Frightened Boy, Scott Kelly [book suggestions .TXT] 📗

anyone here to keep them in check, they ran rampant. Still, it gives me hope for the future. Earth can get over almost anything, it seems,” she said.

I asked Erika if she’d seen anything like this.

“My mother took me to South America once. I saw the rainforests there, and I never wanted to leave. It was beautiful. Clark, I love it here! Look at what your will has wrought.”

I shook my head. Escher frowned at our exchange, but Whisper took his hand and pulled him forward.

Erika noticed this exchange as well and let out of soft hmph.

Despite our sore feet and aching backs, walking through the forest seemed effortless, as though the trees rejuvenated us. We passed a large meadow crowned by a few trees and a beautiful lake dappled with lily pads. I imagined it must have been a golf course in a past life.

At last, we crossed into a large, completely shaded dome of trees. I realized after stepping into it that we were inside the remains of a church, the amphitheatre of the sort of sprawling super-churches that were so popular so long ago when space hadn’t been at a premium.

A forest twisted and bent at dizzying angles in a massive interlocking mesh above and around a large hill. Trying to follow any single branch up to its pinnacle made my eyes blur and my mind refuse to accept it. From one far end of the mass of trees, the remains of a metal structure jutted out like the last wall of a crumbling Roman masterpiece. Rows of seats were eaten by moss and covered with so much earth that they looked like grassy knolls.

“Escher and a few of us restored this a long time ago…well, more or less,” Whisper said.

“Alone?” Erika asked.

“Well, sort of. Sam was here and Lux and Grundel…” she trailed off as she mentioned him, and a pang of sadness crossed her face.

“We’re all hurt for Grundel’s death,” Escher said. “I’m weaker for it, and with no one to man the radio, we may never find Little Brother if he leaves Banlo Bay again. At any rate, welcome to Alhambra. At moments of great enthusiasm, it seems to me no one in the world has ever made something this beautiful and important.”

I looked at Whisper, who shook her head and held up a hand to silence me.

I approached the remaining wall of the church saw delicate inscriptions that grew into strange patterns etched onto the stone. I was interrupted as Escher climbed up one side of the crumbling brick, hoisting himself up vines and branches, nimbly reaching the remaining portion of the roof. We heard his footsteps echo hollowly through the church, as though God were knocking politely on the roof.

“He’s going to light the signal fire,” Whisper said, “and the rest of the Strangers will come.”

I looked at Erika, and she returned my glance.

“It’ll be a while,” Whisper said. “Don’t get lost,” she called at our backs as we exited the church, eager to step out from under Escher’s shadow.

*

I walked side by side with Erika Bronton across a parking lot that’d cracked like a melting arctic disaster. We walked into a baseball field in which the stadium lights were overgrown with moss to look like monstrous palm trees, melted in their own chlorophyll. Escher was behind, atop the church, towering over his realm, arms crossed with a bonfire burning at his back.

Ahead of us was a large pond. I walked to the edge, curious if anything lived in it. Leaves from the trees stole much of the surface of the water from my view, and their reflection on the glassy plane was as vivid as the large orange fish I could see within it. Erika gasped at the sight.

Her hand was dangerously close to mine, and I wanted desperately to reach for it. It seemed childish, though, or at least that’s what I told myself. Kids hold hands. Adults kiss.

“Erika, I…” I stopped and she looked at me. Suddenly, all I could feel was anxiety. I desperately wished she’d look forward again; look around us; do anything but look at me. Shit, why did I call attention to myself?

Erika smiled. “Clark,” she said. “You know, if there’s anything you want, you just have to ask me, right?” There was a suggestive tone to her voice that made me even more nervous.

Of course, that was just it. I could have asked her to have sex with me and spun it within the game she played of me being her Lord and Savior, but that felt awful to me, unnatural and nerve-wracking. I would never be able to bring myself to say those words.

This worship she played at with me—or maybe it was real, I didn’t know how far she committed herself to this role—it separated us. It let her do anything, but only in jest. Not truly. Not truly have sex with me, only play this character who would have sex with me.

But, I wanted Erika.

These thoughts raced through my head, but all that came out of my mouth was: “Okay.” And I walked off, leaving her behind.

She followed.

There was something else I wanted to talk about. “Escher,” I started then faltered.

“You’re the one I chose,” Erika said, reassuring me.

“Whatever,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“What’s with you and these games? Why does everything have to be something else? Can’t we just be two people who are basically doomed, captured by a madman, and waiting to die? Why do I have to be your God and you’re on some fancy spiritual voyage? Can’t you just admit the only reason we are together is because you needed a place to stay and I was an easy target?”

I knew all of this was true, and I knew Erika knew all of it was true. The difference to me was that I lived with that truth. Everything Erika did—all the worship, the so-called "art," was just to put a spin on that truth.

Erika didn’t answer. Her head tilted back slightly, and her eyes began to water. Tears climbed up over her eyelids, and a drop came tumbling down.

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You just don’t have any faith,” Erika sniffed. “It’s okay, though, 'cause I have plenty.”


15. Enigma

I sat at the base of a towering oak tree Erika enthusiastically clambered up. She asked me to join her, but there was no convincing me to climb that high.

I knew I didn’t have faith. It explained why I wasn’t an optimist—or a sucker, for that matter. Erika seemed to be able to willingly trick herself into believing things, so I wasn’t sure if she was either or both.

Strangers began trickling into the overrun forest camp only an hour after Escher started the black smoke signals.

I was surprised that I was beginning to recognize the members of this private army. Mal stalked through, and the knife-wielding woman with green hair, and the same Speedo-clad hulking figure from before, with Rush in tow.

I figured Rush was a part of the Homeland Security Department—except, the Federal Government wasn’t any more powerful than the Strangers or any number of militias and cities that’d sprung up after the Collapse. Just another roving gang.

“What do you think about him? Do you think he’s insane?” Erika called down from on high. Who the ‘he’ was needed no explanation.

“I don’t know. You have to see it through his eyes, and then it starts to make a lot more sense. He thinks we are merely a part of his own imagination, pieces of his fragmented psyche. How would you act in that situation?” I asked.

“But he’s saying he owns reality. He’s saying nothing you’ve ever experienced is real,” Erika said. “How pompous is that? Doesn’t that kinda piss you off?

And they’re telling me everything Little Brother has ever told me is a lie. Either way, my own reality is fabricated. “I guess,” I said instead. “He seems sure of it.”

Erika dropped down out of the tree above me and dusted off her tight blue jeans.

“Let’s go back,” I said, directing my eyes to the ever-thickening flow of Strangers entering the suburbs. “We want to get a good seat for whatever is about to happen.”

“Wait, Clark—what about the other stuff? Whisper and the disappearing guy and Escher never getting shot? How do you explain all that?” she asked curiously, her eyes wide and inviting me to impart some secret knowledge.

“I don’t know, obviously,” I said. “I don’t think I exist purely in Escher’s head, because I remember growing up and existing a long time before I met him. On the other hand, it’s like the Voice says—reality does seem to respond to what Escher wants. Maybe the truth is somewhere between the two.”

She looked disappointed. So, in a rare moment for our relationship, I told her what I really thought: “I think reality is a democratic process, and Escher counts for way more votes than the rest of us.”

*

Strangers filled what was left of the mega-church, hundreds of them standing shoulder to shoulder and watching for their leader. All was silent, save the shuffling of leather and the clinking of ammunition.

The Red King stood atop the grassy mound that’d overtaken the stage of the mega church. Blooming flowers drooped down like lights from the ceiling, and draping vines made makeshift cables. A line of Strangers fed into the epicenter of the suburb, and the bulky soldier who drug Rush along set the captive on his knees at Escher’s feet.

Sweat dripped down from the silver bangs that’d congealed like tarred feathers over his forehead. His hands were tied behind his back, and his head tilted upwards at Escher, held there by the edge of his hand.

The leader stood stoically in the center of the stage, staring down at Rush. The other thousand-plus people in the room were just observers.

“Rush, I want you to tell me about Little Brother,” Escher said.

The silver-haired bureaucrat looked up once again, a question in his eyes. “Who?” he asked.

“The Liar, Co-Intel-Pro, The Fascist—whatever you call that lying piece of shit that stank up this place.”

Rush blinked away the sweat and seemed to perspire even harder, sweat rolling off the bridge of his nose and onto the ground. “We have resources,” he said. He sounded brave, but the way he tripped over his own words belied his fear. “We are the federal government of the United States of America.”

“You were. You are a lost cause,” Escher repliedy. “The sleeping giant is old and frail, stupid and forgetful.” He drew a silver handgun from behind the thick purple coat that covered his army fatigues and directed the semi-automatic pistol to Rush’s forehead. “We’re just drawing ourselves into circles here. I need to know what you know,” Escher said, rubbing the barrel of the gun against the man’s forehead. “Don’t make me scoop all that knowledge up off the floor.”

A slight whimper broke from Rush’s throat.

Escher began to pace