Someone had burned down St. Florian last night. A glowing little alert had popped up and informed Chuck sometime after midnight during his twenty four hour coding bender. But when he opened the outside door the next evening - blinking and slightly disoriented - it was clear that something had happened anyways. There was no escaping the faint scent of smoke or the touch of haze in the air. The weather had turned cool. Duluxe-capped Motorcity was insulated for sure, but the Chuck's arms still broke out into goosebumps and the metal doorknob was cold under his hand.
Tonight was the night before Halloween. Tonight had a special name.
But Chuck wasn't thinking about that as he stepped out of the Burner's garage and out into the crowded street. People pressed in around him, costumed and intoxicated. Music beat in the distance. Couples pressed close to each other, masks touching. More than that, maybe, in the shadows. This was Halloween with a hot, sharp edge.
Chuck just wanted to find his friends.
Chuck wormed his way through the crowd, feeling his anxiety grow. They must be somewhere out here right?
And he was right, because after getting through a particularly rowdy group he spotted them. They had costumes on, he supposed that had thrown off his search.
Chuck's own ordinary sneakers slapped against the pavement as he hurried over. "Hey guys, I didn't know we were supposed to dress up today. Isn't tomorrow Halloween?"
They turned to look at him as one. After a beat, Mike answered him.
"Hey there, Chuck, we were just talking about you," he said. His white teeth matched the bones sewn across his chest and painted on his face. His eyes stood out starkly in the dark-painted sockets. He looked joyous and strange.
The rest of the Burners were worse. Dutch stood still as a statue and loomed over the rest at his full height. His face was masked completely by a purple paint respirator that snaked its way up his face and covered his eyes in shiny, opaque lenses. The filters rasped loudly when he breathed.
Julie bit into the shiny red candy apple. It crunched loudly, and left her lips the color of blood. Her face was powdered unnaturally pale and her eyeliner was unusually thick and black so that her eyes seemed almost luminous. Chuck guessed that she must be dressed as a vampire. Or something.
Texas was like a coiled spring. He stood there just as silent as the rest of them, but his eyes were wild. He practical vibrated with a restrained, manic energy. Paint was streaked across his face and clothes in no discernible pattern. Chuck was reminded of a rabid dog he saw once, years ago.
These people barely resembled his friends.
"So... What's up guys?" Chuck tried anyways. Nobody acknowledged him.
"We're going to take off now," Julie said, looking only at Mike. She took another bite of her apple and the melting candy shell dripped scarlet on the ground.
"Okay guys, see you later tonight. Don't be late!" Mike playfully prodded Dutch's side with his elbow. Dutch made no response.
They paused before leaving, and for a moment there was no sound but the rasp of Dutch's slow breathing. Then they slid into the commotion of the crowd and were swallowed up in an instant; gone as quickly as smoke in the wind.
Then it was just Chuck and Mike.
"Did they seem... strange to you?" Chuck said hesitantly.
Mike waved his hand. "They're just tired, dude. We all had a late night yesterday." Mike laughed like this was funny before continuing. "Don't worry, we'll meet up with them later. But first, I got something to show you."
With that, Mike turned and sprinted away from a very startled Chuck.
"Mike! What're you doing?" Chuck yelled, but he followed after Mike without a second's hesitation.
The trash crinkled like dry leaves as Chuck chased Mike through the streets of the sprawling city. And then the trash became broken glass and Chuck could half-imagine that it was frost that cracked underfoot.
Kids ran through the alleys wearing costumes and masks. One held a can of spray paint against the wall with an outstretched arm as she ran, leaving a wet, black line trailing behind her. Their laughter echoed between the buildings, back and forth until it was drawn-out and distorted.
"Come on, Chuckles," Mike said from far ahead. His face was a grinning skull. He ran through the back alleys, twisting and turning around the corners with a native grace.
Chuck could barely keep up. He pounded after him, all long legs and elbows. His heart beat loudly in his ears and the scenery blurred out of the corner of his eye.
Who knows where Mike was leading him, but Chuck just - couldn't stand to be left behind.
They were headed away from the city center, the buildings around him loomed dark and abandoned. The alley forked and Chuck kept to the left when he saw Mike's black and white blur down that path. When he passed the right fork he got the split second image of a group of green-masked figures gathered in a circle. More children? They had seemed very tall, and very silent. It didn't matter, Chuck had ran far past them now, and if he didn't concentrate on what he was doing he would lose track of Mike.
He ran faster. He caught more quick blurs of colors as he passed streets and alleys. Notes of music hit his ears and quickly faded away. An animal yowled in the distance. He ignored them all.
Chuck turned the next corner and skidded to a halt. The alley ended quite abruptly in a moldering brick wall. Nothing to left, nothing to the right; the only feature was a tunnel, about four feet high, in the wall in front of him. He peered in and could see nothing in the depths.
Chuck crouched just before the mouth of the tunnel. It was quiet now. There was no music, no engines, no distant laughter. A slight breeze blew from the opening, cool and damp. The toes of his worn shoes nudged into the tunnel's shadow and were instantly lost to the blackness.
"Chuck!" Mike's voice called familiar and warm from the darkness.
The air smelled like smoke.