Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Forty-Nine
Six weeks later
It wasn't much, but it was home.
Kwame glanced out the window as he passed through the security checkpoint, waving to the guards seated within. He knew their names and their stories — had spent hours chatting with them. Preferring to spend time in the company of decent, honest people; rather than sit alone, staring at the television on his days off.
Living here was certainly an experience.
It was almost amusing: going from the beauty and serenity of Hope Island to a gated community in the midst of Joberg. Surrounded by high borders and barbed wire, the heavy-handed measures were meant to instil a sense of security. A sanctuary to most; protecting young professionals and families from the high crime rate beyond the community walls.
To Kwame, it resembled a prison.
Sometimes he wasn't sure it these estates were designed to keep the 'undesirables' out or the community members in. Johannesburg was certainly a bustling hub, teeming with people of all ages and backgrounds. He had been reluctant to come, but the job offer had been too good to refuse.
Foreman for a landscaping company, The Evergreen Group held contracts with most municipal councils within South Africa. Work certainly kept him busy, and he enjoyed being out amongst — quite literally — his element.
The company had offered subsidised accomodation as part of their contract in a bid to lure him in. Touted as an attractive, master-planned community with a village atmosphere, it had certainly piqued Kwame's interest.
The tactic had worked. It had been the icing on the cake — he'd signed the contract.
Once reality had set in, Kwame had found himself disappointed. The term 'Wilmont Gardens' was almost deceptive by nature…
It contained no actual gardens.
There was a distinct lack of trees here. The landscaping left a lot to be desired. It was barren: all concrete and bitumen and soon Kwame found himself craving his old vegetable garden. He had no backyard, just a cramped back patio bordered by timber fencing. There was no room to establish a decent garden, so he'd persevered with hanging plants and indoor species.
There was also a pool, community centre and a poorly maintained golf course — the only 'natural' green space within the property. Even the children's playground contained fake grass, which probably required more upkeep than the real thing.
A groundskeeper had been vacuuming the astro-turf when Kwame had first moved in, and the sight had amused him greatly. His first instinct had been to take a photo and email it to a certain ex-colleague who never failed to see the bright side of life.
Unfortunately, the bright side of life seemed to be evading Wheeler lately. The phone calls were becoming few and far between, despite Kwame's regular attempts to maintain contact.
Wheeler was drifting away.
The car pulled into the driveway and he leaned forward, paying the driver and grabbing his backpack. He headed for the house, rifling through the front pocket of his bag for the keys and letting himself in.
Dumping the bag on the kitchen table, he went about fixing himself a sandwich. Juggling the plate with a beer and a book, he took himself out the front — intent on enjoying his Friday evening.
The weekend beckoned. He'd forgotten what it was like — participating in a typical working week wasn't something he was used to.
He dropped into the small setting under the front porch, balancing his plate across his lap as he settled into the chair.
It was in the steely grip of silence that he thought about her the most. The quiet times when he wasn't bogged down by work, or out socialising with his new work mates. When he wasn't engaged in activities to keep his mind off things.
The moments when he found himself reflecting on what could have been. What should have been.
The smallest things would trigger him. A blonde pony-tail. A soft, feminine voice with just a hint of a European accent — it didn't even have to be Russian. He'd look away, burying himself in plants or paperwork in order have something else to focus on.
It still hurt.
Not knowing was the worst. She'd simply disappeared. No body, no sign. Nothing.
And still, the overwhelming knowledge that he'd failed her.
He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully, watching the sun set behind the horizon. A couple of bikes rode past, followed by a young family walking their dogs. He raised his hand in greeting and they waved back. Kwame smiled, hearing their excited babble gradually fade away, replaced by his neighbour's television and the odd vehicle passing by.
Life was different now. It was the 'new' normal. Not necessarily unpleasant, but it certainly didn't compare to the friends (and the life) that he'd left behind.
Friends who had become a surrogate family over the years. Replacement siblings.
Nothing would make up for the sister he'd lost.
He lent back, clutching his beer and watching the world go by.
Lost in memory and burdened by regret.
Seven Weeks Later
"I don't need to see someone," Gi grumbled, struggling to catch up with her mother as the older woman negotiated her way through the crowd. "I'm perfectly capable of —"
"Enough, Gi," her mother replied softly. "We have already been through this."
She sighed, allowing herself to be pulled along. Resigning herself to her mother's will. Beyond the point of caring anymore.
A detached apathy clouded her thoughts now. 'Auto-pilot' seemed to be her preferred mode of functioning these days.
Just going through the motions.
Her mother led her towards a lift and they made their way up, listening to a truly horrendous South Korean pop song blasting through the speakers on the wall. Gi scrunched her face up, resisting the urge to head-butt the wall. After so many years exposed to Western music, K-Pop had become an acquired taste.
The doors pinged and the pair stepped out onto the landing. Her mother squeezed her hand, offering Gi a reassuring smile over her shoulder as they entered a small office.
A waiting room lay beyond. Gi dropped into a spare seat, staring at the front desk as her mother spoke to the receptionist. She had no interest in the hushed conversation taking place a few feet from where she was sitting.
But then, she wasn't interested in much of anything anymore.
Her duties were falling by the wayside
Collecting specimens, supervising the research teams. Writing reports and taking notes on breeding patterns.
Observing her beloved dolphins.
She'd lost the will to do any of it — ambivalent towards the things that had once brought her such joy. There seemed to be no common ground when it came to her emotions. She spent her days withdrawn and quiet, or angry and tearful — lashing out, and it was her parents who bore the brunt of her outbursts.
Gi looked down, twisting her hands nervously. Just wanting to sleep — to curl up in her bed and not have to pretend to function.
"Fill this out, Gi," her mother said gently, taking a seat beside her. A clipboard was placed on her lap and Gi sighed, beginning the arduous process of filling out the questionnaire.
She scribbled away for a while, answering the questions as honestly as possible.
Do you feel tired or have little energy?
Check.
Have you experienced little to no interest or pleasure in doing things?
Check.
Have you had trouble concentrating on things?
Check.
Do you have trouble falling or staying asleep, or sleeping too much?
Check.
A name was called and Gi glanced up, watching a middle-aged man wander into the room and disappear from her view. The door closed behind him.
She tapped her pen on the clipboard, avoiding the next question. Uncomfortable at the thought of her mother sneaking a glance at the potential answer. She didn't want that on her conscience. Regardless of her current mood, she loved her parents very much.
Perfectly put together, Gi's mother was always well presented, with not so much as a hair out of place. Fine features and an upturned nose, Min-Ji was a tiny slip of a thing. Appearances can be deceiving, however. She had a strong will and a sharp mind, often underestimated by those around her.
No nonsense, but loving all the same. Gi sniffed, feeling her mother's arm drape around her neck. Gi leaned in, resting her head on Min-Ji's shoulder. Inhaling the perfume that always seemed to permeate the air around her. It was comforting. It smelt like home.
Almost.
The questionnaire was pushed aside. Gi closed her eyes, blocking out everything but her mothers's scent and touch, until the psychologist called her name and ushered her inside.
Ten Weeks Later
"Huh?"
"Natural sciences," she explained, leaning in further to be heard over the techno song blaring in the background. "The guy failed me. Woulda' maintained my 3.0 average otherwise."
"Okay."
Trish was so close now that Wheeler could see the clumps of mascara attached to her thick lashes. She smiled, elbowing him affectionately and sloshing a good portion of vodka and orange all over herself.
"Ah crap," she muttered, brushing off the excess moisture before settling back beside him and gracing him with a bright smile. "All good. I'll re-sit the course over the summer."
"Yep."
"Great parties," she continued, pressing on despite his lack of interest. "Campus is huge. My sorority is amazing, great bunch of girls. Surprised they accepted me, bein' older and all."
"Uh huh."
"Should come visit me, Wheels." She twisted and lent forward, fiddling with the buttons of his collared shirt. She smoothing her hand against his chest before letting it fall into her lap. "Before I graduate. Before I'm spendin' my days drownin' in social work."
"We'll see." He shifted in his seat, a little uncomfortable. "You'll be workin' for the government?"
"Wanna go into private or corporate practice," she yelled as the music got louder. "More money."
A hint of a smile. "No free psych sessions?"
"Wouldn't be able to afford me, honey," she replied with a wink. Trish took a sip of her drink, tapping the glass with a red acrylic nail as she regarded him quietly. "How's the new place goin'?"
"Huh?"
"How's the new place goin'?" she yelled back.
"Okay."
"Guys aren't drivin' you nuts?"
"No more than my parents were."
"Oh."
The bar was at full capacity. Uncomfortably hot. The music was so bone-shatteringly loud that he could feel his teeth chattering with each bass note.
"So good to see ya," she said loudly, leaning into him again. "Good to have you home."
Wheeler couldn't manage a suitable response to that one. He just nodded; sipping his beer and watching his idiot roommates chatting up girls at the bar. Pulling out grandiose moves and bragging about their very minor accomplishments as if they were worthy of intense admiration. So called million-dollar sales and delusions of managerial success…
In reality, Luke was a part-time car salesman and Joey worked on an assembly line at a meat-packing plant.
"They haven't changed," Trish said, pointing to Luke who was now beating his chest and making ape noises, much to the amusement of the girls hovering around him. "Still the same as high school."
"Yeah," Wheeler said.
"They've missed you, though." Trish smiled, leaning forward again and kissing him softly on the cheek. "I've missed you."
She stood, clutching her drink and sashaying towards Luke and the other buffoons carrying on at the bar. They were all drunk, just as he knew they would be. Seven years and nothing had changed.
It was always the same song and dance — just a different venue, now. No longer partying in someone's basement or roaming the streets, but the outcome was still the same. Within the next hour the boys would either be kicked out for lewd behaviour or start a fight with someone they had no chance in hell of taking down.
He really couldn't be bothered with any of it any more.
Maybe he'd outgrown them.
The music quietened down and he settled back, checking his phone, aware that Trish was nearby; ensconced in a conversation with her girlfriends. Sneaky glances were thrown in his direction every now and then.
"I think you're in trouble."
"I noticed," Wheeler replied, patting the seat as Deb sat down beside him. "She's makin' me nervous."
"Trish's hell-bent on gettin' back with you," she said, reaching around and fiddling with something behind her back. "You better watch your back… and front, for that matter."
"Ugh."
"Not interested?"
"Been down that road," he said. "Got nothin' in common any more."
"Big campus girl," Deb said. "It's all she talks about. Thank God she's heading back next week."
"She's drivin' me nuts," he admitted. "Comin' around to the house a lot."
"Don't say I didn't warn ya." Deb grunted, pulling her arms through thin straps. To Wheeler's surprise, she removed her bra with a heavy sigh, stuffing it into her purse. "Girl's on a mission."
"What the heck are you doin'?"
"Full of milk," she complained, pointing to the wet patches covering her top. "Check 'em out. Bub's overdue for a feed."
"Does that really happen?" He looked slightly disturbed, unsure whether to accept the invitation to stare or avert his eyes. "Like, are you leakin' right —"
"Like a tap," she said. "Can't go for more than a couple of hours. Rock hard."
"Okay." His curiosity was piqued. "Do they hurt?"
"Yeah," she said. Deb grabbed his hand, placing it over her left breast. "Feel 'em."
"Jesus, Deb," he yelped, unable to help breaking out into a grin. "Dude, I really don't need to…"
"They're about to explode," she said, laughing at his reaction. "That's what I have to live with. Life of a new mother, huh?"
"You're still shameless, girl." He withdrew his hand, chuckling to himself. "Moron."
"Just wanted to get a rise outta that one," she said with a smirk, motioning towards Trish who was openly glaring at the pair from across the room.
"Reckon you're gonna pay for that tomorrow. Trish tends to hold a grudge."
"Yeah," she said, glancing in the direction of the closed off area designated for smokers. She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Need to get home. Babysitter should have left an hour ago."
"You goin' now?"
"Yeah. Doesn't look like Nick's comin' with me." She nodded her head towards the thick haze beyond the glass. "Coughin' his lungs up in there somewhere."
"Wanna split a cab?"
"You leavin' too?"
"Bored outta my damn skull."
"Never thought I'd see the day." She smiled at him fondly, ruffling his hair. "Number one party boy has settled down."
"Ready when you are." He shrugged, gathering his jacket. "I'm done. We splittin' that cab?"
"I was gonna walk. Only two blocks."
"You're not walkin', Deb."
"I've done it plenty of times before, you —"
"It's eleven o'clock in freakin' downtown Brooklyn," he said, exasperated. "You're not walkin' home."
"Nick lets me walk home all the —"
"Nick's an asshole," he said, grabbing her purse. "Stop arguin' with —"
"I'm lactating, not a complete invalid."
"I'm takin' you and your leaky boobs home," he replied, rising to his feet. "You've got a baby to feed. I've got a sci-fi movie marathon with my name written all over it."
"Fine," she muttered, swiping at him playfully. "I'll check with Cath. I think she was wantin' to leave soon, too."
He gave the thumbs up sign, and she shook her head, grinning at him. "Some things never change."
"How so?"
"Still got a hero complex, Wheeler," she laughed, taking his offered hand and pulling herself up. "Always tryin' to save someone."
He winced, looking away, and her discomfort was quickly apparent.
"Oh God, hon," she said, blushing deep red. She stepped forward, clutching his hand, embarrassed. "Oh God, I wasn't thinking, Jake. I'm so sorry, I wasn't —"
"S'alright," he said, his good mood having evaporated. "Can't save all of 'em, I guess."
She studied him for a long time. Too long; until it got to the point where he was purposely avoiding eye contact with her. Finally she nodded, squeezing his hand.
"Okay. I'll grab Cath. Let Nick know we're heading off," she said, leaving him alone as she hurried away into the crowd.
He rubbed his face tiredly, watching Joey getting overly aggressive with a couple of guys in high visibility vests.
The first fight of the night was about to kick off.
"Christ," he muttered, silently willing Deb to hurry up, wondering how he'd let himself be talked into coming out in the first place. Deb seemed to be the only person from his old crew who he didn't have to pretend with. She was still the same — a little rough around the edges. Brutally honest, impulsive, loyal and the only one without an inflated sense of self-importance.
Terrible taste in guys, though. That hadn't changed.
The scent of lavender floated past. Strong and unexpected, he straightened, seeking out the source. It was gone as quickly as it had come.
A bellow, then the sound of a fist hitting flesh. He glanced up, unsurprised at the sight of Joey hitting the floor. Luke dove in soon after and Wheeler rolled his eyes at the scuffle going on across the room.
Morons.
The scent of lavender wafted past once again. He tensed up, staring past the drunken wrestling match and the small group of people who had gathered to watch. A flash of mauve fabric floated past his line of sight, trailing amongst the rabble of sweating, heaving bodies currently on the dance floor.
A female figure weaved her way through the crowd. Long, dark hair curling gently down her back. Smooth, tanned skin… and then she was gone.
Another burst of floral perfume.
He swallowed; his mouth dry as he scanned the area; alert and wary now.
His phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing down and studying the unlisted number flashing on the screen.
"Yeah?" he said, shoving his finger in his other ear to block out the background noise. He could just make out a male voice on the other end. "Say that again?"
He couldn't hear a thing. "Hang on," he yelled, pushing through the bodies and heading towards the back entry door. "Gimme a minute."
Shouldering the metal door open, he nodded at the big security guard posted outside, heading out into the back delivery dock. Two inebriated lovebirds were making out behind a dumpster and once spotted, they slunk quickly back inside, casting furtive glances at Wheeler.
The security guard soon followed them, probably responding to a call for assistance — no doubt due to the two morons brawling inside the premises.
He ignored their hasty departure, leaning against the dumpster and speaking into the phone again. "Yeah?"
"This Pyro?"
"Yeah," he said, confused. No one had ever called him that outside of the Planeteers. "Who's this?"
"Bleak."
Wheeler did a double-take, sure that he'd misheard. "Who?"
"Argos Bleak."
"Bleak's dead, jackass," he said, clenching his fists. "Try again."
"Got a package for ya," the voice said. "Got a pen?"
"No," Wheeler seethed, not in the mood to humor the caller. "Look, asshole. Why don't you just crawl back into whatever hole you —"
"I'll text you the address, Firebug," he said, and Wheeler's heart skipped a beat. "Better make it fast. She's not in a good way. Boss is plannin' on havin' her disappear for good this time."
"What —" he started, clutching the phone so tight his fingers were starting to throb. The same rough inflections, same British/Australian, course accent. It sure as hell sounded like Argos Bleak. A little subdued, perhaps, but still… "Wait, how do I know —"
"Come. Don't come. I don't care, kid," the caller said. The tone was weary, almost resigned. "I've held up my end."
The phone clicked off, leaving Wheeler standing in the middle of the alleyway; astonished, heart thumping loudly in his chest. Daring to believe, just for a moment that maybe —
"Wheeler?"
A soft voice. He spun around, and Gaia stood in front of him. Ma-Ti was beside her, clad only in a pair of jeans. His hair was dishevelled; looking like he'd just been woken from sleep.
"What —"
"Wheeler, we need to —"
"What's goin' on," he said, holding his phone out, still bewildered as a result of the conversation. "Just had the weirdest phone call —"
"I think the wind ring has returned," Gaia said, pressing on despite Wheeler's attempts to interrupt. She held out her hands. "I thought I was mistaken. I sensed the element several days ago but —"
"Wait, what about Lin —" Wheeler started, his voice rising with frustration.
"— there was no sign of Linka's presence along with it."
Ma-Ti seemed to be contemplating Gaia's words. "Do you think she's here, Gaia?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "As I said, I have only sensed the ring. Not Linka herself — but there may be influencing factors responsible for that. I've been waiting for contact to be made."
"Guy said he was Argos Bleak," Wheeler said, looking down as his phone lit up. A text message had come through. He scanned through the contents, reading the address as Ma-Ti peered over his shoulder.
"Oh my God," Ma-Ti whispered, reading the message for himself. "Do you think —"
Wheeler's expression hardened. "Could be a trap. Someone pretendin' to be Bleak. Could be Plunder tryin' to get to us."
"What purpose would that serve?" Ma-Ti asked. "Why would they make contact? We have been out of action for months now, we —"
"I don't know, Ma-Ti," Gaia said. "But I know something has shifted earth-wise. Something has balanced out. I need the two of you to go and make contact."
"Do we let the others know?"
"Not yet," Gaia said, extending her hand and offering the two rings. She looked troubled. "I can contact the others if we end up with something more substantial. Gi is struggling enough as it is. I don't want to get her hopes up. It may be nothing — I just don't know what you'll be walking into. I cannot make any guarantees."
"I need to know," Wheeler said quietly. He stared down at his phone, holding onto the small ounce of hope that had sprung forth. It was better than drowning in apathy. "I need closure either way. I'm going."
"I'll be nearby," Gaia said, as both he and Ma-Ti took the offered rings. "Go and check things out. Ma-Ti can contact me if you need to make an exit."
Wheeler nodded, slipping his ring on his finger.
"Good luck," she said, vanishing from sight and leaving the two men alone in the deserted alleyway.
Wheeler sagged against the dumpster, panic mounting at the thought of what awaited them. "Ma-Ti, if it's not her, I don't think I can handle…"
"I know," he said reassuringly, placing his hand on Wheeler's shoulder. "I guess there is only one way to find out."
Wheeler nodded, adrenaline surging through his body. The anticipation was rising, and it was fucking terrifying.
"You do realise that this will end in one of three ways?" Ma-Ti said quietly, echoing Wheeler's own sentiments.
"Yeah," he said, raising his eyes to Ma-Ti's worried face. "I wanna believe that she might be here — but this whole thing just feels wrong."
"What did Bleak say?" Ma-Ti asked as Wheeler tapped a message out to Deb, hoping she and Cath had enough sense to catch a cab home in his absence. "Or whoever he was. Did he say anything about —"
"Just said he had a package for me," he said, pressing send and pocketing his phone. "I dunno. Told me to get there fast."
"All right."
"You gettin' anything?" he asked.
"No, my friend. Nothing." Ma-Ti passed his finger over his ring, shaking his head. "I am as confused as you are."
"Nice of Gaia to take off like that," he muttered. He let out a heavy breath, steeling himself against the nerves. He was restless, aware that they had no mode of transportation. "Close to midnight. How the hell are we supposed to —"
Ma-Ti clutched his arm as a white light pulsed around them, brightening in intensity, followed by a sharp crack.
And then they were gone.