You know what's the best part of a math class ? When it's over. When the bell rings at last, putting an end to two hours of mental torment, and you grab your backpack, throw your books in it, and dash out of the room, ignoring the boring middle-aged bald teacher's order to go out with calm, just to be the first one to enjoy some fresh air. Outside !
Okay, to be honest, at five in the evening, the fresh air is a little too chilly and the dusk already setting makes the whole scene kind of bleak. But still, I guess that for every kid, even in Alaska, the end of a schoolday looks like a summer night in the Carribeans. Wow, maths make me poetic...
I hear Connie ask something, and I have to make her repeat, for my brain feels like a Chinese soup of ideas without any noodle to put them together:
"I said: you wanna hang round for a while ? I feel like having a milk-shake or something."
I can't hold back a yawn as I answer: "Sure. After, we can do our homework at my house."
Randa passes beside us. "Hey, Randa," I ask, "wanna come with us ?"
And here we are, the three of us, on our way for a drink. You know, I think I can become good friend with Randa, in the end. We had a chat during lunch, and I discovered we weren't that different: we both like Madonna, we both like playing Mortal Kombat and we're both fans of Malcolm in the Middle. It really is a shame we didn't become friends sooner.
We make our way out of the school and walk down the street when I see it. Again. That creepy black car. Parked right in front of us, engine stopped. With the black windows, I can't tell if there's anyone inside, but I can see the bumper is slightly damaged from a collision with a mail box and there's no doubt it's the same car. Again. They're stalking me !
"Is there a problem, Violet ? Why did you stop ?"
"I... I think we should take another way."
"What's wrong ?"
"Connie... that black car... I've seen it this morning, and now it's here again. I think it's following me."
She looks at me for a second, and then begins to laugh. I get angry:
"Stop it ! I'm not kidding !"
Randa, not at ease, says nothing, but Connie is not impressed at all:
"Following you ? C'mon, don't be silly ! Who would want to stalk you ?"
"Then how do you explain that car is always here ?"
"It's not, you're just imagining things. Here, I'll show you."
She grabs my arm. Wait ! What is she doing ? Before I can protest, she's dragging me towards the car. What the Hell !
"Connie, you're crazy ! Let's go away !"
I protest, but quite oddly I don't struggle to break free and follow her reluctantly. I think that, even though I'm afraid, she's doing something I have always wanted to do, and that's why I follow her. Randa, still silent and embarrassed, walks beside us while trying to keep a safe distance.
We stand in front of the driver's door, and Connie gently taps on the black window. Oh, I so want to go away, now ! I throw nervous glances right and left, expecting a group of thugs to appear out of nowhere and push us inside the car. But no, the window slowly opens, letting us see the passengers inside: three men and a girl, and not really the kind of people you would approach to sell cookies. The driver has a bague on his finger, over his glove, and that is the first thing I notice: the familiar spooky snake/skull/hammer and sickle jewel. The glove is only one part of all his tight-fitting leather garments, and to make the picture clear, just look at Alice Cooper, he's dressed the same way. Though he's much more handsome, and I even catch myself thinking he's too handsome to be a crook, with his slender body, his pale, narrow, beardless face and his dark neck-long hair slicked back. He must be in his mid twenties. There is some kind of... can I say 'magnetism' ? I'm not sure, but I know that, when our glances meet, as he silently considers me with his cold, almond-shaped eyes - and, wait, his eyes are yellow ?! - I just can't look away, and more, I have a feeling that I have already seen him somewhere, though I can't remember. I don't know how long the eye contact lasted, long enough to make my legs quiver in anxiety.
"Yes ?" the young crook finally says. "What can I help you with ?"
"Uh... hi !" Connie tries to improvise, rather awkwardly. "Sorry to disturb you, I and my friends have a community service asignment, and we're raising money for the school, for..."
"For the homeless !" Randa finishes.
"Yes, that's it, for the homeless !"
In response, the boy looks directly at me and says: "We've already lost twenty bucks to your boyfriend today, so why don't you go ask him instead, blondie ?"
Vexed, I'm about to reply he's not my boyfriend when the big guy on the passenger seat mumbles something in an unknown language, and after giving looks towards the school, they start the engine and drive away without saying good-bye.
"Ouch !" Connie exclaims. "They're kind of rude !"
"Yes..." I reply absent-mindedly, thinking of what I just saw: they drove away because they saw something more interesting. That means they weren't stalking me... they were after someone else. But who ? Something wrong is going on around here, something terribly wrong...
----------
Finally, we had our milk-shake, and it's a little more relaxed that we leave the diner and go on our way to my house. We pass in front of a Catholic church, desert at this hour, our minds preparing for the homework we're about to do, even if none of us wants to. Right now, I have Connie explain me all the things I didn't get - basically, everything - in the history lesson:
"And then, in 1917, the French had a new Prime Minister who they had already elected before, and he was... wait, what's the name again ? Crap, I can never remember, the French all have impossible names !"
"It's Georges Clémenceau."
The answer came from a male voice behind us. We turn round to meet my neighbor.
"Hey, Matt ! How'ya doing ?"
"Fine, I was just about to go home."
I turn to the church. The way he appeared behind us, it's obvious he was coming out of it.
"You're a Catholic ?"
"Yep. I know I'm supposed to go on Sunday, but I prefer to pray when there's no-one else. It's calmer, more silent... anyway, how's it for you ? Studying history ?"
"Yeah, we're trying. Oh, by the way, I don't think you know my friends: here's Connie and Randa."
"Nice to meet you. What do you mean, 'trying' ?"
"I don't understand anything. That's a catastrophe."
"Oh... I happen to be quite good at history myself, maybe I could give you a hand. Wanna hang round at my place ?"
----------
"You have some music ?" Randa asks.
She's quite right, we've been sitting in his living room for nearly an hour, doing our homework while eating Pringles and drinking soda, and so far the only music we've had is the ticking of Matt's special Braille typewriter. But it's not at all boring, on the contrary, we've been chatting and having good laughs as we finished our history lessons, and now we're attacking maths, a subject Matt is unfortunately helpless with. On his side, he's re-typing a whole paper about the Constitution, something I didn't quite get cause it's riddled with legal jargon. He said that's why he's glad to have us here with him, cause it's utterly boring.
"Excellent idea," he says as he gets up and stretches. "Whoa, I tell ya, girls: if you wanna become lawyers, make sure you know what you're doing, and I hope you can withstand headaches. At least, I can't wear my eyes out reading, that's already an advantage."
He goes to the hi-fi and begins to check his CDs. "I have Seether, Fuel, Zebrahead, Iron Maiden, Papa Roach, Sadie Perkins, Breaking Benjamins..."
I sigh. "I suppose you don't listen to Madonna ?"
"Not really."
"Well, Sadie Perkins will do just fine, then."
He puts the CD on and goes to fetch more soda before he comes back to sit in front of his typewriter. That's quite amusing, I notice, he seems to move which much more ease when there's music, as if the noise gave him back some of his sight.
"Okay, uh, where was I ?" he mumbles as, with the tips of his fingers, he slowly caresses the rough paper riddled with holes and dots he's been writing on. He's reading. That's kind of strange.
"How does it work ?" I ask.
"You wanna read Braille ? Here, come closer."
I go to sit beside him as Connie and Randa also come closer to watch. Following his instructions, I close my eyes and reach out for the tips of my fingers to touch the paper.
"Can you feel all the dots and holes under your fingers ?"
"Yes."
"Okay, now let me explain: a character, also called a cell, is composed of six spots arranged in dots and holes depending on the letter. For example, an A is one dot at the top left of a cell. You get it ?"
"Not quite..."
"Then we'll go slowly. Just follow the paper and tell me what you feel at each cell, and I'll tell you what letter it is."
It takes us a good deal of time, reading the same phrase over and over again, but eventually, I begin to remember the code and identify letters by my own. The sensation is quite amusing: I read with my fingers !
"Looks like you're starting to read it good !"
"I guess so... but that's difficult."
"Can you read the phrase, now ?"
"I'll try... A well... r... reg... reg-u-la-ted mil-li-tia bing... no, be-ing..."
"A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. That's the Second Amendment. Though, in terms of stupidity, it comes first."
"You're not a fan of guns, are you ?"
"Not at all. The only things legal guns can do today is pushing twist-minded citizens out in the streets, encouraging street vigilantism and violence against violence. As if we had not enough problems already. Oh, I hope none of you likes guns ?"
"No, that's alright."
"Okay. I'm sorry, I tend to speak in a very harsh manner, sometimes, and my teachers hate that."
We continue for some more time until Connie and Randa are to leave. It's pretty late, actually, I'll soon have to go for dinner.
"Violet ? Can I talk to you ?"
"Why, sure..."
I'm hesitant. He sounds pretty serious.
"Well, I didn't want to ask when your friends were around, but now we're alone... it's just that... I've noticed you don't look... you don't sound so good. So, I wanted to know if there's a problem you'd like to talk about."
"No... everything's alright, really. What makes you think I don't feel good ?"
"Your heart beats faster than normal and your breathing is irregular, that's two main clues to tell that you feel distressed. I have an excellent audition. But I may be wrong, in this case I'm sorry..."
"No, it's... just... well, you're right, I have quite a lot of problems these days. Things I don't want Mom to know about."
"Boy problems ?"
"No, more serious than that."
"You wanna talk ?"
"No... sorry, I don't feel like talking about this."
"I understand. But, just remember that, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."
"I'll remember. Thanks..."
"By the way, you're quite athletic, aren't you ?"
"Well, yeah, I'm pretty good."
"Do you have a mask ?"
"A mask ? Like a Halloween mask ?"
"No, a ski mask or something like that."
"Oh, well yeah, I got one. Why ?"
He gives me a mysterious smile and says:
"If you want me to show you a cool way to relieve stress, come here Wednesday, after dinner, with dark clothes and a mask. I bet you'll love it."
----------
Miss Shekochit considered the two people standing before of her, in this eerie concrete basement she was in, as the secret passage automatically shut down behind her. She could still hear soft r'n'b music coming from the shop above. In front of her, in the dim light, there was a simple but tough metal door, bearing no inscription whatsoever, just a piece of raw steel with a handle. The door looked so unimpressive in fact, that anyone who saw it would believe it was the janitor's closet or something as trivial... if it wasn't for the sinister couple guarding it. The redhead girl, Nitara, was in her early twenties, she was still almost a child, but that was only a better way to deceive her opponents. A newcomer in the syndicate, she was an immigrant freshly arrived from the motherland, and was first meant to work for them as a prostitute, but she managed to prove her usefulness when she handled five men in a fight, bare hands, during the gang-sweeping operations of the last week-end. So instead of wasting her talent in a brothel, she became a low-ranking enforcer for the syndicate. Actually, the Boss was quite happy with this because, raised by his father in the old Soviet moral principles, he was not too fond of "flesh trading" and did it only because their syndicate was still young and in need for money. But Miss Shekochit did not like this new blood: Nitara was arrogant and uselessly aggressive, which was quite a shame, the lady thought, for she was a gorgeous girl.
The mountain of muscles that stood beside her was a different story. His Kazakh name was difficult to pronounce, but it would translate as Cerberus, and that's the name that suited him best. Seven and a half feet tall, his chest was large as a car and his biceps were as big as his bald head that almost touched the ceiling. Cerberus did not have a precise rank in the syndicate. A former weightlifter and wrestler from Almaty, he had been recruited as the Boss's personal bodyguard because of his out-of-common strength that compensated for his lack of military experience. He would never go out on a mission, his job consisting solely of what his name implied: guarding the door of the Boss's office. It was an acknowledged fact among the Comrades that the strongest of them was Vassily, the former GRU operative who now worked as a high-ranking enforcer, or "officer", to use a more conventional term, but in terms of sheer physical strength, Cerberus was maybe even stronger.
Usually, anyone who desired to enter the office was subjected to searches, but the two guards knew there was no need to worry about Miss Shekochit, the most respected member of the syndicate, the Boss's personal secretary, the one who, if they were Italians, would be called consigliere, the counsellor, the Boss's most intimate subordinate. Therefore, they just gave her a brief salute and opened the door for her.
The inside of the office was even darker than the outside, but it had always been like that. Dark, and quite empty, for there was only the big wooden desk with its leather armchair facing the door, with the syndicate's black flag behind, a large Kazakh flag on the right wall, and on the left wall, an imposing portrait of a slender, handsome but severe-looking man in a Red Army uniform. General Stoyanovitch, this man was, the very creator of their organization. Miss Shekochit had known him well, for she had been his counsellor in the past, when he founded the syndicate in Tselinograd in the early nineties. When he died, three years ago, his son, though terribly young, took over and, striving to realize his father's last wish, worked like a madman to finally manage to settle the syndicate here, in Atlanta, in the heart of "the enemy territory". Such a deed had forever earned him the respect of the elder Comrades and he had absolute, unquestioned power over the organization.
Usually, he was to be found sitting on his armchair, smoking a cigarette, but when the lady entered, it was to find him standing in the middle of the room, his eyes shut and his muscles tensed, in a state of near meditation. In front of him were two piles of heavy books, going up to his waist, supporting a large pebble, of about the size and shape of a pancake but twice thicker, between them.
"Uh, Boss ?"
"Go on," he murmured without moving, "I'm listening."
"Okay, then... can I... know what you are up to ?"
"At the peak of his career, Grandmaster Masutatsu Oyama was able to slice a pebble in two with his bare hands. Knowing that the pebble is one of the densest common stones, I would like to know how he did this."
"So... you... you intend to slice this pebble with your bare hands ?"
"Very precisely."
Of course, having been raised by a military, the Boss was a martial art expert and a very mighty man, but trying to accomplish such an exploit was perhaps the most foolish thing the counsellor had ever heard, and she had heard a lot of things.
"I'm gonna ask Nitara to bring band-aids..."
"That will not be necessary. I know what I'm doing... ready... steady..."
Slowly, he raised his hand, palm upwards, and gathered all his strength in it. His arm began to tremble under the tension. And then, letting out a bursting expiration, he brought his hand down at the speed of light and striked the stone like a hammer. There was a loud crack. Something had broken. And it was not the pebble. The Boss remained supernaturally calm, though, and acted as if it never happened:
"What did you come here for, by the way ?"
"Oh, I was just bringing news from our investigation team at the Senorms."
The woman produced a few papers from her purse and went to put them on the desk.
"Infos about their whereabouts, there may be a few useless things, but..."
"What I need most for now is Penny's school planning, to know the exact hours she leaves. It will soon be quite annoying if we're to have a car always parking by the school, all day, just to wait for her."
"Sure, I'll see what we can do. By the way, about our trade in England, I have received a call from our supplier: the whole purchase will take months to be fully honored, but there are two prototypes ready to be sent to our customer in three weeks. Our customer already informed us that we would be paid for the transport, one hundred thousand dollars per unit."
"Considering the purchase is of seventy units, that means seven million dollars in a year. Excellent for a start ! Continue as planned."
"On my way..."
She prepared to leave when he called her back:
"And, Shekie ?"
"Yes ?"
"Please ask Nitara to bring some band-aids."
----------
Wednesday, February 24th.
"Good night, Mom !"
"Good night, sweetheart ! Hey, wait a minute: you go to bed quite early tonight..."
"Yeah, I'm a little tired."
"Okay, then sleep well."
She's not suspecting anything. Great ! That is to say, even if it's only nine and I usually don't go to sleep before ten, I just come out of the bathroom, with blue skin and pajamas. How in the world could she suspect me to go out or something ? Well, bad luck, cause that's exactly what I'm doing. Yep, tonight, I'm going out.
I lock myself up in my room. I just hope she won't want to come and kiss me good night, but normally that should be okay. Nervous as a kid on a Christmas morning, I remain in front of the door for a few minutes, and then, quivering, I begin to change clothes. I've been waiting all day for this moment ! I don't know what Matt has in store for me, but judging by his mysterious tone, it must be something thrilling. That's exactly what I need, now: something pleasant and thrilling, to forget all the frights and humiliations I have gone through since I came back to school. Only a week ! And when I think I've got to withstand that for a few years again... no, don't think about that. Tonight, I just want to have fun. My heart beats too fast as I put on a dark grey tracksuit, as he asked, with a jumper underneath: the night is chilly, and if he asked for specific clothes, then it must be something to do outside. Wait, thinking about it... dark clothes and a ski mask ? Are we going to play ninjas or something ? I don't know, but the very idea makes me all excited. I put on two pairs of socks - it's really cold outside - and a pair of black high-top sneakers. I make sure I don't forget to put the mask in my pocket, and then I glance at a pair of black woolen gloves, to finally decide to put them on too. You never know, I wouldn't like to have to explain mom why I have frostbitten hands, tomorrow.
When I'm sure I have everything ready, I open my window and let a chill pass through my spine. My God it's cold ! I hesitate, thinking about my blue face, but as Matt is blind, he sure won't notice. Besides, if I'm supposed to wear a mask, that means I won't have to interact with people much. That's decided, I go like that: I jump out of the house and make it quick to Matt's door.
I knock at the door but no-one replies. Hesitantly, I try to push it and see it's open. I get in. It's eerily silent at first, and I'm not much at my ease, but as I get into the living room, I hear a muffled voice from the kitchen. That's his voice. I'm relieved. He's here, he must be on the phone, that's all. I creep closer to hear. Don't ask. Girl curiosity, that's all.
"Yeah," I hear, "crazy. Crazy, kind of like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. No, she doesn't kill, but almost. Na, I'm not kidding you, this girl is totally nuts, you need to see it to believe ! She must be, like, twice my age, and we barely know each others that she already takes the first occasion to... I know it sounds hard to believe, but that's the truth ! Man, you'll never imagine what she can do with six bottles of milk and a diapason..."
He suddenly appears in the doorway, right before me, and I gasp in surprise, quite foolishly because, after all, he couldn't see me... but now, he heard me, and he's quick to finish his conversation:
"And a... and... and I gotta leave you cause I have a guest... no, just a friend. Okay, I call ya later. Bye, Foggy."
He hangs up and wishes me good evening. He's dressed in a black tracksuit, in a similar manner as I am, except for the red cane in his hand. He's not wearing his glasses this time, and his empty eyes seem to be staring at me and give me spooks.
"Can I ask you a question ?" I say. "You heard me come, but how did you guess it was me and not somebody else ?"
"Easy, I recognized your perfume. Blueberry pie. Quite an unusual - and sweet - smell."
"Yeah, but it's not as if I chose it..."
"What ?"
"Nothing."
"Okay. So, are you ready for a thrill ?"
"Yeah ! I've been waiting for that all day ! So what are you up to ?"
"Gonna show you one of my passions. But you want a drink, first ?"
"No, that's okay."
"Okay," he smiles. "Follow me."
We walk out of the house, as he produces a very long black bandana from his jacket and wraps it around his head, as if blindfolding himself, and by the time we're outside, his whole head except for the mouth and the lower jaw is masked by the black fabric. I can't hold back an amused giggle:
"You know, with that thing on your head, you look like some comic-book ninja."
"Thanks, I take that as a compliment. You got your mask, too ?"
"Yeah."
"Put it on."
I oblige, and then I ask: "So, what to do now ?"
"Now, we reach out for the sky !"
I don't have time to ask what he means by this obscure expression, for at this very moment I see him take a sudden dash and run up the wall of his house ! Wow, Spider-Man ! I didn't expect that at all, in three hasty big steps, he has climbed up the few feet of the one-floor house and is now standing on the roof. I don't even realize that, behind my woolen mask, I have my mouth agap.
"So, you're coming, or you're scared ?"
Okay, what he did is maybe impressive, but I hate being teased, I'm gonna show him ! I take a big inspiration, and here we go ! I run, jump on the wall, and just like he did, I put all my strength and my speed to run up the few feet to the roof. I'm not fast enough ! My foot slips from the wall, and I begin to fall, but I grab the gutter and find myself hanging from the roof like a carpet on a clothesline. The whole operation lasted less than two seconds, and it was pretty noisy when compared to my friend's stealth climbing. I guess I'm not as good as he is. Okay, super-flexibility, time to see how it works for real. Focused, I flex my muscles and make a swift move so as to disjoint my legs. It doesn't hurt. It used to, at the beginning, but not anymore. I just have limbs that can become as flexible as cooked spaghetti, and I use them to pull myself up the gutter and on the roof.
"You okay ? I heard like a bone crack."
"Yeah, that's fine. I'm very flexible, sometimes I surprise myself. But, tell me, I thought you didn't like sports ? You're pretty good, you know."
"I don't like sports, except this one. You remember, last week, when your cop friend mentioned a rooftop runner ? Well, this guy is me."
"Really ? So you're like, a street acrobat ?"
"In a way, yes."
"But why do you do that ?"
"For the fun, of course ! It's like a race, a race against myself. Think you can hold the rythm ?"
"Go on, test me !"
"Then try to follow me !"
And he runs and jumps on the next roof. Smiling, I follow him. A long jump, that's pretty easy. Easier than climbing. After he made sure I'm okay, Matt resumes and we travel on houses all the way through the neighborhood, chasing each others from roof to roof like two kids playing tags. It's so thrilling ! I even laugh as we run and jump, and run and jump, like a hurdles race with the hurdles being the empty spaces between the houses, making it even scarier ! When we finally stop, the shots of adrenaline have made me all euphoric and I can't stop giggling like a silly girl. I didn't feel so good in a while !
"Why did we stop ?" I ask. "We can't stop now, we're just getting started !"
"Sure we won't, we just have a little problem..."
I look ahead. Oh, yes, of course. We've reached the last house of the block, and by such, the end of the neighborhood. Now, in front of us there is a three-storey stone building, among the many others that form the suburban area we're about to enter, separated from us by a street too wide to be crossed in a jump. It's impossible to continue on the rooftops from here.
"So, what now ? We go down and walk, or we turn back and take another direction ?"
"No, we continue straight ahead. Just..."
He stops speaking and give several taps of the tip of his cane on the roof we're standing on. Then he remains still a few seconds, as if concentrating, before he points his cane at a big antenna on the top of the building in front, as if aiming at it with a rifle. I frown.
"What are you trying to do ?"
In response, a hiss of compressed air makes me startle, and something pops out of his cane like a bullet to fly straight into the antenna. That thing, I don't know what it is, it gripped to its target... and now, there's a knitted steel rope that spawned from his cane, linking it to the rooftop... oh, my God, it's a grapnel ! Matt smiles at my impressed whisper, and says:
"So, let's go on, Batman-style !"
Unsure, I come closer and cling to him firmly. He passes an arm round my waist as the other is still holding the cane.
"I hope you know what you're doing..."
He doesn't answer, he just pushes a button, and I shriek in terror as the rope rewinds with haste, propelling us in empty space at breakneck speed ! We literally fly over the street ! Mommy ! I force my eyes to stay open, even though I'm terrified. It's even scarier than the boat ride in the Factory ! I see the stone wall coming right to me, and this time I do close my eyes, sure that we will crash on it, but Matt, with a superhuman reflex, puts his feet forward and bounces smoothly against it. Now, we're speeding upwards - I feel like Superman ! - and we eventually fly over the rooftop to land on it with grace, or at least, he does, cause I was so scared I let go and I fall quite heavily by his side.
"Nothing broken ?"
I don't answer, I just sit still, panting like a dog, waiting for the shock to go away. I'm very hot, suddenly, and I take off my mask, letting the cold air stab me like a knife. My eyebrows are already going numb, but at least, this cold stab puts my mind back in place.
"No, that's..." I get up. "That's okay, I just think I'll have big bruises tomorrow... ouch... but, shit ! I mean, what the Hell !"
"Hey, easy there ! You're impressed, that doesn't prevent you from being polite."
"But how did you do that ?"
"You mean, for the grapnel ? Oh, that's just something I built, during a rainy Sunday afternoon... I think I was around, fifteen, or sixteen... I've always had a gift for mechanics."
"No, I mean, the whole thing... you move as well as someone who sees, or even better. You always seem to know where you're going and you don't seem afraid of anything. That's supernatural !"
"Well, thank you... you wanna know the truth ? You'll think I'm making fun of you if I tell ya..."
"There's only one way to know how I'll react. Just go ahead."
"I have a radar."
For a second, I think I don't quite understand it. "What ? A radar ?"
"Yes, a radar. To be more precise, it's... how can I explain ? I can't see... but I hear much better than anyone, to compensate. And... I hear so good in fact, that each sound echoes into my head, where it is interpreted, so that when a raindrop falls in a gutter, I can guess the shape and the material of this gutter, just by the sound it makes. All these sounds around us, the everyday life sounds you don't even pay attention to anymore - car engines, footsteps in a crowded place, the tingle of a can rolling on the sidewalk - all these sounds are my universe, they all come and blend together to form a picture inside my head. I know everything that happens around me, and it feels like I can see, even better, even more precisely, than with eyes."
"Wow ! So you're like a bat ?"
He laughs. "Yes, you can say it that way. A radar, like a bat."
"Do every blind people have this kind of stuff in their head ?"
"Blind people tend to have their four other senses greatly developped, to a certain extent, but according to all the doctors I met, I'm a unique case."
"Sure, you must be the only blind guy I've ever seen who's also a super-athletic rooftop runner with a grapnel in his cane. No, wait: actually, you're the only guy, blind or not."
He gives me a warm smile. "And you seem to like it. Wanna continue ?"
"Let's ride the sky till midnight !"
It's quite amusing how he bends his head aside, like a dog, as he considers me, puzzled. "Where does that silly phrase come from ?"
"I dunno... just invented it."
"Oh, okay... we go ?"
"Yep, we go."
----------
Under my feet, meters and meters below, I see cars driving, and people walking, in a quite anarchic symphony of lights and sounds of every possible kind. It's city life, down there, there must be hot-dog stalls, night-working people going out for a coffee during their break, couples coming out of cinemas, or just poor guys who are hurry to get to bed but who are stuck in traffic jams. That's strange how I feel so detached from all this. Normally, I would see all of this from the inside, but not tonight, and from where I am, the people are hardly bigger than ants.
"I feel so different when I look at them... so above them... it's almost scary. It's like there are two different worlds that can hardly meet. There is the street, and there is the rooftop."
"I think I know how you feel," Matt says, behind me. "You always think different when you suddenly find yourself much higher than everyone else. That's why I always loved rooftops. They're so much more quiet, so unaffected by the agitation of the street. As you said, that's a different world. And fatigue makes us poets."
Smiling faintly, for I'm getting pretty tired, I turn round and leave the edge to rejoin Matt, sitting in the middle of the rooftop, in the welcoming warmth of a nearby ventilation shaft. We have taken off our masks, and now we're just resting, silently, enjoying a hot chocolate Matt has stopped to buy in a Starbucks a few minutes before. It's getting close to midnight. It means we have been rooftop-running for three hours already ! You don't even see time go when you're having fun.
We've tried everything. From the suburban neighborhood near my house, we took the direction to my school, passed on it, and continued straight ahead, passing through more populated neighborhoods with higher and higher buildings, as we approached Downtown. As we progressed, it kept increasing in difficulty, and we made more and more frequent use of the grapnel to reach farther and higher places, and sometimes we even had to perform more dangerous manoeuvers such as sliding on phone cables, jumping off roofs to others that were a dozen meters below, or juggling between fire escapes. I think I passed near death at least a dozen times. If Mom learned about that, she would finish me ! We didn't pass by Downtown, Matt said that with its large streets and skyscrapers, it would be suicidal of me to go there. Already, quite a number of things we did were dangerous and, I've gotta say, irresponsible, and more than once he's been reluctant to take me through this or that route because of a particular difficulty. But, hey, I'm Violet Beauregard, I'm not afraid of anything, so I made it !
Made it where, I don't know. Really, I don't know where we've arrived. It's nowhere near my neighborhood, for sure: this place is more crowded, and the landscape, as opposed to the pretty individual houses I live in, is mostly composed of large square, low or mid height, buildings, nowhere as big as in Downtown, of course, but some of them are still quite impressive, especially when you're on the rooftop right now. And did I mention I'm exhausted ? Really, exhausted to a point you rarely reach. I feel like every little cell of my body has been emptied of its energy, so tired that my feet ache and my legs shake when I try to move them too fast. I feel like I'm made of lead, but you know what, I've hardly known anything more enjoyable before. As Matt promised, all the stress disappeared along with the energy, and I'm so tired I smile and giggle for nothing, nothing seems to have any sort of importance, I am relaxed, I am totally zen, for the very first time since my birth. I won't sleep long tonight, but I'll sleep like a baby, that's for sure.
"My father was still alive when I turned blind," Matt says, "so I still had a normal life for a few years. Or at least, I struggled to have a normal life. Things are not easy when you're the only blind kid around, especially when you grew up in Hell's Kitchen. So when I had enough, when I felt I was about to explode, I went up on rooftops, and I used my radar, and the extreme sensitiveness and balance it gave me, to train in climbing. Only then was I really in peace, up there, face to face with a death I couldn't see. And because I couldn't see death, it couldn't touch me. I remember very well, the first time, I was eleven and I did a cartwheel on the edge of the roof of my twenty-storey building. Without my sight, I had one chance out of one to die, but I didn't. That's when I began not to be afraid of anything, anymore. I don't want to sound presumptuous, but by the age of fifteen, I could do stunts that would make Jackie Chan blush. And here I am tonight, in Atlanta, teaching my art to my talented young neighbor !"
"Thanks... you said it was hard... you mean you were... like... bullied ?"
"Yeah..."
"And how did you do, to get rid of them ?"
"Kids will be kids, Violet. At first, I didn't do anything, I just let them do what they wanted, thinking that at the end, they would stop by themselves."
"You didn't try to fight ? You're so strong, you could have learned martial arts and kicked their ass, all of them !"
"That's not the way things work in reality. You kick their ass, as you say, but is it justice ? No, it's vengeance. And vengeance calls vengeance, you hit someone, he hits you back, an eye for an eye. My father understood this pretty well, that's why he always forbid me to fight. Because if I began, I would end up like him. He was a good boxer, but boxing brought him glory as well as it hurried his demise. And I wasn't supposed to be like him. He wanted me to become a doctor, or a lawyer..."
As he speaks, I can see a tear slowly rolling down his cheek. It's so sad. Apparently, he really loved his father... and his father died too soon. It suddenly reminds me of my own father, who died before I had the chance to know him, and it makes me want to cry too, though I do like Matt, I hold back.
"Anyway," he continues with a forced smile to chase dark thoughts away, "one day, I was really tired of all this taunting, so I brought all my classmates into an alley, near the school, and I showed them what I could do with a gutter, a phone pole, and two clotheslines hung ten meters above the ground. I became their hero, since that day. I was Matt Murdock, the one, street acrobat, the boy who was not afraid of anything. This day, I wanted so bad to have my sight back, even for a minute, just to see the stars in the eyes of the girls admiring me... well, I was just a kid. But I'll always remember the nickname they gave me, that they chanted everytime I tried a new stupid and dangerous stunt... that was my shot at glory."
"How did they call you ?"
He leans back against the shaft, looks up at the sky as if he could see it, and says, dreamily:
"The Boy Without Fear. They called me DareDevil."
A short silence settles between us, as Matt keeps looking at the stars, exploring some fond memories of his childhood. Finally, I say:
"That's a sweet story... and sad, too. Unfortunately, the ones after me are not the kind to be impressed by an exhibition of gymnastics."
"You have problems with bullies ?"
"Oh, no, I..."
Shit ! I didn't hold this back, it came all on its own. I struggle, embarrassed, and I sigh. Maybe I need to talk to someone, after all:
"Matt, can I trust you ?"
"Of course, you can."
"Okay... to be honest, I was very happy to come here with you tonight, cause I really need to unwind. Three weeks ago, I won a contest and went to visit Willy Wonka's Factory, in England."
"The Golden Ticket ?"
"Yes, the Golden Ticket... and since I came back, I feel like everything is teaming up against me, and it makes me mad. First... you'll be the first one to know that beside my Mom, because I hide with make-up most of the time, but my skin... is blue. All blue. That's because of an accident in the Factory. And I'm also super-flexible as a result... you believe me ?"
"I can sense it when people are telling lies. You're not. Don't worry, I won't call you a freak. I've been called this way too much myself. I bet you're even pretty in that blue color. If only I could see it..."
I blush. His words make me feel good.
"Thanks... anyway, if it was all, okay, but it's not. I learned that I'm fired from the dojo, because I tried to organize a freestyle fight last month, and they didn't like it. So, now, I can't even train. Karate was the only thing that allowed me to unwind, before. I'm not a street fighter, if that's what you think, I don't fight to crush people down, it's just... it's like you with your stunts. I didn't really like Karate when I began, and now I can't live without. And, there's that big Canadian guy, Red Devil, who terrorizes all the kids around, and apparently, he made me his prey of choice."
"What did he do to you ?"
"Well, that's weird. Everytime I meet him, I never know what he will do. When we first met, I tried to fight him, and he threw me in a dumpster. Okay, maybe it was also my fault. Monday, he was pretty nice, I think he was in a good mood, he even offered me a ride to school, and that was nice. I began to like him, or at least to think of him less as an enemy, you see... but yesterday, after class, he preyed on me for money, and because I didn't even have a quarter, he tied me to a pole with a handkerchief and Alice - a friend of his - put a mouse in my pants."
"So, sometimes he's nice, sometimes he's mean, isn't he ? Maybe he does that as a way to show you he likes you."
"You mean ? Like Reese in Malcolm ? I don't know... if that's so, then that's really stupid, because it's not pleasant at all. Sometimes, I cry because of him."
"Oh... well... I'm sorry..."
"And there's more... this, is maybe the worst of my problems..."
Absorbed into my confession, I go on with my speech and tell him about my unfortunate encounter with the mafia and how I feel that they've been chasing me ever since. When I finish my story, I notice that Matt has almost turned livid.
"Wow," he whispers. "I'm sorry, I could have given you advices for your bullying problems, but here... here we're talking about criminals... I don't know what to say except that you should tell the cops..."
"No, I don't want to. If I tell the cops, I will attract attention on me, and they will want to get me even more... I can't do that."
"I understand... but there's nothing I can do."
"Nevermind... at least, it feels good to talk to someone..."
I finish my phrase with a loud yawn.
"You wanna go home ?"
"Yeah..."
We get up, and I come to him and give him a hug. "Thank you, Matt. I really needed to talk. Thank you for listening."
"You're welcome," he replies gently as he passes a hand in my hair. "That's what friends are for..."
The minute of tenderness finished, we put on our masks and prepare to leave.
"By the way," I ask, "where are we ?"
"I dunno... when I bought the chocolate, the Starbucks was inside a mall called Lenox Square, I think..."
My eyes grow twice their size: "Lenox Square ? What the Hell !"
"What ?"
"We're in Buckhead ! That's the complete opposite of the city ! Wow, I didn't imagine we made such a long way !"
"We can go down and take a taxi, if you want."
"No, I can't go to the streets without my make-up... maybe we can just take low, easy rooftops, even if the route is a little longer, I don't mind. But I don't feel like doing all these stunts again."
"Okay, then..." he pauses, just the time it takes to knock on the concrete with his cane and make his radar work. Then, he turns to a direction. "This way."
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We quickly descend several levels, by jumping from cornices to window cleaning platforms all along the building, to eventually arrive almost at street level, more precisely on the roof of a diner, where we're concealed behind the bright neon letters.
"Wait," I say, "why did we go down so much ?"
"Well, I thought that if we're lucky, we could climb on the roof of a bus and from there reach the tramway."
"You plan to ride a tramway on the roof ?"
"Or we can just hope it won't be too crowded..."
Maybe this is not such a good idea, but after all, we need to go back home, no matter how. Still, Buckhead ! How could we be crazy enough to go that far ? I begin to look out at the streets for a bus, when suddenly, I see him. My blood freezes in my veins. The young man from the car, the one with the leather suit and the bague. I could recognize him everywhere.
"Matt ! Look out !"
"What ?"
"The boy over there, the one in leather... wait, I think he's wearing cow-boy boots. Can you hear his boots ?"
"Yes. They have spurs."
"I don't see very well from here, but I think so."
"So, what about this boy ?"
"It's him ! The crook, the one who was driving the car, it's him ! I told you he was chasing me ! Oh my God, he finds me no matter where I go ! What's gonna happen now ?"
"Wait, calm down, Violet: he doesn't sound like he's chasing anyone."
As I look again, I think he's right: the leather guy doesn't even seem to have noticed us or to be searching for someone. He's walking in our direction, but on the sidewalk opposite the diner, without paying any attention to it. Actually, he looks more absorbed in a conversation with a beautiful tall, dark-haired woman walking by his side. His girlfriend ? I don't think so, she looks older than him, perhaps forty years old, and there's a strange detail I notice even at such a distance, her nails are abnormally long and look shiny grey, like steel, or silver.
"Matt ? Can you hear what they're talking about ?"
"It seems that they're just coming out of the cinema... they're talking about the movie they saw..."
"What movie ?"
"Don't know, but apparently, it involves a dog..."
The two people suddenly change their way and cross the street towards us. At first, I'm afraid they have spotted us, but no, it's just that their black Mercedes is parked alongside the diner. Soon, they're close enough for me to hear them, even though there really is only the boy talking:
"Yes, of course, the dog is cute, the girl is cute, everything's cute, but that doesn't make a good movie. The problem is that there was no plot. But really, no plot, no idea, there was nothing but a girl and her dog walking from a house to the other. Only this, for ninety minutes. Waw, what a thrill. And the fact that it's for kids is not an excuse, you don't do a kid any favor by showing them plotless pieces of fluff. That's the problem with American family movies, everything is done to make them harmless, gentle and fluffy, to a point that they lose every bit of interest. A few directors try to step out of the norm, but they're just not enough. Take Edward Scissorhands, for example. That's what I call a really good movie, but they won't call it a family movie, because wussy liberals won't like the violent and scary scenes, even though it's a beautiful, universal story that can be understood by people of any age, full of positive messages, and there's romance, and there's passion, and there's Johnny Depp ! But instead, parents will prefer to take their kids to see what ? A mindless boring film that offers nothing except a lost town, a smiling dog, and AnnaSophia Robb. Crap !"
The boy stops to light up a cigarette, and the woman says:
"What do you want, not all directors are as good as Tim Burton."
"Well that's a shame ! He should do more movies. You know what, he should do a movie about this British candymaker, Willy Wonka. Or better, a movie about the Golden Ticket Contest. A film shot like a fairytale, simple, entertaining and intelligent. Could be called something like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I bet kids would love it !"
"I didn't know you had such a passion for American cinema ! You never considered becoming a film critic ? I bet you'd love it."
"Na, it would be a waste of time. My great intelligence is meant to serve nobler purposes."
"Okay, for now we'll just remember not to ask Anton for advice anymore, when we want to see a movie, because his tastes suck."
At this moment, I believe I'm hallucinating. This dialogue I've just heard sounds terribly surrealistic, it's the Fourth Dimension, it's Toilet Zone ! So, the creepy rocker-looking criminal who's been chasing me, happens to be a megalomaniac film critic specialized in family movies... that must be a bad dream, cause it's totally nonsensical. I even begin to think they may even not be the people I think they are at all, when the last few words they exchange before they get in the car abruptly bring me back to the cold reality. It's the boy who talks:
"By the way, how's it going for the kidnapping operation ?"
"How many times have I told you to use euphemisms ? You're supposed to say a 'babysitting' operation, sounds much more threatening."
"Yeah, whatever. So how's it going ?"
"Still quite smoothly, we can proceed exactly as planned."
"Good."
And they get in, the car drives off its parking and begins to leave. I turn to Matt, panicked:
"You hear that ? They're gonna kidnap someone !"
I can see he also looks worried, but his quick reaction catches me totally by surprise:
"Be back soon."
He mumbles these three words, and right after, he jumps from the roof and onto a traffic light pole, and from here to the roof of a 4x4, and he keeps jumping like that until he disappears from my sight, without paying attentions to the angry honks and scared yells his sudden apparition provoked. I didn't even have time to ask him to wait. I can't follow him. Too dangerous. Already, I can't understand how he did all these leaps, no-one could do that, except Spider-Man. I decide to get out of here and go for the back of the diner, from where I jump into a desert, snowy alley, thus finally setting foot at ground level after over three hours. From there, I look out for a fire escape and climb it up all the way until I reach another rooftop, this one of a five-storey residential building. I look out in the general direction where Matt and the car disappeared, but none of them are to be seen. Unsure and kind of worried, I decide to wait here for a while.
After a good fifteen minutes, I finally perceive a shadowy figure leaping on cars, towards me, and finally, Matt climbs up to rejoin me.
"That was not very discreet," I notice.
"Sorry, dear, but I had to act quickly... and maybe too quickly."
"You lost them ?"
"Yeah, they disappeared in this direction."
He points out at our right.
"That's towards East Atlanta," I say. "The not-so-good neighborhoods. Quite a suitable place for the mafia, actually."
"Dang, now someone will be kidnapped and we don't even know who. Violet, we should really give the few informations we have to the police."
"No ! They would come after me, then !"
"Think about it: maybe it's you, the one they're trying to kidnap. I don't wanna scare you, just warn you not to keep things for yourself, cause it might put you in danger. Be careful with these guys, they're nothing like Red Devil."
"Okay... all this is pretty spooky. What are we gonna do, now ?"
"Right now, there's nothing we can do, but go home and rest. Come."
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Well, I said it could be long before a possible update, you'll be happy to learn it was much shorter than planned ! Don't ask why, it's a combination of several factors including insomnia, writing frenzy, and vacations. Anyway, here's something for the trivia section:
- Masutatsu Oyama was a real-life martial artist, who was famous for having killed a charging bull with his bare hands. I don't know if the pebble thing was real, honestly, that's something I found in a movie based on Oyama, Fighter in the Wind. Some elements of this story (in later chapters) have been inspired by this movie.
- The clothes Matt wears in this chapter, the black tracksuit with the blindfold, have been taken from Frank Miller's DareDevil: The Man Without Fear. It's the first, improvised DareDevil costume.
