Chapter Twenty Five

My Rain of Terror

I stare at Blaze, trying to deconstruct her. She’s standing as far from the gas pumps as she can without tapping dicks with traffic. At least she has the courtesy to realize she’s a walking hazard. Before her the kilometers of asphalt stretch out effortlessly all the way to the American border. She`s only a few months older than me but she seems troubled beyond her years. Ever since that night in the shop something`s gnawing at me. I gave her the same speech my dad gave me about his time in ‘Nam. I didn't know what else to do. It was all I had to offer. I didn't understand her feelings of revenge, of her righteousness. I don`t. They don’t sit right with me.

You don't hurt people because of who they are. Or what they look like, or what they do or what they`ve done.

You kill them because you want to. It's impersonal and pure and natural. You want to.

And she didn`t want to.

The moment you start hurting people you know, real people, is when you become a monster.

Annie…. no. That was different. She was different. She was…

I shove my fist into my mouth to stop myself and excuse myself to the gas station washroom.

It's been a while since our last encounter with the fallen, but my sodden arm acts as a smelly reminder. It's all gooey under the bandages...and the skin, like lasagna but with more pus. I wouldn’t say a lot more. Maybe a cup or two more than your average ‘zagna.

I wander into single stall washroom, planting myself in front of the grimy mirror to rehearse what I'm gonna tell the border guard. I've gotta polish this one. First I flatten my hair, change into a pair of blue jeans, a baseball cap and shades. I square my shoulders and let my jaw drop when I speak, I’ll call this one Lucas.

"Hey there," a friendly smile and a casual nod.

Where are you kids from?

"We're coming from Amherst Nova Scotia."

Where you headed?

"Philadelphia."

What's your business there?

"Just tourism, gonna check out the liberty bell, independence hall, the works. Decided to give ourselves an early graduation trip. My friends-" The last word fold unnaturally around my tongue and I try it again a slightly higher tone. "My friends." The sound clicks against the mirror and falls flat. I try it in a sentence. We're all 18, besides my parents know I'm on a trip with my ffff-my f- Damn it!"

Lying has always been a second language for me, why is this one f*****g word causing me so much grief.

"Friend! Friend! Friend! Friend! Friend! Friend! Friend!" But it sounds even more alien each time it slides up my throat.

Guess I just need more practice…This rationale doesn't stop me from slamming my fist against the mirror until it shatters. Then none too gingerly, I remove each shard of glass one by one. "Friend, friend, friend, friend…"

Coral taps on the gas station bathroom door. “Hey everything good in there? You havin a stroke?”

I swing myself out of the washroom forcefully, my pants hanging over my shoulder in glittery rows of magenta sequins and chains.

She takes in my sweat and flushed complexion and her facial expression cringes inwards.

“Hey girlie.” I lick my teeth. “What’s the scoop?”

“We’re hittin the road.” She gestures to our ride with her thumbs.

I notice the way her ponytail rests on her shoulder, like a furry blonde companion. “This is fun. We never get to spend any time alone together,”

“Lucky me. Back in Scarborough they called me Little Miss Short-stick.”

“Me too girlie but that’s a stereotype I can prove wrong if you would just step this way.”

Her silvery eyes narrow, and she blinks at me a couple times before walking away wordlessly. I skip after her. On the way to the American border we concoct Plan A, B, C and D before I jigsaw together Plan Ultimate. And it goes like this…

 

Step 1 “Hey there.” I break into the routine, altering the pitch of my voice slightly so it’s similar to the border guards, familiar. Mark only adds the occasional nod like we rehearsed. I wish he didn’t stand out so much. Alas, he’ll always been a beacon of perfect genetic makeup. The fog I’ve generated is the best we got. In the rear-view I can see Fabian, and Coral weighed down with weapons and holding hands (my ship lives) briefly before they vanish.

“I’m going to check the back now sir.”

“Sure.” I lock eyes with Blaze in the backseat momentarily. Fabian should be back for her and the rest of the guns any second now… Huh, maybe we’ll have to fight our way out of this one after all.

The guard makes a surprised noise. I tense. “That’s a lot of luggage you have back here.”

“You know how boys are.” I chuckle. The back door closes and it’s footsteps return.

“Alright, now if you’ll let me see some identification and your passpor-”

Step 2 There’s an explosion somewhere past the gates. The guard turns and it’s hand flies to it’s radio Well, I did say a distraction. That girl’s always been one hell of a distraction. I don’t really know what else I was expecting.

Step 2.5 “What in-” Calmly I raise one hand and grit my teeth. Just make a breeze. I reach out with soft tendrils of air, feeling for the two empty pockets within this meat-filled uniform. Then I unfocus my eyes, tilt my head

and steal the breath from it’s lungs. I observe it struggling to inhale air in the vacuum I’ve created, changing colour like a chameleon on LSD, until it’s mass hits the pavement and goes still.

Step 3 “Take the wheel.” He obliges mutely. I hop into the security booth, open the gate and snatch myself a tooth before anything thinks to stop gawking at the pyro-show.

Step 4 I casually stroll back into the passenger seat and we roll into the states at an exhilarating 30 clicks per hour.

Step 5 I spot our posse. They’re surrounded by armed guards but Coral has a cheeky gun against Fabian’s temple. Bravo. Mark pulls up a safe few meters off from them.

“YO SPARKY! OLSEN TWINS! LET’S SKEDATTLE!” And the moment the call leaves my lips the trio come tumbling in from thin air.

Step 6 Mark serves around slower cars and we bolt from the scene. Hail the size of Dolly Parton’s music career mysteriously propelled by gale force winds crash through our pursuers windshields. And we fly the coop.

“Did…did we just break into the United States?” inquires a spacey Coral.

I smile at my driver fondly, “That was far out Clyde.”

“You said you wouldn’t kill anyone!” he mewls.                               “And I didn’t.” I throw my hat out the window and restyle my hair with a tiny zephyr. “They're not real Mark. They're like wind, you can hear them, and feel them and see how they affect the world but they're hollow. They're just air passing by.”

“You can’t just decide who’s real and how isn’t!”

“Oh and you can Mark? You?” I laugh humorlessly, “You should be thankful you have me.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say a word.

About an hour into Maine Fabian starts being unusually vocal. “We need to practice using our powers…. It’s the only way we'll stand a chance….blah blah blah….lookit ma beanie…I’m gonna f*****g punch you in a minute Rippir…

So we park the hearse in the middle of a secluded flax field. Prepare to meet your doom little blue flowers. The doors are left open and we crank up the sound system loud as it'll go. Classic indie, with enough layers of lazy fuzz to melt your brain out through your nose.

Blaze goes first, channeling her flames at the sky. We cheer her on with whistles and applause. She does pretty well, her only trouble is turning it off. Soon the flowers around us are burning. The fire spreads like, well, like wildfire.

"Rippir."

I tear my gaze from the flames long enough to condense clouds to rain. The downpour extinguishes her inferno. Then it's my turn.

"Alriiiight!" I crack my fingers and shake it out. "Let's light this place up."

"Hold the f**k up!" I hear Coral yell as she trots back to the hearse. The others follow her.

"No offense buddy but you're about as accurate as measuring sound waves with a spoon."

"I don't even know what that means!"

Once they're all inside the vehicle I roll my eyes, drag one hand upwards and level the other one to the earth. Concentrating on the static in the clouds and the dirt beneath me, I focus all that energy into a single point in the sky and on the ground. Then I let the two connect. A lightning bolt slams through the air striking the old oak and forcing it in two.

Fist pump. "B***h! Did you see-" I turn excitedly and accidentally direct the excess energy to the hearse. The bolt misses them narrowly as the hearse acts as a Faraday cage to disperse the energy. Even with that slight mishap I still have the most control here. Growing up in the Yukon I had a lot of breathing room. Could go out onto the tundra, summon up a blizzard, then rain, then clear the skies, and no one would bat an eye. Unseasonable weather was nothing to get your panties in a knot about. I miss that freedom. Well, if we keep pumping carbon dioxide into the atmosphere at this rate the jet streams will get so fucked up no one will even notice what I do. Floods, heat waves, hurricanes, bring it on. I am the king of natural disasters.

I jog over to the hearse to say Holy s**t I'm so sorry, because that's what I'm supposed to say, but this time I don’t, because these are my friends. “Ahahaha whoops.”

Blaze crawls out patting down the static in her hair, “You. That’s enough of you.”

 Fabian meanders to the stage. He pretends to stretch his arms while really flexing them, all intentionally in Blaze’s line of view. Cheap. I watch the tendons jump along his neck as he tosses the kindling I’ve so kindly provided into the back of the hearse telekinetically.

We only allow ourselves to linger here a while longer.

I scrutinize Fabian as he gives Mark some lessons on how to work a gun. Fuckboi’s getting a little too close for comfort. I must intervene. “Hey, Fabeanie. Blaze wants you.”

“Oh yeah? Niiice.” He gives me a smug nod, “I’ll see you bros later then.”

I wait til we’re alone. “Soooo,” I rock back on my heels. “You still mad at me?”

He fires a few rounds into the trees on the periphery of the field, “Guess not. I could have driven away without you, you know that don’t you?” I don’t know if he’s targeting anything or his aim is just that bad.

 “I know. I don’t want you to be mad at me…” My heart is flip flopping and I need it to stop immediately.

“Rippir, are you…are you trying to apologize?” He asks incredulously.

“Uhm, well I’m not taking back anything I said. I don’t feel bad about it. I just want you to understand that this, all of this, everything I’ve done, every law I’ve broken, every person I’ve ended, I’m doing it for you. For your sake. You know that don’t you?”

He shudders, “I know.” Then he resumes his target practice, and I stand back to silently admire him.

Sunlight cocoons his willowy frame. His breath is even and shallow, and the bone white pigment of his skin beckons to me. He looks like a Michelangelo sculpture in oversized skinny jeans and a green t-shirt.

Blaze taps me on the shoulder. “Fabian said you told him I wanted to talk to him…”

 “Whatta dish eh?” I sigh.                                          

“Ugh is that what this is about? Can you stop being so possessive of Mark? You don't own him.”

“Oh really? I thought this was one of those, you break it you bought it deals,” I smirk.

“I’m serious,” she growls. “I don’t want any more blood on my hands just because you couldn’t contain yourself.”

“Blaze don’t be ridiculous; I’d never hurt my friends…”

I wonder why no one ever talks about it. The hollow people. Good thing I'm so apt at picking them out. I wish I could tell my friends that the border guard wasn’t real, neither was Terri, or Suzanne or Luke or that French couple or the countless others. I wish I could tell my friends a lot of things. But it's like something wasn't hooked up right. No. Can't think things like that. Can’t think things like that.

Sure they confuse me a lot, and I don't really know what they think of me but they're mine. My best friends. Four freaks that make me feel like I can stop hiding. I can stop mimicking and pretending and lying and just let all the facades slosh right off. They make me feel like I can finally be less human and more me.