That idiot. How the hell did he get into this situation?
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A machine nearby beeped periodically; Monty's' life-signs pinged to life through its screen. A ghost in the machine. I kept glancing at it to check in on him, making sure nothing has changed. Sometimes I thought I heard it make a different sound, something harsher or softer. After a while, I realized I must have been imagining it.
Was it because I wanted something to happen? I don't know. I just know that I hate the silence. The precise and unequivocal reality of the situation. There's no room for nuance in a hospital where doctors and nurses with ten plus years of experience circle around like wardens on a prison floor.
So I think I liked to imagine something unexpected happening. Something that tells me he's still rolling around in there, even if I couldn't crack a dumb joke to him. I wondered if he could hear us.
Most of all, I wanted to tell him how the world's changed.
It's been about a month since the incident on the wharf, and we're still not sure exactly what happened. I remembered I found him alone and unconscious shortly after waking up myself. Lynn was gone, but I didn't think too much time passed.
When I called an ambulance, the sirens blared across the bay and I was reminded of a strange thrumming I heard earlier that day. Like the ripple of a current, it came in waves and got louder and louder until suddenly I'm pulled back into reality at the base of a torrent of emotions. By the time Monty was placed on the stretcher and carried into the ambulance, the episode ended and I was alone again.
When I went home, Nana was worried sick. She wrapped me up in a tight hug and whispered, "Are you okay? What happened?" Crows' feet were perched just below her glasses. She must have been waiting for me for a while.
"I'm sorry Nana. I made you worry."
I was like jelly in her arms. Like a free flowing stream. We separated, but she kept her hands on my shoulders and met my eyes.
"Tell me what happened."
Her gaze was stern, but full of warmth. She looked down at me like she knew every little secret I ever harbored. It was like she just wanted to hear me say it myself.
"I don't know Nana. I don't know how to explain it; it's not exactly something I can easily talk about."
Her hands found my cheeks. They were so warm.
"Tell me Cindi."
I told her about how I met Monty, and how we snuck out to the wharf. I told her about the boys who chased us; I tried to make it sound less dangerous than it probably was. In hindsight, I think we bit off a little more than we could chew, but you won't see me saying that out loud. If I did then she wouldn't ever let me out of the house again. I don't think she entirely believed me, but she didn't say anything otherwise. She just sat down across from me at the dinner table and listened intently. Her hands rubbed each other, as if in consolation.
"You were gone for so long."
"I know, Nana." I looked down at my shoes, dirty and mud soaked. She reached across the table and pulled my hand into hers.
"I'm sorry about your friend."
"He's not really…" I thought about what I was going to say. We'd only just met?
"He's just our neighbor. I doubt he even wanted to follow me tonight. I didn't exactly give him any choice." My fists tightened up. Something wanted to escape my chest, like a trembling feeling. "I…I'm the reason he's in the hospital."
"No. You couldn't have known what would happen."
Something swelled up inside, like a water balloon ready to burst. I wanted to cry, but I held it in. I thought I'd be less of a wuss. I was still so weak. She embraced me again.
Later that night it was all over the news. When I walked into the room to find Nana already on the couch listening to some talking heads I knew right away that something must have happened. Something big.
Bang!
Live on the news, stories emerged covering anomalous explosions all throughout the city. Images of smoke climbing up skyscrapers flashed in split second increments. It was happening all over…Easton, Weston, the Island, Alexandria, Solomon's Isle, Vaux, Lenox, Terrace, Ambrugge. In almost every ward of the city.
I didn't know what to say. So we just sat there together on the sofa in silence, hoping that we wouldn't be next. A surreal overflow of information, like we were watching a cartoon. It just didn't feel real.
I managed to land a weekend visit to Monty in the Easttown General Hospital. He had fallen into a coma sometime after we were separated on the wharf. Apparently, that ambulance arrived shortly after news broke about the explosions across the city. They were expecting something a little more gruesome.
Nana was hesitant to let me go with everything going on right now. So, she dropped me off. I wanted to be alone, and I knew it hurt her to hear that, but it was just something I had to do. I hope she realized that.
When I tried to remember what happened that night, something held me back. It was like I had forgotten a key to a safe and I just couldn't force it open.
I followed a hallway to an unlabeled room. After opening the door I noticed someone was already inside. I felt a little awkward.
He slumped over the bed. His glasses were nearly falling off his face. Disheveled hair and a name tag from the Easttown Museum displays his name as David Dunn. He was probably family. A cousin maybe?
When I approached, he must have heard me because he bolted upright and watched me. There were bags under his eyes.
"Are you one of Monty's friends?"
I didn't know what to say; I just nodded.
"You look familiar…" He searches for something. He recognized me. "Ah, I remember. We live in the same complex, don't we? That means you also saw the explosions in the sky." He looked down at Monty. I can tell he really cherished him. I doubt he's showered in a few days. He must have been at Monty's side all this time. A small tray of food sat untouched nearby.
I thought of Nana and what she was thinking when I was gone for those few hours. She must have felt terrified.
If things were a little bit different, it could have been me on that cot and Nana at my bedside. I can't stomach the idea of her not eating because of me. It made me feel sick.
"I'm so sorry about Monty," I said. "You may not know…but I was the reason that Monty ended up like this."
David glanced back down to Monty. When he looked back up to me he was smiling.
"You must have been the one who called the ambulance. Thank you for saving Monty."
Huh? Did he not hear me?
"No, no I forced him to come with me to the wharf. I--I'm the reason he's like this…" Why was he so calm? Wasn't he angry? He just nodded.
"I suspected he probably wouldn't have snuck out alone." His hands tightened up into fists. "Thank you for being there for him, when I couldn't."
We sat together for a little while before I left to go home. I racked my head for something else to say to David, but ended up just asking him questions about Monty. He was more than happy to humor my curiosity and even lit up talking about him. I think he was a little happier after I visited.
After checking in with Nana, I went out to the batting cages to let off some steam. Raiden and Jesse were already getting in some sets. The ever tall and foreboding Jesse nodded at me when I slammed open the door to the batting area. Next to him Raiden with his messy and matte hair leaned over a metal bat and sneered like a dumbass.
"Look what the cat dragged in," he goaded.
I crossed my arms and smiled. "Bold words for a kid named Raiden Ratfuss"
"Rothfuss!"
Jesse slapped the back of his helmet.
"You're getting distracted. Eye on the ball jackass." He looked back at me and smiled. "Hey C, long time…"
"No C?" I chuckled.
"Took the words right out of my mouth."
"If you're done chatting up the enemy, watch me hit this slugger."
We waited patiently for him.
"Go on then," Jesse taunted. "Show us how it's done."
With no warm up, Raiden went to signal the pitching machine. The pitcher roared to life, gears and metal screeching as the first few balls shot across the cage. In here, Raiden "The Raider" Rothfuss called the shots. He swung and successfully hit a respectable fourteen out of twenty. Speed was absolutely on his side, though the accuracy of his hits left more to be desired. I think he knew that too, since he grimaced at every mistake he made.
"Not bad Ratfuss."
He shot me a glare.
"Think you could do better?"
"Pfff watch me."
The first pitch struck my bat and sent shivers down my arms. One hit. Then that quickly turned into three hits. Four now. Shit, a miss.
Raiden made a stupid face. Something akin to a schoolyard taunt. I shrugged it off. My focus returned to the task in front of me. Four hits became seven. Seven became nine. Then the worst thing happened in the history of my career. He got to me.
I swung and missed. Three times.
"Don't go slacking now. What happened to all that smack talk C?"
Three. Three misses in a row. Damn, I'm off my game today. Raiden was about to make another snide comment, Jesse gave him a sharp elbow to the rib to shut him up. I was grateful for that. I needed to lock in.
Two more hits put me at eleven to four. Then, twelve. I thought I was in the clear, because of no fault but my own, I missed another two times. If I missed one more time, then that's it for my reputation. I won't ever recover from this humiliation.
One more hit means thirteen total. Then, something must have happened in the pitcher, because the final ball to pop out did so at an entirely unimaginable angle. I didn't know what to do, so I just swung as wide of an arc as I could. This was one for the books, I realized. I just lost to Raiden Ratfuss. He'll never let this down.
"Was that strike seven?" Raiden said.
I sighed, and handed Jesse the bat.
"I get it, Ratfuss. You win."
He grinned from ear to ear. Little shit. Now that our little sideshow ended, it was time to watch a real master at work. Jesse Caulfield wasn't just the star of Underwood Academy's Underdogs. He was practically being scouted for the Agarthan Major Leagues at only sixteen.
"Come one Jesse!" I shouted. He just smiled and nodded. The slams of the bat did the talking for him.
Twenty.
Twenty out of twenty pitches in a row.
All Raiden could say was, "Fire…dude. You're packing some real firepower behind those swings."
Jesse wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded, silently happy with himself. As we finished up Jesse pulled me to the side and asked, "What's up. You were, like, missing some easy hits back there. Did what Raiden say get to you? I'll talk to him. He was a little too much today."
"No it wasn't him. I just haven't been feeling it lately."
I couldn't look up at him. He definitely suspected something was up.
"I'm fine. Really."
He was always so serious. For all the trouble he gave me, it was something I appreciated. I liked that about him. I can't imagine how things would have gone if he hadn't become my friend when I first arrived at Underwood Academy. I'm glad to have him as a friend. Even if he could be a hardass sometimes.
I said, "Come on, let's blow this joint."
The rumors wouldn't start till later that night. When everyone went home to settle in for the evening, the streets of Easttown, or Easton as locals liked to call it, were a little emptier.
Nana and I were on the sofa together, watching a reporter live on the scene of another anomaly, which she dubbed a "Flashpoint". Though, I don't think she was using that term correctly. Someone else behind the camera shouted, "Surges!". Another, "Geez, a flare here?"
It was obvious no one really knew what to make of them yet, and it's been a few days since they've begun to pop up throughout the city. People were calling for government officials to keep people inside and institute a city-wide quarantine.
The reporter's camera swept through an apartment building. It appeared as though the "flare" that happened here was limited to just the apartment. Soot covered the walls, burnt furniture, almost everything had been touched by whatever residue these things discharged.
A group of people in hazmat suits were already scrubbing the apartment for the residue. One of them approached the reporter and said, "This is a restricted area. You're gonna have to take that camera somewhere else."
The reporter pushed back a little. "Can you tell us anything about the mysterious Flashpoints?"
"No. I can't. Now leave or we'll have to have security escort you off the premises. Actually, how did you even get through security?"
The reporter ignores his question. She sticks the microphone right up against his nose.
"Is it true that they're leaving behind harmful chemical radiation?"
"Look lady, I don't care who you report for--"
"That'll be the Daily Carpe Diem."
"Are you kidding me? You're not even ACN?" The man looked strangely disappointed. Even I could tell that was sad. She shrugs off the comment.
"What is the official term authorities are using to describe these phenomena? Has the mayor made any plans to appoint a commission to address them?"
"Don't waste my time. I'm not even supposed to talk to you," he said and turned around to return to his duties.
A similarly dressed woman nearby said to him, "Signatures are through the roof. Tell them to leave the premises NOW." The man in the hazmat suit swung around back to the reporter and said, "Alright you heard her miss Carpet News."
"That's, uh, Carpe Di--"
"Another AAD signature just appeared in the building. We have to go--"
Some kind of shockwave threw the soot from the floor up in the air, like flour in a bakery. Static. It filled the screen like popcorn. Someone had cut the footage.