Among The Stars (Heinlein's Finches Book 2)

by Robin Banks

  “What if they lose their job?”

  “I don’t know. I guess they leave. Why would we keep them here?”

  I have to accept that without really understanding it. Tom can’t do either. He’s too spooked and too sleep-deprived to think. I can’t say or do anything to calm him down, so I just sit by him in his bunk until he calms himself enough to pass out. I hate to wake him up for work, but I have to.

  That evening Sean gets plastered before the start of the second show. Props to the guy, he carries it well. He’s perfectly coherent and doesn’t slur. He just can’t walk straight, and his mask is down. He doesn’t try to get to Alya this time. He just leans himself on the wagon across from Kolya’s bunk and spends the evening muttering to himself. I can see him clearly out of Tom’s window. I’m glad I can’t hear what he’s saying.

  When it’s time for the life support to get switched off, two boys manage to talk him into going home. Alya rushes back to her ATR as soon as he’s out of the way.

  “Tom? He’s gone. You can go to sleep now.”

  “Yeah, that’s likely. As if he could not come back.”

  “I doubt he could suit up in that state.”

  “So our best hope is that he’ll die before he can kill us. And you want me to go to sleep?”

  I wish I could disagree with him, but I can’t. I sleep through the night anyway. I’m too tired not to.

  After a few days of this, Tom regains his magical ability to fall asleep anytime and anywhere. He used to do that back in juvie. It’s eerie if you don’t know about it, but it’s handy. I just have to sit him down somewhere and he zonks right out, provided I’m there with him. It’s not as good as actual sleep and it cuts into my time something chronic, but if he doesn’t sleep for three days he usually starts hallucinating, so I’m all for it.

  It’s hard to do on the sly, though. Hugh is oblivious and Kolya’s too busy, but Alya is way too observant. I‘ve just managed to get him down while I’m doing the ponies when she spots us. She looks about to scream the place down, but I shush her.

  She hisses through gritted teeth. “Ok. Thirty seconds. Explain this.”

  I think about lying, but I don’t have the energy. “He can’t sleep.”

  “He seems to be doing great now.”

  “He can’t sleep at night.”

  “Is he ill?”

  “No. He’s scared shitless.” She stares blankly at me, so I carry on. “Tom’s dad’s a drunk.”

  “Oh.”

  “When Tom was little, his dad just stopped working and took up drinking. He was on a mining pension, so he could. He used to have rages. Used to beat on Tom and his mom. Then one day he took it too far. By the time the neighbors called the Guards it was pretty bad.

  “Tom thought she was dead. His mom, I mean. She never came back. Then he got himself arrested and sent to juvie and she popped up on his record, just living somewhere else. She’d just upped and left him. Maybe she was too scared of what his dad would do if she tried to take Tom away. I don’t know.”

  “This is my fault.”

  “Are you getting drunk and threatening to kill people?”

  “No, but…”

  “Then it’s not your fault. He’ll be ok. He just needs to realize that now isn’t then, kinda thing. We can deal.”

  “But…”

  “We can deal!” Shit. That came out too loud. Thankfully I didn’t wake him. “We’re ok,” I manage to say more quietly. “We’ve got this. Drop it.”

  Her bottom lip starts quivering. She nods and rushes out.

  The next site saves our skins, or our sanity. It’s colder here. Nobody’s going to be hanging outside for any length of time without dying of hypothermia. If Sean’s still drinking, he’s doing it out of sight. A couple of days of not seeing him about, and Tom is sleeping at night again. He still looks like shit, but he’s rested enough to keep himself together.

  Then his friends come to visit.

  They roll up in their ATR as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe for them it is. They know people here. They seem to know people everywhere. Julian got Tom a new jacket. He looks really good in it.

  They take us to a restaurant, get us fed and drunk, then drop us back at the show. I wonder if Julian is gonna take Tom away. I know Tom would go. It’d be the best thing for him. Instead, they kiss goodbye for about a million years, then the guys just leave. Tom stares at the ATR speeding off until he can’t see it anymore. My eyes itch like mad. I must be tired.

  Julian comes back on his own the following night. He takes Tom out, but they don’t stay long. When I hear the ATR come back, I go look out my window. They don’t kiss goodnight this time. Tom just stumbles out and walks away. If I didn’t know him, I’d think he was crying.

  Tom’s face looks all wrong in the morning, dazed and haunted at the same time. He keeps spacing out, too. He’s acting like something awful has happened and he can’t get his head around it. I’d ask him what’s up, but he’d only lie or tell me to mind my business, so I shut up. I focus on working around him without pissing him off. I don’t quite manage.

  I just want to get off this fucking planet. If we can make it out of here, we’ll be fine. I keep saying that to myself. I have to believe it.

  Tom’s friends come over again in the evening, all of them this time. Tom look at the approaching ATR as if it terrified him, then his face sets.

  “Are you ready?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. If I’m coming.”

  “Of course you are.”

  We get into the ATR. They’ve brought drinks along. We’re not going out to eat, for a change. Instead, they’re going to take us to a viewpoint where we can see all the lights. There’s something off about this, but then the whole thing has seemed slightly off to me all along, so maybe my head is just not right.

  We drive around for ages. I didn’t know this bubble was this big. Maybe we’re going around in circles. I can’t tell anymore. I don’t know what we’re drinking, but it tastes funny and within minutes it hits me hard. My brain’s totally scrambled. Tom is still laughing, joking, and drinking with the guys, but I don’t want any more of this. Not the drinks and not the hanging out. Julian keeps telling me to drink up and I keep saying no. It’s getting on my nerves because I don’t know how hard I have to say no for him to fucking hear it, but everyone’s having a good time and being chill and I don’t want to ruin it for them. I’m feeling seriously uncool about this, though. Something doesn't feel right and if Tom wasn’t here and clearly happy I’d be legging it by now. But he is, so I don’t. I gotta stop being so fucking twitchy.

  I have a bit more of my drink to see if that helps, but it still tastes weird and it still ain’t right and it makes me woozier but not any more relaxed. I just wish this fucking night was over. I wish I was in my bunk with my music and my friends nearby, but I’m not. I’m here instead. So I try to smile and nod and follow their conversation, but my head is fuzzy as hell so I mostly fail. I just wanna go home.

  Tom and three of the guys get up and I’m thinking great, this is it, but they’re just popping out to look at something and they wave at me to stay put. I’m left in the ATR with Julian and there’s something seriously fucked up about this. Something’s making my heart beat hard and fast and my skin tingle, but not in a good way, and I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me until I realize that he’s between me and the only door, and I really don’t like that. I can’t breathe quite right and I’m feeling fucking trapped and this makes no sense, these are Tom’s friend and Tom is just outside and I’m overreacting again, my fucking history is making me see shit that just isn’t there and the damn drink is fucking up my filters, but Julian’s leaning against the door and looking at me funny and I don’t like that, I don’t like how he smiles. I really, really want out of here, but he’s blocking the door and his smile’s gotten broader, and when he speaks I think I’m gonna piss myself because his voice slithers down my spine and grabs me low down. He’s t
elling me that I’m pretty and I don’t want him to. I remember I can speak, so I tell him I want to get out, but he just smiles and tells me that I don’t need to be scared, that Tom said I was shy, but I am so pretty and he’s not going to hurt me, he just wants us to have a nice time, and he lifts a hand to stroke my face but I don’t want him to do that so I swat it off, and half his smile disappears and what’s left of it has got too many teeth in it and he’s older than me and bigger than me and he’s blocking my way out and my brain’s too fucking fuzzy and I want out, I just want out, and I say that, but instead of getting out of my way he tells me that this is how he likes it, that he thought Tom was lying because nobody who looks like me is new at this, but clearly I am, I really am, and this is going to be special for both of us, and he reaches over with both hands and grabs me hard and his face is getting closer and closer to mine and I don’t want this, I remember this, I remember it and I don’t want it, so I do what I always do and hit out, but my hands aren’t my hands anymore 'cause my hands hit and hit and have to keep on hitting before it works and however hard they hit it doesn’t always work, but this time I hit him a couple of times and blood blossoms out of his nose and his lip splits over his teeth and he shrieks and lets go of me and scurries back and huddles in the corner, and the door is clear, so I open it and get the fuck out and the cold air slaps me and clears my head some, but my blood is boiling now and my fists are made of fire and iron, and those other fuckers are standing close by and I wait for them to make a move to try and stop me so I can hit them and hit them until they are no more, but they take one look at me and back the fuck away, and the only one left is Tom, Tom, Tom is still there, and he’s looking at me and his eyes are full of horror but he’s not coming up to me or backing me up or asking me what the fuck happened, and it’s then that it hits me, it’s then that I fucking realize what this is, what this always was, and even through my rage I fucking freeze solid because this can’t be happening, but it is, it fucking well is, and the guys and the ATR and the city disappear in the background and leave Tom standing there, Tom, my brother, my fucking brother staring at me, staring at my bloodied fist, and I can’t believe it and I don’t want to believe it, but it’s true.

  “You set me up.”

  I look at my brother’s eyes, I look at his lips moving, and I want him to make this go away, to make it unhappen, but I can’t hear what he’s stammering because of the rushing sound in my ears and it doesn’t matter anyway because his face gives me all the answers I need. Two talons grip me, one by the throat and one right in the chest, and they squeeze so damn tight that even through the rage that burns me up I can’t feel anything but that pain.

  My brother did this. Tom did this. He put me inside there and he was going to stand outside and wait for it to happen. He was going to let it happen to me.

  I wanna tell him all of that but when I open my mouth what comes out of it is a roar, and I don’t know what he sees in my face then but he shifts expression and stance and I know then that if I go for it, if I cross the three steps between us and lay a hand on him, this isn’t going to stop until one of us is dead. The talons twist in my chest and nearly drive me to the ground, but before I can sink down and bleed my heart out my feet start moving, one after the other, and they’re taking me away from Tom and everything else, and I think he calls out to me but my heart is beating too loud in my ears, so I walk and just carry on walking, and I don’t know where I’m going but I’m going away from all that and right now that’s all that matters.

  After minutes or hours or days my feet remember that they can stop walking, so they do. And then my body stops holding me up and I keel over, hoping that it’ll be over soon, that the pain in my chest will stop and I will stop with it, but instead I puke my guts out, and then black.

  I wake up and I’m not dead. I’m not even hurt. I’m alone in a dead-end alley, behind a bin. It’s dark, it’s quiet, and it feels safe. For a moment I wonder at my body, at how clever it can be without any help from me, at how it found me a safe spot like this to die or recover even though I wasn’t driving it. It takes me a while to remember how and why I got here. Then the hurting starts, the talons in my throat and chest competing for which can grip me the hardest. As I go through what happened and what it means, I feel my face splitting into a smile.

  It’s funny what familiarity can do to people. I’ve not felt this bad since I can’t remember. Years, probably. Hell, I’ve not felt this bad nor this much for years. But what I’m feeling is so familiar that it feels good, in a way. It feels like coming home. It feels like coming back to myself. I feel hopeless, helpless, and utterly, utterly alone. I feel as if even considering the possibility of genuine human contact would be completely pointless. There is no sanctuary, not anywhere, not with anyone. If Tom can turn on me, then anyone can. And I can’t stop fucking smiling.

  I feel free. The worst has already happened. It’s a relief, a joy, and a liberation, because the godsdamned slings and arrows of outrageous fucking fortune have already hit home and it’s all over, but I’m still here. My whole world has fucking crumbled but I’m still here, on my own, free of all my worries and responsibilities, even to myself.

  I sit with my chin resting on my knees, hugging my legs, trying to stop my bones from rattling. The cold has sunk all the way into me and it feels good. Everything hurts so good. I sit there rocking and shaking and smiling. Whatever the fuck it was that I drank is still in my stomach and is getting heavier and colder, until everything spasms and I have to throw up. I retch and retch until my stomach feels as empty as I do. I try to lie under the stars, but my head keeps spinning away from me.

  I’ve spent enough nights outside to know that staying here is not a good idea. It’s one of those ideas you maybe don’t come back from. It’s cold and it’s only going to get colder, but I can’t find it in myself to care about that. There’d be a poetic justice if it all ended here, my perfectly circular life, with me so far away from home and back precisely where I started. I’m cool with that. I’m looking forward to it, really. It seems so much easier than any of the alternatives.

  I lie there and shake and wait for the cold to blunt everything, to take me away from this, but my body refuses to go along with it. My shaking turns into shuddering and despite myself I can’t stay still anymore. My body gets up and stumbles out of the alleyway and towards the light and the people and the warmth. They seem a million clicks away, a million years away. I used to cling to them for comfort and companionship and identity and belonging. Now that’s all gone, that’s all impossible, but I want to crawl back anyway because it’s warm there and I don’t want to die.

  I don’t know where the fuck I am, so I stumble about randomly until I see the lights of the big top in the distance. That’s what I used to call home, that’s where the only hole I can crawl into is, so I set towards it. It seems impossibly far away, though. After a while the lights cut out, but I know where it is and I’ve got nowhere else to turn to so I keep on going. I have no idea how far it is and I don’t think I’ll make it, but I’m suddenly there, stumbling through the bubble gate up our tunnel and towards the pitiless steel web that is the big top in the dark.

  I walk past rows of doors that are closed to me, hear the sounds of people who don’t care if I live or die but will smile at me while they shaft me. I want to get to the stables, where there’s warmth and the company of creatures I can trust not to care and not to lie about it. I can crawl into a heap of hay. With a bit of luck I’ll get trampled in my sleep and never wake up.

  I don’t make it there, though. I’m just about to lift the stable flap when I get jerked back and spun around by the shoulder. When my head stops spinning, I see Kolya looking at me.

  “What you do? You ok?”

  I try to answer him, but I can’t get my mouth to work. Everything is numb and cold. He looks concerned. That makes me smile, because I remember how I used to treasure his concern. Now that’s gone. All gone. My smile seems to spook him. He g
rabs me above the elbow and drags me away. I would try to stop him – he doesn’t have any right to do this – but everything is so damn funny now, and the heat of his hand on my arm burns me like a brand.

  He knocks on Alya’s ATR door in an odd pattern. The door opens almost immediately and Alya steps out. “How bad?”

  “Bad.” Kolya shoves me into the ATR and makes me sit on the floor. The sudden heat burns my skin and makes me shiver uncontrollably.

  “Why are his lips blue? What the hell happened to him?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t see. I find him outside like this.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “I take him with me?”

  “No, leave him here. If he needs a medic, I can drive him straight there.”

  “Ok.” He bends down and grabs my chin. “I don’t know what happens, but you are ok now. Alya looks after you.”

  “Alya could do without,” she sighs. “You get going. It’s nearly curfew.”

  “Ok. You take care.” He shuts the door behind him. I realize this is the first time I’m alone in a room with Alya with the door closed. It seems wrong. I try to tell her that I can go to my bunk, that I’m ok, but my mouth still isn’t working.

  She sees me struggle and puts a hand against my forehead, then against my cheek. She sighs again. “I have no idea how with it you are, but if you can understand me please nod when I get it right.”

  I nod.

  “You’re cataclysmically drunk.”

  Nod.

  “And frozen.”

  Nod.

  “Anything else?”

  I just look at her.

  “Drugs, injuries?”

  I shrug. I don’t know.

  “Was this accidental?”

  I don’t know what the right answer is.

  “For fuck’s sake. Do I have to go and hurt someone?”

  I shake my head.