Zac sat in the sheltered doorway of an old, boarded up and whitewashed shop and watched the light sheets of rain fall across the street, flushing back and forth on the wind. The patterns of water were shifting and graceful, mesmerizing, like looking into the twisting of flames in a campfire. The tiled floor he sat on sloped slightly from the shop's door so he didn't get wet but the tiles were cold, his arse was frozen numb beneath him. He ignored it.
He had his arms pulled inside his heavy black parka jacket, the hood up, his phone in his hands inside the jacket, the blue white glow lighting up his face through the neck hole. The lighting likely did his pale skin and sunken cheeks no favors but he didn't summon the energy to care. Energy was costly to build and he couldn't afford to waste any on the trivial.
He'd eaten today at least. A lady had bought him a Tesco meal deal earlier so the usual gnawing, eating itself feeling in his stomach was down to a dull ache. That was as close as he ever really got to being full.
He rummaged in his inside pocket and pulled out a chipped off rolly from earlier, about half left. He retrieved his old battered Zippo from the same pocket and ducked his head inside the jacket to light the fag. He took a drag and pulled his head back out.
He sat and watched the rain as he smoked, thinking of nothing in particular.
He didn't let his mind wander, he had a tendency to get maudlin if he thought too much. Instead he focused completely on the twisting patterns of the rain. He'd need to move soon and find somewhere to sleep. If he stayed here in the doorway someone would likely move him off early. Even though the shop was closed the other shop owners on the street wouldn't want him around when they opened.
He sighed as he finished his rolly and flicked it out into the rainy street. The rain made everything harder. He'd need to find somewhere covered if he wanted to keep his clothes reasonably dry. He stood in the doorway, grabbing his backpack from beside him and slinging it across his back. Good a time as any to move out, doesn't look like it's going to stop any time soon.
He'd hoped to wait the rain out but it had been falling steadily. His phone's weather app had said it would stop around now but apparently he wasn't that lucky. Eastbourne, the town he was in at the moment, was on the coast so the weather could be a bit unpredictable. Though it was still England so, usually, that meant rain.
Hunching his shoulders and pulling his hood low over his face he walked down the street, heading towards Sainsbury's. There was a vent at the back of the supermarket that let out hot air and it was under an overhanging piece of roof. He could stay dry there and even hook his jacket up to dry it off some. It was just on an alley though so he'd have to sleep light, one eye open for trouble. Nothing new there.
He shook his head resolutely, no energy to be truly mad, this was just his life and he was mostly used to it by now. He had enough weed left for a little one tonight, he'd settle in and roll up, maybe even play some New Vegas on his old, jumbled together laptop. He could cook up some super noodles on his old camping stove, make a pot of tea. He gave the slightest smile as he thought of his plans for the evening, running through the supplies in his backpack. Life's not all bad.
He continued along the wet streets of Eastbourne, his scuffed and ripped leather work boots squelching as they absorbed water through the gaps in the treads. Might even be able to dry my socks he mused as he trudged along, he hated having wet socks but he'd deal with it if he had to. Drying his socks and boots would be a risk if he had to run but he could always do that bare foot. The soles of his feet were deeply calloused from his years on the streets.
He turned down the high street and hunched lower in his jacket as he heard drunken male shouting. It was a Saturday night and Eastbourne's bars and pubs would be busy. He checked his phone. 00.04. Early still for kick out, shouldn't be too many people out and about just yet, not in this weather. He quickened his step a little anyway, trying to avoid hassle.
A few shouts reached him as he passed a group of lads but he didn't pay enough attention to see if it was directed at him. Things like shame and rage had mostly left him by now, he couldn't afford them. Years being homeless had taught him to be frugal. He was 22. Maybe 23? It's still April right? His 23rd birthday was the 3rd of May but he hadn't been paying much attention to the date, it wasn't like he had anything to look forward to.
He turned off the high street and continued on towards Sainsbury's. Down the next road then he took a left, passing antique shops and cafes, passed the little corner shop at the end of the street. The shop was open, Zac saw a man leant over the counter and playing on his phone. Zac crossed the street and headed down the pathway between buildings opposite, Sainsbury's was just at the other end.
He walked along the old cracked concrete, looking down between his feet at the weeds and bits of grass growing up through the cracks in the stone, mind blank. As he drew up to the little barriers in the middle to stop cyclists he heard muffled voices and looked up. Just ahead of him was a group of men, standing under the orange street light. They shuffled and muttered to each other, standing in a circle. He couldn't hear what was said or what they were doing exactly but he got a feeling none the less, trouble.
He turned in place and took a step away. Keeping his head down and staying out of the way was second nature for Zac. He looked after himself. He couldn't afford anything else.
There was a yelp from behind him, high and feminine but smothered, like a woman with a hand over their mouth.
Ice shot up Zac's spine and he spun to look back at the group of men. Before he could stop himself or even think, he was shouting, “Stop!” His loud voice cracked and warbled, hitting a high note at the end like a kid going through puberty. He hardly ever spoke these days.
The alleyway froze. The group of men stood stock still, completely silent for a moment. Zac stood frozen, his mind boggled at what he had done. This was exactly opposite of keeping his head down, completely counterintuitive to all the instincts he'd built over more than 10 years of living on the streets and fending for himself. He never got involved, never stuck his neck out. Hell he barely interacted with anybody.
The men at the back of the group turned slowly to spot him standing there frozen. As they opened up he could see a woman in the middle of the group. She was held against one of the men, an arm round her throat and a meaty hand pressed to her mouth.
The men sneered and there were flashes of metal in some of their hands. Knifes.
His proper instincts finally kicked in and Zac turned and ran, sprinting down the alley and across the street.
He heard heavy feet pounding the wet road behind him as he sprinted but he didn't look back. Zac was a good runner, small and fast. As a kid nobody would've been able to catch him but years of malnutrition and drug abuse had left him weak. His legs abnormally skinny and his chest sunken. Still he outpaced the men as he ran. Ducking down an alley and then bursting out on a new street.
He dashed into laughter, a group of woman where walking towards him, stumbling and giggling. The street was lined with small groups sitting on the steps of houses and huddled round a bus stop, eating chips from polestyrene packets and just generally being loud and drunk.
Dazed Zac slowed automatically. But his heart was still pumping, his breath wheezing from the short run. He stumbled down the street, ducking down another alley then another. Getting lost in Eastbourne's back streets until he finally stumbled to a stop and leant against the wet alleyway wall, shuddering and gasping in breath, trying to still his breathing now that he was safe. He got away. Everything was going to be ok.
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All was darkness and silence. He couldn't feel. Couldn't hear or see or smell. He was still him but completely separate from any sensation, anything that let him know what was happening around him. Anything that showed he was alive. Because I'm not.
This realisation came quickly. He remembered what happened. The running. His heartbeat hammering and blood pumping so loud it blocked out the world. The relief at escaping, the sense of security so false it stung his mind to think back on it and then the icy sliver in his back. The feeling of the ice spreading, no pain, just cold and numbness. But then the feeling of utter terror as he felt that fading, mixed in with the lifting of your stomach like falling but with a terrible ripping sensation.
He sat in the dark and cleared his mind. He'd become good at that over the years on the streets. Dwelling never did him any good. In the early years he sometimes got so mad, so utterly furious with his crappy life that he'd lash out. He couldn't afford to draw attention to himself like that. Nobody cared about some nobody street rat, he could easily end up in prison or just beaten the hell out of in some alley if he kept acting like that. So he learned to push it all down. To hold himself in equilibrium and just blend. Nobody cared about him but at least if he kept a low profile they mostly just let him be.
After a while he noticed shapes in the darkness. It was still utterly silent and he couldn't feel anything but he could almost see. He couldn't blink his eyes or turn his head but he could still vaguely sense something. Like black silhouettes moving against a black background, almost impossible to make out but still, there was something. Movement.
He stayed there in the dark as his mind cleared. I'm dead. Still almost 23 years, that wasn't a bad run. He hadn't expected to make it that far honestly. Life had been a slog. A constant uphill struggle just to survive. The little slices of contentment he'd managed had been a miracle. Now that it was over he found that he… didn't mind that much. This quiet dark with no feeling wouldn't be so bad.
He sat and watched the shifting dark, the patterns were subtle but complex, mesmerizing. Like a campfire.
He thought of the rain as his mind drifted, no sense of time or need. He wasn't hungry. That was a relief at least. He was always hungry. The patterns here were thicker than that, these shapes in the dark. Closer to the fire. Or grass stems waving in the breeze. It would be nice to just stay here, like this, from now on. Just watch and be nothing. Forever.
But then, all of a sudden, Zac's world changed. In the darkness there was now a tiny white dot. Out of nowhere with no buildup it was just there. And as soon as it was, it changed everything.
The moment Zac saw the dot he moved. He just moved up and forwards instinctively. He couldn't feel it but with the dot he could orient. He saw himself move. It was such a mind blowing experience, this sudden explosive change from being a nothing in the dark to being something that moved. Someone that moved. That acted and was.
Without any real command on his part, running on animal instinct, his human mind still blinking itself awake, he was suddenly surging forward. Pushing himself in a mad dash towards the dot. The light in the darkness.
He crashed off the black shapes in the dark. Again he didn't feel it, could just see his perspective bashed to one side and another as he collided with the shadows, but he didn't worry about it.
Can't afford to.
This one thought made him stutter in his forward momentum, like it kick-started his higher awareness and he started to truly come back to himself.
He remembered who he was, remembered his life and his experiences. Remembered being alive.
He didn't know how long he had been here, been this nothing in the dark. It felt like forever. Yet his memories of his life were crisp and tangible. All coming to him out of place and random but so real he almost felt like he was there, living it over.
The dot snapped him out of it. It was still there in front of him but he'd slowed with the opening of his mind, the rush of realisation and experience. But he had to get there.
He burst forward again, colliding with the shadows and pushing and shoving. Slamming his will against this world of darkness to reach the light. To hold on to this little piece of alive he'd somehow gotten back.
As he shoved himself forward he began to notice the light was getting bigger, just a little. He was sure of it as soon as he noticed it, everything having been the same for such a long time made any change glaringly obvious. He sped up somehow, still having no idea how he was moving but refusing to think about it.
Just keep moving forward, do what you have to to survive, just like always.
That thought was supremely comforting. His life hadn't been good or comfortable but he'd always survived, always done what he had to to make it to the next day.
Well almost always.
He thought of the alleyway, the huddled group of men under the orange glow. The thin yelp of the woman and him shouting, “stop!”
He snapped his attention back, focusing on the dot, that by now was more like a splodge. You're getting there, just keep going.
Suddenly there was something new in the dark, a rumbling vibration, tiny and indistinct. He kept pushing and barging through the shadowy shapes. They were getting clearer, individual and more detailed but he still couldn't quite make them out. He didn't worry about it and just kept going.
The vibrations grew as he moved forward, going from the edge of hearing to like a whisper in the distance. Voices. He was hearing voices, people speaking. People!
He didn't know why that thought filled him with such joy and longing. He hated people. Untrustworthy and dangerous, that was people. He was better off on his own, keeping his head down and staying out of everybody's way. But still he couldn't help but push forward harder, strive towards the light and towards others. People meant life.
As he drew nearer and nearer to the light it started to resolve into shape. It was an orb of golden light, hanging above the ground of shifting shadows where he was. Shadows that he could now see were people. Or atleast, the shapes of people, drawn from shifting lines of darkness. They were still indistinct but Zac could see the vague outlines of men and women and smaller shapes of children among them.
He started to pick out new lights, moving among the shadowy People, red and blue and green and even a strong golden one somewhere ahead. As he kept pushing forward he started to see that these too were the shapes of people but built of light rather than shadow.
He slowed and looked down at himself, suddenly sure he'd be the same but he was disappointed. Instead he saw the misty shape of his own body beneath him, drifting along as if he was hovering, still clad in his old ripped jeans and parka jacket. All made out of shifting lines of shadow. He pushed this disappointment away easily, he'd had lots of practice.
The voice had become clearer now. He could hear a strong male baritone, like an announcement. As he continued forward, approaching the golden orb in the sky, he could finally make out what was being said.
“.... of Fallow needs your help. Come forth heroes and heed our call. We will aid you in this endeavour, granting you a powerful Card to start your journey and help you build your strength to hold back the darkness. Each if you will be delivered to a key location and provided with the tools you need to start your new life.”
He could see the people of light clearly now. The heroes. There were six, three men and three women. They stood in a loose circle in a clear space on the black shadow ground, looking up at the golden orb hanging in the air.
Closest to Zac was the red man. Heavily built and wearing a leather jacket and camo trousers, a line of piercings down his ear. Next to him was a short girl made of green light. She wore a hoodie and shorts, the hood pulled up and with long socks and high top trainers. Her hands were stuffed in her hoodie pockets. Before Zac could examine more of these heroes, the voice spoke up again.
“Stand tall and prepare yourselfs young heroes, the portal will now open and take you to a new world.”
Without thinking about it he threw himself forward, bursting from the shifting shadows of forgotten people and out into the circle of heroes. The men and women around startled at his sudden appearance turning to look at him, though they didn't make a sound. The orb above them began to grow brighter, a beam of light appearing around them.
“Intruder!” The heavenly voice boomed out, “How dare you try to hijack this portal forgotten one, you are no hero and are not welcome here. Begone!”
Zac felt a force grab his form, freezing him in place and then starting to drag him out of the portal circle. He fought against the force with all the will he had but it didn't seem to make any difference. He was dragged away from the light. Torn away from this second chance.
And then suddenly the force was gone and he fell forward, stumbling into the red man. He sneered at Zac but didn't make a sound. Then Zac heard a new voice.
“This one can be my pick,” this new voice was lazy and crackly, male. Sounded like a hustler to Zac, he knew the type. “He seems like my kinda’ people.”
The light of the orb built to blinding and he started to feel something, heat. It was glorious.
“Good luck kid.” Zac heard the lazy voice say as the light and the heat burst across his body, dissolving him away to nothing.