The Gift
Episode 5: Little Boys
By Sulia Serafine
This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.~~
"We're here," I yawned, blinking my eyes so I could remain awake just a little bit longer. Driving long distances during the middle of the night was not something I liked to do. I was very glad to finally arrive at a motel. Yvenne stirred from the passenger seat. She sat up and took in our surroundings.
"Who's paying? Me or you?" she asked in a slurred, drowsy voice.
I shrugged. "I think I did last time. You go for it."
She opened the car door and dragged herself out as if weights were attached to her ankles. "Fine. But you have to carry him."
Faleron was sound asleep in the back. The kid was impossible to wake up. Luckily, carrying him wouldn't be too great of a task. I got out of the car, moved my seat forward, and leaned in to pick him up. He was a sleight, elfish sized boy for his age. He sagged against my shoulder, his small round face a symbol of tranquility.
After meeting his godparents/uncle and aunt at that theme park, I had started to notice odd details about him. I don't know why. Maybe Cleon's request for me to take care of Faleron was so powerful that it brainwashed me into being a bodyguard. Perhaps it was because the redhead and I had connected.
Yes. About that...
I still did not understand why it had happened. But it had, and I learned to live with it. Heaven forbid that I should ever have to connect like that again. It made me shudder to recall someone else's pain surging through my veins and my nerves. Who needed a stretching rack or a flogging whip? Put me next to someone who has serious issues and I'll be crying for my mama in ten seconds flat.
I had a theory. It was pretty lame-brained, but it did no harm to hypothesize and speculate. Who would I have told? Yvenne? Yeah, right. This theory was going to the grave with me.
You see, maybe my gift—whatever it is—maybe it was evolving. I've met strange men and women in my lifetime who were ruled by their emotions. And yet I had never been able to feel their sadness. What if I started feeling everyone's pain?
Talk about empathy. I'd become the king of empathy. No! The emperor! No! Better yet, the Master of the Empathetic Universe! Not that it would be something to be proud of. Feeling other people's grief is something a humanitarian needs. Let me rephrase that: Feeling other people's grief is something that should be required of politicians. Whoa. I'd better keep that one to myself or else Faleron will bite my head off. Oh, look at me! Look at me! I'm the Vice President's grandson!
Sorry. I know. Don't make fun of the kid that's snoring on your shoulder. Just follow Yvenne. The sooner she paid, the sooner I would be able to crawl into a bed and sleep. The man behind the glass slid two keys toward her. She asked about something else I couldn't hear. I turned my heavy gaze away, fully aware of the shrill shriek she was about to emit.
"What?! Paying for each individual channel? You guys are lunatics!"
I shifted around the boy in my arms. He snored on. "Yvenne! Just pay for the news and the weather channel and let's go! I want a damn bed!"
She glared at me. But she slid a few more Nobles back under the glass and warned the man if we didn't receive the two channels in our room, that she'd do something that I dared not repeat because, as a man, I found it to be extremely agonizing.
We went up a rickety set of grated stairs toward our cheap room. I wouldn't have been surprised if the real name of this place was Roach Motel. It looked like it could house a few million insects. Why not? Every man should learn to enjoy the crunching of bugs beneath his shoe.
Yvenne opened the door. Actually, she kicked it open since it stuck to the frame. The place was so cheap that the doors didn't even slide. How old fashioned is that? As soon as we were inside, she kicked it back into place and threw our bags down to the floor. She didn't bother putting the deadbolt on. Not that she needed to. I'd probably wake up five minutes prior to any burglary.
I set Faleron down on the first bed that I approached. Then I climbed over that tiny one and collapsed gratefully onto the other. I closed my eyes, stretched my limbs out, and made an unidentifiable sound of contentment. And then I felt it.
Not now. I'm too tired, I thought. But thinking that never did anything.
"Hey, Vince, I gotta talk to you," Yvenne whispered as she threw herself down beside me and started rubbing my belly. I immediately flinched and removed her hands from me. Then, I quickly scooted as far over as I could. Not far enough.
"Don't do that. It isn't right," I muttered grouchily, occasionally glancing over at the little form lying on the other bed. I didn't like being touched, let alone being groped. Not to mention that doing it in the same room as a young child was not exactly model behavior.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. Sheesh, you're a sensitive one."
"I've already told you about personal space," I retorted and made lazy gestures with my hands to draw a rectangle in the air, the 'wall' that was always supposed to be between us.
"Yeah, whatever. Can we talk or what?" She leaned on her elbow. "Seriously, Vince."
"Vinny," I corrected automatically.
"Shush! I'm talking now!" she reprimanded. Yvenne lowered her voice. "Don't you ever want to stop drifting? I mean, like settle down in another city again?"
No. I have places to see. Things to do. I sighed and ran my fingers through my wavy hair. "I drift because you drift. And who said I didn't like traveling? I do."
"You don't hustle so much anymore. You have to be missing your business."
I folded my hands behind my head. "Not as much as I'd miss someone else paying for the rooms I sleep in."
Yvenne frowned at that, and slapped at my abdomen. I flexed my muscles there even before her hand touched down. I twisted away and sat up. "Hey! Relax, would you?" We exchanged dirty looks for a few moments before Yvenne got up and headed toward the bathroom. I cursed to myself. "You want to find a new home, don't you?"
She shrugged. "Maybe. Who wants an apartment when I've got a beaten up convertible that's going to die any second? Who wants a nice comfy bed when I've got this nice slab of rock right here? Dude, I'm telling ya… I wouldn't mind." She stressed each word with a pause in between. "I… wouldn't… mind."
"We all wouldn't mind. Now turn off the light and go to bed. I can't sleep with you moving around like that."
"Aww… Sensitive boy need a cold glass of water before he goes to beddy-bye?" she taunted in a babyish voice. I growled, threw a pillow with my remarkable accuracy, and turned onto my side. I tensed several seconds, and sure enough, the pillow came back crashing down on me.
As did she.
"Get off!" I cried, unceremoniously dumping her off my back. She tumbled to the floor, yelping as her head hit the nightstand. I berated myself for using too much force and leaned down to help her up. "You okay?"
"Oww…" she whined. "You dork! That hurt!"
I blushed, my cheeks turning pink. "Hey! You're the one who jumped me." I shook my head and crawled onto the floor beside her. "Here. Let me see." My nerve ends were tingling with another sensation. I knew what this might lead to if I near her as I was at that moment. But I couldn't go back up on the bed like nothing had happened and leave her there. She'd get suspicious…
Well, she would! I silenced the internal argument and brushed my fingers over her scalp. "You've got a lump, all right. I'll go get some ice."
She leaned forward. Suddenly, it struck me how very close she was. I panicked. I don't know why. It felt like a little jittery jumping bean began bouncing everywhere within the cavity of my chest—this jumping bean that was my heart.
I stopped my inspection of her head and clumsily stood. Without another word, I made a beeline for the door. Yvenne crawled onto the spare bed and waited, glaring at me as she applied pressure with her palm to the throbbing spot on her head.
A tumultuous tempest was raging inside my head. I had no idea what I was really doing. One moment, I was annoyed and snappy. The next, I was… I don't know what I was. I banished the strangeness from my mind and focused on filling the provided plastic bucket with ice.
While outside, in front of the ice machine, I took a moment to still my furiously beating heart. When at last all I heard were the orchestra of crickets out by the motel's sad little pond, I smiled, content, and made my way back to the room.
My heart began its "Mexican jumping bean" impression again. I wondered if it would be wise to go see a doctor or better yet, an old fashioned Healer who advertised herself on a billboard as a true psychic fortuneteller. Formal doctors in white coats and gloves were not to be trusted. I'd seen enough of them in my lifetime. A superstitious healer was exactly what the peculiar, not necessarily health-related, symptom needed.
"I'm back," I announced and shut the door behind me.
Yvenne sat up and held out her hand to receive the ice. Instead of giving it to her, I removed a cloth pillowcase from its intended place and wrapped the ice with it before handing it to her. I had the sense to know that you were only going to make your skin blue by putting an ice cube on it for a long amount of time. At least the cloth provided some barrier between the two.
She hissed overdramatically as she set the icepack on the crown of her head. She moved over, thus silently inviting me to sit down beside her. With my heart now pretending it was a jackrabbit cross-bred with a kangaroo, I awkwardly remained aloof and crossed the room to the bathroom.
She frowned. "Well, thanks for the ice."
"Whatever," I replied, shrugging indifferently. I kicked off my shoes and grabbed an old shirt and shorts to change into for the night. Slipping into the bathroom, I could hear Yvenne turn on the holoscreen and watch the news.
When I returned, she was still on the bed, and still with a significant amount of space beside her that communicated that she meant for someone to sit down beside her.
Jump. Hop. Jump.
I'm starting to think I have a heart murmur or something of the same degree.
"Aren't you tired, man? Get over here," she commanded, one hand still holding up the pack of ice and the other using the remote to flip back and forth between the same three channels. "I think the jackass doesn't even realize that he put in three and not two. And the third one happens to be some primetime stuff!"
I sat on the floor at the foot of her bed. Was I amused? No. "That's great."
She dropped the remote and crawled forward on her stomach until her head was next to mine. "You okay, Vinny?"
I sensed with that particular… sense what she felt the urge to do that night. Instead of the usual hairs standing up straight on my neck, my lips tingled like the crime had already been committed. I hoped the embarrassment of the thought had not expressed itself in a blush across my face. To be sure, I turned my head away and closed my eyes.
"I'm fine," I said under my breath. I was as convincing as a mime with no real voice to argue by.
There was a hesitance. An ill-begotten, accursed hesitance that I hated right away—and then she seemed to back off, though incredibly disappointed with the outcome of the night's events. I was glad that I had predicted (as my supernatural nature forced me to do) and that I had dodged (as was my nature, period). But a doubt within me taunted that I might not be so fortunate the next time. And then what would I do? Yell, "Eww, she's got cooties!" perhaps?
I don't need this. Not now. I have too much on my mind and too much at stake to start forming bonds. Any type of bonds. If I let her in, I'd have to tell her everything. And I could care less if I was taking an oath in court. I would still not tell one word of my story unless it was addressed to the two people who need to hear it the most.
I slept, leaning against the foot of the bed. The roaches avoided me like the plague. Maybe they had all ready seen the plague that I carried inside me, and as disease and filth-ridden as they were, could not stand me.
~~
Years previous…
"Hey, Winston. I heard Whisker Man was back from his trip out of the hospital," a boy informed me. He sat across the table from me during breakfast and I noticed how he and Baker were the only ones near enough to start a conversation.
I did not know either of them that well, though everyone in our age group had been introduced to each other before we were each a year old. I knew that the boy who had spoken, Wallace Matthews, had strange abilities concerning the movement of water. And Baker, whose first name I've forgotten (so long had it been since anyone had used it. He was simply Baker to us), had considerable influence on birds. Not reptiles or bugs or even woodland creatures. But, birds.
"I wouldn't be surprised if he went away just to isolate himself and create more ink blots," Baker muttered resentfully, stabbing at his food with a plastic spork. He splattered a small morsel of scrambled eggs on his gray uniform.
"Careful," Wally lectured. "You know how they get about keeping clean." He glanced over his shoulder. "I hope they didn't see that."
I snorted, taking Baker's side. "They see everything. What's the use, Wally?"
"He's just kissing butt. Nothing's new," Baker stated and brushed the piece of food back onto his plate.
"But he's right about their anal view on cleanliness," I commented now taking Wally's side. I was never on a permanent side. No one was. It was merely an everyday occurrence to piss each other off. No one ever took it personally. We couldn't afford to when we had to see each other every day.
The only unfortunate ones were the Ignored. Those boys who had been branded with inferiority, whose gifts—whatever they may be—were weak, and whose mentality was that of a child's… (despite the fact that we were all children. We didn't like to see ourselves as such.) yes, they were branded as the Ignored. This was another reason why I never told anyone about my nightmares. It wasn't just the threat of blackmail. It was also the pressure and anguish that came from being treated as though you were invisible.
It might be considered by psychologists one of the largest pieces of evidence to the fact that we were really still children. Only children play the "invisible" game. Only those with immature rationalities intentionally pretend another person did not exist, just to spite him. Children will be children, no?
Fifteen minutes afterwards, a low, non-offensive buzz was emitted from the overhead speakers, indicating that breakfast was over. At once, every boy stopped what he was doing, stood, and collected their trays and trash. We calmly stood in line for trash depository and inspection, always mistrustfully eyeing the Gray Men that stood nearby.
"You only smudged your stain bigger," Wally whispered to Baker behind me.
"Stop being a pain in the ass," Baker hissed back.
"You there! Patient 0554!" a Gray Man called. He stalked toward us, his usually gray cheeks becoming colored just the tiniest bit to indicate anger. His large angular body towered over us as if he were some metal giant rather than an orderly. He leaned down and narrowed his eyes at Baker, who stared back boldly without wavering.
"Patient 0554, the rules say no talking after breakfast has ended, let alone swearing. Do you deny having done this?"
We all knew that it was impossible to disagree and get away with it. For him, it was also cowardly to admit yes. So Baker did the only thing he could. He remained silent.
"You also have a stain on your uniform jacket. Do you deny having broken this rule as well?" The way his cold eyes suddenly glinted in the light, I knew he was just anticipating any sign of unruly, rebellious behavior. The man was looking for a reason to make more trouble for Baker.
Baker's eyes never blinked—never moved for a moment from the man's face. I think that only caused the Gray Man to be angrier.
"Patient 0554, report to Disciplinary Office during Free Hour. You are given permission for no more than ten minutes from this very second to report to your bunk and retrieve a clean uniform."
Baker nodded once and stiffly moved out of line to stride out of the cafeteria. Wally and I exchanged looks, the same thing on both our minds. Disciplinary Office was the last place anyone wanted to be. It was as cold and heartless as it sounded. But then again, so were we.
"Patient 0556, also report to Disciplinary Office during Free Hour," the Gray Man barked.
Wally's eyes widened when his number was called. In a rare burst of stupidity, he blurted out, "What for? I didn't do anything!"
"You spoke as well, did you not? Do you deny your charge?"
For a moment, I believed I saw the irises of his eyes flash red. I gulped and tried not to look at Wally. My semi-comrade, lips pressed together in a thin line, gulped apprehensively. He lowered his gaze to the floor. "No, Sir."
"Good. On one charge alone, I might have let you off. Showing disrespect by backtalk is a second charge that must be given punishment. Patient 0550, you report to Disciplinary Office, too," he told me, the corner of his mouth tugged upward into a sadistic smile. I shuddered inwardly.
I was smart enough not to even ask why. I merely replied, "Yes, Sir," and glanced at Wally, who was still staring at the floor in dejection. The Gray Man looked around. At once, all the young eyes, which had been watching turned away, keeping their eyes forward as the lines moved toward the trash receptacles. Their hands gripped their trays tighter, and they jaws became clenched. It was difficult not to look anxious when penalties were dealt out so arbitrarily.
After we had filed into our respective classrooms for basic instruction, Wally was trying very much not to look panicked.
"What do you think they'll have us do? I haven't been to Disciplinary Office since I was six! The levels of punishment grow worse as you get older. Oh, man…you know what that means…"
I allowed my attention to be taken away from the science book I was reading. I had not been to Disciplinary Office since I was eight. "I don't know. And I don't care. Humph. He probably included me just because I sat next to you two."
Wally glared at me. "Well, there's nothing to be done about it now. I'll persuade Doctor Chiles during Session to get me out of it."
"You're a little twit sometimes, you know that, Wally? Doctor Chiles is going to write it down on his stupid notepad and probably draw some psychiatric conclusion from it that will land you in the Disciplinary Office the whole week," I replied bitterly. I began to ignore him and became absorbed in my book.
Wally frowned at me. After unsuccessfully trying to study his arithmetic, he got up from our table and sat on the window ledge, watching a younger boy correct his sloppy handwriting. I noted two minutes later that Baker entered the room with a new jacket on. He approached the Instructor like an automaton, rattled off the conditions of his tardiness, accepted an unnecessary scolding, and went about his business. The casual way he did it made me feel like I was watching water roll off a duck's back. Of course, Baker had been in Disciplinary Office much more than either Wally or I have been. Perhaps he'd grown accustomed to their methods.
After reading the science book, I went to the English Instructor who was also in charge of book circulation. I asked her if I was permitted to check out a non-academic book as a reward for finishing my studies early. She reluctantly agreed and gestured toward the shelves.
I perused the rows of books, running my fingers gently over their spines. When one title caught my interest, I pulled it out halfway and read the back to see what the story was about. After having browsed through the whole selection, I was about to go back to the Instructor to say I would borrow another educational book.
That's when I noticed that the book on the very end of the lowest shelf had been pushed back so the spine was not visible to the common eye. I crouched down and reached my hand back so I could pry it out of its tight confinement. When I freed the book, I found that there was no title, nor cover illustration, nor summary. It was thick and heavy like it had more than just words within it. I opened it and read the first page.
Anthem and Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. I frowned.
Intrigued, I couldn't help but want to pick it up again as soon as I put it down. I could feel my mind reacting to the mysterious book. Something good would come of reading this. That was the future talking, and oh, how eagerly I listened. I found myself walking toward the English Instructor and persuading her for the book. I wouldn't take no for an answer, though the woman naturally despised any books with which she couldn't read the summary and disapprove.
In the end, I was allowed the book and I retreated to my table to begin reading.
I finished Anthem well before Free Hour. My eyes strained at the tiny print, but my hands were not willing to put the book aside. I couldn't help but wonder and speculate on the themes and meanings of Prometheus' story and the world within which he lived. It reminded me of Styx. And all of a sudden, I saw every Gray Man around me in a new and more terrifying light. I pitied my fellow patient and I despised the doctors. With an ardor I had never felt before, I began reading Atlas Shrugged, but I had to pause this to go to Disciplinary Office with Wally and Baker.
"It wasn't a big offense. It's not going to be that bad, right?" Wally asked nervously.
"It will be if you walk in there like a little wuss," Baker replied.
I carefully chose to remain quiet. I willed myself to foresee what the punishment would be. My mind drew a blank. It always did when I tried to force it. Doctor Chiles and Murray told me that I would most likely gain more control over this clairvoyance in the future. They also told me that it might be possible for me to have my visions even more frequent than now.
I sincerely hoped not.
We walked down the main hall and came to a stop in front of a large gray metal door. It was labeled in thick block letters, DISCIPLINARY OFFICE. It was the equivalent of the boogeyman's closet to a child younger than seven. It did not scare me. It merely annoyed me since I'd had to take my attention away from the precious book I had acquired that morning.
Baker opened the door nonchalantly and strode in before us. At once we were confronted with two Gray Men, stern gaunt faces and shaved heads reminding me of ghastly skeletons.
"Patient 0554, 0550, and 0556, come with me."
We were immediately set to sweeping and mopping an arbitrarily chosen section of the hospital. It was near the Session rooms. I could tell because every now and then, the shadow of a tall man—a doctor or orderly, would pass by with clipboards and manila folders in hand. We looked down at the floor as we completed our task. Only Wally was stupid enough, by fault of anxiety, to let his gaze stray when it shouldn't have.
"Patient 0556, you missed a spot over there," the Gray Man assigned to us pointed. Wally chewed on his lower lip as if he was muffling himself from saying something he ought not to, and then he scurried over to the spot. We all knew he had already been over that part of the floor. It was clean. But that wasn't the point.
Was it ever?
Three times did Wally make the mistake of letting his nerves get to him. I struggled to concentrate solely on my own broom and dustpan. I suspected that Baker had no difficulty. He was the rebel among us, if you had to choose any one of us. But at the same time, I could never imagine him to lead a major insurrection against the established authority of the hospital.
When we were done, the Gray Man made us put away the brooms and mop in the janitorial closet. He announced that we were free to go, but Baker was to report for another janitorial assignment after dinner. Baker did not seem too bothered by the decree.
If you ask me, they notice how impassive he is and they try to break him. They're all trying to turn him into someone like Wally. I did not truly care about what happened to him. I worried about myself, as selfish as that sounds. Hanging around him could turn into a liability. I may have spent the most time, if any at all, with these two boys, but friendships did not really exist within the hospital.
Later, it was my turn for Session with Doctor Rosencrantz. He was a portly man of about forty with a habit of biting his pen cap. I assumed that he smoked because he had to occupy his mouth in this way. He also reeked of it.
We sat in a plain white room that contained a plastic table and two red armchairs, the type you might have seen Sherlock Holmes sit in while in front of a roaring fire in his den.
"I heard you were in Disciplinary Office today, Coram. Care to tell me why?"
Not that it's any of your business, I thought, but said, "Guilty by association."
He nodded his head and settled into psychiatrist mode. "Oh, really?"
"Baker and Wallace Matthews got in trouble and I just happened to be there."
He scribbled a note down on his legal pad. I didn't think there was anything interesting to note about my account. It was truth, though the Gray Man who cited us probably wrote up a report saying I was just as guilty as my companions.
"Yes, yes. We can always discuss that later." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "So tell me. How have your gifts been on you? Any new developments? Headaches, maybe?"
"No."
"Well, today we're going to try a little experiment." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a die with red dots on it. I sighed, knowing exactly where this was going to lead me. "Now, I want you to predict what number it will land on before I drop it. Go ahead, start."
I focused on the die in his hand. And then I glanced to Rosencrantz's face and saw the expectance there. I could just picture him throwing dice with me at his side at some casino, cashing in on my predictions. It made me angry.
"Six," I told him very calmly, though my inclination was one.
When he saw the single dot land face up, he scowled at me.
He tried a few more times, and I relented and gave him the numbers he wanted to hear. Casino dreams still possessed his greedy mind. He wished very dearly for the dice to be as I said they would be. Luckily for him, my gift was in fine form that day. If I showed my gift was fading, they would experiment with me. That is to say, they would try to stimulate my nervous system controlling my talent with drugs and strange medical treatments. I did not wish to become a walking zombie that day. Nor did I ever.
After lights out had been called, I lay there, unable to sleep. Instead, I pondered all that I knew. I knew that I had lived in Styx since I was born. I had never been outside its walls, but the books I read served to whisk me away to these places. If I wasn't the only one reading those books, how come no other boy ever wondered about the outside? I wanted to see this cruel society for myself. The desire would probably seem foolish to another person.
I didn't care. I wanted to be free from this asylum. How would I spend the rest of my life? Day in, day out… Instruction, exercise, examinations, and doctors. That's all that I've ever had. What happened when I grew into an adult? Why have I never seen any patients older than eighteen? Where do they go?
A sinking feeling in my stomach told me that they did not just fly away like birds toward the wondrous clouds above. And if they did, it was not with the type of wings that one wished to be borne upon until old age. I shuddered at the thought and rolled over in bed.
That night, I decided that I would break out of this place, no matter what it took.
I started the next day, walking closer to the Gray Men than I usually did. I tried to see into their minds, to predict their actions. Which doors were locked? What passwords did they enter? What was the layout of the hospital? Which way was the exit? The scattered thoughts of dozens of orderlies invaded my mind. I received such knowledge as who preferred their coffee with milk or who did not like the scent of scented aerosol sprays. Very few of it were useful.
The older boy with the extraordinary vision who snuck out at nights to see his girlfriend was also of some help. Jacob knew how to get out of the boy's building and across to the girl's, but it required some physical attributes that I, being twelve then, did not yet possess. He had the height to jump up and grab the edge of the vent opening, the strength to hoist himself up, and the leg muscle to leap across the gap. He told me of the Gray Men that patrolled the ground. It would be impossible to go any farther than a few steps by ground without being caught.
Asking him to perform similar stunts in the yard during Free Hour, I estimated how big a gap there was between the two buildings. Then he drew in the dirt for me what the area looked like from his point of view. When someone else passed by, he swept the image away with his shoe. Then we waited until it was clear again to begin.
"Why do you want to get out?" he asked me after a time. "It's safer in here. Don't you ever read the books? There are guns and war and prejudice out there."
"But there are also beautiful sunrises on the sea," I began. "Food that tastes like ambrosia! People… people who might know why we're the way we are."
He frowned at me, confused. "The doctors have been with us since birth. They're smart. If they don't know what we are, then no one else will. And besides! It's not worth it to leave. Sure, you get to see and do all these glorious things… but what about the means to see and do all these things freely? There's the need for money—how would you pay for it all? You have no job skills. And the need to protect yourself from those who would do you harm—you can't fight, unless that boy Baker has willingly taught you (and I bet he hasn't)." He paused. "And there's no Delilah."
Jacob would never leave Styx, not even if the way was open and free of any danger. It was then that I understood love to be a sort of liability as well. I promised myself that I would not fall susceptible to it. An idea crossed my mind.
"You know, you'll have to leave her soon anyway."
He glared at me. "What are you talking about?"
"You're eighteen aren't you? Turning nineteen soon?" I asked calmly.
"Yes. What's your point?"
I glanced all around us at the other patients in the exercise yard. "Do you see anyone older than you here? Don't you ever wonder why the boys are never seen again when they're as old as you are?"
Jacob stiffened. He seemed to perceive what I was getting at. He growled. "I'd fight to stay. I don't care how hard they try to send me—I'd fight."
Temporarily insane with desperation to get out of Styx, I took a risk. "Come with me, Jacob. We'll break out together, get Delilah, and leave this place. They can't send you away if you're already gone."
I could sense that he would refuse, but his stance was wavering. The crease on his brow told me that he was considering it, at least. And that's all I needed. He didn't answer my proposal and began showing me what else he knew of the hospital's layout. I'd talk to him later after I'd gathered more information. I might not even need him.
A gray pigeon flew over and landed on my shoulder. I shook it off, but if flew back and landed on the dirt beside my feet. I narrowed my eyes. That little… I looked over my shoulder. Baker was seated on the ground, against the brick wall of the building. It cast a long shadow over him, but I could still see his eyes, like burning coals in the darkness.
What are you doing? He was suspicious of what I'd been up to that day, suspicious enough to send a wretched little spy with a brain no bigger than a pebble. I glared at him and turned my back again. The pigeon left me. It returned to its master and alighted on his shoulder. I was thankful that the stronger birds that the doctors tested Baker with were all kept in cages. I had no wish to be pecked at by an eagle or a kingfisher. They would bite off boys' earlobes, if given the chance.
I was taken away during academic instruction before I had a chance to confront Baker about what he knew of my plans. A Gray Man had simply asked the English Instructor for me. She pointed me out. So he came up to me, told me to gather my materials in my satchel, and follow him. I glimpsed Baker from the corner of my eye. He had not spoken anything to anyone, but I would question him later anyway.
Wally was curious. I couldn't see him, but I knew from my gift that he would ask Baker later. If they both knew what was good for them, they would keep their noses out of my affairs. They were better off that way. It would be hard enough to sneak myself out of here. Harder if Jacob and Delilah came. I had no desire to free everyone from Styx. They've read the same books of the outside world that I have. They've developed no love for the freedoms that the outsiders possess. They believe they're superior because of their abilities. Therefore, the outsiders weren't worthy to even see them.
What nonsense. I know I'm superior to those outside of Styx. But that doesn't mean that I've gotten the better end of the deal by living in this damn hospital.
"Patient 0550. Is it true that you obtained a non-academic book yesterday?"
"Yes," I answered, not quite aware of what that had to do with anything. Last time I checked, it wasn't against the rules.
"Give me the book."
I reached into my satchel and handed him the heavy reading material. The man frowned. The lines in his face were deep set with severity. He looked down at me with disdain. "This is not the type of book you normally borrow. Records indicate that the last books you have borrowed were from a series of high school adventures. Some were also science fiction and others were from medieval fantasy. Harmless fiction."
And Anthem isn't harmless, is it? I asked him silently. The theme it blatantly highlights in this book has not been found in any of the other books I've read. Those others entertain with petty little stories of jealous friends and terrorizing the substitutes. The knights stand for chivalry, but they don't move against the system do they? The scientists who crave knowledge and invent great machines still bow down to their rulers, don't they?
This book. It teaches me the value of my individual self, which is greater than anything you will ever be. It teaches me that I'm capable of living my own life without you.
The word censorship suddenly made itself known to me. I had never seen it in person before, but I knew what I was staring at now. What an ugly word, censorship—ugly as the gorgons who turned their enemies into stone for merely seeing their faces. I think it would be appropriate to say, while looking up at this Gray Man, that I was about to be attacked by a gorgon as well. Stone. That's what I'd be.
"Patient 0550, you will undergo an evaluation with Doctor Chiles immediately." He did not give me back the book, but confiscated my whole satchel. His rough hand came down on my shoulder and guided me to the door. Another Gray Man was waiting outside. He took me to see the dreaded doctor.
Doctor Chiles was as skinny as Doctor Rosencrantz was fat, which means he was like a skeleton the way his skin clung to his brittle frame. The 'good' doctor met me at the door, putting his bony hand on my shoulder and offering me a congenial smile. It was false, but I had dealt with his type my whole life.
The Gray Man stayed at the door, with his thick muscled arms crossed over his chest. In later years, I would recall to myself maybe the orderlies only looked so large and powerful because I had been weak and diminutive. Maybe.
"Coram, Coram, Coram. How interesting it is that you're the only one who has found that book. I'm glad it was just you. That book wasn't supposed to be there," he told me. "We are all very glad we caught it before it spread around."
"Why is it a bad book, Sir?"
We sat down in the same type of chairs that had been in Doctor Rosencrantz's room. I gripped the armrests tightly, anticipating his evasive answer.
"You would first have to hear and understand what we conceive as good and as bad," he replied, still smiling. I wanted to wipe that stupid smile right off his face, but then the Gray Man at the door would wipe the floor… with me.
"My little Coram, you have done nothing wrong. It is someone else's fault that this horrible book was left on the shelf for you to find."
"Funny. That's not what the other orderly said," I retorted.
He let out a deep, frustrated breath. "Oh, my dear boy, don't listen to them. Now, I know you mean well. Your disciplinary record is very good. Very few disturbances! Most of them are the result of being around that bird boy, and there's not much we can do about that." He stroked his beardless, pointy chin. "I propose we do our annual test earlier this year. You know the one. You were scheduled to have it done two weeks from now."
Yes, I knew the test he was talking about. They didn't examine my regenerative ability often because it involved harming me. Continual injury would distress the other patients. Couldn't have that, now could we? The worst part of the test was that I would be in solitary confinement for three days. The first day would be filled with the creation of miniscule wounds. The last two days were set-aside for me to heal.
"Must we do it right now, Sir?" I thought of Jacob. I wouldn't get the chance to warn him. Maybe my absence would scare him out of aiding me. My silent curses filled up the void of my head.
"There's no better time than the present, wouldn't you say?"
No, but it doesn't matter what I think.
There's no need for great detail here. All that needs to be known is that I was forced to change into a hospital gown and was tied down at the waist to a hospital bed. I couldn't untie myself because the strap disappeared into a metal feeder with a keypad on it. I did not know the combination, even when I tried to see it in my mind.
They swabbed antiseptic across my arms and my legs. Anesthetic hindered the regeneration process, they told me. I was about eight when they discovered that doing this caused anything at all. Eight years of garbage recorded, they had said to themselves. New procedures must be made, they had said, even more painful ones. I hated them all.
They photographed the areas to be experimented with and bid me to lie still so that nothing would be blurry. I wanted to thrash about, but that would cause more solitary confinement. I forced myself to obey. Causing trouble now would cripple my plans for escape.
A sterile instrument created various cuts across my limbs. The initial spill of blood was wiped away. Then the rest was left alone, under the careful eye of the camera above. I made my face expressionless. My cuts stung and throbbed, but the pain would all be over soon. During these times, I forced myself to sleep. Sleep sped up the process, and the doctors took note of that, too.
When I awoke again, it was the pre-dawn of the next day. I still wore my hospital gown, but they had transported me to a padded cell with a single window facing the exercise yard. The glass was shaded so that I could see out, but no one could see in. Not that it mattered—whom would I call out to for help? None of those boys down there, that was for certain.
I held up my arms and legs to the window for light. My cuts were healed. Not even the slightest hint of a scar had been left behind. Other scars were still visible. Last year, they had tried to see if burns healed the same way my cuts did. They did heal exceptionally fast, without any medication, but the scars were left behind. It also hurt a great deal more than any stupid little scratch they gave me.
Two days passed, mostly filled with photographs, routine health examinations, and boredom. I endured it for the sake of my plans. It had to be done.
They released me in the middle of the night. I hoped they did not notice that Jacob's bed was empty. I would have to wait until he returned to assure him of the ongoing effort for liberation. I changed into my plain white pajamas and climbed into bed. Doctor Chiles smiled down at me and patted my soft blond hair. I couldn't help but notice the irony of his fatherly actions and his despicable experiments.
"Sleep well, little Coram. You've done very well, very well indeed."
I turned my back on him and clutched the blanket closer to me. They left.
An hour later, Jacob returned. I climbed out of bed and tiptoed toward his side of the room. He froze in the darkness. I knew he could see me as well as if the lights were on. He swiftly strode toward me, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me back to my bed. I sat down again, and he crouched in front of me to be on the same eye level.
"Where were you these last few days?" he hissed. The moonlight from the windows was barely enough for me to see the anger, not worry, that revealed itself in his eyes.
"Examinations on my gift. That's all. The plan is still on. Are you in, or are you out?" I asked.
He gnawed on his lower lip. "We can bring Delilah?"
"Yes, yes. I said we'd come for her. So? Can we do it tonight?"
"I told her something like this might happen soon. Yes, we'll do it tonight. But let me have the whole day to figure out what we'll do for money and shelter. I don't know what's beyond the hospital's land boundaries."
I flashed an arrogant grin. "I'll take care of that. I know someone who has pick-pocketed money from the Gray Men before. And shelter won't be too hard to deal with. There are storage rooms all over the hospital. We can take materials from there."
He eyed me suspiciously. "You don't sound like you're twelve. You've read too many books too big for your age."
"You're right. Maybe I would have been better off if I was as ignorant as the rest of you."
"Maybe," he echoed. He retreated to his own bed without another word. I lied back down and went to sleep.
During breakfast, I told Wally to eat with the other boys while I talked to Baker. He also looked at me strangely, like Baker had looked at me on the day I was taken away, but Wally didn't protest. I sat down and looked the remaining boy in the eye. He sipped nonchalantly from his milk.
"What do you need and what will you give me in exchange?" he asked right off the bat.
I was delighted to know that he was so ready to do business. How convenient it was! "Money. Today. As much as possible. I have the rest of the year's homework assignments done and test answers hidden under my mattress. They're all yours."
He glared at me. "What do you need money for? Money is for outsiders."
"I'm sure you can draw a conclusion."
The boy chuckled, though his face held no sign of mirth. "You're crazy."
"Come on, Baker!"
"All right. I'll help. Only because I think this is amusing. It's fun to watch a bird catch a bite to eat. The little maggot struggles in vain."
I glared at him. "When do you think you'll have it all by?"
"Dinner. I want to see those papers before then. When you get your books for instruction, get me a few samples." He continued eating breakfast, a sign that our business transaction was over. I once said that Baker was the rebellious type, yet never enough to attempt what I had in mind. Now I wondered if he wasn't more suited to the idea than me.
That night, Baker delivered what he managed to swipe. To ensure his silence, I told him of other places where he could find the answers for all the instruction exercises he'd ever run into. He accepted the information without a word and went back to his own business.
At midnight, when we were sure everyone else was asleep, Jacob and I raided the storage rooms of the hospital for anything useful we could stuff into bags and carry with us. I showed him the money and he told me of a place he'd overheard the Gray Men talk about that wasn't far from here. It was called Irontown. Low population, but not low enough that people would notice any new strangers wandering in.
We climbed through the ventilation system, the normal route that Jacob took, and ended up on the flat roof above the dormitories. I relished the cold night air blowing against my face. Freedom from Styx was close at hand. Now all we had to do was pick up the last member of our party and run.
Jacob threw our things across the gap to the other roof over the girls' dormitories. He then turned to me.
"I have to throw you across. You won't make it on your own. You're light enough. I can do it."
I was about to reply, but we heard footsteps on the ground below. We backed away from the edge of the roof and waited until the flashlight beam we barely saw was out of range. We walked up to the edge again. I frowned.
"I don't think you can."
"We'll have a running start and I'll heave you across to add along to your momentum," he said. "Be sure to tuck and roll once you hit the other side or else you'll hurt yourself."
My heart leapt up to my throat as we backed away for running room. He put his hands on my hips, ready to lift and heave as soon as we touched the edge. If only we didn't have to rescue his girlfriend, we wouldn't have to jump this gap. But Jacob wouldn't leave without her and I would have a more difficult time carrying all the supplies alone.
"Start running on three. One…two…three!"
We sped off. I ran as fast as I could to keep up with Jacob's pace. We approached the edge. Jacob's grip on my waist tightened. And then we were there. Jacob lifted me up just in time and flung me across. I stretched in the air. I hit the edge of the other roof, my legs just dangling off. I could hear his sharp intake of breath. He was afraid I would fall. Once either of us hit the ground, we had to make a break for the fence. There would be now coming back for Delilah, and if we didn't have her, I knew he would give up and let himself be caught.
I climbed onto the roof and breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't too long before Jacob had his own running start and jumped the gap. He landed beside me in a crouched position. He'd been leaping by himself for years. Now I felt like the extra baggage.
We approached the ventilation duct of the girls' building and climbed inside. We made our way to the point where Delilah always met Jacob and removed the vent covering to jump down. Jacob made silent motions to tell me he would go down by himself. He would help Delilah up, then he would jump back up himself, and we would continue in the ducts until we reached the southern end of the hospital. It was at that location we would make our break for the hospital's fence.
"Wish me good luck," he whispered with a nervous smile and dropped down from the vent. It was completely dark and I couldn't see if Delilah was down there or not. I waited for two minutes. Then I became worried. Why hadn't he returned by then? I had no choice but to drop down and see what was the matter.
As soon as I hit the floor, someone's hand clamped down over my mouth. Another arm surround me and pinned my arms to my sides. As a reflex, I bit down on the hand over my mouth. There was a low cry of pain as I tried to get away. I couldn't see a damn thing in the darkness. Times like this I wish I had Jacob's eyes instead of a clairvoyance that worked only when it felt like it.
All of a sudden, a fist punched me in the face. It was an explosion of pain, with the imaginary stars circling my head and dizziness overtaking me. I slumped in my captor's arms. Flashlights shone on me, revealing the presence of three Gray Men. The third orderly restrained Jacob, who had a gag in his mouth and his wrists handcuffed behind his back.
"I thought I heard something outside," the orderly with the flashlight snickered. "Come on, boys. Let's take these two miscreants to Disciplinary for some important rehabilitation."
I shouldn't have to say how severe our punishments were going to be. They separated us first. I was tied down to a hospital bed. Leather straps were put across my ankles and my wrists. I still couldn't see out of my left eye. It was swollen shut at that time of night, but it would improve by daytime, I knew.
One of the doctors had been forced awake to hear the Gray Men's report. He ordered that I be injected with an influenza virus to keep my stamina down, though that would only last for so long. I couldn't hear what they did to Jacob. But I foresaw it in my dreams. They were leading him out of the hospital in handcuffs still, to the place where they sent all the older patients. Wherever that is…
In the morning, I lied in bed, my eyes barely open. I felt weak and helpless. My body's advanced immune system was having a tough time dealing with the virus within me. It wasn't used to letting anything get past the barrier of my skin, let alone an actual virus.
I drifted in and out of sleep. I could hear boys outside my room. I must have been housed in the wing of examination rooms. It was next to the hallway that we used to attend Session with our doctors. I thought to call out to them, but my throat was dry and I could barely lift my head. My eyes closed and sleep overtook me.
When next I awoke, it was past noon. The reality of the situation hit me, full force.
I was never going to leave here. I was going to spend my whole life in this place and no one outside this building will have known that I ever existed. I bet there were thousands of people who live in obscurity like that. Were they happy?
Well, I wasn't.
"Winston!" I heard Wally hiss. When I turned my head, all I saw of him was the upper half of his head peaking out from over the edge of the hospital bed. I strained against the leather straps that pinned my arms down, but I could not move them one inch.
Wally sat up on his knees. From the sympathetic look on his face, I could guess how pathetic I appeared. Pale, sickly, sweat matted hair against my forehead… I bet the shine around my eye didn't help things either.
"You shouldn't be here, Wally. Are you trying to get caught?" I asked him with a raspy voice.
"I won't get caught. Baker and that other weird kid are fighting in the next hall. They're supposed to distract the Gray Men."
I found the strength in me to laugh, albeit more darkly than I meant to sound. "That sounds like two servings of solitary confinement to me. If I didn't know better, Baker is actually starting to act like my friend."
Wally shrugged indifferently. "You know he's not. He would have picked a fight anyway. I'm surprised it's you tied down in here and not him." He paused. "But he's still not a friend. And I'm not either."
I had to agree with him. Baker and Wally may have stuck out their necks for me from time to time, but we were never close. The only thing that connected us was our freakishness and our isolation from the rest of the world. We shared grief, sarcasm, and most of all, bitterness. And, of course, a couple of laughs at each other's expense.
Maybe they'll miss me when I'm gone. When I'm dead, I suppose. Because it seems my escape attempts aren't going half as great as they're supposed to. If I get out of here, maybe I'll miss them. But that would imply actual sentiment between us. And that would be lying, wouldn't it?
A little lie never hurt anyone. I'll tell that to myself whenever I have to talk about my childhood to nosy people. There's no need to make it look like I was needy for affection. I shudder to think at what response that might draw from the public.
"You'd better get out of here," I warned Wally.
He nodded. Instead of getting up and sneaking to the door, however, he went to the sink and filled a paper cup with water. He held it up to my lips and let me drink. And then he repeated this action until I had drunk three and a half cups.
"Stop already. What is this about?"
Wally sat down on the edge of my bed and simply stared at me. I felt something strange within me shift. My muscles started to relax and I noticed myself breathing more slowly than before. My gaze flickered back up to him, my lips about to form a question for the fellow patient.
"I just circulated some more of the water in your body. You were awfully dehydrated and this should help ease some of the aches you're feeling." He filled up another cup. "Just drink this last one. I'll go."
I frowned. "I didn't know you were getting so advanced with that water manipulation."
For a moment, I thought I saw a ghost of a smile appear on the neurotic boy's face.
"Doctor Chiles helped me develop it. I suppose he's good for that, at least, but he's still a conniving bastard, just like the rest of them."
I take every bad thing I ever said about this boy back. He's going to be okay after all.
"I'd like to think sometimes that I'd be happier out there, Winst. I know I'm a wuss and a dork… and out there, guys like Baker would beat up on me all the time," Wally whispered, his hand balling up into a fist. "But I think… sometimes… sometimes I'd rather be out there in the world—bullies and all—instead of here."
"I'll keep that in mind," I replied.
He left. I was partially sad to see him go. I should have asked for his help to let me out of these restraints. But that would assure his punishment and I wanted to ruin no one else's lives. Jacob was gone. Delilah was probably found out, too. I didn't need my gift to tell me that Baker would be in a padded cell by this time the next day. Everyone I included in on my plans was suffering somehow. I was a harbinger of sorrow.
They released me at the end of the day, to eat alone in the cafeteria before everyone else would be called in to eat dinner. Doctor Chiles sat across from me, watching solemnly. He appeared angry, the first time I had ever seen him so. It didn't worry me. He was not my biggest concern.
"I'm very disappointed with you, Coram. Don't we take care of you? Don't we clothe and feed you? Do we not educate you and let you entertain yourself with nice wholesome books? What about your friends? Don't you feel you have companions to talk to?"
I detested his incessant questioning. I put down my spoon and dabbed at my mouth with a napkin. I looked up at the skeletal doctor and showed him my most hateful expression. "You do take care of me. In the sense that someone needs to take care of a lab rat."
Indignant at my response, he got up from the table and stalked out of the room, barking out an order I couldn't hear to two of the Gray Men. They waited until I finished my meal and washed myself in the baths before taking me to Disciplinary.
I was placed in a padded cell for solitary confinement again. This time, they handcuffed me to a tough metal ring in the middle of the floor so that I wouldn't be able to move around the cell like I wanted. Escaping this would be more difficult than I thought.
In the middle of the night, I noticed that the ventilation duct over my head wasn't bolted down. I examined the padded walls. I could grip the padding hard enough to climb my way up and get to it. If only I could loosen myself from the handcuffs…
My next actions were ones I would not be fond of recalling in later times. I had tested the metal of the handcuff and determined that I could break it off the chain if I stomped at it hard enough. Of course, if I did, the metal would pierce my skin and I would bleed much more than I would ever have bled my whole life.
I wasn't entirely sure if I could still grip the overstuffed padding of the walls with an injured wrist, but it was worth it enough to try. This was my last chance. If they ever let me out of here, I would be on surveillance until the day they carted me away like Jacob. I prayed to whatever deity existed that I wouldn't end up like Jacob.
My blood had seeped into the cloth padding around the metal ring. A few drops still trickled down my limp hand and onto my pants leg. The remains of the jagged cuff jangled on my wrist. I was afraid of trying to loosen the rest lest I cut myself even more. I flexed my hand. I would be able to grip the overstuffed padding and climb, hopefully.
The vent cover easily moved. I pushed it over and gripped the edge. Though I had been weak for the last day, my body had completely rid itself of the virus and my strength had returned. I lifted myself up into the vent and crawled until I found the familiar path that Jacob and I had used to get onto the roof of the boys' dormitory.
I could still do it. I could still go to the girls' dormitory and get to the southern end of the hospital. I hoped with all my might that our supplies had been left in the ventilation. I didn't think any Gray Man would actually overcome his natural laziness to climb up into such a tiny space and inspect.
The only problem would be leaping over the gap.
Minutes later, I stood on the roof. The hairs on my neck stood on end. I estimated the edge. There was no time for second thoughts. I either made it or I didn't. I backed all the way up against the wall of the building and took a deep breath.
"Humans weren't meant to fly," I muttered to tell myself. But I'm a freak, aren't I? There's nothing really human about me.
With that resolve of confidence in my mind, I ran and I leapt. This time, I really had to stretch. My hands came in contact with the roof edge and held on for dear life. The way my forearm muscles strained caused the remains of the handcuffs to dig into my skin. A large drop of blood rolled down my arm into the crook of my elbow. I winced. Then I swung my body side to side until my foot caught the edge of the roof.
As soon as that was done, I was able to get my whole leg up, then the rest of my body after it. I eased off the cuff from my wrist with great difficulty. Drops of blood splattered on the concrete roof flat. I tore my bloodied sleeve off. It sufficed for a bandage until I got to the first aid kit in my supply bags.
My prediction was correct. They did not bother to seal off the vents. How could some stupid little boy like escape again? Those were their thoughts. Wouldn't they hate themselves after I was gone? I climbed through the vents. My things were just as I left them. I dragged them with me through the ventilation system.
I remembered the drop point for the southern end of the hospital. The vent opening was right there in front of me. I peered through the cracks. Not one sign of Gray Men.
After that, sneaking out the doors was a piece of cake. I knew the codes from observing the Gray Men. Who would have ever thought that I would have been grateful for four lousy numbers? I hoisted two bags over each shoulder since the third one had been for Delilah anyway. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me into the darkness. I climbed the fence, not even feeling the barbed wire as it snagged on my clothes. After escaping that peril, it came clear to me. Clearer than anything else had ever been.
I had escaped. I, Coram Vincent Winston, was free of Styx.
That night, I walked for miles. I had found a highway, but I stayed in the woods to the right of it. Luckily for me, it was summer and I wouldn't freeze to death outdoors. When I saw the sky become rosy with the coming of dawn, I climbed a tree and hid myself to get some sleep.
What would I do first? I supposed… I could…look for my parents.
Maybe they would be able to tell me why I had been born with my abilities. Already, my wrist wound had scabbed over very well. I could tell that new skin was already formed underneath. I threw off my bloody makeshift bandage and shoved it into a nook of the tree. Nestled in the concealing branches, I tried to envision what my parents looked like.
More importantly, I attempted to envision what they would say. I didn't want to be the only one who could see the future. Because all I saw at that moment was pain and death. That wasn't a future I looked forward to. But at the same time, I caught a glimpse of pure blue eyes—purer and brighter than my own, which were bright enough as they were.
Picturing those mysterious eyes, I fell fast asleep. The future didn't scare me one bit.
~~
I awoke, still on the floor. It was dawn. Yvenne and Faleron were still snoring. They wouldn't be up in a while. I got up and went to the mirror. My eyes reflexively squinted when I flicked on the bathroom light. When they had adjusted, I opened my eyes wide and stared at my reflection. My eyes were still the same color as when I was twelve.
How stupid little boys were. Ones like me. I was still a little boy if I thought for a second that the depth of blue in my sight had changed. They were still as blue and hopeless as when I first gazed through them as a newborn infant.
I'm out here, Wally. Bullies and all… and you're right. I'd rather be out here in this hell than in there with you… if…if you're still there.
A little feeling pricking the back of my mind told me he wasn't. Because sooner or later, they come for you. It doesn't matter if you can see perfectly in the dark or if you can make the rain dance or even if you can call hawks to your hand. We're still little boys and not superior enough that we can escape the same force that claims us all in the end.
~~
Where did you leave your baby
Bleeding in her bed
Her ghost has come to stay
Oh, you can try, you can't chase her away
In the bar we sit like blackbirds
With our broken wings
Like clocks without their springs
Just like time doesn't mean anything
[Chorus:]
Won't you tell me
Which way to the top?
You know that I can't stay
Down here
We used to ride around in a broken down old car
But now I'm changing trains
Oh, and I'll hit all the notes in between
Mom and Dad are fast asleep now
But I'll be wide awake
A surfer in the break
Oh, just waiting for the perfect wave
And a place in the shade
[Chorus]
You better get it now while
The getting's good
Get it now while it's happening
You better get it now while
The getting's good
Get it now while it's happening, oh yeah
[Chorus]
[Repeat Chorus]
(Fastball: Which Way to the Top? from their All the Pain Money Can Buy album)
~~
Author's notes: I hope you enjoyed that! I know the tone of this one was definitely a lot more bitter than Vinny has ever been before, but I hope I described his place in Styx well enough to get my points across. If you have any questions about what any of the metaphors mean, feel free to ask. My e-mail is silverwLng@aol.com