First off, I want to apologize for not updating. When I started this story, I hadn't anticipated how hard school was going to be. I'm learning both Latin and Spanish which gets confusing because you pronounce the accents in different ways and conjugating verbs is also difficult for me. But now that the first term is over, I'm trying to set in a better schedule for updating new chapters. So I'll be working on that
I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed (it really makes my day when you guys review)
And to Guest Angel, thank you for informing me that I got the year wrong. I'm grateful you pointed out my mistake and I've fixed it.
I just want to say that Day's parents having no concern was intention because (a) I sort of want to get them out of the story until Champion and (b) I was thinking of this idea where most spirits don't really have emotions except John, Metias, and a few others. So in other words, most spirits just want to forget about their lives and move on.
So to repeat myself, I am so grateful for all the wonderful reviews I've got so I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Day's getting worse, his health diminishing more and more. And I'm scared that my brother's days are numbered. Because the sun has to set. The day has to end. The moon has to rise. It's life, and it's one thing I don't miss when I was alive. The fact that any day could've been my last.
Sometimes, I slip into Day's dreams. That's as far spirits can get to communicating with humans. Melody gave me some pointers before she completely disappeared. The thing is, Day thinks they're nothing but nightmares. I hate doing this to him, but it's the only way I can warn him. About what's coming. I don't have to be alive to know that there will be more walls for Day to break through.
I never wanted any of this. Never wanted to leave my brothers in danger. Never wanted to leave that world. All I ever wanted was for my brothers to be safe. We all make sacrifices for the people we love most. I guess this is mine.
I haven't seen Metias since the night I met him. I don't know where he is, what he's been doing, what he's about to do. He's disappeared off the face of the afterlife. A lot of spirits, like my parents, call him the Earthwalker. Because he spends more time slipping into human lives instead of celebrating his immortal spirit. I sure my story will end the same way. But maybe it will never end.
I stroll down the nearly empty streets, passing by others who look right past me. I've grown used to it these past days. I pass by restaurants and vendors, and I wish I could smell the scents of those different cuisines. Sadly, death has taken half my senses. I can see and hear. I can only speak to other spirits. And I can't smell or touch anything in the real world. But in my time here, I've realized that the dead are more alive than the living.
I'm on the streets of Vegas, where I pass by soldiers and their escorts dressed in party dresses and freakish costumes. That's how I couldn't find them in the crowd, even though I sensed their presence. June's decked out in a sparkly, red dress with mirrors hanging from her ankle. Thirteen small mirrors- the number of the rebels. Day's arm is wrapped around her shoulders, and he hides his pain with a drunk smile.
June says something that causes Day to flutter his eyelashes ridiculously. I smirk. Day, always able to charm a girl with his antics. I walk next to them, smiling softly and laughing along, even though they don't know I'm there. Now that I'm up close to them, there's something strange about Day. There's just a tingly feeling that his aura lets off.
Everyone on the street pauses as the JumboTrons flicker on. A solemn, loud voice begins the pledge. The rest on the street, including June, repeats the words. Day stays silent, only mouthing the hollow, devoid words. There are so many times when his pride is greater than his sense of survival. He gets it from our father. And I'm scared that it's his pride that will end him.
The pledge abruptly stops. Even I feel startled. The screens flicker and change, the old Elector vanishing from the screen, replaced by a young man, almost the same age as me when I died. The pledge starts up and the civilians immediately rejoin it. The elector is dead. Long live the next.
After an eternity (I can't really tell time), everything unfreezes- civilians return to their strolling, soldiers return to their duties. But Day stumbles, about to fall. He doubles over, and tries to mask his pain with false laughter. The soldiers are eying us and beginning to walk over. "Come on," June frantically whispers. But she's not strong enough to pull him to his feet.
I don't know what to do. For a moment, I think I can touch Day. My ghostly hand wraps around his arm, but I can't feel Day's burning skin. All I feel is pain. My hand immediately lets go of his arm and I jerk away from him.
And then the realization hits me. I can feel. I can feel pain. I take a small step closer and wrap my hand again. The hot spikes prickle and stab me. I don't think I've ever been more alive. I cling against his arm tighter, this warm surge suddenly flowing from me to Day. Strength. Power of the dead. Day's breaths loosen and he manages to somewhat get to his feet.
Meanwhile, the soldier has been talking to June, and she looks desperate, her dark eyes flickering around, trying to pull together a lie. "Hey!" shouts a girl with short black hair and a Republic uniform. "I thought that was you-I saw you stumbling around like a madman all the way down the street!" Who is she and how does Day know her?
Day flashes her a grin. "Missed you," he says.
The soldier asks, "You know him?"
The girl flashes a smile. "Know him, sir? We were in the same squadron our first year. Seems like he's been up to no good in the clubs again." She winks at Day, and June just seems disinterested in everything this girl says.
"Air force kids, eh? Well, make sure he doesn't cause another scene. I've half a mind to call to call your commander." The corporal hurries away.
"My barracks are close back," the girl says. "How about you rest there for a while? You can even bring your new plaything." Her voice sounds slightly hostile, or at least unhappy.
"Lead the way," says Day. They begin to leave, and I follow them slowly.
"You're wondering why you could touch Day, aren't you?" the deep voice suddenly asks. I abruptly turn around. "Metias?"
"Hey," he says casually, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile.
"Where the hell were you?"
"Around," he replies. Again with that casual demeanor.
"Were you following me?"
"Maybe." What is with these one word answers?
I grab his shoulders. "I want answers right now. And don't even bother lying because I will know."
Metias shrugs it off, undisturbed by my threats. "Fine, I felt something that I wasn't supposed to. And I'm thinking you did too."
"The tingly feeling?" I ask, referring from when I was near Day.
"Yeah," he responds. "You felt it on Day?" I nod. Metias frowns slightly. "That's strange. I felt it when I saw the girl." He jerks his head to the retreating silhouettes of the trio. "The thing is, I only felt these when I was alive. Always when a person close to me was dying. Not many of us can feel it when were dead."
His voice sounds like its breaking. "I felt it when my parents left the house for the last time. I felt it whenever one of my cadets were murdered. I felt it…I felt it when I was close to dying. And I never realized it until minutes before I died. I never saw the pattern." The pain in his eyes is enough to reach out and choke me.
"I felt it too," I admit. "I felt it when my mom died and when we were trying to escape Batalla Hall. Does it mean that Day and that girl are going to die?"
"Maybe. Death muddles our senses. But…nothing is impossible."
I close my eyes. If Day dies, would my effort to save him in vain?
"That's not the only reason I came here. I need you to do me a favor."
"Anything," I say.
"I want you to find another spirit like us. Someone who can sense death. We just need one more."
"One more for what?" Metias purses his lips to lock in the secret.
"We just need to be ready." Metias begins to fade away.
"Now where are you going? You just got here!"
"I'm going to run a few errands." He smiles.
"You know that excuse doesn't work anymore!" I yell and the last remnant of Metias is his grin.
I turn back, sighing, before I drift towards one of Vegas' largest military barracks.
I don't really know how to stop this chapter, so I'm just going to end here. It sort of might not make any sense, but I'm still trying to grasp how to represent someone's thoughts and action when they're dead. Anyways, if you can, I would really appreciate some constructive criticism or some of your thoughts on this story.