The heat burned his body, he found it difficult to even breath.
The pitch-black darkness that enveloped the sky, was pierced by a single light source. A red star.
Its light wasn't strong enough to banish the darkness that swallowed the world, yet strong enough to burn a persons eyes. It burned both, the body and soul.
All around him lied the sorry remains of the city he once used to call his home. Where the buildings he once knew stood, only rubble and ashes left.
And in between the rubble, and on the streets he walked, dead bodies were scattered like old broken rag-dolls.
Stripped of all clothing, their skin almost completely burned off, empty eye sockets and faces rid of almost all individual features.
With all his will he tried to ignore the fact that some of them weren't really dead yet. Some of them attempted to move, but their attempts were futile. Others called for help, but their crushed and burned throats and scorched lungs only released silent moans, that got lost in the wind.
He was trying not to see. He pretended to be blind and deaf, oh how he wished to be blind and deaf, he was so horrified by the thought he might identify one of them as one of his loved-ones.
He looked forwards, just forwards. He was afraid to look at his own hands, afraid that he might see them scorched to the bone.
Why is he alive?
Why did this happen?
What happened?
He felt the urge to go away, away from this all. But he didn't know where, he just walked. Just walked.
The air was dry and heavy, There was a feel of static in the air.
"Like the inside of a microwave" his mind whispered. He shrugged.
How could he even think of such nonsense in such a time like this. Is he going mad?
He saw shadows, a bunch of shadows burned on the wall.
Silhouettes trapped in eternity.
Then he saw it. A figure standing in the middle of the road. It wasn't moving.
His tears fell, evaporating mediately after hitting the ground.
The hair burned away, the skin scorched, eyeballs missing.
The lips burned off,so the nose, no clue of what happened to the ears.
Yet, he still knew. He knew that he looks into the lifeless face of...
Arnold woke up, wet with sweat.
Why?
What's wit these nightmares?
He looked at the clock. It was 5:30 "I guess I won't sleep any more" said he, as he stood up from his bead.
He looked out of the window.
It was still night, alto the sun was about to rise in a minute.
"What are you so worried about?"he asked himself "It's not like there's a red star going to appear or anything."
He shuddered. He was having nightmares for almost a week now.
Natural disasters, warfare, monsters like from a bad 70s horror-movie, apocalyptic visions. All those dreams had one thing in common, the red star.
He stared into the night, deep in thoughts.
"What does this mean?"
"Probably nothing" he quickly replied to himself, probably I'm just going crazy.
But from what?
High-school? He never had too much difficulties there.
The new boarders? Sure, the Reddishs seemed quite creepy, and there were some nasty rumours about them, but nothing to have nightmares about.
Helga and Harold getting on his nerves all the time? they were doing it since grade-school. If someone is crazy then it's them for not getting tired of it after so many years.
When he thought about it, it was somehow strange. He lived in a big city, yet, somehow, he always ran into the same people.
Gerald, Helga, Harold, Phoebe, Rhonda, Stinky, Eugene, Sid, Curly, Lila, Brainy...
He shuddered again, remembering his dream.
He turned on the radio.
Six-o-clock What? He stood there for so long? The sun was already up.
The morning news weren't too cheerful either.
A bunch of terrorists apparently ambushed a airport in Atlanta, hijacked a plane full of passengers, and mysteriously disappeared.
Some kid, (well, about his age) in Dimmsdale went missing and people in L.A. claim to have seen aliens - probably a mass hallucination.
Not to mention that they still haven't caught that serial-killer...
"Oh well, a day just like any other."
After doing his morning hygiene, it was 6:30.
"How come I'm so slow today?"
Arnold walked down the stairs.
Mr. Potts, Mr. Hyunh and the Reddishs were already down, having breakfast.
The Reddishs were a quite interesting couple. Quite the prove that opposites attract.
Mr. Galacto Reddish was a man in his 40s. Pale skin, black hair with blue highlights, green eyes.
He ALWAYS wore a business suit, bowler hat and a monocle. He spoke with a fake Oxford accent.
His wife, Rodette Reddish also appeared to be pale, but while Mr. Reddish appeared to be pale due to the lack of sunlight, Mrs. Reddish looked like if she was sick, but she was not.
She could be described at best as an aged punker, her hair dyed blue, wearing torn jeans, boots and an old t-shirt. To make things even worse, due to some pigmentation defect, she had pink eyes and crooked teeth.
People generally felt uncomfortable around these two.
"Good morning" Arnold greeted the boarders.
"Good morning" they greeted back.
He sat down with the others.
Mr. Potts was telling Mr. Hyunh something about a contract the Wrecking company he works in signed with the the Endron conglomerate. He seemed quite happy about it, since Endron is generally known for paying its workers well.
Mr. Reddish, was silently drinking his coffee and seemed to be thinking about something very important, unlike his wife who seemed to be too preoccupied with eating her ham-and-eggs.
Grandma was running around the kitchen dressed in a stereotypical farmers suit, alto she seemed to be a bit more worried than usual. So was grandpa.
"She had a bad dream tonight" he whispered.
Arnold rose an eyebrow.
"What sort of nightmare was it?" he asked cautiously.
"Not sure, but it had something to do with India."
"India?"
"Well, she was yelling words like 'Zapathasura' 'Anthelios' and 'Ravana' "
"Grandpa, Anthelios isn't a Indian word, it sounds more like something Greek."
"Short Man, you are talking to a man who barely finished grade school, I'm just rather surprised she isn't serving us curry right now."
"And how is she now?"
"She doesn't seem to remember it, I was so worried when I saw her like that. Then she wakes up, and asks me if I milked the cows, why do you think we are up so early?"
"The others had nightmares too?"
"Nah, Ernie and Hyunh are simply early-birds, and so seem our new boarders, what about you short man?"
"Eh, what?"
"By the way you asked, it seemed you had a bad dream."
"Yeah, a really nasty one, probably watched too many WW2 documentaries."
A chill went down his spine, as he realized that Mr. Reddish is silently listening to them.
"Don't you think it is a bit strange" Arnold quickly returned to their conversation "for two people having nightmares at the same time?"
"Nah, things like this happen time to time, it's what they call 'coincidence', now three people, THAT would be worth the thought."
Arnold sat on the stairs in front of the Sunset Arms boarding house. He still had enough time. He was thinking about calling Gerald to meet him before school, but he didn't want to bother him.
"What's with these dreams I'm having?" he thought to himself, he was doing that quite often the last few days.
"It all started this week, almost immediately after the disaster in India."
It was all over the news, extremely heavy monsoon in India killed thousands of people.
"That's when my nightmares began.
Grandma was saying Indian words in her sleep.
Could this be a coincidence?"
"Probably yes" he quickly shook the thought away "it is probably just the milk we both drank and grandma's dreams were probably somehow related to the tragedy in India"
He suddenly realized that he is being watched.
He turned around to see Mr. Reddish standing behind him.
"Bad dreams troubling you?"
"Bet you pardon?"
"I couldn't overhear your conversation, I'm sorry."
"No problem."
"You know, it is quite a coincidence whet two people have nightmares at the same time, don't you think?"
"Nah, the milk was probably spoiled, poor granny, she probably dreamed about the disaster in India."
"Oh yeah, quite a tragedy. Heard strange rumours about it though, some claim it wasn't a monsoon after all."
He suddenly garbed Arnold by his shoulders so strong it hurt. Arnold attempted to scream, but the voice won't come out.
"Arnold" he whispered into his ear "me and my wife dreamt of the Red Star as well, and no, we did not drink the milk."
Arnold turned around, but there was no-one standing behind him.
He went to school, without telling anyone about this incident.
When he arrived before the school, he still had some time to spare.
It was a cold and windy morning, and the building of Hillwood High-School did not give a too optimistic first impression.
In fact, however, it was one of the better High-Schools you could find here. Sure, it wasn't too noble, it wasn't too well equipped and a hygiene-inspector would probably die of a heart-attack if he saw it (which was probably the reason why the school never had problems with the inspection in the first place), but it was still a decent place to attend.
It wasn't one of those schools controlled by gangs, where all students and teachers wore guns with their fingers itching (alto some teachers probably did carry guns, just to be safe)
This part of the city was generally rather safe, even thou a bit run-down. It was one of those anomalies you sometime encounter trough your life. Like the fact that so many of his friends from grade-school were attending this place too. Alto, it wasn't SUCH a coincidence.
The place was close, cheap and safe, what more could you wish for?
"Hey Arnold!" said a familiar voice behind him.
"Hey Gerald!"
"Early today, aren't we?"
"I guess so." "Still having bad dreams?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Nah, that's not your fault."
Gerald was one of the few people he told about his problem. The others wouldn't probably give a damn, or would simply take advantage of him because of that. The only students he could trust were Gerald and Lila, and since he did not want to bother her, he told only Gerald.
"So? What was it today man?"
"A bad memory of America's past crimes, lashing back on to me."
"Oh, that sounds nasty. Tell me... Wait! No! I rather don't want to hear it, it would be something depressing, would it?"
"Lets just not talk about it, ok? Otherwise, how is life treating ya?"
"Well, dad discovered a new way to save money, now we all have to take our internet time in rations, can you believe it?"
"Ya."
"Of course, that pus a great limit to my night-life down there. And what about you? Anything not dream-related?"
"Well, my neighbour seems to have a crush on me."
"Who? Oskar?"
"Galacto"
"What? That Clock-Walk Orange cosplayer with a Sex-Pistol fetish? He doesn't seem to be the type who likes to play with (foot)balls" the 'foot' part being said in a different tone, as if it didn't matter.
"HeHaHa, very funny Gerald."
"But really, another point on the suspect list."
"What? Are you still stalking those two?"
"Arnold, they are clearly suspicious!"
"Gerald! Remember that fiasco with Mr. Smith?"
"Yes, and I still think he is working for the CIA!"
"That is possible, but we are not children any more, we can't just go around stalking people just because they act strange."
"Why not? The president told..."
"Gerald, I think it is time for school now."
"Oh, ok."
Time flies. They barely made it to the first lesson. The atmosphere was very tense, so no-one really cared anyway. The heating didn't work, so the student had to concentrate one the subject in order to forget the cold. That was probably meant to be like that.
His classmates weren't too talkative and remained surprisingly silent for the most part of the day (with the exception of re-occurring grunting noises from Harold, and Curly who was muttering something in non-sense gibberish and giggled to himself.)
It wasn't until recess, that they finally got together.
"Hey! Football-skull! Stop staring so dumb!"
"Sorry Helga, I was just thinking..."
"About what? A touchdown?"
People around busted out laughing.
"Nothing of your business" said Arnold after the laughter stopped.
"You are right quarterback! Like if I cared about what sick stuff is going on in your thick, hollow, misshapen yet strangely fascinating and unbelievably..."
"What the heck are you talking about Helga?" asked Gerald with a slightly curious voice.
"That's none of your business Mr. 9/11th!"
'Here we go again' though Arnold to himself.
Helga always liked to pick on him for no obvious reason. Ever since kindergarten. He never really understood why. He always tried to be nice to her.
But recently, she started to be really unbearable.
He had no problems indulging her constant nagging, her insults or even her bullying, but the recent development simply annoyed him.
Whenever Helga spoke to him, sooner or later she began saying utter non-sense, then a rage-outburst without the slightest provocation and taking it out on her whole surrounding, mostly him.
At first, he was worried that she might have some problems, but after realizing that she acts perfectly normal (at least according to her standards) while talking to others, he began to have the feeling that she is doing it only to spite him.
Even his usually endless optimism started leaving him around her, and he seriously started giving up on her.
"Any news about the suspects?"
"What?"
"Da gangstars next door football mon!"
"They aren't any gangsters Harold, just eccentric."
"Don't say da shit mon! Its da fact!"
"Stop with that stupid accent Herold, it does not make you any cooler!"
"I'm da sex, yo da balls!"
"Well, Harold does have a point" said Sid, they appeared around the same time as that gang war started."
"Yeah!" said Helga, "Just look at them! They ought to be part of some gang! Or at leas cannibals!"
"Or dealers!" said Sid.
"Or terrorists!" added Stinky.
"Guys, listen! How many times did this sort of rushed conclusions get us into trouble, or at least completely humiliated us?" protested Arnold.
"Eeh, about a hundred times?"
"And haven't we learned anything out of it?"
The group consisting of three pubescent boys and one person that should be theoretically called a girl quietly stared at him, and then continued in their bizarre accusations.
"Give it up Arnie" said Gerald while tapping his back "they haven't learned anything and never will."
"You do realize that this attitude might one day bring them in great trouble."
"Either that, or turn them into the best paparazzi the world has ever seen."
Meanwhile the four-head group has finally agreed that Arnold's new neighbours are probably cannibalistic fairy-gangsters who dye their underwear red in the blood of their victims, and that they ought to do something about it.
"Gentleman!" Said Helga with a commanding voice "this is probably the most important day of our young lives!
This is the day when we shall prove our bravery to this wonderful country." continued Helga in a dramatic manner. "We'll look danger into the eye and uncover the mysteries!"
"Oh, brother!" muttered Arnold to himself and he could see that Gerald probably taught the same.
"We shall pay our debt to our beloved country, secure piece and prove my worth to my beloved..."
Breathing.
A swift punch.
Brainy goes KO.
"What are you looking at?" said Helga angrily to the group "Get lost! We'll meet on the agreed place on the agreed time"
"When dats supposed to be?" asked Harold clueless.
"I'll call you when the time comes." said Stinky as they walked away.
"In her age..." said Gerald sarcastically while everyone went their way.
"Well, that's Helga" said Arnold "always the centre of attention."
"She needs it" said Phoebe, who was watching the group from afar the whole time.
"I know, the thing with her family" replied Arnold "but every time someone tries to be nice to her, she tuns on them."
"Are you now referring to your self?" asked Gerald jokingly.
"Originally" continued Arnold, ignoring the remark "I thought that she was just closed in her 'shell', and that all she needs was to open-up a bit, but after all those years, I'm just starting to think that she is just being a jerk."
"Don't say such things about her" protested Phoebe "she has her reasons."
"Like what?" asked Gerald.
"You would be surprised" replied Phoebe as she walked away.
The only people who remained was a unconscious Brainy and a giggling Curly.
They met after school in the agreed place. Near the building of the Sunset Arms boarding house.
They were hiding behind the dumpster. The whole group consisted of Helga, Harold, Stinky, Sid, Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe, who nobody knew why she actually came but no one cared to ask.
"This is a waste of time" said Arnold.
"Since when is serving your country a waste of time? Are you a communist? I should have thought so! Your head! The shape of a football. AMERICAN Football! The perfect cover for a spy! You fooled everyone but me! I'm too smart for you! I saw trough your flawed attempts at seducing me. You thought that only because of your beautiful eyes and perfect hair for ever and your sexy formed..."
"What the hell are you talking about!"
"Stop interrupting me Stinky! Here is the point. As we found out from our football-headed source here..."
"Why have I told them?"
"...the suspects usually spend the whole day inside the building. Then they leave exactly at five o'clock in the afternoon, and don't return until midnight. The question is, what are they doing all the time?"
"Perhaps working" replied Gerald sarcastically.
"Only criminals work at night!"
"That's not true" protested Arnold "the police, doctors, firemen, store clerks, they all work nigh shifts."
"So da fuzz are gangstars? Ma head hurts!"
"You see what you did balls-brain? You blew his fragile little mind!"
"I did not..."
Suddenly they stopped. They all felt it.
The intensive smell of old cigarettes, cheap beer, whiskey, sweaty sneakers, garlic and glue. But it wasn't just an ordinary stench that you smell with your nose, they felt it with heir very minds and souls, more of an idea than a sensation. The front door opened, it was Mrs. Reddish. The experience grew even more intense after she exited the building. The 'smell' they felt seemed to be more of an actual concept, her very essence. She was its source and its incarnation at the same time. It represented everything she was and she was everything it embodied.
Of course, no-one actually realized this, most of them just thought "Damn! Take a shower!"
A t-shirt long time not washed, old sneakers and ripped jeans that worn so loosely that her underwear was showing.
Harold realized that it was red.
Suddenly, the 'aura' was pierced by another presence. It seemed like a single white dot on a black background. Like a sharp shiny needle in an old pillow. Mr. Reddish came out of the building. His presence felt like expensive soap, deodorant, shoe polish and high-quality aftershave. His presence didn't feel as all-overwhelming as Rodettes, but it was the sort that you can't overlook or ignore.
They both walked down the stairs and headed down the road.
"After them!" whispered Helga.
"Hey, I really don't think it is a good idea."
"Who cares what you think, football-skull!"
"I do!"
"STFU Gustave Eiffel! Lets go!"
The group followed the strange couple. Gerald protested a bit, but it was useless. All reasoning in the world is useless once Harold grabs you. Soon, the only people left behind the dumpster were Arnold and Phoebe.
"What now?"
"I guess I'll just follow Helga, so she won't embarrass herself too much."
"You are willing to go trough that trouble because of her?"
"She is a friend. What about you?"
"My friendship probably reached its limits."
"Oh, ok then. See you Arnold."
"See you Phoebe."
After this, Arnold went back home.
Years after this he kept asking himself whether it was the right decision.
Arnold spent the rest of the day in front of the TV. Not that it would interest him too much, but he didn't feel like anything today. He was just aimlessly flipping trough the channels, one program stupider than the other.
"What's going on with me? What's wrong? Why em I going so down the drain? Not only the dreams, they started just a week ago, but I have been in this state of mind for almost two months by now. Everything either annoys me or creeps me out. I should see a doctor."
After realizing that one program really IS stupider than the other, he decided to watch the one that was the least stupid. If you take in account that it was some cooking-show, in which basically all that was going on was some guy covering the plate with mayo, you can imagine HOW stupid the other programs were.
Arnold thought about doing something more productive, but they didn't get any homework and he just couldn't force himself to any activity at the incriminated moment.
So he just kept on staring. He started a staring contest with the tv. He stared at the screen, he stared at the host "damn, this is really not me" he stared at the audience. He thought about sleeping, but he felt it wouldn't help.
"We interrupt this program..."
This words tore him out of his lethargy. Live news. There was a shoot-out. In his city. In his town. Apparently two rival gangs started a shoot-out in front of a mini-mall. Many bystanders were apparently caught in the crossfire. Some people were apparently wounded. The fight still raged on.
The News seemed to get to the place sooner than the police. Typical. Now the live pictures came. It was surprising how small the 'gangs' were in number.
One consisted of apparently three people. A young woman and a middle-aged man, whose faces were covered. The third one was apparently hiding in a van.
The second 'gang' were in fact just two people. It were...
"No. No, not them!" Arnold looked in terror.
"Oh my God! Please no!"
Arnold was shaking in terror by that bare thought. His friends...
Are they amongst the wounded? Were they lucky enough to escape? Are they still there, amongst the people caught between those two lines?
Why? Why did they insist on following them?
"What the hell?" were the words of the news teams cameraman who tried to get closer to get a better picture "What the hell is this. Oh, damn! Oh, God! No, no, NO!"
The sound went into static, the picture to white-noise.
"Johny? Johny? !"
Yelled the guy in the studio.