"And this is how you can be walking and falling at the same time"
One more number's waiting
The rain soaked asphalt reflected and distorted the luminescence of the city and enveloped the world in a mercurial glow. In the distance the storm rumbled angrily in its retreat and the sky overhead began to clear. The moist night air reeked of ozone and vegetable decay and an oppressive silence descended. All that remained of the storm were vigilant gray vapors; sentinels monitoring the disorder of the stars—the rearguard of the passing tempest and the vanguard for the one to come.
Kai moved briskly along the slippery pavement drawn to the artificial warmth under the steel branches of the streetlights. In the deserted street, her footfalls echoed the march of an invisible army. She cursed her leather-soled shoes and the subway's malfunction. Her muscles ached from the icy dampness of the night.
The blue darkness rejoiced in her dilemma.
Kai breathed in the cold air and wished she could exhale the anxious demons wallowing in her stomach. The silence was agony. Had the world died? She strained her hearing and focused on the sound of the harbor a block away. The gentle mossy waters soothed her and gave her the strength to press onward. She turned towards them. Ahead of her the streetlights died unexpectedly leaving behind only a dim phosphorescent glow. She set her jaw and allowed her pace to quicken. Fear washed over her and she struggled against the desire to bolt.
A tin can rang out as it bounced down the sidewalk piercing the silence.
Kai did not turn to see who kicked the can. She knew. Giving in to her fears, she bolted towards the harbor. He was not alone, but Kai was much faster. Her pounding heart reverberated in her head. Madly, she pushed herself harder focusing all of her energy on speed. She was faster. She was stronger. She would reach the harbor before him.
The laws of time dissolved as she fell. Her foot slid backwards, her center of gravity shifted and the slippery pavement rose up to embrace her. Wildly, she threw her hands in front of her to keep her head from hitting the street and the uneven texture of the asphalt tore her flesh. Her weight had barely touched the ground before she wrenched herself to her feet and threw her body forward struggling to regain forward momentum. The edge of the docks loomed just out of reach.
A smell of saline filled her nostrils and the warm breeze called out to her. The bullet entered through her left shoulder and ripped its way into her chest cavity. Defiantly, she remained standing.
Angry painful tears clouded her eyes and a clammy coldness crept into her face. "Turn around, Kai," she mumbled through clenched teeth. Her body grew numb and she did not move. "Face him," she growled at herself. "You're better than this. Turn damnit." Rigidly, she turned and met the eyes of the gunman and his partner. She set her jaw and threw her shoulders back against the pain. Blood soaked her white shirt. "You fools! This is not real," she taunted the men and the blue moon.
"For you it is," The dark man raised a cylindrical object. Darkness.
The laws of time dissolved as she fell. Her foot slid backwards, her center of gravity shifted and the slippery pavement rose up to embrace her. Wildly, she threw her hands in front of her to keep her head from hitting the street and the uneven texture of the asphalt tore her flesh…
Wake up.
Kai's eyes opened and she lurched out of one nightmare into another. "What in the hell are you doing?" She stumbled backwards off her bed, where Smith calmly sat with his legs crossed and hands on his knees. The pale moonlight bathed his triangular face in an evil shadow and a vicious smile played at the corners of his lips. "Michael," Kai backed defensively towards the window. "Why are you in here?"
"Sit down, Kai," he motioned to the bed. Knowingly, he followed her stare to the door and looked back into her eyes and shook his head. "Sit down, Kai." His opened handed motion became less of an invitation. Wordlessly, Kai sat down, but first stole a glance at the clock.
"You are not dreaming," his voice was a dark parody of everything she considered comforting. "We must talk."
"Michael," she breathed nervously. "It's three a.m., perhaps we can talk in a few hours." She tried unsuccessfully to regain her composure and take control of the situation.
"Actually, its three minutes after," he brought his hands together and steeped his fingers. "Kai," her name slipped off his lips like a threat. "I feel as though you have not been very forthcoming with me."
"What are you talking about, Michael," she sat up straighter, trying to mimic his assertive posture.
"Who am I? And, I want to you to be specific," his voice was frightfully level. "You will tell me. I'm finished playing games." His tone made it clear that he would not tolerate anything less than total compliance.
She regarded him cautiously. "You're Michael. I've known you for nearly ten years. Six months ago you went off with your friend Howie. We had a fight. The night before, you said something about a tea party—the Mad Hatter's. I guessed you were doing drugs. You left and then I found you sitting in the park" she looked at her hands.
"Who is Howie?" Smith knew she was holding back.
"Howie is one of your weird friends. He's wild-eyed and paranoid. He looks at me like I'm the devil incarnate and asks me bizarre questions—like he's trying to trap me. I despise him," She brought her knees up to her chest and wrinkled her brow. "He was forever saying stupid shit like, 'Don't trust anyone,' 'They're everyone and no one,' and always talking about black helicopters and conspiracies. It struck me as strange that you'd gravitate towards him, but then I realized that he was not as unlike you as I thought." A siren wailed in the distance.
"What am I like?" Smith softened his voice.
"Generally, you're abusive and abrasive. We fight all the time and you don't play fair. You were an asshole," Kai's characteristic bluntness erupted.
"You've established that," Smith tilted his head.
"When I first met you, you were just a lowly programmer for Minotaur, an internet security company. By the end," she eulogized. "You were no better than Howie. You started keeping strange hours and would disappear for weeks on end. People called here looking for you and would leave the most ridiculous messages and names. You stopped sleeping and would sit up all hours of the night just staring at your computer. If I came near you'd freak out and start closing windows. At first, I thought you were a porn junkie or something, but instead it was just pages and pages of code." She exhaled as if she were being freed from a great weight and began to toy with the hem of the sheet.
"On the day you left three men came by looking for you," she began again. "It was very surreal. I think it happened," her eyes grew distant. "I opened the door before they knocked. The shortest of the three smiles and says, 'Kai' and the other two look at him like he's just broken every law known to humanity. It was like a dream. The one in the middle," she paused and a look of uncertainty swept across her face. "I can't remember much about him and for the life of me I have no idea what he looked like. Anyway, the one in the middle said something cryptic, pushed his way in, nosed around and they were all gone in less than ten minutes." Her eyes looked at his shadow. "I never thought I would see you again."
"Why?" Smith knew the three men of whom she spoke.
"I said it was all very surreal. My life is surreal," She laced her fingers and put her hands behind her head. "Those men were an intersection between my hallucinations and my reality. They are the vultures perching in the shooting galleries. Like killer angels, they swooped down to tear you out of my life. I knew you would be dead by the end of the day, but did not mourn your passing and here you are." The distance in her voice was immeasurable.
Carefully, he reached over her and switched on the lamp. Kai remained motionless. Smith did not understand what she was saying and was not even certain to whom she was speaking. He knelt beside her for a moment before sitting back down, this time closer.
"Kai?" Smith did not have to try to make his voice softer, less intimidating, it just was. She looked through him. "What color are my eyes?"
Her face mirrored that of a creature brought to the brink of death a thousand times. Terror melted into resignation and she closed her eyes. "Don't make me say it," she whispered. "I won't say it," her voice was nearly inaudible. She clung to him with the intensity that one clings to superstition or religion.
Unknowing what to do, Smith held her silently and stared at the radium glow of another clock on the bookcase. It was old and broken. Why keep a broken clock? A frown crossed his lips and he sighed. He would have rather had her call him names and swear at him. Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair and unconsciously pressed his lips to the top of her skull.
Time stood still according to the broken clock. She finally dozed in his arms and he wanted nothing more than to be alone. Delicately, he slipped his arm from behind her and edged off the bed. Her tired eyes opened, "Tell me this is all a dream…please?"
Smith stopped and looked into her troubled eyes. Never had he experienced such an overwhelming and dark feeling of déjà vu. He touched her cheek and stepped back. "I promise you," sympathy crept into eyes. "This is all just a dream. Nothing here is real."
***
Smith sank down in the green leather chair resting his bare feet against the coffee table. He pressed his hands to his temples and closed his eyes. Part of him wanted to be alone, yet another stronger part of him reached out against his will to it. The room was still and the voices no more than a distant murmur—too distant. Straining to hear them, he realized that he took comfort in the ebb and flow of the thousand thoughts. He clenched his fists pressing his fingernails into his palms, angry with himself for seeking solace in psychotic behavior. On the table the bottle of Xanax taunted him. He picked it up and mulled over the label. Smith smirked and emptied two pills into his hand, swallowing them without any water.
In the green shadows, he rose to his feet and moved to the window. Night was fading and the sky grew gray with the approach of an overcast dawn. Smith leaned into the window and pressed his head against cool glass. Slowly, he raised his eyes and focused on the pale luminescence of the streetlight. The mild green glow of the artificial light was intoxicating. Smith straightened and continued to be transfixed on the light.
"Brilliance."
The proximity and strength of the voice startled him and he leapt backwards from the window. Smith lost his balance seconds before he lost consciousness and hit the floor solidly.
Now I lay my head
To sleep
Pray the Lord for
Me to keep
Distorted vision
Cloud my eyes
Even sleep can't
Hide the lies
From Unknown Dreams (Front Line Assembly, Implode)