Things are different now. He knows this. It's scary. It hurts. It's not home. So, who is he? Surely he's no longer Cricket. No, that boy dictated his own life. He told people about themselves even if he was wrong. This was wrong. He was scared. He was alone. When he wasn't alone he wanted to be. Things hurt that shouldn't hurt. He's learned a new sensation; humiliation. He does not like it.
He knew Chip Whistler had problems. This is a new level of issues. This is illegal and unknown. Things are dark now and that's awful. He's behind a cage imagining the sound of Tilly's voice as she tries to cheer him up but it doesn't work. They'll come soon. Take him to a darker place. Eliminate the light. Make the pain last until the last of noise is gone, Only Cricket knows the silence isn't the final noise. There always comes something new. Stories from Grandma have him worried about the worst.
He's only a tiny human. This isn't fair. Why isn't he at home in big City brushing out pheonix's hair? Why isn't his dad yelling at him because he blew something up? Why isn't Remmi here to tell him that he's wrong about something silly? That he's not here? That this is just a bad dream? A worse dream than the puppet his sister carried around back before Gloria had her own resturant.
No... he's not dreaming. They come in rotation. They probe him and hurt him. He begins to worry this isn't appropriate and they probably shouldn't do it. Then he's fighting them and it's just messy because now they're hitting his face and he's too small for these bigger cats with bigger paws so he just lays there as they hurt him now. Oh, it's all so very awful.
"Wake up!" The voice is shrill.
It echoes in his head like a gong, "Wake up! Right now!"
Ander's eyes flutter open and he sees the little girl looking down at him. He hears it. Some ancient screech of words in a dead language and he's on his feet throwing her like a school pack, over his shoulder, and racing into the nearest tunnel. The plane wasn't boarding but they we're climbing on anyhow. Once inside they turn the corner on the right and pass through the curtain into first class, how shiny and silver. Sparkling glossy and popping like diamonds and techno we're everything to the people who came before.
He pops open the over head compartment on the east side of first class and allows the girl to crawl inside then locks himself in the bathroom just in time for the beasts to slam into the plane. He's silent and so is the girl as the monsters scower through the seats and tear every jewel out of it's stitch of the fabric making the loudest screams they can until they give up. Ander waits, breathing heavily into the fabric of his green shirt. Then he's stepping out into the corridor and popping open the compartment to let the little girl out.
"Quick thinking." She says.
He nods, "Where's the boy?"
"Right. The maps in your back pocket within the confines of the magazine you so rudely snatched out of my hands." She cocks a brow.
He glares at her, "That was a highly inappropriate selection for a young thing like you to be holding on to."
"At first I thought it was weird two boys would be that attentive to one another-"She begins.
He groans, "Stop talking about it."
"Fine. It happened. You didn't do it on purpose. It's not supposed to be this awkward. Man up and be the adult your younger sister needs." She demands.
He nods, "Certain things are to remain inappropriate for you until you are ready to talk about them. Even then a fair amount of boundaries will always be at play." '
"Bunch of big grown-up words. Moral of the story is wait a while before I try to understand and know it will make sense with time." She smiles supportively and a brother who was careless with his privacy has to take a stressful sigh.
Then he's patting his back pocket. Air catches in his throat. He avoids eye contact. Then she's snapping a finger in his face. He gives in and as he looks at her he says, "It's not there. I lost it. Maybe on the run in."
She nods, "Lets go. It might still be out there."
Then it's out into the lobby they go. They find what they're looking for but something else got to it first. She's sort of sorrowful as she buckles down to her knees in a pile of confettie made from a magazine she should of never seen. The map among the pieces. They were lost and so was Cricket. Oh, what are they to do now?
A sound comes from deep into the network of the airports A sector. Ander has some worry in the pit of his stomach. A stray beast might be trapped on a conveyor belt. One of the capers could snatch him or the girl and it's worse if they catch her because they'd only kill him but they'd torture her. He's got to find that little boy so that means being stupid and following the noise when it seems there's nothing else to do.
In the darkness of the corridor their eyes adjust. Vines of ultraviolet blue berries create a deeply woeful ambience. The girl yelps and he looks down at her.
"My sock are wet." She says, and she's right. The ground is soaked with blood.
Ander kneels down and finds a body that's been almost devoured by the beasts. Those eyes are still alive and they look at Ander and they begin to weep. It's Polo and it's a terrified Polo because there's no way this is real. There's no way he found Ander down here. Ander died but Polo is crazy and delusional because he was left behind by the team and so he kisses Ander because what is there else to do. Ander kisses back. Polo melts.
The young girl turns away covering her eyes with her arms and saying, "Okay. That's enough. I'm just a child."
And Ander's bloody face pulls away from the wounded Polo. He's laughing and it's kind of hysterical but then he's resting down the wounded body of his dear friend and begging his little sister to help him. She approaches the body and examines the damage. She sighs, "I can heal the body, but I cannot heal what they took from him. He'll still be abused and weak. Slow."
"I love you Ander. I'm sorry I let you go. You got to get out of here. Please. I love you so much." Polo isn't even completely convinced this is real but the little girls fingers are in his wounds he he's knows it's real because he's screaming, and he can't stop.
Then he's twitching vehemently in the light of the window that reveals the neon haze of an overgrown bioluminescent jungle just outside. Ander's hands are wrapping around him and he's breathing so very slowly because the man he loves is real and he isn't going anywhere.