WnW 6.12

I followed the team out into the yard of this abandoned house on the edge of Old Town. Occasionally the cone of a flashlight would flicker above the rooftops some distance away. Looking any higher towards the sky made me nauseous, the twin spheres bearing down on us with that eerie effect of being simultaneously far away and yet crowding out the sky like they would crush the earth in any second.

We passed a body slumped against a telephone box, obviously Ring-affiliated with tattoos running the length of his arms. It registered in my mind after we had passed that it might have been an Alek.

Even though I had healed some, my shoulder and foot still throbbed terribly. I realized that there might still be a bullet lodged in my shoulder. Nell had removed the last one. The Tree pulsed and the ache spread to my chest.

We took a break in a fenced in backyard as AJ scouted ahead with his Shape. Zola offered me a water bottle which I took gratefully. The water soothed my throat that was raw from breathing in smokey air.

“Do you have aspirations, Nick?” Zola mouthed slowly while massaging his palm with a thumb. “Or did you, before this happened? Some place … to travel? A job you really wanted to do when you grew up?”

I handed him back the water bottle. “Not really. I have trouble imagining a future version of myself.”

Zola quirked an eyebrow. “That is an odd answer.”

“Is it?”

Zola started to speak before reconsidering and pulling out his phone to type out a message: [I would think most people would have at least some fantasy about what could be. I did, when I first came to Canada. I wanted to be an architect]

He gestured at the old buildings around us then typed out more: [I wanted to design buildings that had touches of culture from my home country in them. Not anymore. Graham had a good word for it. Disillusioned. Sillwood was not the place of opportunity promised to me. I accrued debt, fell into depression, it did not take long for me to start using drugs to cope with that feeling. Then I used Dice and things got worse.]

Zola tapped his crystalline fingernails against his arm, creating red marks. I noticed how many scars criscrossed them. It dawned on me that I might have never seen Zola in short sleeves before. 

I shifted over so I could read over his shoulder as he typed: [I think most would consider themselves lucky that they did not become an Aberrant, but for me? I would have preferred to not have to think anymore rather than deal with this.] Zola looked away and handed me the phone. I read the last part. [I can’t even kiss someone without worrying I will hurt them. That is why I do not care if the city burns.]

He gave me a tight and tired smile. “You might think less of me for saying so.”

I shook my head and looked away into the dark and empty home. It was a single floor with a kitchen looking out on the backyard, just like my house. My chest throbbed. 

“I don’t,” I answered. “I’m sorry you’ve had such awful struggles. I’ve never had to move to a new country. I’ve lived here my whole life. But I’ve always had the feeling that even if I did go somewhere else, nothing would change. And that made me feel so hopeless. I guess Shaping gave me an out. It’s an ugly, scary, and dangerous out, but at least it makes me feel like I can try to make a difference now and not have to worry about that void of a future.”

I turned back to Zola and realized that he had said something when I wasn’t looking. “Sorry?”

“You are making a difference.”

It was my turn to give a humorless smile. “I tried my best, yet here we are.”

Zola shook his head fervently. “Do you remember … the nightclub? You Shaped your nails to look like mine.”

“Oh… right.”

“That kind of gesture, it means a lot to me. And you did it so effortlessly. I’ve been curious about you since … joined Graham’s crew, Nick. I think you are always trying your best to make the people around you feel comfortable. That is admirable in my eyes.”

“I admire you!” I said. “You say you aren’t comfortable with your new body, well I relate to that. Yet you’ve always been kind to everyone in the crew. You know when to speak up and push back against the louder voices. You’re an excellent mediator.”

A genuine smile rose to Zola’s face. “Well then, we can have mutual admiration. But speaking of pushing back, I would here. You … to change your body to whatever you want. If you are uncomfortable with it, why do you not?”

The ache sat high in my chest, threatening to spill. Every breath felt dangerous. I heard my mom humming softly from the kitchen. “Because- because this is what people know me as. I guess I’m afraid if I change too much I’d lose that? I’d let them down, make them think that they don’t know me anymore.”

Zola considered this seriously. “I cannot speak for others, but I do not think you could change in a way that would make me dislike you.”

My eyes were watering at those words. “Thanks man…”

AJ stood up and began talking to Graham.

Zola touched my arm gently. “Perhaps it is something to consider once we are through this nightmare. I think Nell would say the same.”

Maybe. I’ve fantasized about a clean break. Going where no one knows me. But not because I dislike the people I love. Because it would let me be someone new.

Graham held a finger to his lips as he led the way out of the yard. The group moved stealthily across the road and towards a convenience store. Red smoke curled upwards a few blocks over. It was either the smoke of a flare or the light of those things in the sky was colouring it.

The automatic doors of the convenience store were stuck in an open position. Our soundless procession looked every which way as we entered, wary of potential ambushes. The store shelves were bare and someone had spread out flattened cardboard boxes across the floor. The back door hung ajar. We filed out the back and I caught a clear glimpse of the cliff of Sillwood above the rooftops.

The crew whirled around, reacting to something I couldn’t hear. Richard leveled his gun at me, shouting. I turned to see Zola wrestling on the ground with a woman holding a hatchet. Before I could help him, two more Rings jumped from the roof of the store. They held weapons and the man nearest to me sported small fins under his eyes. A fourth Ring stepped out from the corner and aimed their crossbow at me.

I moved too slowly. The bolt hit me square in the chest, knocking the breath out of me. I fell onto my back at the same time as the attacker crumpled from a well-placed shot from Richard.

Terry said something and the scene froze, like someone had hit the pause button on reality, but then instead of helping Zola who was stuck underneath the woman with the axe, Terry backed away. Zola’s hands shook with adrenaline even as they stayed put on the axe handle. The other two men were stuck mid-stride, their muscles tensing up and stopping their forward momentum. But I could still move. I rose laboriously and slapped a hand onto the fin-man’s neck, pulling. I yanked out the bolt from where it had stuck into my armour and jabbed it into his leg. Then I quickly kicked out the leg of his friend. His fall was the impetus for the scene to begin moving again.

Zola yelped as the axe head bit into the concrete next to his head. I rushed the woman and drove a knee into her forehead. She fell limply and I quickly hauled Zola to his feet. 

By the time I returned my attention to the other two Rings, Graham had one in a headlock and the other was writhing on the ground clutching the bolt in his leg. 

AJ stood back, fear written on his face. I tried to give him a reassuring thumbs-up but he didn’t react to me, instead he pointed towards the far alleyway.

A flash of light lit the back wall of the convenience store. I turned and saw something in the pools of darkness flooding the alley.

Terry lay motionless on the ground.

Graham clued in before I did. He dropped the Ring member and stepped in front of us as flashes of light began to erupt from the guns hiding in the shadows. The light revealed the masked reapers of H.E.S.P. 

Like a parental force, Graham had reacted quickly. His arms flung wide to catch the deadly barrage intended for us. His body shook but he did not move from where he was planted, a living shield.

My deafness let me act quicker than the others, not overwhelmed by the no-doubt loud gunfire. Graham’s feet were sliding back by the force of the bullets hitting him, the muscles in his neck straining as he stood his ground. He didn’t even protect his face as he had his arms spread out to the sides.

A short window of time has been given to us. I quickly turned and found AJ, barely protected, ducking as rubber bullets bounced off the convenience store wall beside his head. He cowered with his hands on his head, his eyes wide with fear. I rushed over and got him to stand up. 

“Back inside!” I shouted. A bullet glanced off my armoured head, cranking my neck to the side. At least they aren’t using real bullets. I shook it off and ushered AJ towards the door.

Zola fell back too, his eyes locked on Graham’s back.

Richard was on one knee, reloading his gun. Murder was in his eyes. I pushed AJ the rest of the way inside and ran back to Richard. I yanked his gun down.

“No!” I shouted.

His eyes never left Graham and he wrestled the gun out of my grip. I staggered, blinking as that small motion made me dizzy.

I grabbed his neck, forcing him to look at me. I pulled the armour away from my face so he could see me. “We don’t win that way,” I said resolutely.

I could see the resistance on his face. But he lowered his gun and instead moved behind Graham. I followed and we each took hold of Graham’s shirt and belt. We hauled him back with staggering steps towards the convenience store. I felt the impacts shudder along his body. Richard’s face was screwed up in distress.

With a final lunge I collapsed onto the cold tiles floor. Richard wrapped his arms around Graham and made him take the final step inside. Then he slammed the door shut and Graham sank to his knees. Zola crouched down next to him and tilted his head up towards the light. Graham’s face was a swollen, bloody mess. There were more purple and red welts than Graham’s actual skin tone. He mumbled something to Zola who let his hands fall to his sides, clutching at his pants. That simple act cut holes into the fabric.

AJ was babbling something to me but I couldn’t understand him. I hugged him close as my foggy mind struggled to pull together a plan. We were out of options. Graham was spent. Terry was captured. I couldn’t get a word in and I doubted that H.E.S.P. would slow down and let someone translate to me what they were saying. I didn’t think I could be convincing enough now, let alone when I had failed before.

Richard had already braced his gun against the counter we were crouched behind, ready for a flank. But fighting back against H.E.S.P. was only going to make our fate switch from incarcerated to dead. How would Terry have talked his way out of this? Was there information that H.E.S.P. wanted? Nothing. I couldn’t think of anything. The Tree beat against the walls of the store and all I could think was that I wanted to see Nell again.

A hand settled on my shoulder. Ivory nails bit into my armour. I looked up to see Zola with a strange expression on his face. His eyes were wide, despite the blood that ran down his face from where he’d been hit by a rubber bullet. He smiled wide at me, showing full teeth.

He spoke clearly and without hesitation, “Nick, I … you don’t know what to do. But I have faith that you’ll figure out a way. Out of anyone here, I have the feeling that you can do it.”

I opened my mouth and the grip on his shoulder sank deeper, cutting into my shoulder. 

“No questions. No more uncertainty. You will absorb … heal your ears. You will go out there and … them not to capture us. You will see Nell again.”

I shook my head. “Absorb what? There’s no…”

Zola dangled his limp hand in front of me. I looked for any sign that he was kidding. But no, there was only wild determination on his face.

“I can’t-”

“I didn’t ask,” Zola kept talking, but I was too caught up in what he was suggesting to keep up. When it was clear he wasn’t getting through to me, he thrust his hand into my own. Inner heat played across our touching palms.

“I don’t know how much I’ll need to take.”

“Don’t … Take as much as you need.” He grinned again. “These hands have been nothing but a curse to me. Good riddance.”

I stared at his arm, shaking with adrenaline.

Then I gripped it tightly and closed my eyes. Concentrate. I had no idea how inner ears worked. But I had memories. Voices of people I loved came to me. My mother. Nell. Mac. How they sounded, the way their voices caught with different emotions. I pulled up even deeper memories to the surface. The music I used to dance to. Lyrics that were surface level, but it had meaning to me. The meaning I’d crafted with my movements. Each beat thudded deeper into my heart than any Tree could reach. My armour receded back under my skin. I needed every bit of energy I could get.

I let the fire take and focused everything on my goal.

Silence deadened the world outside, but inside myself the sounds grew to a fever pitch.

And then finally, pop. I could hear Zola’s pained gasps. AJ’s low voice mumbling something. Graham’s labored breathing.

My eyes opened and I released Zola. He sank to his knees, staring at his withered arm. His skin had been stripped away in places, with muscles showing through. There was surprisingly little blood.

He winced as he touched his raw hand. Then he chuckled and used his good arm to raise the other. “Welcome back, Nick.” I saw that the bleach white nails on his withered hand were gone. “Would have been nice to get rid of all of them.”

“Sorry,” I said bleakly.

“Do what needs to be done,” he said, one eye shut as he slumped against the counter.

AJ was tugging on my sleeve. “I tried to talk to them with my Shape but they stopped listening to me.”

“That’s okay. You did good. You can help by bandaging Zola’s arm.”

He handed me something with shaking hands. “This phone fell out of your pocket. It has the music that Alek was always listening to. Why do you have it?”

I stared down at the screen displaying the playlist labeled Tuning.

A plan was beginning to sprout from a seed I hadn’t realized I had planted. “Because this is the key to stopping all of this,” I said.