14

Zulu led on through the overgrown forest. Evazee lost track of the time as they stumbled over fallen trees, battled lithe branches, and fought off tangled, hanging vines. Her thighs burned with the effort of keeping up with Zulu. Elden himself pushed hard as one possessed. They paused for brief moments while Zulu hunted for the trail, but it didn’t take long, and he was off again. Elden clutched Evazee’s hand, and she didn’t pull away.

A faint vibration trembled through the ground beneath the feet, causing Zulu to stop and listen, his head tilted to one side like an exotic bald bird. “Not far now.” He grinned at them.

Evazee grabbed Elden’s arm and hauled him down to her level. “I’m a bit worried about following him blindly. Do you know where he’s going? You must know this area.”

“Actually, I don’t. But you seemed to like this guy. Why the sudden mistrust?”

“I discovered some things I didn’t know. Also, his eyes are purple. That can’t be good.”

“But girls love purple. Don’t they?” Elden’s forehead crumpled and he shrugged.

“Elden! What are you saying? Not eyes. How is that normal?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been living in simulations for so long now, it’s all a blur.” He squeezed her arm. “We’d better go. He’s nearly too far ahead. We don’t want to lose him.”

Evazee waved him on, resisting the urge to kick a tree. She followed as he bolted ahead, her feet feeling heavier with every step. A deep drum beat thrummed through the ground beneath their feet, followed by another and yet another.

The vibrations rolled up through the soles of her feet and turned her stomach. Each beat seemed to seep deeper into her bones. The music called, it sang her name. The fine hairs on Evazee’s neck rose. This was not possible. Zulu halted. Elden was just a step behind him. They were examining the way ahead, cautious. Curiosity overwhelmed Evazee. She pushed past them both to try and get closer to the music, to whoever was calling her.

As she passed Zulu, the rhythm changed, picking up speed and growing in complexity. She felt the rhythm all through her body, and it made her happy. She wanted to dance but knew that she wouldn’t have moves good enough for this music. Her heart sank at the thought. Someone was calling her name. With it came delicious warmth in her insides. Memories of sleeping in on school holidays flooded through her as a sense of well-being. Soft duvet, no rush, no demands. Waking up to hot chocolate and her favourite book.

The forest path opened out on a clearing the size of a soccer field. Lights bobbed and weaved in the trees. She felt a bit tipsy, and the lights danced just for her. There it was again. Her name on the lips of a stranger. It didn’t scare her; it felt right and good.

The lights blurred and spun, and she found herself twirling. Spinning. Dancing. Doing those moves she didn’t think she could. She closed her eyes and surrendered. The ground tipped below her, every step took her down. Hands reached for her, welcoming, guiding, sweeping her along.

So many hands.

~*~

Kai sat on the conveyor belt in his new beige clothes. He pulled at his shirt, impressed that it had been made by snowflakes. Pity about the beige. The fabric was unlike anything he’d every worn before. It had the soft coolness of cotton but with a slight stretch to it that made it fit snugger than his clothes normally did. Perfect for such a skinny body. Not.

The room was tiny. If he turned with his arms stretched out, his fingertips would brush the walls on each side. All four of them looked identical except for the wall he’d come through that had a hole large enough for him. Kai’s belly flipped. There was no door. He stood up to investigate whether he could crawl out on the conveyor belt, but it retracted and the hole in the wall closed up as if it had never been there.

This was not good.

At least it wasn’t dark, and the stones still glowed with inner light. Kai breathed deep, trying not to sweat. There had to be a switch that would get him out of this room. He stepped close to the wall in front of him and reached out to run his fingers along each concrete line, each bump, looking for irregularities, anything that might give in to a firm push.

The moment all Kai’s fingers connected with the wall, the surface changed beneath his fingertips, shifting state from stone to smooth, cold glass. He blinked and found himself on stage with a guitar in his hands. The crowds pressed up against the edge of the platform, calling his name.

His old friend. The strings felt alive as he tapped out harmonics and tuned the instrument. With each sound he made, the crowd clapped and cheered.

Ready at last, he allowed himself to look at his audience. The crowd that gathered stretched off into the distance in all directions, a living sea of screaming fans. Kai grinned at the sight before shifting his focus to his instrument, his music. His fingers flew across the strings and frets, drawing out a melody unlike anything he’d ever played before. The crowd went wild.

The familiar thrill bubbled through him. The distinct sense of rightness at doing what he’d been created for. The song tore from him, pulsing with life. Blood pounded through his temples as he built towards the crescendo.

A breath away from the high point, everything froze. A voice spoke to him from inside the chamber. Or was it in his head? A woman’s voice, low and soothing.

“Are you proud of yourself Kai?”

I don’t understand what you’re asking.

“It’s a simple question. Just answer yes or no. Are you proud of yourself?”

Kai ran his hand along the smooth wooden neck of the instrument that felt so much a part of him. He thought back to the times he’d played his guitar and brought peace where people had been agitated, the rooftop and the darKounds when his music had sent them all back where they came from. Thinking of all those things, he was actually proud of himself.

Yes.

The voice in his head said nothing, but he felt the twisting weight of displeasure, and it confused him. He glanced across the crowds, hoping for something he couldn’t put a name to. Redemption, validation. He wasn’t sure. They were no longer cheering. Nobody called his name. Their hands came up with pointed fingers, and their faces twisted into scowls.

I’m sorry.

He dropped the guitar and backed away, hands raised to block his face from their rising anger. He tripped over his own feet and smacked his back into the opposite chamber wall. The stage melted away leaving the cold stone wall in its place. Kai was stuck. Again.

He sat for a moment, dazed. This place was messing with his mind. The sooner he found a way out, the better. His head spun, standing was going to be a challenge. He flipped over onto his knees and steadied himself on the wall. Before he could push himself up, the wall rippled, shifted, and he found himself in a bedroom with an orange woollen looped mat on the floor and tie-dyed curtains in autumn shades. Retro.

A woman sat on the floor, cradling her arm and crying. She looked familiar, but Kai’s attention was drawn to the baby sitting next to her. He sat with his back ironing-board straight. His eyes were fixed on the woman, and his lips quivered as if he wanted to cry with her.

The baby bum-shuffled closer to the woman, reached for her arm but missed. She was crying too much to notice, and Kai could see a burn mark down the soft flesh of the inside of her arm. The baby’s face pulled tight in concentration, and he made another grab for the lady’s arm. This time he caught it and held on. His tiny six-month-old fingers dug into the flesh of her burned arm and she cried out in pain. In a second, she gasped and pulled her arm away from him. She stared at it in wonder, cheeks still wet with tears. The burn was gone.

A man came running in. His voice was high and angry. “What did he do?”

“It’s a miracle! Roland, look! My arm is better. It’s a miracle.”

“I’m sorry, TrissTessa. This is not right or holy. God doesn’t work through babies. I’m going to take him and find out what’s wrong with him.”

“But, Roland, he did good. You can’t take him.”

“It’s not safe to be around this boy. He could be possessed for all we know. Until we can figure this out, it’s not safe to be around him. It’s for his own good, too. He can’t live like this. Please don’t fight me. I love you too much. I’m taking him. I’m going to find someone who can fix him, and then we’ll come home. I promise.”

The man called Roland picked up the baby as if he were picking up a loaded gun, turned quickly, and left. The one called TrissTessa sat on the floor of her bedroom, tears streaming down her face, too shocked to move.