Red Sky: Rising

by Ben Archer

  By the time the self-examination is over, I’m wearing underwear and a half-crooked look of revulsion. Everything else is bundled up into a sloppy pile on the filthy bathroom floor. The brief moment for myself turned into a twenty minute journey of self-discovery seeking out every flaw on an extremely damaged body.

  It hurts.

  A lot.

  I begin my uncomfortable return back to reality by wading through the soiled mound of clothes. It quickly becomes apparent that getting redressed in the cramped room is not going to be as easy as stripping down was. My elbow must hit the same damn towel rack, in the same damn place, at least a dozen times. Just when I think a sore arm is going to be my worst problem ─the common act of picking up a jacket drops a bomb on me. More specifically, three little ones.

  The trio of coins plummet from some lost pocket with the force of Earth-shattering boulders. Flakes of dried blood paint the floor on impact. The metal lets out a piercing wail that skips the ears, and heads straight down into my heart. The miserable souvenirs seize control of my every breath; constricting them into gasps that do little more than tease me with oxygen.

  My mind does a full swan dive, with a full gainer and half twist, into the cesspool of failure. It replays the dissected girl that laid on top of these very coins. The blood on the floor has me running from the tiny coins as if they were actual bombs. I want nothing more than to flush them down the toilet, or heave the little bastards into an active volcano, but that would require touching them, and I never want to feel their cold bite on my skin again.

  The tiny room won’t allow me to get far enough away from the cursed things. The best I can do is toss a grimy towel over them so they’re out of view. Hiding them allows me to get some mental separation from the humiliation and guilt. My irrational side wants nothing more than to walk out the door, lock it, and burn this place to the ground. But the longer I look at the little knots on the ground, the more I realize what I actually have to do. It’s the same thing I asked of Quinn… I have to make a deal with the Devil.

  Realistically, we’re flying blind out here. No one’s on our side. We have absolutely nothing and even less to lose. We don’t have even the slightest clue what we could be walking into. Hope and willpower will only take us so far. For the rest, we could really use some leverage. Though it sours my soul to even think it, having some financial insurance could make a huge difference. I told Quinn to use her monster for good, and I need to do the same. These little round bastards can be made into more than monuments to my personal failure. I don’t know how yet, but my gut says so.

  The renewed spirit gives me the courage to (eventually) remove the towel. The very sight of them fills the toilet with the contents of my stomach. No matter how well intentioned, I can’t make peace with the idea of those bloody things. Trembling fingers have to carefully unwind an entire roll of toilet paper to bury the damn golden devils under again. It’s unnerving because either way, tossing them or taking them with me, they have to be moved. I might as well do the smart thing. As much as it makes my skin crawl…

  I decide it would be best to bundle the entire wad of toilet paper around them. Then I shove the hefty pile into the deepest pocket before I can change my mind. And as soon as the last piece clears, I try to forget they ever existed. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed the extra weight before, but now they’re all I can feel.

  A last glimpse in the mirror reveals that I look even more crazed than when I came in here to relax. The cracked glass splits my face into three distorted pieces; each more disturbing than the last. I could let them bother me, rip away my confidence, or use every bruise as motivation to leave this room a better man. I’ve earned each one and the job’s not over yet.

  The sudden attitude upswing launches me out of the little room with a vengeance. I round the corner, ready to conquer the world, with a fire in my belly. Then I discover Quinn does not share my revved up emotions. The exhausted kid has passed out right by the front door. Seeing her curled up in the cheap chair is both heartwarming and breaking. She’s still here, but what she’s had to go through, I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. The heartache she’s experienced in a few short days is more than enough for an entire lifetime. Putting all macho crap aside, I couldn’t do it.

  The least I can do is not let her sleep on the rickety chair. Not that the bed will be much better. Its stiff sheets and course comforter could be mistaken for a poorly paved road. It works though.

  I find myself gawking at her little hands on the way over to the bed. It’s amazing to think that those delicate fingers have torn through entire armies of trained killers like paper dolls. They’re the reason I’m still alive to be able to lay my face on these overstuffed and scratchy pillows.

  My muscles celebrate being able to finally stretch out from being crammed into the narrow bus seat. My brain is the next to attempt to relax. It tries shrinking all of the worried feelings into a single, hopeful thought. While I have no idea what the rest of our journey will bring, I’m simply going to enjoy this brief moment because, for once, I’m not alone.

  Quinn Chapter 1: Come in from the cold

  A churning stomach keeps sleep as nothing more than an unobtainable dream. I might have gotten an hour or two of actual rest, but that’s about it. The rest of the time I’ve been making plaster constellations out of ceiling cracks and praying for sleep to take me away for a little while longer.

  It never does.

  I’m trapped in this living nightmare instead. After a while, I simply refuse to close my eyes anymore. Why should I? They only show me terrible things. Miranda’s shaky arms wrapped around daddy bleeding in the dirt. Morgan is down there too, with that stupid little knife of his. Then there’s mom who ─right before being pulled into the murderous crowd─ said, “I’m sorry.”

  To Me! Why??? It was supposed to be me!!!

  Her face had the same ghostly expression as the day this all started. Everyone heard the door, but only mom knew it was different. I don’t know how, it was only three ordinary knocks on our worn out door. Not even the dog thought they were special enough to bark at. But Mom knew, and each one sucked a little more life from her.

  The first froze her solid.

  The second removed all color from her paralyzed skin. She became a ghost looking at a plain wooden door.

  The final one stole the sparkle from her bright eyes. If you’ve ever seen a corpse up close, you’ll know what I mean.

  I saw the same look years ago. Mom was feeding Miranda in the kitchen when I came home. My usual order of “hellos” was Mom, Miranda, and then grandpa. Morgan and Dad usually didn’t get home until way later in the day. Gramps would always sneak me some kind of treat that mom wasn’t supposed to know about. I would grab it on the sly and enjoy it in my room. It was our thing. He really loved having the ultimate power of a grandparent; doing whatever the Hell you want because you’re the parent of the parent.

  That day he was resting in the living room watching his favorite TV show. It was some old space western that lasted one season. At least I thought he was sleeping… Then I saw his eyes and their dull appearance. Mom had that same look the day the men came. The knock was redundant, her eyes told me what was coming.

  I was dead.

  My body just had to catch up.

  Dad swung the door open without a care in the world. He had no idea what was waiting on the other side. Although, that would quickly change.

  The bastards didn’t even wait for Miranda to leave the room before explaining their compensation. $5,452.55. I’ll NEVER forget that number down to the penny. How could you forget the exact value of your life? And why that amount? Is it the same for everyone? Am I more or less valuable than others?

  Mom strained to hold back the inevitable tears as the soldiers explained the details like I were an old pair of shoes. Their money was all the sympathy my family required. The Lords made it known when the guards come, you go with them. Anything beyond that is a gift.

  We had a
ll seen what fighting against them would do. Years ago a boy from my class tried to hide under the bed, and he was strapped to a pole in the center of town within the hour. The poor kid got to watch the bats eat his entire family before being sent to the arena. Of course, not before suffering on that pole for another long week. He was our warning. I never knew his name, only heard him called “violatore della legge” by our neighbors, but he’s the reason I didn’t say a word that day. It was just my turn.

  The next hour was a blur of anger and tears, and none were mine. I had already accepted my fate. Only a soulless mask was left behind to say goodbye.

  I was cold and hallow because I had to be. I even stayed steady when Morgan refused to leave his room. How could I be mad at him? He was angry, scared, and miserable like me. My only slip up came when Daddy called me “pookie bear.” Several painful tears broke through my hardened shell. That was his nickname for when I got in trouble and he had to explain why. He would always say, “Now pookie bear, you know you can’t…” whatever goofy thing I had done that time.

  The lingering smell of his cherry tobacco is one of those things I never knew I would miss. I can still feel his famous hugs. The way he would pull me in with one arm, wrap the other over my shoulder, it felt as if nothing could ever hurt me inside that protective bubble. I even miss the weird things like Miranda’s high pitched laugh. She would sound like a chipmunk on helium. Or how about when Mom used to drag me to the cheap movie theater every Tuesday? I used to only go for their extra-buttery popcorn. How much would I give for any of those lost treasures again?

  The worst part was knowing that everything I did would be for the last time. A person should never know when it’s their time to go. I tried to burn those memories in so deep they would have to go to Heaven with me.

  That single tear was still drying when Miranda gave me a handful of berries for the trip. She didn’t really know where I was going, certainly didn’t know I wasn’t coming back.

  At least I wasn’t supposed to.

  So I bit my lip when the soldiers returned. I even opened the door for them myself. The sun was so bright that the men were only flat silhouettes on a burning background. That was perfectly fine with me; I didn’t want to see their disgusting faces again. I was as close to total acceptance as a dying person can be. All I wanted to do was enjoy the warm sun on my face one last time. The dirty pricks couldn’t even give me that.

  They interrupted my bliss with a hot glove on my naked shoulder. The scorching leather squeaked with every twist of his crooked fingers. He shook me, demanded that I look him in the eyes. My stubbornness wanted to fight, but knew the consequences my family would suffer. So I gave in and let the two vivid eyes crawl out of the dark and swallow me whole. Then I was gone.

  …Until I wasn't anymore.

  Because, somehow, I woke back up. And now I’m here. Stuck in a place with nothing left for me! I had already made peace with death! So what now? What’s left other than more death? Not mine either! All the ones it will take to keep living this pointless life.

  The only things I feel anymore are anger, hatred, and rage! About the time I look over and imagine slicing the tip of Hayden’s nose off, I figure it’s time to get up and shut this out for a while. And I want to do it without his rambling mouth!

  Slinking off the bed is extremely easy, since the stiff mattress doesn’t flex at all. Hayden doesn’t even skip a snoring beat. I do stumble a bit while putting my feet down in the plush carpet. I'm still waiting for my body to feel normal again. Everything works so well that it’s like learning to walk all over again. My leg muscles want to push so hard that I’m almost skipping around the room. It’s odd to feel so fragile, yet crush everything I touch.

  And hearing, don’t even get me started on hearing. It takes serious concentration to not pick up absolutely everything! Every scurrying bug, whistling nose hairs, grass growing… EVERY. DAMN. THING is amplified so much that it’s hard to hear any of it! It’s all one big tangled mess of noise.

  I gently pry the door open to go in search of distractions. My hand, predictably, crushes the handle into a crumpled wad of aluminum foil. Not even this wakes the hibernating Hayden. Good, the last thing I want to hear is how unsafe going out alone is. Before I accidently do something that stirs him, I quickly slip outside and shut it quietly behind me.

  The moment I reach the fresh air, the crazy train is derailed. All the irrational thoughts melt and float away on the glorious breeze. The best thing about this city is the way it smells. It always smells fresh, like a spring shower has just swept through.

  My fingers embrace the warm railing as it soaks up the perfect midday sun. Sliding them around allows me to sense the slight temperature variations between the screws and metal itself. I enjoy following the slender crease where the handrail was welded together. The little bumps flow like a river rushing to the ocean. Things that should be impossible to detect, like the steel pores expanding in the heat, are now unmistakably clear. None of this feels right anymore, but it’s all uniquely wonderful.

  The scratchy concrete makes it apparent that I forgot shoes. Instead of risking knocking the door off the hinges going back in, I decide to skip them all together. Going barefoot shouldn't be a problem in a place that’s a perfect climate controlled 72 degrees all the time. Plus, there’s something energizing about the way the ground feels on my naked toes.

  I leap up onto the warm railing and assume I’ll tumble right back off. My old body would have slipped off the thin railing almost immediately.

  Not this new one.

  It’s a magnet.

  There’s no more balancing. I’m free to stroll around on this narrow beam as easily as flat ground. Forward, backward, jumping, sliding; it doesn’t matter. After that, dismounting and dropping two stories onto solid pavement is as effortless as breathing.

  I feel so alive! Every direction has some fantastic new treat to enjoy! All the hypnotic colors, smells, and sounds are living creatures in this brand new world!

  I allow my eyes to drift closed in the middle of a busy crowd. People rush by and immerse me in all these new sensations; heartbeats, sweat, perfume, drumming feet, clanking ice cubes, all creating a beautiful symphony of life. They paint a brilliant picture of a hidden world that’s always existed without me. It’s as if there’s been this beautiful masterpiece buried beneath my dull grey life all along!

  Well, not anymore. The curtains have swung wide open and all her secrets are spilling out! From the slight tug of gravity, to the low hum of flowing electricity, and even the machines clicking away in precise synchronicity. The distant buses, grinding hundreds of feet below, could be buzzing along right next to me! The magic of my new reality is wildly intoxicating, and that’s before I open my eyes!

  The entire world explodes into the rich colors of a vibrant dream. When I reach for the neon lights casually wandering off billboards, their beams bounce off in a million different directions. Everyone stares at the giggling girl, but I don’t care. They can’t see these wonderful creatures the way I can. This alien world is mine alone to explore. All I wanna do is chase the neon pixies from building to building. Dance along as the brilliant signs release more and more of my magical friends. In this blissful moment there’s only me, twirling across rooftops, swaying to the soundtrack of life while the heartbeat of Earth intertwines with mine.

  My hair whips carelessly on the perfect breeze. The cool tips slash against my hot cheeks. Down below the scribbles of people are franticly trying to discover what I’m doing up here. I can hear their conversations and most have decided I’m going to jump.

  Am I?

  Can I fly? Maybe.

  I can do everything else!

  If not, that’s ok too! There’s nothing left for me here anymore! I toy with the nervous crowd by dancing along the high ledge. I continue teasing them by dipping one foot over and enjoying their collective gasp. All of creation spins as my senses fire to incredible new heights. My heels rock back and for
th on the steep edge. Their screams push me closer to the brink every time.

  Their fear is beautiful.

  Their fear is addictive.

  Balancing along the sharp ledge allows me to enjoy it all. I lean in slowly to find just the right balance between sky and ground; the delicate center of the scale where the weight of a feather could either push me back to safety… or hurtling off a cliff. In the end, it’s the weight of my shifting smile that tips the scales. I’m ready to fly.

  There’s no more self-doubt. The last bit of skin leaves the security of solid concrete. This feeling is the first real freedom I’ve ever known.

  Freedom from Pain.

  Control.

  Weakness.

  Gravity’s mighty grip.

  Even freedom from time itself as the endless fall continues.

  The sea of lights shatter from my body slicing through them. My skin senses the slight temperature change of the rapidly approaching ground like an ear with a cup nearing its top. My hand mindlessly reaches out to a grab a nearby tree, then swings me effortlessly from branch to branch.

  THIS. IS. FREAKING. AWESOME!!!!!!!

  I can do incredible things without knowing how or why. They just happen!!! Like gliding through the tree, the only choice I make is to kick the talking squirrel on the way by!

  A mob of astonished people have gathered to watch me. They marvel over my perfect landing, and I soak up every second of admiration. I’m grinning from ear to ear while being swept away in a blanket of pure ecstasy. My whole life has been lived as a mouse scurrying away from stomping feet. I’ve never been anything special, just something to shove aside for someone more important or powerful.

  NEVER.

  AGAIN.

  My power burns inside like a fire that refuses to be contained anymore. No one will EVER push me down or make me feel weak again. NOTHING will ever be able to…