Lesson 18: Be careful who you follow in the dark.
Maka snaps into motion as soon as the words leave her lips, plunging towards the lights and music coming from inside the mining station. It shakes Soul from his shocked daze, and he scrambles after her, but she's too quick. Her name is stuck in his throat, but it never makes it past his tongue. He has no idea what to say or do to reverse this past hour, to get back to the place where they were-all he feels is the desperate need to fix the one relationship he never really wanted to leave behind.
The darkened path leading to the station's auditorium is overflowing with people, and he struggles to keep his eyes on Maka as she increases her pace. Glowing lights shaped like mushrooms are interspersed evenly along the edge of the path, casting a surreal neon tint on everything, though they do little to chase away the darkness or help him track down Maka. He loses her entirely when he crashes into a group of people who seem to materialize out of nowhere.
"Watch where you're going, man!" The teenager he ran into scowls up at him, hand balled into a fist. Soul recognizes the boy as the teenager who called out to him the day he nearly got ran over by Maka. The boy also appears to remember Soul, his sour expression freezing, turning nervous and borderline fearful as he slinks away with a mumbled, "Sorry."
The teenager's friends shrink away from Soul, too, but he doesn't care, shoving his way through the group and continuing toward the station. Pausing just inside the station's auditorium's entrance, he searches the people coming in and out for a moment, before craning his head over the crowd of people dancing in the middle of the station. By some kind of miracle, he spots Maka hovering nearby at the edge of the crowd. She turns in his direction as he does, her gaze somehow locking with his in spite of the dozens of people around them.
He freezes, as does she, mouth half-open, like she's about to speak. Then she snaps it shut, and twists around, disappearing into the crowd before he can do more than lift his hand towards her.
An emotion far more painful than anything he's felt since he returned carves deep into Soul's entire body; the Maka he knew before often made impulsive decisions, but the Maka he knows now rarely makes any decision without thinking it through three times over.
Well, what did you expect? The voice from the worse side of himself is vicious, reveling in the pain, waking up everything he ever buried. You make mistake after mistake, and you expect to be given a new chance every single time? This is everything you deserve.
This way of losing everything is much worse than how he lost it three years ago-it's silent, violent, and he's completely aware of all his mistakes the whole way down. Distantly, a voice tells him that it's not like Maka said she never wanted to see him again, but he's not in the mood to be optimistic. Instead, he does what he does best, pushing his emotions deep down. Forcing himself to move, he pulls to the side of the wall closest to the dance floor, eyes darting to the crowd every few seconds while the voice in his head continues to mock him. Meanwhile, his hand reaches in his pocket for his phone, the idea that he might call Wes floating in his mind until he remembers he's staying in the city. Briefly, he considers calling his parents, before dismissing the thought just as quickly-they're probably still sleeping, and either way, he doesn't want to subject himself to the interrogation that will come if they pick him up here.
Contemplating his next plan, which only consists of getting the fuck out of here, he tells himself to move, but his feet do not comply, keeping him rooted in place. However, he moves easily enough when he realizes how thirsty he is, heading deeper into the party. It's only for a drink, and then I'll go, he tells himself, keenly aware of how bad he is at lying to himself.
Instead of examining that thought, he glances around, looking for Black Star, or Kid, or even Kim, but there are scores of people here, far more than even the most popular party at the Fire Pit. Like HarvFest, neon lantern lights serve as the party's main decoration, hanging from the ceiling, and accompanied by the occasional strobe light. Its set-up has always reminded Soul of a middle school dance, with mismatching chairs and circular tables positioned around the main dance floor.
He finds the drinking station, a long banquet table covered in drinks, at the far side of the auditorium, where a hallway in the very back splits off into half a dozen smaller rooms that most people use to hang out in a smaller setting. For a moment, he considers searching for Maka there before he realizes he still has no idea what to say and, besides, she had already made it very clear she didn't want to see him now.
Or ever, a voice from the back of his mind adds.
Gritting his teeth, he steers clear of the alcohol in the middle of the table, fishing a diet coke from an ice chest, and ambling alongside the dance floor until he finds an empty table. Dropping down in a chair, he opens the soda with a soft pop and takes a long drink. The coldness settles the jitteriness gnawing at his stomach a bit, although it doesn't help with the turmoil of thoughts running through his head.
Even though he takes slow sips, he still finishes the coke in no time, but he doesn't immediately leave. Picking at the tab of the can, he watches the dance floor, music blaring from unseen speakers. Instead of actually dancing, most of the people out there are simply swaying to the beat of the music.
The volume of the music does nothing to help his headache, which had been lying dormant, although it returns with a vengeance now. It clamps around his head in a vicelike grip, and he presses his hands against his temples, squeezing hard. For the first time, he realizes how long he's been awake, and how much he would like not to be.
Letting his hands fall back to his sides, he gives up, getting up from the table. There's no use in staying when he knows Maka doesn't want to talk to him-the best thing that he can hope for is that she's willing to hear him out tomorrow.
In his pocket, his phone buzzes and his heart leaps in his chest for a moment, before he pulls out it and sees Black Star's name flashing across the screen.
Black Star: dude maka keeps ignoring my messages are you here yet?
Soul: we're here
Black Star: i sense a but coming
He weighs how honest he wants to be.
Soul: but i accidentally jammed my foot in my mouth and she left
Black Star: dude :[
Soul: yeah
Black Star: is there anything i can do?
Soul: not unless you could get me a new personality
Black Star: :[
Black Star: we're in one of the rooms off the auditorium if you wanna come hang out
Soul: nah i think im gonna go but thanks
He shoves his phone back in his pocket before he can read Black Star's response, tossing his soda can into a trash can nearby as he heads for the exit.
"Leaving already?" asks a voice from behind him.
He turns to find Kim standing with her arms crossed. She has on a black shirt with the words Shibunsen Springs' Poet Society on it, and is wearing copious amounts of glittery eyeshadow that's nearly as pink as her hair.
"You've made yourself official?" he says instead of answering her question, gesturing to her shirt. "I thought you didn't like sharing your poems."
"Yeah, well, I changed my mind," she says dismissively, waving a hand. "Plus, the attention the society gives to my brilliance is nice."
"I can imagine." He searches for a way to excuse himself from the conversation that isn't rude. "Well, I gotta go-"
"You haven't forgotten about your promise, have you?" she interrupts, raising an eyebrow.
"My what?" It takes him a minute to remember the last time they spoke. "Oh, that."
"Yes, that," she replies breezily. "The society's set up a poetry jam in one of the back rooms. Are you coming?"
"Uh-"
"Great," she says, clapping her hands together. "We're in the second room on the left. I'm going to go see if I can wrangle some other people up."
She leaves before Soul can say anything else, and he stares after her. For a second, he weighs simply leaving, but he knows what Kim will do to him if he doesn't go. He finds the room easily enough, spotting round tables and a podium before being waylaid by a cacophony of sound.
"Dude, I thought you just told me you were leaving," Black Star exclaims as he leaps up from one of the tables, bounding over to him as Kid follows.
"Kim happened," he says, shrugging. "You know she doesn't take no for an answer."
"Sounds a little like what happened to us," says Kid. "Though I've never been to a poetry jam before, so I am intrigued."
"A lot of people yammering about their feelings," Black Star answers as he leads them back to the table he and Kid had been sitting at. "So, exactly like a therapy session, but the words rhyme."
"They don't necessarily have to rhyme." Soul takes a seat on the opposite side of Black Star, rubbing his head. Now that he's away from the blasting noise of the music, his head feels a little better, although his mind continues to replay what Maka said to him over and over.
"But the yammering about feelings is true either way." Black Star takes a closer look at Soul as he speaks, pausing. "Are you feeling okay, dude? You look kinda pale."
"Never better." The lie rolls off his tongue easily, but he doesn't have to look at Black Star or Kid to know they don't believe him.
"We'll have another go at finding your ghost tomorrow," Kid says as Kim enters the room with a troupe of people wearing the same shirt as hers.
"It's fine." Annoyance stabs through him, but it's entirely irrational so he works to keep it out of his voice. "I don't think there's much of a point in it anyways. Maka isn't talking to me, and she was the reason we got as far as we did."
"It'll blow over, I'm sure," says Black Star, though he exchanges a glance with Kid.
Soul doesn't have the opportunity to answer, something he isn't sure is a good or bad thing, as Kim taps imperiously on the microphone at the podium. "Hello, welcome to our poetry jam," she says. There's a slightly nervous edge in her voice as she speaks. "Thank you for taking the time to come out and visit tonight."
Black Star snorts.
She steps away from the podium, and a timid-looking person with horn-rimmed glasses approaches the microphone, clearing their voice before starting to speak.
Soul isn't quite listening as they speak, nor does he absorb much of what the next four people read. Although he was mostly being sarcastic when Kid talked about continuing to look for answers, it's true when he said it didn't have a point anymore. He's not sure what he was thinking when he asked for help, but everything would have been better off if he hadn't. All he's accomplished with it is getting Maka not to talk to him, along with making his only friends doubt his sanity.
Applause breaks out as he vows to himself to never reach out for help again, and he blinks, nonplussed, before he sees that the applause is directed towards the stage.
Kim has retaken the podium, hooking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Thank you for your attention," she says. "We'll be taking a short intermission, so be sure to be back in your seats in ten minutes."
"I think I liked the one about a grape the most," says Black Star as the light buzz of conversation breaks out among the audience. "But that might just be because I'm hungry."
"Why don't we look for something to eat?" Kid suggests. "I thought I saw some food stands outside."
"I'd go for anything remotely edible right now." Black Star stretches as he gets up, lifting his arms high over his head and glancing at Soul. "Want to come with us?"
"I'm not that hungry," he says, shaking his head. "You can go, I'll hold our spots."
"We'll bring back any extras we can wrangle," Kid tells him as he follows after Black Star.
Giving a wave in response, Soul drops his hand back to the table, drumming his fingers against the top as he examines the room. Most people in the audience have stayed where they are; some of them are now visiting each other's tables, though no one tries to approach his.
It doesn't help the bad mood percolating under his skin, even though he can't stand making small talk with people he barely knows. He takes out his phone on impulse, a half-complete message to Maka already in his head, before he remembers the look on her face when she asked him if he cared about her.
Scowling at nothing, he puts his phone back in his pocket; as much as he wants to fix this, he needs to wait until he can talk to Maka in person, and not send a rambling apology over text.
"So what do you think so far?" The sound of Kim's voice makes him look up to see that she's taken Black Star's spot.
"Um, it's good," he says, unable to admit he hasn't been paying attention. "I liked the one about the grape a lot."
She raises an eyebrow. "You don't have to put your lack of taste on display like that, you know."
He bristles, kicking himself for borrowing anything Black Star said he liked. "I like what I like."
"You can let me know if you like my poem or not," she says, getting up. "I'm the first one to go after the break."
"Good luck."
"Genius doesn't need luck," Kim answers, sniffing. She considers. "Though maybe a water would help."
Watching her vanish through the door, Soul goes back to studying the pattern of the table top. After the second half of the jam, he will ask Black Star and Kid for a ride home, and they'll hopefully tell Maka they dropped him off if they saw her.
Swallowing, he thinks about what kind of conversation awaits them when they're driving home, but he supposes it's better than the limbo they're in right now. He feels feverish all of a sudden, and he wonders if Black Star had a point when he asked if he was feeling all right.
The world seems to get smaller at that moment, as the voice from the forest drips into the room, louder than it's ever been before. Soul recoils as it winds through his ears, clinging to the inside of his head.
For a second, he sits in frozen terror, pondering if he could just ignore the voice, and then it swells higher, growing the loudest by the door. In that instant, he knows it is calling him to follow it, and he's already out of his seat and halfway to the door before he can think through his decision.
In the hallway, he pauses, listening hard and catching a glimmer of the voice at the end of the hallway leading back to the dance floor. Moving before he can lose track of the voice, he plunges back into the auditorium.
It's harder to pick out the voice among the blasting music, but he catches hold of it from across the auditorium, faint and distant, but there. At first, he starts to navigate his way along the perimeter, but when he loses the voice entirely, he backtracks, eyeing the crowd for a second before entering the dance floor.
There is no direct way through the crowd, so Soul fits himself through the gaps between the knots of people, using his elbows to create his own path when necessary. Most people in the crowd are drunk, or are so stuck in their own world, that hardly anyone protests when he has to push his way through, which is why he nearly jumps out of his own skin when someone grabs his arm as he reaches the end of the crowd.
"There you are." Maka shouts much too loudly even for the loud music permeating through the room. Her hand slips down his arm and into his hand. "Where have you been?"
Soul notices the slight way she's swaying, which is why he doesn't pull his hand away, or so he tells himself. "I thought you didn't want to see me."
"Oh, that's water under the bridge," she says with an exaggerated wave of her hand. "Everything's fine now." She gives his hand a tug. "C'mon, let's dance."
He frowns, the voice entirely forgotten. "Are you drunk?"
She gives a quick shake of her head. "No, but I wish I was."
Raising an eyebrow skeptically, he asks, "Have you drank at all?"
"I always limit myself to one drink," she says, holding up two fingers.
"Maybe we should go outside," he suggests.
A pout tugs on her lips. "But the dancing is here."
"We can dance outside," he says quickly. "There's more room out there, anyways."
For a moment, she considers, and then gives a reluctant nod. "Fine."
He makes sure to keep a firm grip on her hand as he guides them to one of the many side doors leading out of the auditorium. The forest looms in front of them as they exit into one of the clearings that leads to the mines.
A cold breeze blows down from the mountains stretching out in the distance. It raises goosebumps on his skin, although it seems to clear Maka's head. She rubs at her face. "I am going to have such a headache in the morning."
He doesn't know what the proper response is, so he just says, "Sorry."
"It'll pass." She takes a deep breath, tilting her head to the sky. An awkward silence settles the longer they stand outside together.
Trying to channel a courage he doesn't have, he starts to speak. "About earlier-"
"I don't want to talk about that right now," she says, still not looking at him. "I shouldn't have brought it up."
He doesn't have to ask what she means by "it".
"Okay." He's consumed by that desperate need to make sure that she doesn't hate him. "What about that dance then?"
She blinks as she finally looks at him. "What?"
"You wanted to dance?" What's meant to be a statement comes out as a question; he's fully aware of how stupid he sounds. "Remember?"
"Oh." It's hard to tell in the dark, but it seems like her face has turned pink. "We don't have to."
If he could see her face fully, he'd never be able to say what he's about to say. "I want to, though."
It's quiet for such a long time that he starts to think she's simply not going to answer, and then-
"I do too." Her voice is so soft, it's almost a whisper.
They reach for each other at the same time. His heart is pounding, and his palms are inordinately clammy; he prays she doesn't notice as they settle into a vague version of a waltz. They go around in more or less the same square, forwards, backwards and again. There's only the muffled sound of music coming from the auditorium, and the feeling of Maka's heartbeat against his chest, nearly as loud as his own, as close together as they are.
Yet there is a wrongness that gnaws at him as they dance, keeping him from enjoying the moment. This tiny space of time should be comforting, peaceful, happy, even, but he can't bring himself to feel any of it when he knows that, as soon as it's over, he's going to do something to screw it up-it's the pattern of his life, after all.
And he hears it as she turns her face towards him and closes the space between them. The soft murmur of the voice from the mines weaves through his ears as she moves her lips against his while he stands there, frozen, unable to reciprocate, can't reciprocate, because there are too many things wrong with him, and he won't bring her aboard a sinking ship.
She stops after a moment, letting go of his hand and stepping back, though he can imagine her heart is beating just as quickly as his. They meet each other's eyes at the same time, and he says the only thing that he can. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine, I get it." Her words come out rapid and slightly breathless, and she continues to back away as she trails off. She jerks a thumb in the direction of the mining station. "I've got to go."
She walks away without waiting for an answer, and he watches her go, waiting until she's vanished from view to twist around to face the forest, balling and relaxing his hands twice before he enters the forest, following the voice as quickly as he can.
It's as quiet as his dreams, only the voice echoing on the wind, encouraging him forward with its wordless melody. He walks for several minutes before the voice guides him onto a dirt path that leads directly into the mines. Some patches are still covered in gravel, and his footsteps crunch as he gets closer to the entrance.
It isn't until he's nearly reached the mines that he hears the angry voices ahead of him, accompanied by a loud moaning from someone who is clearly in agony. Narrowly, he veers behind a tree, waiting to peek out until he's sure whoever else is here hasn't seen or heard him.
About twenty feet away, eight figures, dressed in long black cloaks with hoods, stand over a man who is similarly dressed, although his hood is down. Only the outline of his face is visible, but it's clear that he's in pain, doubled over on the ground. Squinting at the other figures, Soul can tell they're not wearing anything to cover their faces either, with the exception of the figure in the middle, who wears a mask that makes his face look skeletal.
They look exactly like the shadow that's been following him around, though he can't think further through that realization as one of the people starts to speak.
"You're a damn idiot, Beade," growls the figure wearing the mask, though his voice sounds vaguely familiar. "How could you drop an arm in the middle of town?"
"It was a mistake," the man on the ground pleads. "Please stop."
"No one can hear you out here," answers the figure with the mask coldly. "I pull my weight more than any of you because of the gifts the Black Goat has given me, and you can't even take care of getting rid of a body It rejected."
"It won't happen again," he says from the ground. "I promise."
"Promises are not actions," the masked figure says flatly. He doesn't move, yet the man starts to yell and moan again, met with mixed reactions from the others. Eventually, he stops whatever he's doing and he turns his back on man on the ground, to the rest of the group.
"We need another body to appease the Black Goat, since last time didn't work," he says. "Does anyone have any ideas?"
He's met with silence as the other figures shift around. Finally, one of the figures on the left speaks. "This is the third time our offering hasn't been accepted. What if the Black Goat doesn't want anything to do with us anymore?"
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's on the ground like the other man, yelling and holding his head. The masked figure looks back at the others, who have shrunken away from him. "Any other suggestions?"
"The elders are coming," another figure says suddenly, and the others scramble to assemble themselves in a single row, even the man who was just tortured. The masked figure stays where he is, along with the man who was on the ground when Soul first saw them.
The sound of something snapping to the right of him nearly makes Soul jump from out of his hiding spot. His heart thuds in his chest as he searches the patch of forest right next to him, but he sees nothing. Turning his attention back to the scene in front, he tries and fails to ignore the thoughts running through his head as two figures come out of the mine's entrance. A cult, his mind screams at him. You're living in a town where people belong to a death cult.
He's distracted by someone speaking. "So, it was you, Beade?" asks one of the figures who just arrived. Like the rest, he wears a black cloak and a hood obscures his face, although there appears to be something written on the cloak that Soul can't make out.
"It's a mistake that I expect won't happen again." The figure holds out a hand to Beade, who takes it eagerly, nodding his head rapidly.
"It won't, I promise," he babbles as he rises. "Thank you, elder, I-"
"That's it?" the masked figure interrupts flatly. "If someone had made that mistake even five years ago, we would have fed them to the Black Goat."
There are a couple people behind the figure who nod, and the elder who hasn't yet spoken yet steps forward, addressing everyone. "Five years ago, our town was surviving, and there was the promise of Shibunsen Springs returning to its former glory with the highway extension and Gorgon Mart's development." He paces down the line. "Then, the storm happened, and the extension was cancelled. Now, Gorgon Mart is just a leech on our economy."
He returns to his original place next to the other elder. "All because we stopped offering the Black Goat sacrifices, because we were arrogant enough to think our problems solved. And now we struggle even to limp along as our numbers continue to dwindle. Considering this, would you throw away someone who is dedicated to our cause of fighting for our existence?"
There are murmurs of "No" and "Of course not, elder" from every figure lined up, even from the people who had agreed with the masked figure earlier, who says nothing and looks at the ground stonily.
Soul has heard more than enough, and he eases his way back from the tree as quietly as he can, while the elders continue to speak to the cult. He's nearly made it ten feet when he steps on a fallen branch and it snaps loudly. His eyes fly back to the group as he prays like he's never prayed before that no one heard him.
"What was that?" He hears one of the people say while more than half of the figures raise something long and metallic in their hands, and Soul belatedly realizes they are carrying guns.
There's a shout from the crowd. "Over there!"
Abandoning all pretenses of staying quiet, Soul breaks out into a run, staying on the dirt path for a moment before veering into the forest. He nearly crashes face first into a tree, stumbling over an exposed root. Pushing himself to go as fast as he can without tripping, he doesn't dare look behind him, although he can hear the distinct sound of footsteps coming after him. Distantly, he thinks he hears his name being called, but he doesn't slow down to confirm it.
Ahead of him, a shadow shifts, and an icy feeling washes through Soul when he sees it is not a shadow at all, but the figure with the mask, walking through a tree like smoke. His mind flicks back to the figure running through the fence as he changes direction suddenly to keep from colliding with him. The figure makes a grab for him, actually managing to wrap a hand around his wrist, but his grip on Soul isn't solid, and he wrenches his arm free, running with a new burst of adrenaline.
"He's moving east," the figure yells. "We can't lose him!"
Immediately, Soul switches back to running in the direction of the mining station, which is visible through the trees. He has no idea if the cult will continue to chase him there, but the crowd will at least give him a better place to hide. Afterwards, he can look for Maka or Black Star and beg for a ride home.
He's just formulated this plan when a shot rings out. The bullet misses him, but he recoils on reflex, and he trips over a mound of dirt, getting a glimpse of the tree root on the ground before his head knocks into it.
The world goes black.
She was an idiot.
Not even her voice of reason swoops in to save her as Maka makes her way back to the auditorium, which is a lot harder without Soul's hand to steady her. She scowls at a couple coming out of the side entrance she and Soul had come out of, throwing herself into a chair at the first empty table she sees.
Rubbing the sides of her head, she tries and fails not to replay the last five minutes, ignoring the sharp prick of disappointment in her throat and looking for anger, instead finding it only for herself. There were a lot of things she could be mad at Soul for, but what else should she have expected when she kissed him less than an hour after accusing him of not caring about anything and walking off?
Because he did care; if he didn't, he wouldn't have asked Black Star to wait on Tick Tock's, or taken her out for her birthday (even with its mixed results), or helped out with the HarvFest play. It makes what he said to her at the train station even more confusing, along with the multitude of things he's done or said since he returned that makes it seem like he doesn't even care about his own life.
Sucking in a breath, Maka holds it for a moment before letting it back out, but it doesn't lessen the pain in her heart like she thought it would. There are too many contradictions coming from Soul, and it makes her head hurt if she thinks about it for too long, which may have been why she accepted him back more or less after that first day. There's a longer list of good he's brought to her life than hurt, and maybe that was why she had allowed herself to hope that things could go back to the way they had been between them.
She glares at the tabletop as the lump in her throat gets bigger. But the things he's done that have hurt her hurt , and she knows she needs to make a decision soon before the pain of leaving is too much for her to withstand.
Her life would be easier if she cut him out , her voice of reason points out, finally surfacing. But it wouldn't be better, adds on a voice that sounds more like herself.
Swallowing, Maka lifts her head. With the exception of her outburst, whenever Soul tried bringing up what happened, she always shut him down, or gave him very little room to speak about it, and that was a mistake, her way of shielding herself from truths that might hurt. She'll give him the chance to speak about everything-she can't hold onto people who want to leave, her father is proof of that, but she can give him the opportunity to say it, at least.
And if he does? asks a voice from the back of her mind.
It makes my choice easier. She firmly shuts down the thought before pain can set in.
Her phone buzzes, and she pulls it out on instinct. There's a whole slew of texts from Black Star that she's ignored since she arrived, and she briefly contemplates ignoring this text, too, before realizing she'd have nothing to do but continue thinking.
[9:57 pm] Black Star: i know youre probably not going to answer this and youre not talking to soul atm but can you check on him hes not answering kid or me
[9:58 pm] Maka: I just saw him
[9:58 pm] Black Star: so you are alive
[9:58 pm] Maka: sorry if that disappoints you
[9:59 pm] Black Star: very funny
[9:59 pm] Black Star: so did you talk to him or did you just get a glimpse of him? Bc he didn't look that good to kid or me
[10:00 pm] Maka: I was around him for long enough to tell that he is fine
It's only after Maka sends the text that she realizes she didn't get a good look at Soul at all, with how fogged up her head had been. All she could tell is that he hadn't been drinking.
[10:00 pm] Black Star: alright if you say so
[10:00 pm] Black Star: could you let him know he can ride home w us if you don't want to give him a ride?
[10:01 pm] Maka: I'm not so mad that I'd ditch someone
She considers for a long moment before sending another text.
[10:02 pm] Maka: I know where he is gimme a minute to check on him again
Moving with a bit more ease than before, Maka gets up and makes her way back to the side entrance. There's no one here now, except for her, and she calls Soul's name as she enters the clearing where she had last seen him.
No one answers.
Frowning, she calls again, pacing around the edge of the clearing as she searches this time. Again, there is no reply, but as she finishes looking around the perimeter, her eyes go to the mountain in the nearby distance, and the dirt path leading to the mines.
[10:07 pm] Maka: I think Soul's in trouble
"But why would he go to the mines?" huffs Black Star as he pushes a tree branch out of his face.
"Remember he said that's where he heard the voice coming from?" answers Maka, stepping over a mound of dirt while dodging a branch herself. They're going through the forest instead of taking the dirt path that leads to the mines, in case Soul had wandered.
"It's also the most logical conclusion," Kid says. He lags behind, the least athletic out of all of them.
"What I don't understand is why he'd do this alone when I was just with him." Maka's words come out with more bite than she means them to, and there's a pause as Black Star and Kid silently volley over who is going to answer first.
"It is kinda hard to ask you for help when you're mad," Black Star volunteers.
She flushes and holds back her retort, because there was no way she was going to say what had happened right before she left Soul.
"And Soul had mentioned to us that he didn't want to go through with the investigation anymore," Kid tacks on. "He probably decided to settle it on his own."
Silence follows, and she speaks when they're nearly at the mines. "Well, that's stupid," she says flatly. "No one gets anywhere without any help."
"That's how you've tried to act," Black Star points out.
She's about to reply when Kid shushes the both of them, yanking them back behind a tree while he points just ahead. "Look," he says in a low whisper.
Maka gets a glimpse of a small crowd of hooded figures, one of them hunched over on the ground, when Black Star says in a whisper, "Are they playing dress-up in the woods?"
Kid presses a finger to Black Star's lip as one of the figures suddenly speaks. "The elders are coming."
Two figures, similarly hooded, appear from the mines. A twig snaps underneath Maka's foot as she strains to get a better look at them, and she freezes, but none of the figures appear to notice.
One of the figures who came from the mines bends down to the person on the ground. "It was you, Beade?" There is a pause as the figure straightens, holding out a hand. "It's a mistake that I expect won't happen again."
Beade's rambling thanks as he rises is interrupted by the only figure wearing a mask in the crowd. "That's it?" he says, tone marked with disdain. "If someone had made that mistake even five years ago, we would have fed them to the Black Goat."
The name Black Goat stirs something in Maka's memory, but she's sure it's from a book she read, not something that was actually real.
"Five years ago, our town was surviving, and there was the promise of Shibunsen Springs returning to its former glory with the highway extension and Gorgon Mart's development," answers the second figure that came from the mines as he walks down the line of hooded figures. "Then, the storm happened, and the extension was cancelled. Now, Gorgon Mart is just a leech on our economy."
He comes back to his place at the front of the group. "All because we stopped offering the Black Goat sacrifices, because we were arrogant enough to think our problems solved."
"Sacrifice?" mouths Black Star, eyes wide.
"And now," the figure goes on, "we struggle even to limp along as our numbers continue to dwindle. Considering this, would you throw away someone who is dedicated to our cause of fighting for our existence?"
Several in the crowd shake their heads, while some murmur, "No."
The figure continues speaking, but Maka is distracted by a flash of white in the corner of her vision. Soul's name leaps in her throat as she spots him a short distance away, hiding behind a tree like they are. He's backing away from the mines, but as she tries to silently get his attention, he steps on something that snaps with a loud sound.
"What was that?" Maka spots the guns in the figures' hands as they turn to look, and she opens her mouth to warn Soul just as Black Star pulls her back down.
"What are you doing?" he hisses just as another figure shouts, "Over there!"
"Soul," she says in a forced whisper as the group takes off after him. "He's who they're chasing."
"Shit." Black Star drops his hands, scrambling up. "Well, let's go then!"
"Wait," Kid exclaims, reaching for Black Star. "We don't have a plan and they have guns."
"They can't shoot us if they can't see us." Maka jumps up as Black Star shrugs off Kid. "C'mon!"
Maka makes a half-hearted attempt to stay quiet as they run through the forest, following the sounds of the group as they chase Soul. She's not sure what she'll do if one of them spots her or the boys, but she prays her body has retained something of what she learned from the self-defense class she took in high school.
It takes a while for her to see anything except the trees in front of her, but when she does, her stomach drops. A figure is taking aim at Soul with his gun, who is nearly out of the forest and just in front of the auditorium where there are people coming out of the main entrance.
She doesn't think as she seizes a rock from the ground and hurls it at him, hitting the figure squarely in the back. The gun jerks upward as he stumbles and fires, missing Soul completely, but he still falls and does not get back up.
There are sounds of the other members in the group changing their direction as they become aware that Soul wasn't the only person hiding in the forest. Maka whirls around, looking at Black Star and Kid. "Do something!"
Cupping his hands around his mouth, Black Star's yell comes out even more magnified than usual. "Old King Arthur's come looking for his sword!"
"Excalibur!" roar back several people coming from the auditorium, making a beeline for the trees, like they used to when someone used the old chant to jumpstart a game of hide and seek in the woods when they were kids. Many other people from the crowd follow suit after a moment of hesitation, pulled in by the drunken enthusiasm of the other people.
"Go!" Kid's voice spurs Maka back in action, and they scramble towards Soul. She glances around as they make their way to where she saw him fall; most of the cloaked group has vanished, seemingly in midair, although she thinks she gets a glimpse of a figure wearing a mask that looks like a skeleton staring at her just as she reaches Soul.
He's completely unconscious as she and Black Star roll him over onto his back, although his eyelids flutter as she pushes back his hair, searching for any sign of a gunshot wound. A rush of relief sweeps through her when she finds none.
"I think I can carry him on my back, if you help me get him there," grunts Black Star as he attempts to pull him into a sitting position. Both Maka and Kid push Soul up from behind, holding him while Black Star secures him on his back, standing with some difficulty.
Black Star leads while Maka and Kid follow from behind, in case he loses his grip on Soul, as well as to keep an eye out for any of the hooded figures. They make it to the lot where all of the cars are parked, and Maka jams on her key while Kid peers around, pointing to a nearby row. "There's our car. We can go to our apartment, since it's closest."
In the distance, Maka's car flashes its lights, and she looks back at Kid and Black Star. "My car-"
"I can drive it to our apartment," says Kid, holding a hand out for her keys. "Unless you want to follow us."
Maka takes one look at Soul before shoving her keys in Kid's hands. "I'm staying with him."
Once they reach the car, she gets in the back seat, helping Kid situate Soul next to her. He gives her a nod, then straightens to clasp Black Star's hand briefly, before heading off in the direction of Maka's car. Swallowing, she takes Soul's hand, gripping it hard until she can feel his pulse through his fingers.
She thinks she feels him squeeze back as Black Star turns on the car, but then she looks at his face, eyes still closed, and figures it was just her imagination.