The Tin Cowboy

[MalReynolds]

My first cognizant thought was immediately after paying the taxi driver what looked to be a twenty dollar bill. He was grinning, but I didn’t think to look at the fare meter before he peeled away.

The thought was, “I hope I tipped him.”

I’ve had thoughts before that moment, but none that I can recall. I’ve had memories, to be sure, but none that I can remember. What I assumed was the primordial sensation of panic set in as I realized that I had no idea who I am, or where I am, or just quite what I was doing ‘here,’ wherever ‘here’ actually is.

I took a deep breath in. It was cold - I knew that much - I could see my breath, and my lungs ached from the acrimonious air. I ran my hands down my back to my jeans and felt for the homely lump of a wallet. The wallet looked like cracked leather, like it had been run through an industrial washer a few times. I opened it, but there was no license. There were just a couple of bills, but nothing less than a twenty.

I inhaled again, my lungs either getting accustomed to the cold, or numbing. In front of me was a building, cold and steel stretching up into the sky. There were a few more scattered down the block in both directions. I stared towards where I thought the top would be if I could see the roof, but the building disappeared into a haze before succumbing to the night sky. A snowflake drifted down onto the ground in front of my feet and I watched it melt, pool, and I stared as the puddle grew larger when more flakes fell near my feet.

My next cognizant thought was, “I have some nice shoes.”

I heard a door opening behind me, so I turned to look. I had been dropped off in front of a sign that simply read, “Westing College,” with no other marker, not even an establishing date. It’s an old sign and doesn’t at all fit with the buildings that surrounded it. It was old fashioned, compared to the industrialized monstrosities that rose up at every turn. The building the sign announced was equally as antiquated. It looked like it might have been made out of brick, but my night vision was failing me and all I could really see was the light coming from the open door.

My arm began to grow sore, and it was then I realized I was carrying a tennis bag, slung over my shoulder. I tried to open it, but the zipper stuck halfway through. Another odd sensation, this time of familiarity, crept into my head and I had the uncanny feeling that this exact thing had happened to me before. No, not with Westing College, but with the stubborn zipper on the tennis bag. I shut my eyes and inhaled sharply, taking the zipper back down the track before running it to the opposite end as quickly as I could, and lo, the zipper jumped the snag in the middle.

Inside were clothes, but nothing descript. A few white shirts, a few blue shirts, a pair of pants, socks, boxers, a notepad, pens, and another stack of money. The stack had nothing less than a twenty in it.

Third cognizant thought was, “I’m loaded.”

But then again, what’s money without purpose.

There were people still filing into the building behind me. They looked as old as I felt and my feet, in their black Sunday shoes, marched across the lawn to the building. I almost fell twice on the wet grass, surely making an idiot of myself for whoever was watching. My coat was tight around my body, limiting both my balance and my stride, so I walked in a short waddle to the door where a young woman held the door open for me. I nodded, tipped an invisible hat, and stepped inside. There was a crotchety old woman sitting at what I assume was the front desk, checking the ID badges of people as they came through.

I stood back and watched as her hawk eyes darted back and forth between the visitors entering and jotting things down quickly on a clip board. Well, wherever I was supposed to be, maybe it wasn’t in this building.

Then I felt the hand on my shoulder and I turned my attention to the phantom that was next to me. It was the blonde girl that held the door open for me. She took a step ahead and turned, motioning for me to walk with her.

“Liza and guest.”

The old woman stared up.

“You got ID, son?”

“I left it in my other pants.”

The old woman huffed and puffed up a storm before turning and looking at ‘Liza’ and motioning us through.

We ran up a short set of stairs when she spun and looked at me. “You can thank me later.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” I said blankly, before turning and walking down the hall in the opposite direction.

I wandered the hallways for ten minutes looking for some kind of marker, any kind of indication that I was supposed to be here when I saw the hint of recognition in the eyes of a complete stranger who was standing in front of a door. He looked puzzled as if having an internal battle, one side trying to remember who I was, the other side trying to forget.

His memory won out and raised their flag over the castle.

The young adult approached me cautiously. “Uh… Tim, right?”

Tim. Tim. Tim.

Tim. Doesn’t ring a bell.

“Yup. How are you,” I glanced down at his ID badge, “Dylan?”

“I’m alright. I didn’t expect to see you for a while. I mean, I know it was an open invitation –“

“Yeah.”

“But uh, you know, I didn’t really expect you to cash in on it.”

“Oh. Sorry about that, I didn’t know you –“

“No, it’s cool, it’s cool. I mean, you can stay here, but you know how the City is. Security says you have to stay in a group dorm… Or, you know, the street.”

“Right.”

“It’s down the hall, but I guess I could introduce you around. We have a few minutes before the Night Scan starts, so... I guess you could meet some of my friends, then.”

He turned and motioned at an arrow sign that simply read, “Rec” before stopping and looking at me. “This is pretty surreal, man.”

“How so?”

Dylan didn’t skip a beat. Maybe it wasn’t so surreal after all. “It’s nothing. It’s good to see you. How’s your family?”

I’m drawing a blank.

“Fine, you know.”

He stared blankly. “You sure?”

“Not really. It feels like I haven’t spoken to them in forever.”

Dylan laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Rec room is right down here.”

I followed him down the dingy hallway, through a door, up one flight of concrete stairs and through another door labeled “Rec Center.” The labeling in the building was terribly clever.

The door was old and wooden and it seemed to stick as Dylan tried to open it. Inside, there was a pool table, what looked like a serving line for food, a dozen or so regular tables and other items scattered through the room, which is almost barren in population.

In the opposite corner of a the room were a few beat up couches with male and female pairs taking up singular seats and gorging on each others faces.

Cute.

Dylan led me to the nearest table where there were a few people sitting around or lost in thought.

I pulled a chair out, set my bag down and took my coat off, putting it on the back of the seat before sitting and fiddling uncomfortably with my scarf.

I began to note everything, keeping it casual in my mind so I could write it down later, in case my memory decided to skip town again.

-

Dylan pointed to one of the readers, “This is George.” George had his nose stuck in a magazine and merely looked up, not bothering to move his head..

“Hey man,” he said, reaching across and taking my hand.

“Tim,” I said. On the cover of the magazine was some video game. I could barely make out the title from my vantage point, his massive hands concealing most of the cover. “You like Biohazard, George?”

”God, I love it. If they had a course in playing the game at Westing… You play?”

“Sure do.”

“Have the new one yet?”

“No.”

“It’s pretty sick. I’ve got a sweet setup in my room with a plasma TV and surround sound… Well, as surround as you can get in a shoe box, right? You gotta stop I and see some of the stuff they put in the game. You won’t sleep at night for a week.”

“He’s not lying,” Dylan said, looking at George. “He’s stayed up the past two nights. Keeps falling asleep in class. But, moving right along, this is Sam.” He gestured to the other bookworm who had their nose stuck in a dissertation of the King James Bible.

Sam moved her head up from the book and I was surprised to find a soft, female face behind the masculine name. I must have looked shocked, because she spoke.

“Short for Samantha,” she said quickly, turning her attention back to the book.

“She’s not social with many people, so don’t worry. Right next to her,” Dylan pointed to a man who was sitting awkwardly on his chair, resting his arms on the back, “This galoof staring at the pool table waiting to hustle someone is Tyler.”

He looked up at me. His hair was short, brown, and ugly. “You play pool? I suck at it.”

“No.” I paused and wondered if I was funny or quick witted. “Work on your hustle.”

Tyler laughed. “I don’t want to work on my hustle. Sam doesn’t like me gambling.”

“You and Sam –“

“Two years, yeah. So, do you really not play pool?”

“I play Poker. What kind of satisfaction do you get out of hustling people if you can’t get their money?”

“Pride is a sin,” Sam said, “But I don’t mind as long as he’s mindful. Besides,” She looked up from the book, “He’s cute when he gloats.”

“I’m cute,” he said as the door in the back opened. Tyler jumped up and ran across the room to the strangers, motioning to the pool table. There was some shrugging and general acceptance before the group moved over to the table..

“And finally, this little lady over here is Liza.”

The odds, I thought, were staggering. It was the very same that had held the door and helped me into the house unharmed.


I extended my hand, “Hey there, I’m Tim.”

“Right. We’ve met briefly.”

“Oh, right. Well… Thanks for getting me in. It was cold and snowy out there. You were a gentleman, holding the door like that.”

She smiled. “No problem. Ms. Tinsley is a beast when it comes to checking ID badges. You have to be careful around her or else you’re going to be spending your night on the street. Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Where’d you pick this guy up, Dylan?” Sam said, setting her book down.

I crossed my legs.

“He was at a party up North over break and he seemed nice, so I gave him an invite. I said if he was ever in the area, he could crash here.”

“Westing College,” I said.

“Westing College,” Dylan said.

The pool balls clattered behind me as a voice came on over a loudspeaker.

“Attention, ladies and gentleman, the Night Scan will commence in ten minutes. All unauthorized personnel will be escorted off the premises if not in place by Night Scan. Thank you.”

“Alright, Tim, we can chat more tomorrow. We gotta get you to the guest dorm, otherwise you’re going to freeze in the cold tonight, bud.” Dylan led the way.

Sam kissed Tyler and they left through separate exits. George followed Dylan, and I waited for Liza.

“My name’s not really Liza,” she said, standing and grabbing my coat. She helped me into it and patted my back.

“Well, what is it?”

“Before I tell you,” she said, making her way to the door, “You should know that I picked ‘Liza’ because I like it better than my real name.”

“Noted.”

“Okay, don’t make fun… It’s Ohm.”

“Ohm? Like the Gregorian Chant? Ohm, Ohm, Ohmmm.”

“Come on, I said not to make fun...”

“Did your parents hate you?”

She turned and smiled, but didn’t say anything.

“Is it alright if I call you Ohm?”

“I prefer Liza.”

“I like Ohm more. It makes you special, you know?”

She laughed, and walked down the stairs. “I have to go. Women’s dorm is in the building across the quad, but I’m sure I’ll see you around if you’re hanging out with Dylan.”

I felt nervous and caught myself staring at her, but she was staring right back. She smiled, nodded, and moved down the stairs towards the first floor exit. Dylan outside of what I assumed was his dorm room, the room I had first seen him standing outside of.

“Liza and I kind of had a thing,” he said, moving down the hall and motioning for me to follow. “She’s nice and all, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

I sighed. By this time, I had gained about fifty or so rational, cognizant thoughts, but none of them were along the lines of, “I like Ohm in a way more than casual acquaintances would.”

However, one of them was, “I would like to take Sam and sin with her.”

“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind, Dylan.”

“I just thought I’d give you a heads up. So, are you just passing through?”

He kept walking down to the end of the hall and through a set of doors. They swung and almost clipped me, but there was another hall just beyond, equally as bleak and long with wooden doors set in the side.

“I don’t really know.”

“Well, I can get you a guest pass for ten days, but there are places renting out all along the strip if you really need a place to crash.”

I thought about the load of cash in my tennis bag. “Sounds good. Where are the guest dorms?”

“Right through here.”

He motioned towards a solid steel door with a touch pad. He entered a few digits, the door buzzed, clicked and swung open.

Inside was almost unbearably bright. I counted six uncovered fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. The room itself wasn’t quite a room, moreover a short hallway that dead ended. There were about twenty beds that lined either side of the hallway, and all forty were currently occupied. There were people lying in between the beds on discarded blankets.

“Some people sell guest passes to vagrants. You know how the police have gotten since the riots. If you’re on the street, you can’t sleep or else you know, you might wake up dead.”

“Right.”

“If you’re violent enough, I’m sure you could get a bed.”

I clutched the bag at my side. “No, it’s alright. I see a spot on the floor.”

Dylan looked me over. “Was Liza making eyes at you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she stare at you?”

“Kind of.”

He sighed and his face flushed. “Anyways, I figure you and I could get some breakfast at The Center tomorrow before I have to go to class. You an early riser?”

“I can be.”

“Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

At this point I was getting goddamned annoyed at all the people clapping me on the back, but Dylan did it once more before stepping out. I made my way past the sleeping bodies, past the occupied beds to one of the corners. I put my bag down and laid my head on it. I reached inside for the pad and paper and jotted down a few quick notes.

“Sam isn’t friendly.

“George is too friendly.

“Tyler is thick.

“Liza is pretty.

“Dylan doesn’t want me here.”

I put the pad away as I heard the door buzz and click, thinking it might be Dylan coming back to say something else. Instead, it was a lanky man wearing a tattered grey coat. He had short hair that was bright red, that waived and moved as he walked. The student that sold him the pass did everything short of shoving him onto the ground before leaving, but the vagrant started moaning and crying.

“Anyone want to cuddle? ANYONE want to CUDDLE? I’m so soft…”

I was scared. When I was around Dylan and Company, I almost forgot how cloudy my memory was. Nothing mattered but the moment, and now I was locked in a room with twenty plus homeless, smelly vagrants.

I didn’t smell bad, but I was a vagrant, I suppose.

The masses exhaled as my eyes began to droop.

I could have used a warm shoulder, but all I could think about was how truly lost I was.

[mead1]

Mal, this is exquisite. I cannot wait for the next installment.

[UberMario]

I hate being a slow reader. It looks good so far. something I'd read.

Are you making it up as you go along, or do you have everything planned out in your mind?

[UnitedStates@America]

Wow, that was terrific!

[Grandiagod]

Originally Posted by MalReynolds

cognizant

You get an A+ just for the use of the word "cognizant".

And the rest was good too.

[FoJaR]

dunno man, the writing was kinda lazy this time.

the story is good like always, but you could use hella tinkering.

[MalReynolds]

Originally Posted by FoJaR

dunno man, the writing was kinda lazy this time.

the story is good like always, but you could use hella tinkering.

I just re-read it and I literally switch tenses about halfway through.

Hella-tinkering, away!

EDITED: The first four pages up to the 'introduction' of new characters.

I think I ended on the line after he starts jotting everything down.

EDIT 2: Finished editing part 1.

[MalReynolds]

I must have actually fallen asleep despite my immediate surroundings, because I felt drowsy as Dylan was nudging me awake.

“Hey, I got your guest pass. I didn’t know your last name, so I told them ‘Smith.’ That good?”

“Yeah. I’m hungry, where are we going to eat?”

Dylan stood up and stepped over a sleeping lump. “Yeah, about that.”

“What?”

“Well, I forgot I have morning class today, so we can’t grab anything.”

I don’t know if I was disappointed or not.

“Alright then.”

He tossed the Guest Pass haphazardly in my direction. I caught it was a clumsy, drowsy hand and looked it over. It was made out of synthetic paper and had ten square boxes. Above each box was a date, starting today, that numbered ten days into the future, and above the first five boxes was my name.

“Tim Smith.”

Next to that, “Guest of Liza Franklin.”

“Why is Liza’s name on the pass?”

“Oh, that’s – well, she brought you in last night. So, her name had to be on the pass, otherwise they would have kicked you out or handed you over to the police or something, but I have to head out. I’ll catch you around campus. I get out of class around four today if you want to meet up in the quad.”

“Sounds good. I’ll wander around, I guess.”

But Dylan already had his back to me and was making his way towards the door. I flipped my Guest Pass over, and scrawled on the back was the punch-key access code to the door, effective for the next five days.

I rose up, throwing my coat on and grabbing my tennis bag when the door buzzed. Tyler poked his head in and scanned the room, hardly taking any notice of me.

“Hey Tyler.”

“What’s up, Tim?”

“Not much. Dylan ditched me for an early class. Want to get breakfast?”

“I don’t have any cash.”

“I’ll pay.”

Tyler didn’t skip a beat. “Sure.”

We walked out into the hall and down stairs to the front door where Tinsley was still eagerly checking badges.

Outside was strange in the light. It was almost alien to what I had seen the night before. The buildings, still tall and looming around the dorm house were somewhat more manageable. I could see the tops, the tiny flags waving in the distance and I was somewhat reassured that wherever I was had a sense of normality. As normal as a place can be, I suppose, when there were riots and Night Scans performed at college, with homeless people filling up a family dorm area.

“Where do you want to go?” Tyler said, turning.

“I’m not from around here, Tyler. You pick.”

“There are some good places at The Center.”

“What’s that?”

“An old building. Before they put up all these tall things, the buildings were a little friendlier, but most of them have been knocked down or are just vacant. When The Renovation was announced, most building owners took the opportunity to cut and run, leaving most of their stuff behind.

“Not many people know that. They knew that this place was in a real bad way and The Renovation led to the riots, but they didn’t know the extent of the trouble this town was in. Most people still don’t – the community does a fairly good job of covering it up.

“The Center is one of the buildings that the contractors couldn’t touch, but it converted into kind of a community area. If it was warmer, there’s a pool in the back, some arcades, a library and a couple of restaurants. The best parts of a shopping mall without all the riff raff,” he stopped, grinning, “Unless you count college students.”

“That’s… Almost an unbearable amount of information.”

“Sue me. I grew up around here, I saw the changes that were made. The place is better now, sure, but it’s just another city in the middle of a thousand identical cities. They’re all clones, you know, so sometimes I miss the old flavor it used to have. Sometimes I just wish I could forget how it used to be and take it for what it is.”

“The Center sounds like an alright place to eat,” I said in an attempt to shut him up.

“Or we could go to… Well, lemme show you.”

Tyler began beating pavement and I followed, bringing my scarf around my mouth. There was very little in the way of cars as we made progress – we summarily marched in the center of the road for what felt about twenty minutes. I could see the end of the skyline approaching and wondered if the street tapered off into a neighborhood or smaller community, but to my amusement, there was a cul-de-sac. After the turnaround, there was a small wooden bench, and after a five foot drop, there was sand, which ultimately lead to the water.

“Been a while since I’ve seen the ocean,” I set, realizing the sensation in my nose was the acrid smell of salt water.

“Good ol’ Atlantic,” Tyler said.

East Coast.

Tyler took to the side street just before the cul-de-sac and we walked for another five minutes before arriving at a squat building.

“This is The Kinder.”

“Another history lesson?”

“I’ll give you the highlights. Renovated elementary school. Most of the teachers left –“

“During The Rebirth or the riots.”

“Yeah, so now it’s half a school, half a cafeteria. Pricing is better than anything you’ll find on the main road.”

I opened the door for a change and held it for Tyler, who moseyed in.

I was immediately taken aback. There were no classrooms. The entry way was one long hall filled with large, plexiglas cages suspended from the ceiling. In each cage was a television and about twenty well dressed, well kept children sitting and watching obediently. The TVs were facing the far wall, I couldn’t even see what was playing that kept them so still. Several dozen cages stretched out down the long hall.

“Is this…”

“This is the school part.”

“Right.”

We walked under the cages and I could see no way for the children to get out or climb down. My nerves crept up on me every time I set foot under the shadows of so many young people haphazardly dangling above me. The cages shifted as the children moved, the supports creaked. In the far left corner, there was a cage where children were crying. There was no sound. It was as if I was staring at a dozen small, adept mimes who were pretending to weep.

I couldn’t bare staring at them. It was almost too much. I imagined that dissension was not well tolerated in this building.

When we reached the end of the conclave, there was another door, which led to a hallway that had two doors.

In the room to the right stood a young woman, who was pontificating in front of a camera. Thirty or so children sat at attention, staring up at her as she gave her lesson.

“She’s one of two that stayed during the riots.”

“Where’s the other one?”

“Killed in the riots, unfortunately.”

I nodded as we went through the door on the left.

The cafeteria was metallic and sterile. There was a serving line with a silver lunch-tray rail that extended to the cash register. Behind were a few young, relatively happy looking young servers. The trays were bright red and the cooler at the far end showcased an impressive amount of milk varieties as well as one or two juices.

I grabbed a tray and moved behind Tyler, who was grabbing a roll with butter and jam and a side of bacon. I took a carton of orange juice and a miniature box of cereal.

The total was less than five dollars.

I turned around with my tray and followed Tyler to the back, where he took a seat.

“Not hungry, Tim?”

“The cages kind of…”

“Threw you for a loop? Yeah, they do that to most first timers here.”

“Why does it have to be like that?”

“With only one teacher? We offered one of Westing’s lecture halls, but the school board declined. The only reason they declined, though, was because they already had a contractor who was ready to knock the walls down and put the cages in.”


(MORE LATER)

[ReikonKeiri]

Acrimonious.

lol vocabulary

[MalReynolds]

Originally Posted by UberMario

Are you making it up as you go along, or do you have everything planned out in your mind?

Typically, I have it all planned out.

This piece, yeah. Sometimes I'll come up with details that I like but don't necessarily sync up, so I go back and edit it again, but for the most part, all in my head.

[MalReynolds]

The taste of sweet sugar and oats. It tasted good. I wondered if I had liked this kind of stuff in my other life, my life Before Westing. If in my BW life I had any kind of goals or aspirations, or if eating cereal from a small box with a dog on it was enough.

I desperately wanted to remember anything I could, but all I got was the sound of crunching in my mouth as I reached for another handful. Dry pieces flew into my mouth and I started to cough when I saw the back door open.

Dylan waltzed in with George, making his way to the back line without noticing me. I kept my eyes on him to see if he was in any kind of hurry, but he took his time, letting George to ahead of him and stopping to think about the different pastries. He even went so far as to hold two plates of bacon for weight difference before shrugging and taking both plates. He paid for but him and George before turning and finding me sitting.

Tyler had been watching my eyes the entire time. I probably looked very angry, but I didn’t know Dylan well enough to feel anything other than a minor annoyance that I would have been lied to like that.

“Hey Dylan.”

He moved to the back of the cafeteria and took a seat with George, completely ignoring me.

“Hey, Dylan!”

He still didn’t look up.

I was growing more and more annoyed, which was crawling slowly into anger. I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Dylan!”

I stood up and walked across the floor.

“Oh, hey, Tim, didn’t see you.”

“Or hear me.”

I turned, looking for Tyler but he was still seated, staring at me.

“Or hear you. What’s up?”

“Not much. Is there any particular reason you ditched me this morning?”

“What are you talking about – “

“Can’t get breakfast. Have class.”

Dylan looked somewhat flustered. I saw the spark ignite in his dull eyes as he wrapped his mind around a feasible excuse before regurgitating it onto the table.

“I went back to get you, but you were gone.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“No, man, that’s what happened. Right, George?”

George didn’t move. He stared at his plate and fiddled with his glasses, before shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth. He mumbled something that was lost to the eggs.

“Well, then, sorry for interrupting your breakfast Dylan.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I clenched my fist down by my side. Maybe I was a naturally violent person BW. Maybe Dylan wanted to get hit, he seemed to have a glass jaw and an attitude that kicked.

“I’ll see you around campus,” I said through grinding teeth.

I walked back to the table, grabbed my cereal box, and walked out the back door.

-

I started walking back in a general Westing direction when a hand clapped on my shoulder. I turned, and it was Tyler.

“That was a douche move of him, you know.”

“He said he came back to invite me.”

“Yeah, that’s a lie and you know it Tim.”

“What’s his deal? He invites me to stay at the college, warns me off about Liza, invites me to breakfast and then ditches me.”

“Care for some more history, Tim?”

“Let’s walk.”

We went down the back alley towards the beach. Tyler hopped the fence and waited on the other side. I landed on the old boardwalk, most of the wood petrified, the railings now rock. It was empty in both directions, but I could imagine roller skates and bicycles and children not hanging from cages running back and forth. I looked a the ocean and thought about all the people that used to bob up and down in the tossing waves before The Rebirth, all the laughter, tears, screams, adrenaline, love, hate, heat and annoyance that used to exist on that very spot.

But it was empty, nothing but the phantom cries and children in boxes anymore.

“So, Dylan and Liza used to be an item.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“It was a little while ago. About three months, they decided to take a break from classes together and head up north. When they came back, they were hardly talking. It’s taken a lot just to get them in the same room together, and now they hardly even speak. I’m not too sure what happened – all anyone knows is that they went up together and came back separate.”

“That’s… When Dylan invited me to stay.”

“Yup. Did you see Liza at the party with Dylan that night?”

A direct question about my past. There are only so many ways to dodge a question like that – I could tell Tyler the truth, that I couldn’t remember who I was or how exactly I got to Westing, but that could be burning a bridge – no, the only bridge – I had. I couldn’t afford that, so I settled on the next best thing.

“I was pretty drunk.”

“Chances are, Dylan was too.”

“That explains why he didn’t seem to remember me until I talked to him.”

“Real unpredictable, that one. He doesn’t like it when anyone talks to Liza, and you and her seem to hit it off. I mean, from what I could hear over the pool table.”

I was getting uncomfortable with the line of discussion. A change was in order.

“So, you and Sam are a cute couple.”

“You think? My parents hate her. Staunch atheists.”

“How did an atheist and a church girl end up together?”

“Well – alright. This is kind of funny, I guess… I went to the Westing Chapel for service one day because I heard there were a lot of single girls there. And I love morals on a person, you know, so what better place to pick up chicks than at a chapel?

“Sam made me the second I walked in. She knew I didn’t belong there, she didn’t know my face, but she could see me looking everyone over. Naturally, she was the only girl I had eyes for. I think I might be a man of challenge,” he said, walking back towards the street and vaulting over the fence.

I stepped three feet to the right and walked through a swinging gate.

“Per-maybe-haps,” I said.

[MalReynolds]

“I asked Sam out after the service to bingo, which was coincidentally at the same building ten minutes later. It was a sly move, but after we actually started talking about things… We seemed to hit it off pretty well.”

“So, she’s a real person beneath all that suspicious ice?”

Tyler smiled. “A real person, actual and whole.”

“Being a real person,” I thought to myself. “I wonder what that’s like.”

“I’ve got class in twenty minutes, so you can hang out at the dorms if you want, or – Oh, wait, Liza doesn’t have mid-morning class. You could probably dog her around for a little while, if you were so inclined. Probably get Dylan fuming, but you don’t stand to lose much ground right now, do you?”

“I guess not.”
We walked back to campus, the road seemingly shorter. There were cracks in the sidewalk that focused around a center and spiraled outward, like an artist had deliberately taken an unrefined chisel to the pavement, the tendrils reaching out and touching the road where they disappeared into the darkness. It was a quite a thing to see, such uniform cracks moving back and forth, something I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been fervently staring at my shoes, thinking about Liza.

Maybe I could pray.

Ohm. Ohm.

The walk was so short, it seemed, that I thought I could turn around and still get a good view of the ocean, but it had disappeared behind the horizon of buildings.

“So, I gotta run, but I’ll see you around?”

“Of course.”

“Liza’s class is in the back, across the quad. You could probably make it look like an accident, running in to her, if you were so inclined.”

“If I were so inclined.”

Tyler nodded and jogged off.

I looked at the building and started walking on the footpath that wrapped around the side of the Westing dorms, a path that had been invisible in the pitch shadow the night before. It was a pleasant jaunt beside the building – despite the mechanized surroundings, it was shaded with what looked like the most natural of trees. I could hardly tell that on the other side of a few inches of bark was a large steel domino. It felt more like a park than anything else, and I was most surprised at the back of the dorms.

The quad was a large, grassy knoll that extended what looked like four hundred yards back, where it was met with a series of small brick buildings that stood no more than three stories tall. I could only assume that these belonged to the professors of science, the dean of admissions, and whatever classes they could teach in such an antiquated location. There were students everywhere, stretched out on blankets, staring up at the sky, some climbing on the border of trees that enclosed the area.

I nervously scanned the crowd, feet still moving along the path, trying to catch some sight (any sight) of Liza, when I quite literally, while looking to the left and walking to the right, walked into her.

She dropped her books on my feet, which was painful, awkward, and funny.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry Tim, I didn’t see you there!”

“That makes two of us. I don’t think I would ever intentionally walk right into someone like that.”

She smiled and as I hunkered down to pick up her books. They were lofty, compared to the small frame that touted them. I handed them over and looked away.

“I didn’t know the quad was quite like this,” I managed.

“It’s pleasant enough, but there’s enough drugs going around now to make it dangerous.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. You know the Flash epidemic back up North? They said they got rid of most of it, right? Yeah, they did… Up north. A whole bunch ton of it was shipped down here.”

“Right… Flash.”

“Bad stuff. Ruins lives. Some people take it and can’t remember who they are. Could you even imagine?”

“No,” I said, staring at the ground. I didn’t know what the hell Flash was, but even the mention of it was making me uncomfortable. I had run a series of ideas through my head about who I could have used to be, given my age, my weight, my standing, but it had never crossed my mind that I could have been a drug addict or some kind of drug dealer. The thought was making me uncomfortable.

“I don’t like talking about it, though, so… What are you doing, now?”

“Now? I’m standing in the middle of a quad talking to a girl.”

“I meant after you were done talking to me, idiot,” she said, smiling. She gave me a playful shove.

“Oh, I didn’t really have any plans after talking to you.”

There was a pause.

“Well, would you want to go see a movie?”

There was another pause.

“Sure. What all’s playing?”

Liza smiled. “I don’t know, I was just trying to find something we could do together. I don’t want to leave you hanging around here, you know? What’d you do this morning?”

“Well, I was supposed to go to breakfast with Dylan,” I said and watched as her smile melted away, “But he ditched me and we ended up running into each other – not like we did, I didn’t make him drop his books. I went to breakfast with Tyler instead.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Dylan?”

She still wasn’t smiling. “No, Tyler. Dylan… He’s something else, you know?”

“I really don’t.”

“Well, maybe that’s for the best.”

Birds landed and were chased off by a student who was trying to read a book sitting under a tree.

“Let’s run away,” Liza said, smiling again. “Right now, just you and I, let’s run away.”

“Where?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just not here. Let’s go.”

“Why?”

“Come on!” She said, grabbing my hand. I was pulled in a general Liza direction and we rounded the building, coming across the street. She didn’t let go, her grip was tight and she was laughing as her feet hit the pavement. She dropped her books but didn’t turn around to pick them up, didn’t even notice they were gone – all it seemed to do was empower her with more energy than I thought imaginable. My lungs were aching, my legs were on fire, but all I could think about was her hand wrapped around mine.

In less than ten minutes we had reached the beach. She let go of my hand and I could feel her slipping away as she slammed both palms down on the fence. I did the same, gasping for air, looking over at her bright red face. Sweat was running down her cheeks, mingling with the tears that had formed from the wind stinging her eyes and the laughter that had escaped from her during the run.

I felt something well inside me. I tried to keep it down as I was panting, I tried my hardest not to do something stupid in front of her, and then it happened.

I laughed. It was a small laugh at first – something that could have only been classified as a titter, but it grew louder and louder until she started laughing. Our voices harmonized and we fell to the ground, unable to catch our breath until the last possible second.

Did it matter if I used to sell Flash? Did I even do it?

No, it didn’t.

When I could finally breathe regularly again, I was afraid I wouldn’t have anything to say. Liza crawled over, putting her hand on the fence and pulling herself up. She motioned to the left of me, and I looked over. It was the movie theatre, but all the titles were blurred incredibly because of the tears welling in my eyes.

“Come on,” she said, extending her hand and helping me to my feet. She walked me over to the movie theatre and started reading off show times, but I could hardly pay attention. My ears were ringing and I felt like I was about to collapse.

We made it to the box office and I managed to hand over enough money for two tickets, and Liza held my arm until we were inside. I sat down, smiling, in a room full of strangers. It reminded me much of the guest dorms, but I felt less threatened, either by the presence of Liza beside me, or by the uniformity of the collected in the room.

As the theatre darkened, I looked over at Liza, and promptly fell asleep.

[ShastaTwist]

Wtfux, end.

/cry.

[RB_Dreamscanner]

SO FUKING GORGEOUS!!! <3 LOL....♥

{edit} PISS IT WONT SHOW!!! *it was shastatwists' avatr*

[MalReynolds]

I find this a worthy contribution to the novella.

[MalReynolds]

There was probably sensory input from the film that effected my dream, but having never since seen the movie or even heard anything about it, I can not know. My dream was summarily strange and relaxing at the same time – it combined the sandy beach from the east end of town with the cages. I was locked inside one of them as it bobbed up and down in the ocean, with sharks circling. Their fins cut streaks in the water which bled and clouded until I was in nothing but a torrent of red and a feeding frenzy between the sharks, with the occasional hammering of their faces against the cage I resided in.

But the cage would not fault, it would not crack. It remained steadfast and afloat the entire time, leaving me to watch the spectacle as it unfolded. There was nothing left at the end of it except the red water that lapped the edges of where I was seated, dumbfounded.

When the lights came back on the theatre, I woke up. Liza was lightly dozing next to me and I nudged her awake.

“The movie was way too long,” she said, yawning and stretching.

“Was it?”

She nodded and stood up, turning to watch the audience exit around us. My eyes locked on the floor – my head was swimming and I felt like I was about to pass out. My hands were shaking and my breath was short.

If I had some kind of illness, some kind of disease Before Westing, now would be a rotten time to find out. I shut my eyes and tried to focus on breathing in a more regular pattern, but my breath was still escaping in short, jagged pieces, falling to the ground and shattering like razor blades made of glass. There was a cold sweat over my forehead and I could feel it seep into my shirt.

I rubbed my face to be met with equal cold.

“Tim, are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” I started to cough.

“What’s the matter?”

“I – don’t – know,” each pause punctuated with a cough.

My windpipe was closing. It burned trying to breathe and I could hear my breath whistle in and out.

“Hold still,” Liza said, reaching into her pocket. I began to writhe on the floor.

“Hold still,” she repeated, holding out something. “Relax,” she said, placing her hand on my chest.

“Just relax.”

I was staring at the ceiling, watching the employees that had now flooded the room. They were walking back and forth, I could tell, trying to figure out just what to do with the dying man on the floor.

I closed my eyes.

“Open your mouth.”

I opened my mouth. I could feel something snaking its way down my throat, slowly, to my lungs, where they filled to the point of bursting.

“Exhale, Tim.”

As I let the air out of my lungs, I could feel my throat loosen. My muscles relaxed and I stopped shaking.

“Look at me,” Liza called from what seemed a thousand miles away.

I turned my head and tried to find her, but was met with darkness. From the center, a light burst and expanded until I could see the theatre staff. They had stopped pacing and instead had gathered around me. Liza was in the center, her hand still pressed to my chest. I watched her raise and lower with each breath I took.

“You’re going to be fine. You didn’t tell me you were Aeroplexic. You’re lucky I am too, otherwise…”

“Sorry, I must have left my medicine in my bag.”

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling and extending her hand, helping me to my feet. Carrying those heavy books helped out her arms, I thought, as she almost single-handedly pulled me up.

“You need to get some rest, Tim,” she said, hooking her elbow in mine and helping me walk out of the theatre.

“Yeah, I feel tired.”

We walked back to the main road in silence, and by the time the beach had disappeared from view, I was able to walk on my own. Our trip time was double what it should have been only because I had to stop and catch myself every hundred or so feet, but Liza never left my side.

I walked into the dorm and showed my card to Ms. Tinsley, who nodded. Liza walked past with me, a mirror image of the events of the night before. I managed to get a look at a clock as we were walking up the stairs – it was around 2 now.

“Don’t you have class?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it.”

“You should go,” I said, walking over to the guest dorm door and pulling out my card.

“I’m not going to leave you like this,” she said, smiling. “Come on, get your bag.”

I walked into the dorm and checked behind the bed on the far left side of the room – my bag was still in place, just where I had left it, but the room was now empty. The only thing that remained of the vagrants the night before was a thin officious smell that wafted through the room.

Out of view, I opened the bag and took a more serious inventory of the items inside.

Six white shirts, four pairs of jeans, twelve pair of socks and boxers, and wrapped inside one of the socks, a small orange medicine bottle.

“Aeroids.” Clever, clever. Something, I took it, for Aeroplexia, whatever the hell that was. Whatever condition it was that I had that almost killed me.

I sat on the floor and counted out the money. Jesus, there was enough for me buy one of the apartments across the street instead of rent one.

And in the back of the bag, a small black pouch, which I withdrew and opened.

Inside were two small vials, each with a lightning bolt on them.

My heart skipped a beat.

Christ, I was in possession of Flash.

I could hear footsteps coming over and I saw Liza above the beds making her way towards me. I threw both vials under the bed and shoved the black pouch back in the tennis bag.

“Everything alright, Tim? You got your medicine, right?”

I shook the bottle and feigned my best smile.

“Good.” She paused, looking at me. “Look, I don’t want you recovering in here. It’s not really safe in the daytime, they don’t have patrols or anything to check on the sleepers. George still has class, Tyler has class until six, and Dylan – well, forget Dylan. You can get some rest in the women’s dorm, if you’re all right with that?”

I sighed and got to my feet. “I don’t really think I have much of a choice,” I said, wanting to distance myself from the two vials under the bed, less than three feet away.

She gently placed her hand on my arm and led me out of the room, down the stairs and across the quad. Now knowing what to look for, I saw kids standing in the corners, behind trees, handing off money in discrete transactions, hidden from all except those that were looking for them.

Liza led me behind the first set of buildings, and behind was another tall building, much like the Westing Dorms I had seen on the other side of the quad. There was an identical street running in front of this other set, and an equally as grouchy woman checking ID.

“Liza and guest,” she said. The woman grunted and we walked up a flight of stairs.

“I’m over here,” she moved towards a door, removed a key and opened it.

Sam was sitting inside, trying to type something on a desktop computer.

“I can’t get the Gee-Dee arrows to show up, Liza,” Sam said, turning. Her face turned bright red when she saw me and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, Sam, Tim had an Aeroplexic attack and he needs a place to lay down.”

“Why not the guest dorms, Liza,” Sam sighed, putting enough emphasis on the word “Liza” to make the name seem alien, drawn out and nasal.

“Because they’re not safe during the day, and you know that.”

Sam let out an exasperated cry and kicked back from the computer.

“Well, it’s great that you asked!”

I hobbled over to the computer and looked at the screen. Sam was trying to pull me away, but the sound had gone from my ears. I didn’t much care about the paper – it had something to do, of course, with religion and secularism – but the format of the program was familiar enough to me, so that in three quick mouse clicks little black arrows were showing up in all the right places.

I stepped back. Liza was grinning, Sam was frowning, and I once again felt like I was about to pass out. Liza guided me over to one of the beds (God, the room was so small it felt like there was only enough room for one bed, let alone two twin sized, a desk and a closet) and made me sit.

“I have to go to class, Tim, but I think it’d be best if you tried to get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” I said, setting my tennis bag down, removing the pad and paper, and kicking it under the bed.

I looked up and saw Sam still trying to figure out just what I had done with the computer, but to be perfectly honest, I had no clue either. It had been nothing but a few steps of intuition, the invisible guiding force that tells you what’s what.

Sam got up and left for class, but not before shutting the computer off and taking the power cord with her, and Liza left shortly after.

I saw the shadows move across the room like they were alive, like time was something that couldn’t keep still, growing until I could barely see in front of me.

I jotted down a few more things before I let myself go.

“Tyler isn’t that dumb.

“Sam is just as cold.

“Dylan doesn’t want me here.

“I don’t want to forget Liza.”

It was all I could do to make myself fall asleep, terrified that when I awoke I might actually forget again. Again, as if this may have happened more than once before.

My final cognizant thought before drifting off to sleep was, “I’ve been sleeping too much lately.”

[MalReynolds]

It was growing dark by the time I woke up again. There was a faint pounding in my head, but that was all. Sometime in my sleep, I had kicked the blanket onto the floor and managed to pull even the fitted sheet off of the bed. This time, I couldn’t recall what I had been thinking about while on that other plane.

There was the sound of a key in the lock and Sam stumbled in, looking exhausted.

“Gee-Dee it,” she kept muttering under her breath, taking the power cord from her purse and restoring electricity to the computer.

“What?”

“Don’t talk to me, I have to focus,” she said, before spitting out another ‘Gee-Dee.’

“Is this about your paper?”

“No, it’s not, now will you let me think please?”

“Sure. No, never mind. What’s it about?”

She mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“It’s Tyler’s birthday tomorrow and I forgot.”

“Oh. Why can’t you get him something before you see him tomorrow?”

“I have class and I can’t miss another day or else I’m going to fail out of my Advanced Quadratics. I already have a low enough grade.”

In the shadows, Sam looked like a real person. No longer regal, no longer sitting astride a horse, she was a slumped over silhouette, a shade of what I had seen. I could tell from the cracks in her voice and the way her back was moving that she was on the verge of tears, and I felt something for her I didn’t think possible – pity. Did she have to live with such a prim and proper image of herself constantly, was she living a charade?

I wondered if she knew I could see her quietly sobbing.

“I can get him something and give it to you,” I offered.

“You don’t even know anything about Tyler,” she said, letting her voice fully go.

“I know he loves history, and that Chapel that he met you in. He like’s a challenge, is confident, kind, smart, good at pool and follows the rules you set.”

Her shadow looked over at the bed.

“Why would you do something like that for me?”

“I dunno. Cause I know what it’s like to forget, I suppose, something so important like that.”

“I don’t know, Tim.”

“Does Liza have class tomorrow?”

“No.”

“I’ll take her with me, if she doesn’t have any other plans. That way, I know I’ll be heading in the right direction. She can say if the present says anything about you, I know if it’ll say anything about Tyler. Do you have any idea what you want to get him?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Just tell Liza – tell her to meet me at the boardwalk tomorrow morning, around nine.”

A voice came over the loud speaker. “Attention, ladies and gentleman, the Night Scan will commence in ten minutes. All unauthorized personnel will be escorted off the premises if not in place by Night Scan. Thank you.”

“I have to book it,” I said, standing, grabbing my things. “Sorry I messed up the bed,” I said as I walked towards the door.

“Thank you,” Sam managed as I closed the door.

I moved down the hallway quickly in-between the throng of people who were enamored with the idea of sleeping in doors and down the stairwell past the teaching buildings and into the quad. I broke into a quick jog, the tennis bag bouncing against my side as I moved down the foot path towards the male Westing Dorms.

A shadow emerged from behind the trees as I was jogging, almost knocking me backwards.

“Wanna cuddle?” The voice said.

I tried juking to the left, to the right, but the man was fast.

“I said, wanna cuddle? I’m soft…”

“No thanks,” I managed.

The figure broke out into a whooping cough, covering his mouth with one tattered glove, swaying. It sounded like his throat was being torn apart with each exhale, as if he were coughing out the linings of his vocal chords.

“Got any Flash,” he muttered, sticking out a hand.

I tried passing him again, but to no avail.

“Got ANY FLASH,” he repeated.

I managed to say two things at the same time. I said “No,” with my voice, and I said, “No,” with a fist simultaneously. The man sprawled out backwards, and I stepped over him, breaking into a run, when I felt a hand clap on my shoulder.

“Got any FLASH, I said!”

I threw an elbow backwards, knocking him down again, but by the time I had turned my back, he was up. I kept shoving him, hitting him, knocking him down, but he would get back up and be on me before I could take five steps. Eventually, we had danced our way all the way across to the dorms, to the safety of the light that spilled out around the border of the building.

The mans face was no longer there, instead a bloody mess that had been instated with each elbow, punch, shove – his face had been impeached in lieu of a bloody paste. The torrent of blood that ran down his countenance was only discontinued when he chose to breathe, and blood would flow into his mouth, causing a recess in the waterfall of gore.

“Flash…” he managed to mutter before I threw him against the building.

He turned to the window and looked inside at the students milling around. They chose not to look at him as he clawed at the glass, as if it was a common occurrence for something like this to happen.

Now I understood what the fuss was about when it came to the Night Scan.

The vagrant clawing at the window was docile. I shuddered to think of what would happen if I had been attacked by one who was angry.

I ran around the building and was met with the site of people filing in. I imagined myself standing beside the sign that said, “Westing College,” naked, save for the lettering, and walking inside with the group of them.

Had that only been twenty four hours before? It felt like a lifetime had passed in this one day.

I joined the line going into the building and flashed my guest pass to Tinsley, who nodded, made a tick mark on the card, and let me through.

I punched the code in the Guest Dorm door and was met with the old smell of death and dirt. I carefully stepped between the bodies to the corner where I had slept the night before, and dropped my bag on the ground. I slid down, my eyes open, watching as more people entered. Some tried to get beds, others were content like myself with having even a corner to themselves.

I laid against the bag and shut my eyes, thinking about the Flash that sat under the bed less than ten feet away.

-

The next morning, Tyler poked his head in.

“Happy birthday, Tyler,” I managed.

“Hey, thanks! How’d you find out?”

“Liza told me,” I lied.

He nodded. “I got something for you.”

He tossed something into the room which landed at my feet. It was a towel.

“Come on, man, you don’t go anywhere without your towel, you know?”

“I don’t get it.”

Tyler smiled. “You smell like crap. Liza told me about your Aeroplexia, and the running you two did – you smell like crap. So, shower time!”

He led me down the hall, past Dylan’s room, to a communal bathroom. I clutched my bag to my chest.

“The showers have curtains, just don’t – don’t touch the shower curtains from the inside. They’re filthy. And I managed to sneak these away from Dylan last night,” he said, dropping a pair of shower shoes. “Because the floor is equally as gross as the shower curtain.

I slid them on and stepped inside.

-

I felt powder fresh, despite the lower water pressure and varying temperatures. Tyler waited outside for me to finish, keeping an eye on my real shoes.

There was a small feeling of renewal, of a quick rebirth as I turned the water off and the cold air assaulted my body. It felt so good, so new, so cold and relieving.

“Here are your shoes, man,” Tyler said, sliding them over. I saw the door to Dylan’s room crack open and a groggy man emerge. He shuffled past me in the direction of the Rec Hall without saying anything except, “Nice shoes.”

Tyler and I exchanged a quick glance as he tottered off.

“Anyway,” he said, “I thought you might need the shower. Busy day yesterday, you know?”

“Yeah. I probably smelled like I looked this morning,” I said, rifling through my bag and removing the orange bottle of Aeroids, slipping them into my pocket.

“We’re having a birthday thing for me at the Rec Hall tonight around eight. I expect to see you there,” he said.

“Sure thing.”

He nodded, grabbed the shower shoes, and ran down the hallway.

I glanced at the wall clock. It was closer to nine than I had thought – I had spent far too much time in the shower. Sighing, with the time in mind, I left the building with the bag at my side.

I half ran, half jogged in the easterly direction towards the boardwalk, trying not to remove the soapy fresh smell from my skin. At least I loved being clean.

Liza was hunched over the railing like she was yesterday after she had taken my hand and taken me away from myself. I tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned.

“Hey! Glad you made it back to the Guest Dorm all right,” she said, grinning.

“Yeah. It was no big.”

“They say a vagrant got attacked out in the quad last night. He had a guest pass on him – that could have been you. I was worried – I know you’re not a vagrant, but gossip doesn’t.”

I thought about the break in the waterfall of blood as the man inhaled and shuddered.

“He’s dead, the guy that got attacked.”

“What?”

“They say someone beat him up pretty bad, but he had his throat cut.”

The throat cutting – I most definitely did not do that. I didn’t even own a knife.

“Looks like a robbery. They said they found Flash all in his coat like someone broke a vial of it.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. I said the same thing. Oh – Oh! Speaking of which, I think it’s incredibly sweet what you’re doing for Sam.”

I couldn’t help but smile at Liza being reminded of Sam because of Jesus.

“No big, Ohm.”

She blushed.

[ShastaTwist]

Br00tal.

[MalReynolds]

“I don’t know any good places to shop,” I said, motioning to the city around us. “I’m still new here. Any ideas?”

“The Center has most of the good stores.”

“I was just about to suggest that.”

“Really? And how would you know about The Center?”

“Did you forget who I spent yesterday with? Captain History. I could probably tell you the starting history of the doors in the college, or the cue-ball on the pool table, the amount of time I spent with him.”

“You spent about three hours with him.”

“And that, that was enough to learn all of that.”

“Alright then, grand master of history, take me to The Center.”

I paused. “I may know about The Center, the man who built it, his father, and his father’s mistress, but I don’t know my way around here,” I smiled.

“Follow me,” she said, turning and walking towards the left, the opposite direction we had gone in the day before to get to the movie theatre and subsequent Aeroplexic attack. I nervously patted the pills in my pocket, hoping I wouldn’t fall on my face or have to use them.

There were a few side streets before we emerged onto a grassy field, which was completely surrounded by four tall mechanical buildings. In the center of the field, a large domed house shot up from the ground, and all around the building were people on blankets, picnicking, throwing Frisbees – an almost identical scene to the Quad, but this one felt safer.

“A lot of drugs run through here?” I asked.

“Not so much,” she said, motioning to the four buildings. “They put cameras in.”

“Ah.”

Liza anticipated my next question. “Cameras are too expensive for Westing.”

“How obscure,” I said.

We walked up a slight hill to the slate that comprised the front steps. I was surprised at how many buildings around this area were still brick, but as we got closer, I saw that it was just metal painted in painstaking detail to resemble the red rock.

The front doors were massive – extending far beyond five feet over my head, but they opened very easily. Inside was a small room, which led to another small set of glass doors. The floor was tiled with marble and shone in the hanging lights above. The glass on the doors was tinted, so I myself could only get a good look inside once Liza had moved ahead and pushed them open.

The tile continued into the main hall, which was larger than I had anticipated, given the size and look of the building. It extended as far back as I cared to strain my eyes, and from side to side could fit two school busses.

There were three floors, from what I could tell, before a ceiling. There were shops and kiosks littered around, with stairs, elevators, and escalators and your nearest convenience.

But what took me aback most about the place was not the sheer size, the enormity, or how empty it seemed, but instead the smell. It was a mixture of wood pulp, paper, coffee, sugar, sweets, perfume, cologne, bath beads, hand sprays, lotions, and a hint of french fries. Everything pleasant invading my olfactory sense at the same time.

I could hear Liza’s shoes clicking against the marble before I knew she was walking, simply because I was still staring at the ceiling, which had a replica of The Sistine Chapel printed on it.

“Come on, there’s a bunch of stores. What do you think Tyler would like?”

“God, something to do with history. Or pool.”

We walked in silence, looking at the shop names. Liza had probably seen them all a thousand times before, but they were new to me, so we slowed our pace and took our time. “The Coffee Beanery,” “Sweet Tooth,” “Bed and Body Bath.”

Once we had reached the far end of The Center, which took the better part of ten minutes, we stepped onto the escalator, Liza first. She turned, looking down at me, and smiled. I smiled back.

The second floor was just as intense, but we were confined to the borders. At first, all I wanted to do was stand and watch the people walking around the first floor from my vantage point, to see where they went, to reaffirm that I was living a waking life and that I was not the only person alive.

From up here, it all looked like memory.

It made me feel safe. It made me feel like a metaphor.

But now, now I didn’t want safe. I wanted to be normal, I wanted to walk and talk like nothing was wrong, like I was a person that had a known history, like Westing, or The Center, or The Kinder – I wanted to be a building more than anything with someone who could chronicle who I was and never forget, because they cared.

I started walking again, this time pulling Liza away. It took ten minutes to cover one end of The Center to the other, once again, but we had to double back to cover the other side. So far, there was nothing that I had even seen remotely that would say “You’re a cool guy, Tyler, From – Sam,” much less, “I love you, Tyler, From – Sam.”

My wonderment had left after we ended up back at the escalators. All the stores, so intoxicating before now seemed generic and to serve no purpose other than to have me fail in my mission.

“The third floor is the food court,” Liza said. “But there’s a few high priced shops at the end.”

I sighed and stepped on the escalator. The food court was a mix of anxiety of all people, servers and customers who were just trying to get by. There as a feeling of urgency spread evenly throughout the room that something important needed doing, and that people were just wasting their time. I certainly felt like I was.

Through the fluxuating crowd towards the back took more time than both floors combined, and when I was at the other side, I was sure I had lost whatever pleasant scent I had gained from the shower – instead, I now smelled like grease, obesity, and fried food, all of which go hand in hand together.

There were three stores – One of which seemed to be closed indefinitely.

One was a customized teddy bear store, which seemed like a good enough failsafe.

And the other was a book store.

The only book store I had seen in the entire building.

“Are book stores rare?” I said, turning to Liza.

“Who wants to read anymore? It’s so time consuming, you know? Plus, the attention span – it’s not worth it. In The Kinder, they don’t even have books, you know? They just watch a TV all day, and they say that generation is getting smarter every day.

“I still love to read, though,” she said, walking into the store.

It smelled great, like new paper and old paper, leather and binding, imagination and fancy. I took my time walking through the front of the store – they had entire shelves devoted to new authors who had refused to give up their craft in lieu of a new system. Shelf after shelf of horror book, of wry comedy, of satire and history, all of which could be condensed into a three minute lesson on a TV – Books were truly a luxury.

And if price was any indicator, boy were they ever.

I didn’t even know if Tyler liked to read, but a feeling in my gut said that whatever gift was purchased, it should be from this store.

Near the back, I found a section devoted to hobbies.

A few books in Pinball, a few books on old computer programming, and one volume that caught my eye.

“The Complete History of Billiards, Nine Ball, and Pool Sharks.”

Alarms went off in my head.

Oh yes, this was the gift.

“Hey, Liza, come over here,” I motioned.

She had her nose stuck in some book, which from the cover alone, seemed to be based on a deserted New York City overrun with tiny monsters. I pointed to “The Complete History of Billiards, Nine Ball, and Pool Sharks.”

“Yeah? What do you think?”

“I think,” she said, picking the book up, “That it’s a little expensive.”

[MalReynolds]

She was right. Had I not been completely loaded, it would have put a dent in my wallet, but as it stood, it was only a very minimalistic chunk of what I had with me.

“Gosh,” I managed, “That is pretty pricey. I guess I’ll look for something else.”

“Really?”

“No!” I said, snatching the book out of her hands and running towards the register. The look on her face was priceless – a mix of shock and appreciation. I slammed the book down on the counter and fished through the tennis bag until I found the money, which I also slammed on the counter. The man behind the register looked unimpressed.

“Thank you, have a… day,” he said, before putting the purchase in a bag.

“Have a day too,” I said back as Liza and I walked out of the store.

“What’s that supposed to even mean?” She asked.

“Well, I guess he doesn’t want me to have a good day or a bad day. The day he wants me to have, ideally, would be one where the day exists. So, he’s pretty right on.”

“He was just wishing existence on you,” she said, not asking, but stating the fact as if trying to wrap her mind around it.

“Yes. It was very kind of him. Thoughtful. I’ve though about not existing before.”

“What was it like?”

“What, thinking about not existing?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I – I’m not really sure. I was just trying to be coy.”

We were riding down the escalator, and we were both fishing for things to say. I was more embarrassed than anything else – I hated lying to anyone, I knew that much, so opening doors to my past was a bad idea, if I was in fact to have ‘a day.’

Liza leaned over the railing, arms folded, and stared at the people walking along, much like I did. There were more people on the bottom floor than I cared to count, a precariously large number. Class had probably let out at some point and the students took it upon themselves to violate The Center.

And then there was a gunshot. The tile near my feet shattered and blew upwards, shards of porcelain grazing my cheek. I looked down at the hole in the floor, past to the barrel of a gun, a slow arm of smoke moving up. I pulled Liza back against the wall as another two shots rang out, another two holes appeared right where she had been standing.

I held my arm across her, moving along the edge, trying to find an open store, but there was nothing. The escalators were too far away, and I couldn’t presume to know the intention of the man with the gun – for all I knew, he could be after me.

Liza was shaking, her hair falling in front of her face. I slid down the wall, pulling her down with me, making us as small as possible if he decided to come upstairs.

“Shh, shh,” I whispered. She looked at me, her eyes watering.

There was another shot followed by a series of screams. Using the noise to our advantage, we bolted towards the up escalator, back to where the floor was solid and we could distance ourselves.

We took them two at a time, and I afforded a glance behind to see the gunman making his way up the stairs. Our eyes met and he seemed to have no interest in me, instead, breaking to the left.

What had struck me as odd about the gunner was how he had the same eyes as the homeless man the night before. They both had the same glazed over indelible look of defeat and yearning. It was so pathetic it could easily, in both cases, invoke pity had the assailants not been assailants.

There were a few more shots. The people in the food court were doing what any crowd would do in the presence of such a frightening sound, and in the midst of the panicking throng, I managed to upturn a table and pull Liza down behind it.

“There’s enough people here to take the man, why the hell aren’t they doing anything?”

Her voice tremoring, she made an effort to speak. “They don’t – involved – the police – not good, you know?”

I shook my head but motioned for her to be silent. I looked out from behind the table and saw the brown shoes of the gunner making their way down the hall, the erratic step-step-fumble of a man who wasn’t quite in his own mind. He was muttering something under his breath, something that sound thin and raspy.

“Come, come, come, crash with me, crash with me and that’ll be that,” he would say before extending his gun arm and firing a shot. I watched a woman drop in front of me, her dead eyes meeting mine. I had to put my hand in front of Liza’s mouth to stop her from screaming.

“Come, come, come, crash with me, crash with me and that’ll be that,” his gun said, punctuated with a bang instead of a period. Another crash.

“Come, come, come, crash with me, crash with me and that’ll be that,” the barrel spat.

His footsteps were growing closer to the table. Liza was shaking more violently. I clutched the bag in my hand, readying it at my side in case he should walk past and give me the opportunity to swing.

“Come, come, come, crash with me, crash with me and that’ll be that,” but instead of a gunshot, there was a click. “Riddles, riddles,” he said, and I stood, staring at him. The floor had, for the most part, remained the most occupied floor of the building. People were running, arms over head, screaming, but I could hear him.

”Riddles, riddles,” he pulled bullets from his pocket and clicked the gun open.

“Riddles, riddles,” he said, staring at me, and sliding a bullet into the chamber.

“Come, come, come, crash with me, crash with me,” I braced myself, holding Liza down, “And that’ll be that.”

Instead of one gunshot, there was a volley, and the gunners body danced. He was moving his feet like he had nothing to lose, his head tossed back in laughter. His arms shook at his side, and he brought his head up and looked me in the eyes.

“And that’ll be that,” he said, leveling the gun at me again.

The loud crashes continued around me as the five armed officers walked past, firing their guns at the man. He continued to dance as the bullets hit his body, continued to sing, ramble, and stare at me.

Until one of his eyes disappeared.

Then he fell over.

I stood gasping, my hands slick with sweat, the bag dropping from my hand.

He fell over so slowly. His body hit the ground, and everyone stopped. Or had they stopped when the officers had started firing?

His body hit the ground, and I sighed.

I looked down at Liza, who had been staring at me the entire time. Tears were running down her cheeks, but her eyes were full of regret. “I wish this was the first time this had happened,” is what I took away from her sad stare.

“This, this is certainly a day,” I thought to myself.

The police were surrounding the body. One of the officers fired two more shots into the prone body and it jerked like it was still alive.

“Is anyone hurt?” The first officer asked. “Did anyone try to confront this man?”

No one moved.

“I’m going to ask again – Did anyone try to confront this man? Did anyone provoke him in any way? Did anyone SAY anything to him before he started shooting?”

A young man, who couldn’t have been more than my age, judging by his eyes, stepped forward. “He – Downstairs, he asked me for some money, and I told him to get lost.”

“And of course, you saw him. You looked at him.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Come with us.” It wasn’t an option, it wasn’t an order. It was an ultimatum. They had their guns drawn.

He stepped forward, and before anyone could say anything, his head disappeared into a crimson bag and he was escorted.

“Anyone else? Please, honesty is the best policy – we’ll review the tapes and if we see ANYTHING at all suspicious and you didn’t step forward – you’ll wish you did.”

The officers grabbed the body by the arms and dragged it to the escalator. They cast one last glance over the room and disappeared.

I don’t know who I was more afraid of – the gunner, of the police.

Liza stood and dusted herself off, for all the good it did – dust doesn’t have a particular way of attaching when you’re shaking like a dryer.

“No one tries to stop those things anymore,” she said, repeating herself, trying to restore normalcy in her head, “Because you get taken by the police.”

“Why?”

“The shooter – he was on something, and I’d say Flash from the way he was looking, and most of the time, Flash addicts are docile until – until – everyone has a different trigger.”

She was staring at me. She inhaled sharply through her nose and rubbed her wrist against her eye, catching a tear.

“And the police don’t care if you’re on Flash, but they care if you go off like he did. In their eyes, the man who set him off is just as responsible as the man who shot the gun.”

“But he wasn’t any older than I was.”

“Yeah, well, there was a war on drugs, and now there’s a truce. Anyone who violates it – well, that’s that,” she said.

“This has happened to you before, hasn’t it.”

She nodded. “Twice. Once at college, and one time when my father was visiting, he refused to tip the waiter, and the waiter took a knife to another patron. He had just started using Flash, but he was already gone – so was the woman.” She paused.

“So was my father.”

I sighed and pulled her in for the most awkward hug I presume I've given in my entire life.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I was too,” she said into my chest.

Already someone had come through with a mop and bucket, and employees were rigorously trying to right all the fallen tables and chairs. The food court was beginning to look more and more like a room again.

I could only hope that Liza and I were beginning to look like people.