by Micah Thomas
After a long silence, Henry opened up with a yawn. “So, you got a big life out there? What are they doing while you fuck around with me?”
Thelon glanced over at him then returned his eyes to the mountainous turns as they increased elevation. “What do you mean a big life?”
“A real person. Job and wife and house and all that shit.”
“I guess some of that stuff. But none of that feels real, you know? I know what I have, but it’s not real.” Thelon frowned, gut sick with remorse as he acknowledged distance from himself.
Henry must have sensed a sensitive topic and shifted conversation gears. “When we meet her—Cassie—she’s not going to remember me, right?”
“I guess not.” But you are remembering her, right?
“You think I can get you to spot me for a haircut—maybe some newer clothes?” Henry’s was tone thoughtful and a little insecure. “I mean, I like looking like a ranch hand in Rez hand-me downs, but maybe she’ll think I’m a loser.”
Thelon smiled. “I think we can make that happen.”
Henry straightened in his seat and investigated the visor mirror, giving it a goofy smirk. “It’s like an arranged marriage or some shit, going to meet my wife. What if she doesn’t like me?”
“That’s not even what I’m worried about,” Thelon said and changed lanes to bypass slower cars.
“How are you going to get her to come along?” Henry asked.
Thelon nodded. “Yeah. Exactly. I have no idea. I’ve got you though.”
Henry raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, then sat quiet for a minute and said, “You know, I bet I can convince her.”
“No scams.”
Thelon glimpsed at Henry, who was staring out the side window, head slightly bobbing to an unheard beat. “What’s up? You got quiet.”
“Oh, nothing. When you were a kid didn’t you ever look out a car window or bus window or whatever and imagine a funny little man running beside your car?”
“What?”
“Like, he didn’t have any real details to him, but he was a God damn acrobat, leaping and jumping light post to light post, over and under trees.”
Thelon thought back to his childhood. Those memories were intact—things before the split. There hadn’t been any road trips really, except to Virginia for a few funerals. “I don’t think I did that.”
Over the next seven hours, they barely spoke. Thelon focused on the road. Henry sat still, gazing out the window, sometimes sleeping like it was the most natural thing in the world. To Thelon, everything was calm.
Green rolling hills gave way to red mountains. Highways merged and split and merged and split. He kept the speed at just five over the limit out of caution, but rarely saw any police. Great broad trees, lakes and rivers, forest preserves, and signs for tribal lands were the only landmarks besides a few stops for gas and bathroom breaks.
Henry made no mention of any concerns he might have until the afternoon on the approach to Boise. The snowcapped mountain range behind the city looked like a movie backdrop, hand painted with little highlights of the setting sun. Darkness, so complete and jarring, fell between mountain carve outs as the dying light settled below the horizon.
“Thelon?”
“Yes, Henry?”
“Where do you think these other cars on the road are going? Family road trips? Work-related travel?”
“I guess. People are always going somewhere.”
“Did you notice, by any chance, that there’s been a car following us for like, the last several hours?”
Thelon had not noticed. Rather, he’d presumed this was a common route. Yes, the driver had been aggressive, but compared to his own grandpa-like driving, everyone on the road was that way.
“I’ll just, uh…let him pass?” Thelon slowed to just under the speed limit and watched in the rearview.
Thelon planned on taking the last Boise exit for a cheap outskirt’s hotel or motel. The car had miles to get around him.
Instead, the vehicle rode their ass and started flashing their high beams, intermittently blinding Thelon.
“I don’t think they are friendly,” Henry said. “Just take this exit.”
The headlights didn’t follow, and Thelon thought no more about it—at least until Henry, sounding a bit scared, let out a weird laugh.
“Turn right. Pull up to this diner over there. Can you fight at all?”
“Why?”
“They’re still tailing us. They just turned off their lights.” Henry half turned around in his seat to stare out the back. “Hey! Fuck off!” he said and flipped both middle fingers at the car.
Thelon didn’t anything in the rearview, just his own bloodshot eyes. He parked in the first available spot at the diner closest to the hotel. It was indeed open, but only a few truckers seemed to be inside. “Bro, there is no car following us.”
Henry scratched his head. “I see that. Weird.” He swiveled in his seat to confirm.
Thelon got out first, followed by Henry. With a beep, the car locked and they entered the sleepy diner. None of the handful of patrons so much as glanced at them and Thelon was glad. He’d had a vague worry of encountering racism in rural America, but the few stops they’d made, no one said shit. As they took a seat, the sky roared with unexpected, furious thunder.
“Holy shit, we just missed a storm,” Henry said, gazing out at the lightning and fat drops that might be a precursor to hail. He shivered and knocked over his water with a twitch of his arm. “Dude, the car is back. Look!”
Though it was circling the hotel with its lights off, the driver’s face remained masked in shadow. The taxi driver. Shitbarf. The bird. The creep. Weird shit was piling on, but he was tired and hungry and didn’t want to let his emotions run with this one. Not in front of Henry. “Ignore him. If he comes inside, we’ll deal with it.”
Henry blinked a few times and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. “Whatever you say, boss. What looks good?”
Henry feels it. My madness spreads, or something about being together triggers him. In the words of T, ‘don’t be weird’. “Soup? Places like this always have good soup.” He wasn’t sure if that was true, but it sounded normal and normal was good.
A tired waitress took their orders: two bowls and a coke for Henry.
Henry emptied several packets of crumbled saltines into his and slurped the chicken soup with gusto. Thelon picked at it. He was hungry, but now that the food was there, he had little appetite and only sipped some broth.
I’ll poke the bear. Let’s see if he’ll spill the beans. Thelon said, “Tell me something about you.”
“Oh? Huh. I don’t know. I’m just a guy with no future.”
Thelon frowned and stared at his soup. I don’t know how to do this.
“When I was a kid…” Henry began.
“How old are you now?”
“That’s not important. Here’s a story, because you asked for a story. When I was a little kid, this one time—I was about eleven years old—I was home alone during a thunderstorm. I’d spent the whole day working on a farm down the road. This was in eastern Washington, and I was living with my aunt and uncle out in the country. The house was a rickety old thing—almost a barn. For some reason, when I walked home that afternoon, nobody was there. I didn’t know if they went out to dinner without me again or what. I was a burden on them. Dad had ditched when I was a baby. Mom was a drunk mess, pawning me off on relatives and foster care.”
Thelon pushed his soup aside, engrossed in the tale. “Sounds rough.”
“It wasn’t so bad, but the storm was. The sky turned amber—kinda a green amber–and I felt the pressure change. The power went out before the storm hit. I sat in the living room in front of the dead TV and watched it come in all at once. The wind screamed. The whole house shook with the thunder, and I know it sounds dumb, but it had rage in its voice. Louder than any sound I’d ever heard. A fear overtook me then. Even though I was young, I had a mental breakdown. Hysterica
l crying until my throat closed. I cried for my mother even though she didn’t even live there.”
“Dude.” Thelon rubbed his eyes. This shit is heavy. No wonder he’s a mess.
“Yeah. I have no idea how long it lasted, but when it was over, I went upstairs and got in bed. My cousin, aunt, and uncle came home later. I heard them, but I never told anyone about what happened.”
Another lightning bolt struck somewhere close, sending reverberating thunder through the diner. However, the rain had subsided and it looked calm and dark outside.
Thelon laid down cash and a tip and said, “That creepy car has stopped driving around. Want to get a hotel room now? One room, two beds okay?”
“Yeah.”
Henry was an open book—a strange one at that—and Thelon found himself liking the man. He got vulnerable real quick, like all that shit is there at the surface. I don’t have any experience like that. Nothing as compelling and clear to pin my identity on.
The hotel connected to the restaurant through an internal hallway to the lobby. Bright and welcoming, the place was suited for business travel, TVs and computers in a business center, and a fancy gym. Even in this outskirt of town, Boise was delightfully metropolitan, and the hotel even had a Starbucks in the lobby, selling wine instead of coffee at this hour to the few travelers staying there. I’d like a drink, but no. Sleep. That’s what I need.
Thelon had only roughly mapped out the journey and had guessed that minor cities and towns on the trip would only have scary motels and truck stop places, but this was nice. After checking in, Thelon lingered by the café bar, tempted to order a drink, but Henry started down the hall to their room.
Releasing a deep breath, Thelon let go of the longing for alcohol and followed Henry. Maybe if he falls asleep, I’ll sneak out. Nice was a bland word, but it was all Thelon could think of to describe the room; two beds, a tidy desk, ample USB chargers, and the ubiquitous TV.
Henry sat on the bed near to the window while Thelon unpacked his toiletries in the bathroom. “Yo, you got an extra toothbrush?”
Thelon said, “Call the front desk. They will bring you one.”
“Really?” Henry rummaged in the unfolded clothes in his duffel.
“I think so. I don’t think I’m used to staying anywhere this fancy.”
“Me neither,” Henry said and laughed. He rang up room service, and they brought him a toothbrush within five minutes.
Thelon looked at his hair and beard in the mirror then glanced at Henry. We should both get a trim in Phoenix or somewhere... Just two guys wearing underwear and t-shirts. Damn. Weird but also brotherly.
Henry bunched up his pillows and propped up himself on his elbow. “I could get used to this lifestyle. So, what about you? What’s your story?”
“What do you mean?” Thelon asked, ready to shut off the light.
“You carrying around a tragedy like me?”
“No. I don’t think so. Good family. Good schools. Like I said, in that other life, things went weird and I…well, I had good friends and shit. I was into parties. Big ones. But here, in this life, I’d say nothing really bad ever happened to me.”
“I’m sticking with you then. Born under a lucky star, this guy.”
You don’t want to know my story, but you’ll get it later. “You want the TV on or something?”
“Naw. I’m just gonna…” Henry yawned hard. “I’m just gonna pass out, man.”
~
IN THE QUIET room of a clean hotel, in a sleeping city, Henry slept and Thelon slept. Quiet. No chatter in the halls. The staff played games on their phones and waited for morning shift changes. The world moved, but in this moment, time was slow and strange for Thelon. As he dreamed and his body breathed gently alongside Henry’s gentle snores, his mind traveled.
He saw himself in dingy prison work camp and felt sorrow. He saw himself bouncing a child on his knee and felt joy. He saw a city of fire, spires of smoke and magma and felt fear.
The parade of scenes stopped and he experienced a descent from a great height into another body, exactly like his own. All at once, he woke in that dream and became aware of his new surroundings.
Warmth. Sunlight dappled his face and he saw green leaves. Looking up and down, sense and reference came to him. He sat at an outdoor cafe shaded by a large orange patio umbrella. His awareness focused on the visual and tactile while his inner dialogue was quiet—he didn’t think about anything at all. Passive and still, his eyes lowered to the table and he watched a pulse beat through a vein running over the back of his hand. My hand.
With the observation, he found he could think after all, but his gaze was drawn magnetically to things around him. Thelon’s attention traveled to the metal table. Tiny details of rust and dust pulled at him. A breeze rustled leaves and his awareness went to the trees, taking in each leaf bathing in golden light.
“My God, it’s beautiful.” His throat was dry, and he touched his lips. My hands. I’m supposed to find my hands. He didn’t want the vision to end, to wake up back in that hotel having learned nothing. So, despite the inertia, the resistance to let go of the leaves, he twisted his neck in an unnatural effort and held his hand directly in front of his face.
Black-brown skin, darker around the knuckles, long tapered fingers like a pianist. My hands are beautiful.
“May I join you?” a familiar voice asked.
Thelon looked up and the world around him blurred momentarily then righted itself. It was just a touch more vibrant and real and there he was: himself, but not himself, before him. Thelon struggled with the eeriness of seeing his twin. Yeah, looks like me, but doesn’t smell like me. No. He doesn’t feel like me.
T took a seat across from Thelon.
My face with another person behind the eyes. It gave him the chills.
“Am I dreaming?” Thelon asked. His throat was still so very dry, and his voice sounded froggy.
Hands on the table, T leaned forward. “I could tell you something that is the answer to everything, but it’ll mean nothing to you. I’d make the big reveal, it’d fall flat, and nothing I would say would matter. If you had enough power, if you were truly awake, then my words would fill you up with light and you would be immortal. And I’d be you again.”
This annoyed Thelon. “Bitch, please. Can anyone talk clearly?”
T ignored this and continued. “I see your limits. I see your holes. Like a tooth riddled with cavities. But it’s cool, the power you grew in your dreaming. That is where you strained at your boundaries. Stretched out. Expanded. This is what brought you here. How you survived.”
His words made little to no sense but caused a sudden shift in Thelon’s mind. The dreamy, almost drugged cotton candy head space transitioned to rational thinking. He had questions.
“Why is Henry important?” Thelon asked. “What waits for us at Black Star?”
“Tell me about what you found in Seattle.”
“Did you not see what I see? Don’t you have my memories?”
“Yes and no. We see vastly different things. What I saw is not important. What you saw is critically important.”
“I didn’t see shit. It was rainy and weird, but I found Henry.” Thelon raised his hands.
“See, something happened. You found your hands.” T pointed with a mirror image of Thelon’s finger.
Thelon paused and remembered. “Oh yeah. I had a dream, and you were there and then you were gone, but I must have sleepwalked or something. I…didn’t wake up. It just kept going. Is that what you mean?”
“Are you sure you are not awake now?” T asked and gave him a look that had passed straight on from their father—the expression of ‘think before you talk, son.’
“Who gives a shit about this philosophy stuff?” Thelon said, pissed. “The other guy wants me to find them—Henry and Cassie. Don’t you? Isn’t that my whole point? Find them and take them to Black Star. What the fuck is waiting for us?”
T cut him off. “Again, never mention hi
m to me. What you do with Henry is not important.”
Thelon remembered T dematerializing because of his fixation on Nestor before. “Are you afraid of him?”
“I’m telling you for the last time, not for my sake, but yours. To dwell on him will remove meaning from you. All that is for you will fail and your small power will be drained. You will die.”
Thelon calmed himself and slowed his breathing. While he glared at his own smug mug, he asked something different on his mind. “Okay, tell me about my—your—fiancé. What’s her story?”
T visibly relaxed and leaned back in his seat. “Annie. We met in grad school. She is a lawyer. Brilliant. She supported me when I started having the dreams and through my breakdown.”
“What dreams?”
“I dreamed of you, Thelon. Let me tell you a story.”
Thelon mirrored T’s body language of repose and relaxed and listened.
“Our lives are more different than you choosing left when I went right. I don’t understand the place you came from—and from the little I know, I don’t want to—but I know my story. In 2013, the moment I turned eighteen, I went to an undergrad far from home at the University of Illinois Urbana. I majored in business with the intent to collect an accelerated MBA soon after. The campus was pastoral, bucolic. Fields of corn and soybeans. The whole place was a land grant from Lincoln in 1865. I was a smart and studious young black man and I was noticed. I kept my nose clean, didn’t party, and faculty and peers believed I could go into politics by the time I was closing my senior year in 2017. Then things got complicated.”
Thelon nodded. “2017. Yeah. That was my year, too. Only I was eighteen and I never went to college.”
“Like I said, different everything. Dad had a heart attack. I didn’t go visit. I blamed it on finals coursework, burnout of the overachieving all-star, but something had happened to me. It started with bad dreams. In them, I was racing through a city that didn’t make any sense. I hopped to different countries within seconds. It was like science fiction and would have been cute, except I was in big trouble. A woman died. I was there when it happened. I was possessed by a demon.”