Glasses 2A

Darkness. His blood ran cold. Mixed screams of anger and sheer terror echoed off the walls. He scrambled to his feet as a figure stumbled into his dead end that was in the many diverging railways of the Hearth. The figure stopped. Fire crackled from the black torch the silhouette was holding. The fire lit up his eyes. The man’s overcast face focused on him as the air was still between them. A volcanic shout erupted from the man’s lungs and he surged forward. He waved the burning flames in front of Axel’s face. Axel didn’t have a roar inside of him, so he ducked under the man and dodged the rough groping at his shirt.

His feet ran as fast as they could carry him as the man followed close behind. A stiff hand nailed itself between his shoulder blades. It shoved him to the ground, and he hit it hard. He rolled onto his side as the man planted his heavy boot. He crawled forward and stumbled to his feet as the screaming grew louder. His stomach lurched as he stopped frozen in sight of the Hearth. A sweaty arm wrapped around his neck.

The man’s lips drew close to his ear as Axel struggled against him, “Leverick lives.”

“No!” The thunderous word escaped Axel’s lungs as a newfound strength overtook his being. He took hold of the man’s fist and swung his arm away.

The man stumbled backwards in shock and Axel picked up a stray crowbar. He eyed the man and imagined pummelling him to a thousand pieces. But he was smarter than that. Axel darted inside an open train car with smashed windows. Inside he found blood-stained glass shards scattered across the dark floor. On top their sharp edges laid the body of the sick old man he had seen yesterday. His face, fixed in horror, had cuts and bruises. Crimson colors sprouted from his chest like an apocalyptic fountain. Axel considered the possibility of a wild mountain animal mauling through the dreaded place. He leaned his back against a graphene constructed wall and sank to the floor. He gripped the crowbar tighter as he listened to the people yelling from the top of the steps outside.

“Leverick doesn’t need them!”

Axel stared at the blood stained wall across from him.

“Kill them!”

He looked over at the corpse as blue light from the hover table glowed upon death.

“Hand us their kids!”

Axel glared up at the window right next to him.

“Leverick lives!”

He had to fight back. It was the Fascist Parade. They were Leverick’s followers.

He stepped outside and a familiar voice cried out. The voice wailed and chills spread from his chest and snaked around his body.

It was Jem.

He followed the sound of her voice and found a woman with a long dark braid hovering over her. A knife gleamed with blood, raised in the air, ready to shoot down at any moment. Axel tore forward and nothing mattered anymore. His surroundings melted away as everything froze in time. His heartbeat thundered in his ears and sweat rained down his face. The knife began its journey downward as his own scream shattered him. He grabbed her wrist, inches away from Jem’s chest. He ripped the weapon out of the killer’s hand and realized he had dropped the crowbar.

“Leverick can’t save you!” Axel roared.

He threw the knife and it nailed itself to the dirty wall next to them.

“So you can throw?” She examined as she threw a punch across the left side of his forehead. The scratch from yesterday burned as hot air poked across his face. Axel recovered; he waited for something. “Coward.”

That was the something.

He launched his fist forward. It landed on her straight nose as he heard a sickening crunch.

“Nice one,” she smirked as blood ran down to her lip. She put a hand over her nose and jerked her arm. Another crunch.

“You’re crazy,” Axel said as Jem’s whimpers became lost in the background.

“Mm, I prefer wild,” she took a swipe at Axel’s head. He ducked.

“Leave us alone,” Axel was angry with how mild she was.

“Fight me,” she challenged. Something hard shook his brain from behind. His skull cracked against the wall. A blurry image from the ground of the woman high-fiving the man from earlier crept into his vision. He held the crowbar. Axel’s head scorched over with pain and his limbs became anvils.

“Axel!” A muffled voice sounded in the distance

“Axel, please!” the broken voice howled and shook him. For a moment, he thought he was drowning.

“Get up!”

It was clear now. Axel’s eyes shot open and he sat up. A wrecking ball exploded inside his head and a cry escaped from behind his clenched teeth. He squinted over at Jem’s deathly grim green eyes. Tears streamed down her rose spotted cheeks and dripped onto her lap, where Thatcher’s head lay. All the air gathered in Axel’s lungs leaped out of his body. Dark blood seeped through his dingy shirt and stained Jem’s fingers. Axel stood up and wrapped his arms under Thatchers. Shock cradled him as he began dragging his friend. His dark boots left a clean trail in the dirt and blood stained floor. Axel’s head pounded in agony as he used the last of his efforts to drag Thatcher away to a place in the maze; the sidelines of the battle.

He sat against a wall and closed his eyes. He held onto the hope that all this would end if he just closed his eyes. He heard Jem shuffle in and fall to the ground. She continued to bawl and drove her dark fist to the ground over and over again. She cried out in pain, and Axel wanted her to stop. He needed silence and room. Everything was uncomfortable. Sweat stung his skin and his head pulsed.

“Axel,” she cried.

His eyes weakly found her hunched form.

“You have to stop this,” she whispered.

“I can’t,” he responded as miserable tears began to fall from his delicate eyelashes. He tore off the black surgical mask.

“Axel, I don’t know who else will if you don’t.”

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. His memories flooded back to him.

Thick rope dug into his wrists. The ugly man, Jarold, and his partner in crime, Vernin, joked outside. Their laughs gnawed at the inside of Axel’s skull. His dark eyes remained on the mens’ forms outside the window of his cell. Fire crackled in barrels. Dirt and grime covered the black walls. Even still, the silhouettes of the men were darker. The two waved out their arms as they greeted another grotesque man. The man was built like a lumberjack, like the guys Margaret used to talk about. But his face was indistinct. Axel could only imagine the horrors that awaited him in seeing another person slaughtered with the ugly-stick.

“I’ve gotta see it before I buy fella’s,” the lumberjack spoke. Axel continued to glare at the men.

“We’ve got him here,” Vernin walked towards him. Axel stood from his position on the ground. Vernin heaved the door open and the three men studied him.

“Hah, a scrawny fellow. But his eyes,” Lumberjack’s eyes were amber in color; a tint of red gleamed from his iris.

Axel’s black eyes returned a glare as his heart began to burn in anger. He couldn’t scream -- he was smarter than that. But he desperately wanted to.

“Get out here, now!” Vernin commanded. Axel’s heart skipped a beat as Vernin’s feet shook the car. His two ice-cold hands shoved him outside. Axel’s feet lost their hold on the ground, and he tripped. His head pounded on the ground. He could feel dirt smear across his cheek.

He had to be strong, for Margaret.

The same two icy hands grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted his torso from the ground. Axel was so far below Lumberjack’s face. He looked up at the man’s tiny eyes. The two seemed to hold a staring contest as Axel contemplated his next moves. He could try to run, but it was too risky with the rope on his wrists. He could try to fight back, but it would be a bad move for the same reasons as running.

“50 eurons,” Lumberjack stated.

“60.”

“55.”

“Sold, to the man in red,” Vernin laughed, but it wasn’t funny to Axel.

“Ah, I can’t wait to rip those beautiful eyes out of their sockets,” Lumberjack spat in Axel’s face. The man had horrific breath trailing from his grimy mouth.

“Chip?” Jarold asked Lumberjack.

“Here,” Lumberjack held out his wrist to show the black barcode tattooed on his skin.

For a moment, it seemed the three men had distracted themselves, and Axel took a chance. A deep breath filled his lungs and pushed himself onto his feet. His legs moved faster than what he thought his body allowed as he fell into the open car. His lungs heaved. His legs worked. He sliced the rope with shards of glass. The blood-stained pieces tore into his skin, but his limbs were now free. He hopped up as the men chased after him. He leaped out a window and headed for the stairs.

“Hey!” Lumberjack yelled.

There was no clear way -- only the thought of running. Keep pushing.

“Hey, kid!” Vernin yelled.

There, the stairs. Run up the stairs. Home-free from there.

“Easy target.”

The screeching sound of a bullet flew past his head.

“Hey, man, don’t kill my prisoner!”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Another blast from behind him. A scorching fire twisted in his thigh. Axel cried out. His leg gave way and he dropped to his knees at the bottom step of the staircase. Footsteps. He heard many footsteps barreling towards him. No, he wasn’t going down like this. Axel stood and clenched his teeth. He had to brave the pain. They were a few meters from him now. His leg was on fire as he scrambled up the steps. His hands floundered to grab hold of a level, and he pushed himself up. They were even closer now. A few more steps. Everything inside of him willed for his legs to move.

Another explosion of sound from behind him. A bullet whizzed past him. One more step. Axel poured himself onto the outside concrete. He stumbled forward and fell again to the ground. He planted his soft hands on the rough concrete and pushed himself up. He looked back to see the men sticking their heads out from the stairway to Hell. Vernin raised the gun and Axel limped forward. All he could do was drag his leg behind him. Every time his foot made contact with the ground, agony would race up his body. All was silent behind him, except for a ball of aluminum drifting down the street and cars zooming by on the black roads. He dragged himself into an alley formed between two tall brick buildings. He fell to the ground in an insurmountable ache. A dark fluid stained his jeans and ran between his fingers as he held his leg.

He cried out to the stars. He didn’t know if any gods existed, but if they did he was pleading for the pain to go away. Soon enough, he thought, he would bleed out, and the stupid Lever-Bullet wouldn’t affect him any longer. If only the process would happen quicker. But ironically, he also wanted to live his life. He had nowhere to go and no family to look after him, but at least he would still be alive. Maybe he could escape his childhood.

He rested his head against the crummy brick wall. The pain was decreasing… His body growing weaker, and weaker, and weaker. Each breath was a slow swell in his chest and he slid onto the ground. His arms crept out in front of him and black triangles entered his vision. Black piled on black until he slipped from consciousness. There he lay, holding onto life by a thread.

“Axel,” an unfamiliar voice called him.

“Who are you?”

Before him lay nothing. He was nothing here. Only a part of the black mass that filled him.

“I am within you, Axel,” the voice was authoritative but patient, “Now listen to me. I have chosen you to change this world. It is not ready to meet you yet. Wait a little while longer and the time will come. When you wake up, you are to go live with Jenna in the village zones.”

“Change the world?”

“Do not worry, I will be with you every step of the way. You will not hear me or see me, and you will even forget about me. But I will still be with you.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You will. Follow me, and you will.”

“How can you be so sure? How can I trust you?”

“Because I have chosen you, and you can do anything through me. And to answer your second question, you simply won’t. Now breathe easy, I will take care of you.”