goin’ to get across the gap, smart arse? She’s not goin’ to be on the other side waitin’ for you to come running in like some hero, you know.” Ryan edged closer, but Tristan’s ‘I dare you’ stare made him stop and rethink.
“I’ll tell you how,” Tristan yelled, ardently searching for any substitute bridge.
He kept eyeing the blankets Abbey had slept on, imagining her pulling the covers right up to her neck, smiling back at him. He scolded himself for not focusing on something useful. His fantasies weren’t going to get him across the breach. It was only a few days ago that she had tried to read a book about how life had been on their world years ago, wrapping herself up in the blankets to keep warm. Tristan shook his head in disbelief that his mind had wandered again. His eyes tried to pinpoint the exact book on the bookcase.
“Tris-”
“Shut it, I’m thinking.”
He wracked his brains, feeling the acid in his stomach gurgle and burn. His body didn’t like how angry he was becoming. Indigestion griped him, but he paced around further in hope of something jumping out at him. A few moments passed, Ryan still staring at him quietly, yet awkwardly too. He hadn’t meant to snap Ryan’s head off, but he wasn’t helping the situ
ation. There was clearly something bothering Abbey; she needed help, not shunning.
How could he simply forget about those pure blue eyes and a soul so full of warmth when allowed the chance to shine?
A solution jolted him into action.
Tristan leaped over to the bookcase and grabbed at the books with big handfuls, sending them over his head and over his shoulders. As he knocked them off their shelves, their thuds bit through the silence. After he swiped all of the books off, he flipped the bookcase over and started to kick and stomp at the bare wood. Pain shot up a heel, but he didn’t care. The bookcase splintered and collapsed easily. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Tristan then nudged the broken slats of wood with his foot to uncover the top board of the bookcase, which was thankfully still pretty much intact. He laughed in between deep breaths, his chest rising and falling sharply. He picked up the new single piece of board at one end and dragged it towards the corridor. A splinter pierced his finger, which made him drop the wood with a loud clatter.
“Bloody hell,” he bellowed, hearing his echo shoot up the corridor.
“Here, I’ll help,” Ryan said, lifting up the opposite side.
“This naffing splinter,” Tristan moaned.
“Stop bein’ such a wuss. Are you goin’ to let a damn splinter stop us from helping Abbey?”
Tristan smiled at his friend. “Us?”
“Yes, us.”
“Cheers, Ryan.”
“You owe me one.”
The beige slab of wood darkened in the corridor, but after sliding it over the gap, it just about looked stable. Tristan wasn’t going to question its strength, there wasn’t time, and with no other viable option, it would have to do. Failure wasn’t an option. He carefully shuffled over, whilst Ryan held the board still.
“If a big lump like you can get across fine, then it’ll be no problem for a skinny Adonis like me.”
Tristan laughed, happy that his old mate had returned. “Just get across.”
As if to show off, Ryan lifted a foot off the beam and wobbled dramatically, before chuckling at himself and crossed to the other side. He slapped Tristan’s back and whispered into his ear. “For this, you can cook and clean indefinitely.”
“We can negotiate terms some other time. For now, we need to go. Race you to the entrance.”
Tristan sped off down the dark corridor, smiling at Ryan’s curses behind him. The dust sparkled in the blue haze, which gave the corridors a stuffy odour. As Tristan ran harder, sucking in the dusty air, he felt it cling to his throat like a fungus. He hacked and spat, tasting the vile flavour. Ryan tapped him on the back of his head as he charged past. Giving chase, Tristan fixated on his friend’s stained gilet to give him motivation. He didn’t care if Ryan won the silly game, he was just relieved that Ryan had agreed to come in the end. He would never admit it, but the thought of searching for Abbey by himself was a scary one indeed.
Ryan was waiting for him by the statue, a smug grin plastered on his face, teasing him.
“What happened to you, slow coach?”
“Shut up,” he lampooned. “Seriously, where should we search?”
“How would I know?”
“Come on, don’t be a tit. Please help me.”
“You’re the one that leaves often to go to the market. You know the city much better than me. I’m the stay-at-home wife who cooks and cleans.”
“Now you’re whining and just being querulous for the sake of it.”
“OK,” Ryan said, approaching the huge mahogany doors. They creaked as they opened up, giving view to the lonely, empty approach to the city road. The skeletal trees didn’t sway, which meant it was reasonably safe to leave. The threat of a troublesome wind was a foe they didn’t have the need for. “Maybe we should just check the streets close by first. I mean, how far could she actually have gone?”
“I’m not sure,” Tristan said as he walked down the road. “Should we split up?”
“Well, at the minute, there’s only two ways she could have gone. You go that way,” Ryan pointed, “and I’ll go this way. We’ll meet up back here in a bit, yeah?”
“OK,” Tristan sighed, ruffling his friend’s flaxen hair as he ran by. He turned his head to see Ryan’s thumbs up, before he too sprinted off in the other direction.
Watching his footing on the crumbling curb, Tristan took off, rifling in all directions. He guessed that Abbey would actually be quite easy to spot with her flame-like hair. The nearer he approached the city, the more the buildings clumped together like conjoined structures of battered stone and greying disaster. The architecture was lost on him, but some time ago, they would have been busy, bustling accommodations, business headquarters and impressive meeting points. Now, they were memories of an apocalypse aftermath. The blue haze was harsh against their dull, matte skin. No orange or gingerness in sight.
He knew Abbey couldn’t have been hiding in the buildings. They were too weathered and beaten up, offering little shelter to their harsh, changeable environment. If the wind was on attack, she would be taken effortlessly. If a storm angered down its hard rain, she would be too exposed. And besides, Tristan and Ryan had already scouted the surrounding structures for lost tokens and food before eventually settling into the school.
He legged it down an alleyway, but it led to a dead end. The sharp squeak of a rat made him cringe. Its long worm-like tail slithered unnaturally. He had read, many moons ago, of how city rats carried nasty diseases that if caught could give you gangrene, meaning any limb could rot and decay and drop off without warning. Leaping over the vermin, Tristan sped back to the school and saw Ryan approaching him, shaking his head.
“Where would she go?” Ryan asked, bending down and placing his hands on his knees.
Where would she go? Tristan was at a loss for ideas. Ryan had been right, he hardly knew this girl. Still, that was no excuse. A young woman all alone in this city of nightmares was a ripe opportunity for the scavengers and brutes that populated it. Tristan knew that the city appeared empty, but hidden away, in their mangy holes, there were many an occupant who was open to any prey. He was strong, fit and able to look after himself if the need arose. Abbey sadly, wasn’t.
Tristan was at a loss. Who was he kidding? She could have gone absolutely anywhere. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted her name over and over again.
“Abbey!”
Ryan looked around nervously, circling the road for any disturbances. “Shhh, you’ll draw attention to us, damn it.”
“Abbey!” Tristan called again, his voice breaking into a high-pitched resonance. “Abbey, come back!”
Ryan punched his friend in the shoulder, while shaking his head.
“Ow!” Tristan recoiled, rubbing at the spot, “cut it out.”
“Stop wailing like a banshee then. You’re daft if you think she’ll come running back at that.”
“What do you suggest?”
Ryan looked around again, as if hearing a fracas or commotion in the distance. Tristan followed his gaze, but he saw nothing. The blue haze often created flamboyant and odd shadows, which more often than not, turned out to be nothing more than just shadows. A trivial chill filled him with dread.
“I’m getting more worried now. Ryan, she’s just a girl on her own. She can’t survive by herself.”
“Maybe she’s more resourceful than you give her credit for.”
“Ryan, I thought you were here to help me, not to persuade me to leave her be. I thought we’d sorted that.”
“We have,” Ryan defended himself, “I’m just saying that she doesn’t come across as the poor damsel you paint her as.”
Tristan scoffed.
“Come on.” Ryan began to walk deeper into the city, away from their school. “Let’s take a walk. Something may jump out at us.”
“What, like a clue?”
“Perhaps. It’s got to be better than standing around here, hasn’t it?”
Ryan held his arms out, waiting for a response. Tristan
had clearly not thought any of this through. He was winging it. Did he really expect it to be easy? Every last minute they had wasted back in the yard - shocked by the sudden turn of events - were more steps Abbey had gained away from them.
She could be anywhere.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Tristan said, scuffing his shoes as he jogged in Ryan’s direction.
An understandable silence drummed around the city as well as between the two boys as they searched behind scorched skips and in huge metal coils that served as tunnels joining the city’s broken pathways. Abbey was nowhere to be found and no clue revealed itself despite furthering themselves into the concrete jungle of the city. They both knew they were clutching at straws, and in fact, could well be searching in the wrong direction altogether. It was utterly useless to voice the reality however. How would that help, but drill doubt further into their heads?
To make matters worse, a thin blanket of fog had rolled in waves, veiling the city and hiding its deep scars. Tristan began to get annoyed and irritated by the constant obstacles, but took deep breaths to help control himself from lashing out. Ryan had always read him perfectly and no doubt had already sensed his frustrations. Still, he had made the correct choice in not coming out with any unhelpful or sardonic quip. That really would have sent him over the edge, fearing of the backlash he would have created.
The moon had made a rare appearance, which could still be seen above the mist. Its full face was, for a weird change, easily noticeable, with its faint outlines, its otherworldly landscape a mystery long forgotten. As Tristan gawped up at it, he couldn’t help but take it as a sign to keep searching. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence that it had come out if its arbitrary hibernation on the very night they were hunting for Abbey? The blue haze gave its contours a peculiar hue; a funny purple colour, almost like a halo. If they weren’t busy looking for Abbey, it was something Tristan would have found incredibly fascinating, but for now, the moon was relegated to secondary importance.
Besides, Ryan had failed to notice the supernatural, ancillary feature surrounding the moon. That, or he didn’t see it as anything out of the ordinary.