Grunting slightly, I stood and walked toward the kitchen door leading out into our overcrowded garage filled with ancient materials pre-my birth and broken Christmas lights , but stopped before I could reach the door and turned to my father with determination burning a hole straight through his face. His features were yet again set in a hard, statue- esque expression which wasn't really an expression at all, " I'm going. Keys."
Of course my mother was having troubles with this. She's a mother whom has been suffering from the loss of two children, one of which has come home and completely disrespected her beyond belief, but I still see it as trying to knock sense into her. It's not that she's stupid, just always relied on her version of the world. My only worry is she won't pull herself out of the rabbit hole if you catch my drift.
Because it can't be any more apparent that she is in fact not on Xannex.
The aged old hands of my father jingled as he pulled the car keys out of his khaki pockets and held them out to me, but when I went to take them he looked at me with a sharp deadly glance and spoke in a low voice, " Don't come back until you have something."
Jerking the keys out of his hands quickly, I turned my back indifferently and headed into the depths of the darkened garage, closing the door behind me quietly. Somehow my hand found the light switch on the wall and I turned it on to reveal the family van which looked more like something found at the police impound. A white unmarked, fuel hog scratched up from years of abuse stared at me, taunting with its wide frame.
The only up-side I could ever find about superhero work is that they always had cool digs, but our family insisted on civilian lifestyle in the one category that I could do without. Why can't I have a jetpack or flying bicycle? Even the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car would do, just hopefully I won't end up in a land where children are enslaved under some huge castle by some fat asshole. I don't know how that didn't give all the other children nightmares. It made me stop liking candy for most of my childhood in fear of being lured in by some child catching freak.
Climbing into the driver's seat I inhaled the aroma of the van which had, to my disappointment, gone stale. Before it had always reeked of a flowery mixture and Chinese food, but I see now that it's been a while since anyone had even touched the car let alone sat in it. Plus there was a thin layer of dust settled upon the dashboard and other areas. They must have been using our 95' Toyota Camry, which I later found to be sitting on the curb outside.
Hitting the garage door button and starting the ignition, I was still debating where I was heading first. To Warren's house to speak with his mother, he most definitely wouldn't be there trust me, or to retrace my stalking of the Gray and all the places where there has been activity or interaction with me or others. Quick and painless(as a cobra bite) versus thorough and vigorous.
One thing was definite for sure, even though I was told to stay away they knew I wasn't going to and they probably knew I knew they knew. If that made any sense at all. The Gray was probably the only key I had to finding Warren or my brother, but in Warren's case I'll probably just beat the living tar out of him for being so cocky as to try and pull some "I'm the hero" shit.
Even though he was once my only real, true friend he can disappear with the rest of the real victims in the world for all I care because he made his decision. When he refused an answer he showed what really was existing inside of him, stupidity and selfishness. Of course he didn't plant the seed of bullshit in his soul, but he helped water it and he let it change him from the flexible vine to the common weed.
Okay, enough of the plant comparisons. Bottom line is he changed for the sake of wanting to be someone else. Yeah, it's great to pretend and act out, but it dies when he throws away years of friendship to be a part of the All American Social Whoring League run by red, white and blue boy.
Thinking about this began to give me an ache in my head and chest. One from frustration, the other from true hurt. This sealed my decision. I would definitely go to see his mother, even though there is a lack of communication between him and her, there has got to be something she knows that I don't. Looking at the portrayal of her personality over the years I found that her witnessing must outweigh her insanity.
If I find Warren, no matter how much I'm starting to hate him, he'll have more of a lead on my brother than I do at this moment. Then it's off to harassing the only people who understand secrets beyond the everyday surface. If harassment is what it is. Let's face it. I'm ballsy, but they're the top of the fucking food chain.
Turning into their driveway, I noticed Warren's black SUV was gone just like I expected it to be. Was I getting my hopes up this early? Jeez. That's what being clean will do to you. Make you all normal and stuff. Or is it delusional. Either way I'm screwed.
Cutting the engine, I began rummaging through the huge crate between the passenger and driver's seat that we used as a center console and came across my back up lighter and an almost empty pack of Djarum Black's. Setting the cig between my lips, I lit it and took a long drag that sizzled and cracked the cloves within the black paper and released a deep smell of incense.
There was a familiar burn that I hadn't felt since I began smoking, but it quickly faded. I struck it down to probably not being able to suck on any cancer sticks for quite some time. By this point in my life, I knew my lungs were black like charcoal, but I don't care. Currently I'm still wondering what to say and how Mrs. Peace will react to finding me at her doorstep.
Finishing off the last drag I flicked the stub out the window and exited my car, silently closing the door. My legs still felt a little cramped, so it felt good to walk to her front door, but I still couldn't imagine her reaction. Not only is it the obvious stuff she'll be reacting to, but how the hell do I look? Probably like a zombie.
Oh well, I feel dead.
