The Past Should Stay Dead
Our time has slipped away.
We're sinking faster, faster, no more play,
Get ready for the catch.
I'm at the next step waiting for our year.
-by Emarosa
The Past Should Stay Dead
It had been three months since the catastrophe of his birthday and Wally was finally beginning to feel okay.
The nightmares had stopped plaguing him. He no longer woke in the night with Kuki's name upon his lips, or the image of explosions emblazoned across the back of his eyelids. He no longer woke drenched in sweat and tears and blood from the places his nails would find to dig in as he flailed. He was no longer haunted by the smells of sulfur and the screams and wails of sirens as fingers he couldn't grasp tight enough slipped into flames within his head.
By now even the bruises were beginning to fade, and finally he could sleep, the memories having begun to grown soft and faded with time. The memories had lost their edge, their bite, their bitterness in a way he never thought they would – and so soon! Something about it seemed miraculous to him, and though there was never a moment he didn't spend thinking about his brother and his father, his mother and sector v, it didn't seem to hurt so much!
Kiden kept him busy. 'Saving him' meant keeping him away from anywhere the KND would think to look, and away from anything that could be just another attempt at his life by adults. So he spent most of his time in her small-hole-in-the-wall apartment – lighting candles.
She would leave him with a matchbook and set candles up across the small kitchen counter for him to practice with, and for hours he would sit there casting the flame from match to candle and make it leap from wick to wick. He'd make them grow by spreading his fingers, and shrink by bringing the tips close. He failed to remember having ever been so focused on anything, but he was fascinated by the things he could do with just a though or a simple motion.
But there was something bothering him. He had told no one of his powers . . . so how had Kiden known?
Kiden, who at first had looked so much like Kuki, but now he saw was nothing at all like her. The only thing they had in common was their Japanese heritage. Kuki though, was shorter, younger, softer. To Wally she was vibrant and friendly and so full of happiness that it seemed to radiated from her. From the shine of her dark hair to the brightness in her amethyst eyes and the healthy glow of her skin. To him, who had spent countless hours cooped up alone in the small apartment thinking about her, she was like sunlight.
Kiden was an older, pale, grey eyed imitation. Taller, fairer, with hair that seemed darker and eyes like gunmetal. Something about her seemed weathered, her arms were scratched up and her limbs bore bruises. Her age, he couldn't place, but she seemed older than he though she could possibly be, but there was very little he knew about her besides the fact she lived in a cruddy apartment, a pair of worn out combat boots, and enough black eye makeup to make a raccoon jealous.
Despite this, there was something familiar about her. A feeling that he could trust her, that she had been there all along. Sometimes even, he swore, if he though hard enough and long enough about it, she was there. Back in his mind, back in his memories at a party . . . or at school or something . . .
But still, how did she know? Why didn't this freak her out as much as it had scared him?
Who was Kiden Nixon?
As if on cue he heard the front door slam, and the stomping of her boots.
"Hey kid!" He snapped and all the candles extinguished themselves. "Hey, Beatles!"
She appeared within the kitchen door frame in skinny jeans with her hair pulled back and smiled her odd smile. "There you are kid! Get up, get dressed, we got places to go."
"W'ot? Where we going?" But she had turned on her heels and was heading toward the only bedroom. He stood up quickly and followed. "Why don't you eva' answer me when ah ask you somethin'?"
"Because, I think its easier just to show you." She had picked up a grey duffel bag, and slung it over her leather clad shoulder.
Wally frowned.
"Ah don't like it when you keep secrets from me." He growled. But she paid him no heed until he grabbed hold of her sleeve as she tried to walk by him. "W'ots this about? This isn't another of your errand is it?"
She gave him a funny look, and grabbed his hand.
For a second he was overcome by a familiar sensation, a warmth, or a tugging or something in the brief touch, but just as soon as he felt it it was gone.
"Cruddy girls and their plans . . . " He grumbled as she dropped her gaze and took back her hand. Now free Wally shut the bedroom door and began to dig through the pile of clothing Kiden had managed to gather for him. Out of everything though, regardless of how new or how old or how clean it all was, the one outfit he picked out every time without fail was the same worn orange hoodie and jeans.
'Saving him' meant keeping him away from anywhere the KND would think to look, and away from anything that could be just another attempt at his life by adults. But he should have known sooner or later things were going to change.
"Unless you are hiding the ability to control time, I would hurry up." She warned him from somewhere beyond the bedroom door. "There are some people in the world you don't want to keep waiting."
This was definitely not one of her errands.
She locked the door, and lead him down out the front of the building. Before stepping off the stoop though she cast him a smirk, and tugged the hood of her grey hoodie over her dark hair.
"Trust me a little." She said.
The streets here were busy but she cut through them with ease, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her leather jacket. Behind her Wally struggled to keep up.
But she turned around corners and lead him down alleys and if he didn't know any better he would say she was trying to lose him.
"Kiden, where the crud are we - " She stopped, and as she did a car pulled up in front of her.
"Get in." That voice!
"'ey wait, w'ot?" It sounded familiar!
But before he could place it the back door flew open, and in that same split second a hand descended over his eyes and before he could even fight back, everything went dark.
"Hey, hey kid! Wake up!" A blinding light seared through Wally's closed eyelids dredging a sound up from his throat as he lifted his arms up over his head.
"W'ots the big idea?" He bellowed. Awake, he blinked back the spots as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room. Not a few feet from him stood two figures coming slowly into focus. "Wait . . . ah know you!"
He tried to stand but something cold stuck him in the chest and sent him stumbling back to the ground.
"Of course you do." Was all Number 274 – no, Chad said with a sneer, lowering his hand.
"Why ah oughta! - oof!" He was pushed back again, this time by a foot that just as quickly as it struck, recoiled and prepared to hit again.
"Still as hot headed as always aren't you squirt?"
"Cree . . .!"
"Thought you would have learned by now to respect your elders." She said cooly, adjusting her gauntlet. "Especially now that you aren't so young yourself. We aren't so different you know."
"Ah'm nothin' like you freaks." He seethed, but this time kept his seat. The room around him was almost dim now that his eyes had adjusted, dim and sparsely furnished with nothing more than a cot across from a wall of steal bars.
"Where am ah, and where 's Kiden?"
"You're both safe.." Answered Cree, looking just as Wally remembered her, the same twisted cocky smirk and all. "For now, and it will stay that way if you cooperate."
Cooperate?
The only way he could escape was to take down both Chad and Cree. He slipped his hands into his pockets, but no luck, someone had taken his lighter.
"Looking for this?" His head shot up, and in Chad's right hand he saw the cheap plastic object in question. "How stupid do you really think we are?"
With a growl Wallabee lunged, but Chad was one step ahead. He took a step to the side, his fist and the lighter already coated in a thick layer of ice he planted firmly below Wallabee's ribs.
Wally saw stars.
"You still don't get it." Chad said with a frown as the boy fell to the ground. "You're not the only one with powers here, you best remember that."
He could hear the clanging of the door in the steel bars as the two ex-KND made their way to leave.
"We're here to help you . . . and when you're ready to talk, we'll talk."
And the door clanged shut, and quickly the padding of their soles against the stone floor faded away.
Now alone Wallabee curled into a ball unable to breath. Sputtering and choking and wheezing on the floor clutching his chest as the immense pain radiated through his frame. His mind was whirling. Could he trust them? They had deserted the KND but so had he! He was a runaway too . . .
Was this what it had come down to? Him working alongside the people he had for so long considered his enemies? Was he really so different?
He wondered what the Sector would say, he wondered if they were okay.
And when air finally entered his lungs, he curled up and allowed himself to sleep.
Authors Note: I'm trying to get this story moving. It's been sitting for way too long. Constructive Criticism is much appreciated. Flames welcomed.
Characters do not belong to me.