Terminal City: Book One in the Terminal City Saga

by Trevor Melanson

  Outside, the sky had turned a fleeting orange. Clouds were gathering high above the setting sun, never far from sight this time of year. It was supposed to rain tonight, but of course it always did in Terminal City.

  A few feet out the door, Asha’s phone started ringing. She fetched it from her coat pocket. It was her mother.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Just checking to see that you’re okay,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” replied Asha.

  “Okay. Good. I knew you would be. You saw the news?”

  “Yeah, just now on my way from class.”

  “Your father takes that bridge every day for work,” said Asha’s mother. “He crossed it half an hour before it fell— that’s what he told me. I still can’t believe it. The man on the news said twenty people are dead, maybe more.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

  “I was in class,” said Asha. And her mother knew it, or at least she should have. Her parents had a copy of her class schedule. Not because Asha wanted them to have one, mind you. Rather, it was because they paid her tuition, and nothing in this life comes free.

  “When are you coming home next?” It was the same question her mother always asked before they said their good-byes.

  “I’m not sure,” replied Asha. “I’m pretty busy with midterms. Maybe next weekend.”

  “Okay.” She sounded a little hurt. “Your aunt is going to be staying with us that weekend. It would be good if you spent some time with her. We don’t get to see her often. It’s been a few years. We told her how good you’ve been doing in your classes, and she’s very impressed. You know, your cousin—”

  “Okay, okay.” Asha stopped her there. She hated being talked about like a commodity, hated being compared with family friends and relatives, as if her accomplishments validated her mother’s parenting skills. “I’ll come home next weekend. I promise.”

  “Great.” That had done the trick. “I’ll let you go, then. Sounds like you have lots of studying to do.”

  “Yeah.” Of course, Asha had no intention of starting tonight.

  “Love you,” said her mother. “Stay safe.”

  “You too.”

  “Bye.”

  “See ya.” Asha hung up first.

  With her phone still in hand, Asha jaywalked across University Avenue, a main street that looped around Carwin. She felt her fingers vibrate just as she reached the other side.

  It was a text message from Mason.

  She hadn’t talked to him in two days, not since the night they walked around campus. The night she’d told him she wasn’t ready to jump into anything. It seemed then that he had taken the news well enough, but she’d messaged and called him since, and he hadn’t replied. Until now, that is. She liked Mason, quite a lot in fact, but she needed a bit more time, at least before she got serious. She wasn’t sure he understood that. Maybe he felt rejected. Or maybe he just needed time too.

  After a moment of hesitation, Asha thumbed her phone’s touchscreen and opened the text message: Hey, sorry for the late reply. Had to deal with family stuff then my battery died. When are you free next?

  Asha wondered if she was in the mood to see Mason. Her gut quickly provided an answer, but she waited five minutes to reply anyway: I’m free tonight. Want to come over?

  Mason’s response was quicker: Sure. When?

  In 30?

  Sounds good.

  Did you see what happened to Granville Bridge?

  Yeah… See you soon.

  Asha pocketed her phone. She was almost home now, and it was getting dark. What little color that remained in the clouds overhead had turned from orange to a strange crimson. Neat sunset. She thought nothing more of it.

  Chapter 22

  Punctual as ever, Mason knocked on Asha’s apartment door twenty-nine minutes after she’d said to come in thirty. She let him in, hesitated, and then hugged him.

  “It everything okay?” she asked, closing and locking the door behind him.

  Mason nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about the disappearing act.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “Life happens sometimes.”

  Death too, thought Mason.

  “You look pale,” said Asha. “Paler than usual, anyhow. You sure you’re okay?”

  He nodded again. “Just losing my summer tan,” he told her. The truth wasn’t an option here.

  “So that was you tanned?” she said.

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  “You look even more like a vampire than usual.”

  “I heard they’re in fashion right now.”

  “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Asha perused the fridge before reaching inside. “I have half a bottle of wine left. Do you want a glass?”

  “Always.” A cigarette would have been nice too; it had been days since his last.

  She grabbed two over-sized wine glasses from the cupboard above the sink and poured them both some chardonnay.

  “Thanks.” Mason took a quick swig from his.

  Asha sat herself on a cheap-looking metal stool beside the counter. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said. “Sorry that I can’t be clearer with you.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Clearer about us.”

  “Right.” Mason sipped his wine. “It’s okay.”

  “You’re not mad?” She was twirling the lock of hair that dangled down her chest, her arms folded together.

  “No, of course not.” And that was the truth. Though even if it hadn’t been, Mason was too exhausted to be mad right now. Too tired to fight. He took a seat as well, on the stool beside hers.

  “So, I was wondering something,” said Asha, in a tone that suggested she was changing the subject.

  “What’s that?”

  She set down her glass. “I was wondering what you were like in high school.”

  “That was a long time ago,” replied Mason.

  “Not that long ago. Don’t you ever get, I don’t know, nostalgic?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Was it that bad?” Asha grinned just a little.

  “Let’s be honest, I’m kind of a strange guy,” he said. “Strange and high school don’t really go together.”

  “Were you bullied?” she asked.

  “At first,” he replied, “until everyone got a little older and stopped caring. I stopped caring too. I actually did this thing in my head when I realized I wasn’t ever going to fit in.” Mason held up both hands, one over the other, straightening his fingers until they were parallel. “I imagined there were these two lines, and most people, they existed somewhere in between them.” He peered through the space between his hands. “But I knew I didn’t. I existed somewhere outside them. So the question for me was where to place myself. It had to be either below or above the lines because clearly I didn’t fit within them. And, well, I decided I wanted to live above them. But that meant being better than they were, being smarter, holding myself to a higher standard. Even when it was inconvenient. Even when it made me feel like more of an outsider than I already was.”

  “Do you still hold yourself to a higher standard?” asked Asha.

  “I try,” said Mason.

  “I see. That explains why you’re so rational about everything all the time.” Asha poked him.

  “Well, somebody needs to be.” He appreciated her poke. “Your turn now. What was your high school experience like? I bet you were popular.”

  “Why do you think that?” she asked.

  “For the obvious reason.” Mason blushed; the color made him look more like his old self.

  “Which is?”

  “You’re, you know… a very good-looking woman.”

  “Why thank you, Mason Cross.”
She was teasing him, but he could tell she enjoyed hearing him say the words. “I guess I was pretty popular in high school, but I definitely didn’t let it get to my head,” said Asha. “Being popular isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It was just more… pressure. Pressure to look a certain way, to act a certain way. To be honest, I don’t miss it one bit. My parents already pressure me enough, my mom especially. I put a lot of pressure on myself too. The last thing I need is more people expecting me to be someone I’m not.

  “Does your mom pressure you at all?” she asked.

  Mason shrugged. “Not really. I think she just wants me to be happy. My dad used to. Well, sort of. In a passive-aggressive kind of way. I could always just tell with him, like he expected me to be making all the same decisions that he made at my age. He thought I was wasting time, wasting my intellect or whatever.” Mason paused and then chuckled to himself. “If I’m being honest with you, I probably was wasting a bit of time just to spite him. Not because I didn’t love him, but I wanted to teach him a lesson, make him realize I wasn’t his fucking reincarnation. Bit of a vicious cycle, I guess.”

  “Men.” Asha shook her head, smiling.

  “What?”

  “That’s just such a man thing to do.”

  Mason didn’t take it personally. “Like I said before, we’re all clichés— even me.”

  “Well, no one can be perfect,” she said.

  “I don’t know. I think you come pretty damn close.”

  Asha visibly recoiled at the very idea. “No. God, no. Why do men think women want to hear that? That we’re perfect? It’s just another idea no woman can live up to.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Mason held his hands out like a shield.

  “I know, I know,” she replied. “You’re just trying to be sweet. I’m sorry. Like I said, I’m not perfect. Far from it.”

  “We can talk about that if you prefer,” he said.

  “Talk about what?” she asked.

  “All your flaws.”

  Asha laughed. “I don’t think there’s enough time for that.”

  “Well, pick one then,” said Mason. “Come on. I’ve shared personal things with you.”

  “I don’t know.” Asha topped up her glass of wine. “It’s kind of embarrassing.” She turned toward the nearest window, one of only two in her tiny bachelor apartment. “Okay, fine,” she said. “I have these panic attacks sometimes. Like when something is really stressing me out, or actually it’s usually a bunch of stuff, piling up until I feel like I can’t breathe. Sometimes it gets really intense, and I need to stop whatever I’m doing, and… yeah.”

  “How do you calm yourself down?” he asked.

  She looked back toward him. “Sometimes with a couple drinks.”

  “Cheers to that.”

  “I also remind myself that I can’t be everything for everyone,” she said.

  “That’s true,” replied Mason. “But if it were up to me, I still wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I don’t care what you say.”

  “You’re cute, Mason.” Asha brushed his leg. “I don’t believe you, but you’re cute.”

  This time, Mason made the first move. He hadn’t planned on kissing Asha tonight but fuck it. He’d just been to hell and back, more or less literally, and life felt shorter than it had just a few days ago— since the last time he’d seen her. Between then and now, he’d witnessed so much ugliness and she was so the opposite. Thankfully, the kiss was well-received. She leaned her body into his. There were no regrets this time.

  When the kiss finally broke, Asha wore a satisfied grin. Neither of them knew what it meant, but it certainly felt good. It felt right. “That was unexpected,” she said.

  “Sorry.” He wasn’t, really, and didn’t look it either.

  “Don’t be.” Asha hooked her finger into the collar of his shirt and led him from the kitchen to her bed. Mason didn’t resist. She pulled him down onto the sheets beside her. They bounced, and then they kissed again. Slowly, she pushed his chest with her fingertips until he was lying flat on his back. Then she climbed on top.

  Mason couldn’t think of anything clever to say.

  Asha mounted herself on his waist and began unbuttoning his favorite shirt (he always wore one of his favorites when he knew he would see her). But Mason didn’t let her finish. He sat upright to kiss her again, and because he could unbutton it faster. Besides, he should take control — even if it felt a little staged on his end — because women liked that. Or at least he’d read something somewhere to that effect. He lifted her up as best he could, kind of awkwardly, and swung her around, planting himself on top. Good enough. She moaned and pushed her pelvis into his. She did indeed like that.

  Their kisses became deeper. He cupped one of her breasts, caressing it. She ran her hand through his hair and down his spine. Mason kissed and sucked on her neck. Asha liked that too.

  “I knew you were a vampire,” she said.

  “Oh yeah?” He bit her softly.

  She traced his chest with her index finger. “Yeah.” Then she moved her hand downward in the space between their bodies, past his navel, past his belt, and into his jeans.

  * * *

  Lying next to Asha’s warm body, her head on his chest, Mason wondered about the coldness he now carried with him. He felt rather content at the moment, even when his thoughts drifted to dark places, so there was hope for reprieve. If his present happiness was diminished from what it could have been, he couldn’t tell. Even with death weighing on him more heavily than ever before, Mason was the happiest he’d been since before his father died. The feeling was fleeting, he knew, but he’d enjoy it while it lasted.

  Asha, meanwhile, slipped in and out of consciousness. She seemed just as content as he was, or at the very least cozy. Her bed’s thick comforter had been tossed aside during sex and now covered only their feet, but they kept each other warm enough.

  Outside, it started to pour. Mason could hear the soft drumming of raindrops through the window.

  “So, when was the last time you, you know?” Asha still had her eyes shut. “Before tonight, obviously.”

  “The last time I you-knowed?” replied Mason. “It’s been a bit.”

  “You weren’t a virgin, were you?” she asked.

  “No.” He sounded only a little defensive. “I dated this girl for about six months a couple years back. We had lots of you-know. But I guess it has been a while.”

  “No complaints.” Asha kissed his chest. “You were great. And also very, how should I put this, in your head. Not in a bad way. It just seemed like you were thinking about something really intensely the whole time.”

  “Huh. Is that weird?”

  “We’re all weird, Mason. So, what were you thinking about?”

  “During sex?” he asked.

  She nodded, her eyes still closed.

  “Honestly, nothing deep,” said Mason. “I was probably just thinking about the best way to have sex with you. Like, sex strategies.”

  “Sex strategies?”

  “Yeah, basically.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t unraveling the mysteries of the universe while you were doing me?” She opened her eyes and looked up from his chest to his face.

  “Well,” he said, “you were pretty stellar.”

  She smiled. “You too, emo vampire.”

  “Girls always say that, though,” replied Mason, “regardless of whether or not it’s true.”

  “How would you know? You’ve only been with two of us.” She poked his arm.

  “I never said that.”

  “Then how many have you been with?” she asked.

  “Two,” he answered frankly, “but you still inferred.”

  “I’m good at inferring.” She slid herself up his body and kissed him on the lips. “Want another drink?” />
  “Sure.”

  Asha kissed him one more time before getting out of bed. Mason sat upright and eyed her appreciatively as she moved about the apartment naked. Save for her socks. Somehow, those had stayed on. He enjoyed looking at her almost as much as he enjoyed touching her, at least like this.

  She poured the rest of the wine, which wasn’t much, into a single glass. “We’ll share,” she said, setting down the bottle.

  But two steps out of the kitchen, Asha stopped in her tracks, transfixed by the window in front of her, or more likely what she saw outside it.

  “What’s the matter?” Mason got to his feet.

  The wine glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the hardwood floor. She jumped but didn’t avert her eyes. Mason hurried over and placed a comforting hand on her bare shoulder. Then he followed her gaze to the window, and he understood immediately.

  It was the rain. To be clear, not just any rain. This downpour was about as red as blood. Blood that was pouring from the sky and streaming down the window pane.

  “What the fuck?” Mason muttered under his breath. He walked over to the window for a better look, scanning a stretch of road from one block to the next. He could see other people standing behind their windows too, scared and confused. He figured they were probably even more frightened than he was. At least he knew it wasn’t the apocalypse. Rather, it was… it had to be… oh goddamnit. Fucking Rowland.

  Which meant he was still alive. Who else could make the sky bleed?

  Mason’s heart sank. Of course it couldn’t have been that easy. Life had never given him any breaks before, so why should he expect it to start now? Rowland was still out there and Mason’s promise to the Spirit Realm still unfulfilled. He almost wished it were the apocalypse— at least no one had made him responsible for that.

  And just what the hell was Rowland doing, he wondered? Then it hit him. It was something Lester had once said, back when he first showed him the laboratory underneath the house. Mason had asked about the red lighting. “It’s good ambience for doing necromancy,” he recalled Lester saying.