Chapter Eight: The Australian
In this early hour of three, Devin Anderson sat up in the top portion of his bunk bed. He hadn't slept since he had arrived in the London Immigration Centre, and that was three days ago. Nevermind, though. He wasn't so much tired as he was just less attentive. The lack of sleep only gave him less control over his ability and he weaved in and out through the current conversations within the queue room.
He estimated there to be at least seven conversations in all, and although the people tried to be hush, considering it was the dead of the night, Devin hear every word, every syllable, and every scratch of a voice There were a few Danish telling old jokes that weren't funny anymore. There were a teenage girl and two boys judging a rock album, which according to them, was the shit. Devin didn't think so. There was someone else on the other side of the room tapping out a rhythm on his stomach. And when he wasn't hearing them, he was hearing someone else, or hearing no one at all, who sniffed and rubbed their nose or rustle of a fleece while they slept.
It was a very silent night.
After a few moments, he let out a breath, holding his head with chilled hands. He climbed down from the top, taking notice that his cousin was sound asleep, hugging his pillow instead of his girlfriend. He smiled, and sifted through his bag to pull out a plastic bag of snacks. Then, he stopped.
There was a tong, and a sound of the swallow that Devin hadn't noticed before. He didn't attempt to look up and find the source. He was blind as a bat in the dark. Instead, he heard up and tried to close out those Danish that seemed to be louder than everyone else.
There was no tong this time, but there was a broken breath. It was a laugh, a chuckle, followed by calm, even breathing. He hadn't paid much attention to the ceiling before, when they had the lights on, but he knew well enough of the beams for extra support that spanned across the building. They were steel, as he heard now, and were ten feet above any top bunks. How did he get up there?
Devin answered his own question, climbing up to his top bunk and feeling around the walls. There was a ledge, yes. With a little balance and will power, he reached it with his fingertips and pushed himself up.
Once he sat on the beam, he could see an outline of the man. He was light-haired and about middle-aged, but with a white shirt and jeans. He sat like an adolescent, legs swinging above the people below. He also looked at Devin, but said nothing. Devin squinted, but couldn't see any facial features. He seemed familiar, somehow...
"Hey," said Devin in a quiet voice, scooting himself carefully down to the middle of the beam. "Y-you alright?"
He heard the lazy laugh again. The man stopped looking at him. He swung his legs and looked at all the people sleeping.
It wasn't at all a deep voice, but again, the way he said it just seemed familiar. "In fact, no... No, I'm not alright."
Devin didn't know quite what to say. He moved closer, and could at least see his face now. Some of the people had nightlights set up, and they reflected on his eyes, but his eyes were low and tired. His breath was slower and slower and his face sighed.
After a moment, probably as a result from lack of sleep and concern, Devin asked, "I-is there anything I could do for you?"
There was a slight silent pause before the man started to scratch his neck. "Of course," is what he said. He still looked out at the people.
Devin was left speechless for another few moments. Perhaps, that was the wrong question to ask. Cautiously, he opened up his snack bag and held it open to the stranger.
"Gummy bear?" he offered.
The man shot him a sudden look and laughed. It wasn't a pathetic laugh like he had before, but instead a good, full laugh. A laugh that comes after something that is funny. A few people tossed suddenly in their sleep and the sound drove through Devin's ears, but he merely smiled weakly, not sure what was so amusing.
"Yes, I will have one. Thank you," the man smiled grandly, still giggling, a completely different creature than what he was before. He took a gummy bear from the bag and placed it in his mouth, giving the appearance of absolute pleasure. Then, he chewed and licked his lips once he was done. After, he asked for another.
Devin held out the bag again and started to eat some of his own. He wasn't sure if the man was really hungry or just really liked gummy bears, but he went through one after another like an addiction. Devin didn't mind though. He was happy to make another so happy.
"For a few months, I practically ate nothing but gummy bears," he was saying almost randomly, "Those were some decent months. Though, lately, I... haven't been able to. It is one of the few things that I've missed dearly."
Devin nodded, pretending he knew what was going on. The identity of the man was on the tip of his tongue. "Take as much as you'd like. The name's Devin by the way."
He studied Devin curiously. "Devin? Well Devin, it's very nice to meet you." He took and shook his hand. "What's that accent? Melbourne?"
"Australia, Sir. I'm Australian."
The stranger rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here then? What's in London that's worth being pack like hogs?"
"Um, policies in general," for the first time, Devin took his eyes to look out and notice how high he was. "The Death Right, Pattinson Act, things like that that work for me and my cousin. We're both Level Ones, and we'd be scared for our lives, otherwise."
The man looked sympathetic. He looked out below the beam as well. "It's curious," he said, giving off the same air as he had in the beginning. "I've been here before. I've seen these people, poor, broken, and filthy with nothing but a heart full of hope. A very long time ago, it was the same exact scene when sucked up their pride and arrived in America. And even before that, centuries before, countless times.
"I had known that history repeats itself, and I know now that nothing stops that cycle. Even when all but a speck of all humans were wiped out, it did nothing but slow the cycle down. And so here we are, yet again."
They were both silent as Devin recounted this. It obviously meant more to the stranger than it did to him.
"I think... it just makes me tired," the man admitted with some difficulty. His breath slowed significantly, but Devin could hear his heart pumping on at a panicked pace.
That's when it hit him. Devin's eyes lit up.
"Right! There it is! Sir, you really remind me of someone. A character from a book I've just read. Yeah! Just like him."
He couldn't tell if the man was surprised, confused, or amused. "Yes?" he asked.
To Devin, she looked absolutely and completely normal, which is to say that she didn't look at all like this stranger's wife. Except, now the stranger had named himself as Anthony Watson, a man that apparently had never heard of the book and had never had his description nor personality compared to it. Devin was reluctant to believe that.
Adam knelt down next to the bed, unconcerned about how well Kate and Clarisse were sleeping. He placed his hand on the Kate's one shoulder that was not curled up under the blanket. At first, he barely made every movement at all, but the impatience was overwhelming, and he had to shake her under she turned away.
"Kate, get up! Listen! Kate!" his voice was rough, impatient, and very inconsiderate to the slumbering families all around, who looked up for a moment of disgust before trying to sleep again. His face only turned sour once Kate withdrew under the covers.
Devin really didn't know why he was there, and why this Anthony had to tell his Kate at this very moment. It must have been three thirty, if not just a bit later.
"Let me see it," he turned, suddenly to Devin, taking the book from his hands. It was a pretty old book, pre-Zero era, as most books of paper were. Its cover was hard, faded and brown with a decent size of about five hundred pages even with tiny inked print inside. It smelled like an old book too, and Devin would probably not have come across it if his public library wasn't giving it and similar others away like firewood.
The man scowled, skipping through a few chapters before resting on a page. He took a deep, defying breath, and he read,
"September 25, 1787. Winter is coming, and I know it must sound awfully cliche of me, but I just can't wait for the snow. I'm sure it will be beautiful in the city, but perhaps I can persuade the family to take a day off to visit the country again, but that's highly unlikely. I am greatly looking forward to Clarisse's first winter. She is a bit young and doesn't have a proper coat, but I hope at least once, I can take her out in the snow. Louise has told me that--"
Kate lurched herself out of the bed, eyes suddenly wide awake. She snatched at the book like an animal. "I told you, Joseph! I told you never to-"
"It's not yours, Kate," Adam snapped the book shut on her fingers, but she didn't seem to feel any pain. His voice became soft and intense, like a hiss, as he said, "It's a book. A real, honest to God, published book..."
He turned away from her, flipping through the very first pages while Kate tumbled out of the bed and grabbed for it again. Almost effortlessly, he avoided her and pushed her out of his way. "It's title is Madame Schulde. Look, it's even copyrighted 1974, by Michel Fontaine," he said, full of contempt. "What do you have to say about that, Miss Bailey?"
The woman stopped. She sat herself on the bed, moving Clarisse (who was dead asleep) off to the side. Her eyes never once took a look of shame, and they were of fire as they glared at the man. He also glared back.
"And what right do you have for calling me imprudent? What is this?" Adam now held the book up in a defying moment. "Never, Kate. Never have I told anyone as much as I told you. And this book here, full of the both of us, published in goddamn 1974? Do you-"
She shot up. "How dangerous it could be? Joseph, believe me, there's nothing. There's nothing about you to even suggest anything of you. But I wish I had written something of that. I wish I'd told the world your life story because by the way you're treating me now, you'd deserve it."
Kate stepped up closer to him, giving him a whole load with her eyes and hot breath. Adam showed no fear, but he did bite his lip, and looked like he was about to do something monstrous. However, Devin heard their heart rate come to a more controlled level.
"I'm sure it's not a popular book anyway," she said simply, mockingly.
Devin spoke up. "No, it's not. No one I asked ever heard of it, not even the librarian. The back says it was the first book of Fontaine, a historian/antique seller, and I'm sure no one's heard of him. It shouldn't be that popular anyway. To be honest... it was very confusing. But the characters! Loved the characters!" he tried to smile.
"Glad to hear it," smiled Kate.
"Well," shrugged Devin, "it would be really very awesome if you came from the book. I think there's an ability that can do that..."
"Joseph, are you angry?" her smile faded and she looked deeply at Adam, who never changed his expression in the first place.
He swallowed, and to Devin, it was deafening. "I'm livid," he said with a terrifying rumble in his voice.
"But you need to relax, Joseph. There's nothing in there that would get us in any sort of trouble, and even it there was, it's just a book, Joseph. A fiction book, and everyone will read it as such." This time, as she stared him down, his face softened.
But, he didn't even look at the boy as he spoke to him. "Devin, could I borrow this?"
Devin nodded, adding, "You can have it if you want."
"No, I'll just borrow it." At this, his head rotated to face him, and it was an eerily kind face. "With this queue, there's quite a lot of time to read. If you'd please, keep this night a secret to yourself. And take care, won't you?"
There wasn't much more for Devin to do but smile politely, promise to keep the secret, and leave. With it, Kate questioned Adam of something of importance, but he replied that the boy could be trusted, but if need be, the government would erase his memory once they all got back together. After that, she apologized, and some time after that, he forgave her.
A/N: Heroes tonight! Woo! And some better news that last night, I actually finished writing this story. As in, really finished. Last sentence and everything. It's... uplifting? Reviving? Kind of weird.
For yous, it means sooner updates. Yay! :)