Ten - Part 1

by Sin Ribbon

  His brow furrows as a feeling of dread swells within him. He grabs his leather jacket from the couch, laces up his black combat boots, and rushes out the door.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Outside Thane and Orion’s apartment building, the brief trickle of raindrops has graduated to a steady downpour. The dark-haired man is soaked within minutes. He hoists his jacket over his head, but it does little to protect him from the watery onslaught.

  Smothered by the storm, the streetlights are barely able to illuminate the sidewalk. Thane searches with the limited light for Orion’s silhouette. Northward, he spots a glimpse of movement and heads up the street. As the black-clad man hurries into the night, a set of mismatched brown and blue eyes watches him from the shadows.

  Thane jogs through the puddles, troubled. The stabbing pain from his dream, Orion convulsing on the couch, the fortuneteller’s warnings—as the memories flood his mind, a foreboding sense of concern for Orion grows within him. Each breath heaves from his chest in the pursuit of his closest friend.

  He pauses at a street corner to get his bearings. At the crosswalk across the way, a homeless man stumbles towards him. Disheveled and seemingly delirious, the man clasps the sides of his head, raving, “Get out! Get out!”

  Thane inches backward, unsure if the man is sick or unstable.

  With a sudden burst of speed, the delusional man rushes at Thane. He leaps out of the way as the man crashes into the brick wall behind him. The man falls to the ground, writhing in sporadic flails and howling for reprieve.

  Thane steps back and whips out his phone to make a brief nine-one-one call before continuing down the street. The man’s screams echo after Thane, but he forces himself to press onward. His heart hammers against his chest at the thought of Orion having a similar encounter.

  The reflections of light scatter across the raindrops as he runs, restricting any hope of visibility. Now the only tool he has left to find his redheaded companion is gut instinct.

  Further down the road, Thane encounters a small group of college students who meander the sidewalk. They stagger along, likely having just left a bar at last call, but something is off. They grip each other for balance, rubbing their heads and hissing through gritted teeth.

  “My head ...” one of them mumbles.

  Tentative, Thane keeps his distance. Without provocation, one of the young men takes a swing at the other two. They shove and blunder against each other, grunting in fury and pain.

  “Get out of my head!” another screams. He braces himself against a nearby wall while the other two go toe-to-toe in a clumsy brawl.

  A wave of anxious fire flashes through Thane’s body. He can’t comprehend the reasons behind the erratic behavior he’s seeing. The loud clank of a heavy door snaps his attention to a nearby bar. Several patrons fumble out onto the street, men and women all clenching their heads in agony. He watches them, careful to stay out of their line of sight.

  “Where the hell are you, Orion?”

  There’s nothing he can do for these people. Courage boiling in his belly, Thane takes off in a full sprint down the center of the street through the crowd of deranged wanderers. Mercifully, they are too disoriented to pursue him, but their growing numbers unsettle him. The nagging sensation of dread in the back of his mind is building into terror.

  Past the mass of roaming bodies, Thane spots a familiar silhouette disappearing into the billowing mist of droplets ahead.

  “Orion!” He hurries after her, but she moves beyond the fragment of light and is lost once again.

  The clouds above hover like an omen cast over their lives. Thane’s boots thunder through gigantic puddles, each crashing into the pavement with fervent intent. His lungs strain for oxygen against the suffocating night.

  Beyond the sliver of light, he spies the outline of his best friend standing alone some yards away. He slows to a trot to assess the situation, unsure of what to expect given the bizarre events he’s witnessed thus far.

  Orion idles on her feet, motionless. Erring on the side of caution, Thane paces a slow semi-circle around her. She stares ahead with vacant interest, unresponsive to his presence.

  “Orion?” He approaches and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge his touch, but something disturbing catches his attention. Though it’s difficult to discern in the darkness, a faint red glow saturates her eyes—the same he had glimpsed the night before.

  He grabs her shoulders and tries to snap her from her daze, but like a doll, she remains transfixed. A rush of fear overwhelms him; the terrifying notion that Orion may not return latches into his gut like a parasite.

  Before he can decide on any course of action, a pedestrian dives towards them out of the dark. Thane jumps out of the way, and his attacker sweeps by him, tumbling to the ground. The rabid man whips back towards Thane, a distinctive red color burning in his eyes.

  “Take it easy!” The similar eye color throws Thane, but he has no time to hypothesize on the reasons. Defensive, he holds out his palms in the hopes of protecting both himself and his redheaded companion, but the crazed man comes at him again, swinging his fists in a wild frenzy. Thane swerves and shoves the man to the side.

  “Come at me again, and I’ll knock you out.” He barks the threat with feet planted firm, but the deranged man, like Orion, appears numb to Thane’s words. He glares at the black-clad man with animalistic fury, veins risen to the surface of his skin. Thane tenses his muscles and readies his fists.

  Before the man can lunge a third time, Thane notices a more disturbing sight developing in the background. Beyond the rabid man stumble the people he encountered earlier. Their outlines cut through the darkness as they approach, a sense of organized madness about them.

  Thane moves to shield the catatonic Orion, his back to hers now, intent on using every ounce of his strength to defend her. His brow crinkles with worry; despite his athleticism and competent brawling skills, he knows he stands no chance against a mob.

  To his annoyance, the opponent in front of him is ready to fight now. The man charges at Thane again and receives a firm punch in the cheek. He spirals away but is far from finished. As he readies himself to rush at Thane again, he suddenly falls to his knees and grasps his head. He wails and collapses to his elbows, fingers combing frantically as if trying to put his thoughts back into his head.

  Thane spins on his heels and spots a youth entering the light of a nearby streetlamp, seemingly moving towards them. A boy? A girl? The gender is unclear, but the small frame indicates an adolescent. The youth is of pale complexion and short brown hair, wearing a drenched hoodie and jeans.

  As the teen approaches, he projects his palm at the rabid man still trembling on the road. Somehow, the man responds to the newcomer’s presence. He calms, breath leveling and agitation subsiding. The man soon loses consciousness and flops onto the pavement.

  Incredulous to the events unfolding before his eyes, Thane staggers backward but nevertheless remains protective of Orion. He maneuvers between her and their new guest, keeping a watchful eye on the advancing crowd behind them.

  “Who are you?” Thane barks, demanding more than questioning.

  The teen flinches at his cutting tone. “First tell me, is that woman behind you Orion?”

  “You know her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, she’s a close friend, so you understand my caution.”

  “I’m Madison. Orion helped me out today. We’re friends.” The youth’s benign tone softens Thane’s guard. “She mentioned you. The brooding introvert, right?”

  His face falls. “Thane. Now can you tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “No, but ...” Madison steps towards them, again raising his palm. Thane instinctively turns to look behind them.

  The group of pedestrians has slowed. Each of them hunches over, shaking and shuddering as if trying to expel something from their bodies.

  Almost in unison, they collapse in unconscious thuds.

>   “The fuck?” The words escape under his breath as he gapes at the sea of unmoving bodies with disbelief. He whips to Madison who now has his attention set on Orion.

  A finger twitches. The redhead winces and blinks her eyes.

  Thane brightens—the first sign of hope all night. “How the hell are you doing that?”

  “I’m not sure.” Madison continues to approach the duo in gradual steps. As he draws closer, Orion’s responses intensify. The crimson color begins to fade from her eyes, and she shakes as if waking from a dream.

  “Th-Thane?” She blinks a few times. “Agh! I’m soaked!” The redhead scans her surroundings, frantic. “Madison, is that you? What the hell is going on?!”

  Thane grabs her shoulders and pulls her to meet his gaze. “Orion, you blacked out—” He pauses, hard-pressed for where to begin.

  “All right, I’m sufficiently freaked out, but can we not have this conversation in the middle of a downpour?!” Wearing nothing but a loose tank top and pajama shorts, the redhead hugs her arms into her body and shivers from head to toe. Thane wraps his jacket around her and pulls her close.

  “Agreed. You!” He points to Madison. “Come with us.”

  The confused teen nods and follows the pair down the road.

  From a distance, tucked behind the corner of a nearby building, Siha watches the trio under the cover of an umbrella. She narrows her eyes, expression pained, before turning away and heading in the opposite direction.

  ~ ELEVEN ~

  Orion

  “Wait, you’re saying I was ... dissociating?! That I was in some kind of stupor?” Orion warms herself beneath a towel, huddled up on her living room couch. Madison sits next to her, drying his hair with a hand towel while Orion recovers from the shock. Sirius rests ever watchful at their feet.

  “Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” A stressed Thane paces the living room. “And this kid was able to stop it somehow.”

  Madison peeks out from underneath his towel. “Like I said, I don’t know how I did it.”

  Orion lifts the towel to meet the teen’s eyes. “Just tell me what happened. From the beginning.”

  “Well, I was at the shelter. I couldn’t sleep.” He bites his lip, hesitating.

  The redhead leans in. “And?”

  “I didn’t wanna tell you.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s horrible there. I was just lying in bed, crying. All I could think about was how alone I felt, and I started thinking about you, and ... I don’t know! I was thinking how bad I wanted to see you, and this powerful feeling came out of nowhere. For some reason, I felt like you needed me, like you were in trouble.” Madison’s eyes well with tears. He buries his face in Orion’s shoulder and wraps his arms around her. “I just wanted to see you so bad!” Sympathetic, she rubs his back.

  Thane rolls his eyes. Orion chastises him with a fearsome glare. He holds up his hands in apology but hardly suppresses his frustration.

  “Madison.” Orion pulls the youth away and wipes his tears with her hand. “I know this is difficult, but I need to know what happened. Did you have any kind of dreams? Visions? Can you describe the feeling you got?”

  He sniffs and takes a moment to think. “I don’t know if you’d call it a vision, but I felt this burning hatred almost, hovering over the neighborhood. It was ... consuming. I don’t know how, but I could feel it descending on the people there, suffocating them, and this force inside me seemed to be saying I could stop it.”

  Orion and her roommate exchange a glance. With a flustered sigh, Thane quickly averts his gaze.

  “So I left,” Madison continues. “I ran down the street, following the dark feeling. When I saw that man attacking Thane, something just ... came out of me. I could feel the hatred in him, but it wasn’t him. Something had taken control of him, and I felt like I had to banish it out of him. After that, I realized the source was Orion. I could feel it emanating from her, so I used that power until everyone returned to normal.”

  “Thane.” Orion looks to her dark-haired companion with remorseful eyes. “The dreams. The possession. You know what this is—what Siha warned us about!”

  He runs his fingers through his hair, solemn. “Yeah.”

  “Siha?” Madison interjects.

  “A psychic,” Orion replies. “She approached Thane just before all of this started and tried to tell us that our crazy ass dreams were the prelude to something much worse, but someone didn’t wanna listen!” The redhead tosses a throw pillow at Thane.

  He smacks it away. “Hey! You were just as skeptical as I was!”

  Orion huffs and turns her attention back to Madison. “She mentioned destiny and said we were part of a group of ten—” She stops short as the realization hits her. “You’re one of the ten. You have to be. Madison’s one of them!” Orion shakes the youth with enthusiastic delight.

  “I don’t even know what any of this means!” Madison protests as he tries to escape the redhead’s grip. Thane sighs with exasperation and rubs his forehead.

  “Thane, you need to call her! This is serious!”

  “I know! Jesus, I know.” He heads for the kitchen and snags a bottle of water from the fridge. He downs the entire thing in a few heaping gulps and crushes the empty bottle. “Fuck!” He hurls the wad of plastic across the room. It hits the far wall with a clunk.

  “Maybe we should calm down,” Madison suggests, nudging closer to Orion.

  A sudden knock on the front door sends a lightning bolt through the trio. They snap to the entry, tensing with apprehension.

  Thane takes an affirming breath and strides for the door. He looks to Orion, expression asking if she’s ready, and she responds with a meager nod of approval. Madison tucks behind her.

  His broad shoulders pull back as he grips the doorknob and drags the hunk of wood open. Standing in the hallway, the petite clairvoyant meets Thane’s gaze with scolding eyes. While Orion’s jaw drops, Thane exhales a sarcastic chuckle.

  Siha cocks her head to the side, failing to hold back a vindicated smile making its way across her lips. “I take it you’re ready to listen now?”

  ~ TWELVE ~

  Olivia

  Loud, repetitive bangs persuade her heavy eyelids to open. She blinks and inhales, arching her back to stretch. Her mouth opens wide for a yawn. Grappling for the driver’s seat lever, she lifts it to return her seat to an upright position. Morning sunlight streams through the car’s windows as sporadic clouds provide glimpses of shade.

  The abrasive thuds continue, and her eyes wander outside in search of their source. A young girl attacks one of the vending machines outside the rest stop’s bathrooms, kicking and shoving against the candy prison with hopes of releasing one of its treats.

  Indifferent, the woman returns her attention inward. Her fingers trace over her forehead before running down her neck and beneath her shirt to adjust her bra. She checks her rearview mirror, a quick glance to confirm the nap didn’t ruffle her hair. Pensive, dark brown eyes stare back at her. The few age lines she’s accrued from the decades have been carved from weary, uphill battles. An East Asian woman, she has fair skin, pale in contrast to her black, shoulder-length hair. Her hands, while delicate, are textured with a roughness possessed by those who have held and lost loved ones. A life of wisdom and savvy converges into this woman named Olivia.

  The little girl refuses to give up. Olivia sighs and opens the door of her silver Prius. Warm, Kentucky air blows her hair in all directions, wind kicked up from the nearby highway. She wears simple attire—a faded, forest green t-shirt paired with an old pair of jeans and practical tennis shoes. Though small in frame, Olivia carries herself with humble poise.

  She approaches the girl, staring with crossed arms as the child continues her assault on the machine. “Something I can get you?” Her voice is dry with an undertone of sincerity.

  The girl turns to face her. She appears to be younger than ten. Eight perhaps? A mess of dark brown hair obscures her broad face and hazel eyes, h
ints of green accented by the warm ocher of her skin. She’s more than a foot shorter than Olivia who herself stands a couple inches above five feet. Disheveled, splotches of dirt litter the girl’s body and tattered clothes. The soles of her sneakers have nearly worn off. Now that Olivia has a proper look, she notices the child’s oversized clothing shrouds her thinning limbs.

  Olivia leans forward, bracing her hands on her knees. “What’s your name?”

  “Feo.” An accent? She’s skeptical of the answer, given the Spanish meaning.

  “Tu es nombre?” Olivia draws on her limited memory of the language.

  “Feo. Habla español, señora?”

  “Un poquito, but why don’t we stick with English?” The child nods. Olivia moves past her and inserts a dollar into the vending machine. “Now, what shall I get you?”

  “Snickers please.”

  The candy bar drops to the bottom with a defeated thud. The girl fishes it out and tears open the plastic wrapping with hasty enthusiasm.

  “Is your name really Feo?”

  “It’s what my family called me,” she mumbles with a mouthful of chocolate.

  “And where is your family now?”

  The girl shrugs, attention fixated on the sweet in her hand.

  “How long have you been on your own?”

  With her free hand, the child holds up four fingers.

  “Days?”

  The last of the candy bar disappears into her mouth. “Months.”

  Olivia’s grip tightens on her knees. “Well, my name is Olivia. How about we get you more to eat?”

  The girl brightens instantly. She darts for Olivia’s car and swings the passenger door open, plopping into the seat and fastening her seatbelt.

  Wide-eyed, Olivia blinks in disbelief. “How has this kid not been kidnapped?”