Chapter 7.2: Where the Dead Go to Die (continued)
“So what’s her deal, anyway?” Dead Boy asks, nodding his chin accusatorily toward Katana, who’s walking alone on the other side of the wide road. He hopes she heard him.
Jamar shrugs his broad shoulders without giving Katana a second glance. “Don’t ask me. She’s new.”
The two friends are making their way down the street back through the SFSU campus grounds. Jamar has abandoned his ice giant form—much to Dead Boy’s relief—and is walking slowly enough that Dead Boy can keep up. Though still in a lot of pain and shock, seeing Jamar again has given Dead Boy renewed willpower to walk without assistance.
It had taken him a long while to recover from the initial shock, though. He’s not sure how long he just stood there gaping like an idiot; it still feels like a surreal dream. Those first few moments when Jamar was literally materializing before his eyes—his best friend, the object of his long search, now suddenly found in the most mysterious of circumstances—Dead Boy was certain he must still be underground, still floating through the deep bizarre dreamstate the alien had plunged him into. Even once he had regained his senses and was certain he could indeed trust his own eyes, that Jamar was truly standing right in front of him, half-encased in the ice giant that was slowly lowering the two lads gently to the ground as it melted away, even then Dead Boy could do naught but stare and stammer, his wagging tongue suddenly incapable of forming even a simple hello.
Jamar had been the one to break the fascination spell with one of his loud, rumbling laughs—but instead of bringing back nostalgic memories, the laugh had a cold, mean undertone that brought gooseflesh crawling across Dead Boy’s skin. It was Jamar’s laugh, but it wasn’t. It set Dead Boy completely on edge, snapping him back to his full senses so that when they all started walking into the fog together, Dead Boy was suddenly aware of everything that was so completely wrong with this situation.
For one, none of the gang members talked to each other or interacted at all—they just kept walking forward in the same direction, without barely even looking around. The crazies Katana had referred to as Hounds still seemed to be leading the way, but the gang was spread far apart, disappearing all around Dead Boy and Jamar in the gloomy fog.
How do they manage to keep the same pace and not lose each other?
Every now and then as they walked, Dead Boy would hear the cracking sound of breaking ice. Then they would pass by shattered heads lying next to decapitated Frozen, their spirits trying furiously to reach out toward Dead Boy in retaliation. Jamar didn’t even bat an eye, nor did Katana on the other side of the street. They just walked right past the ice wraiths like they were just a part of the scenery. Like they posed no threat at all.
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Jamar had hardly said a single word to Dead Boy too, which is what bothered him the most. All he’d gotten out of Jamar so far was that oddly sudden greeting way up in the air, followed by a long period of uncomfortable staring silence before Jamar had bellowed out that laugh, told him to keep up and then started leading him silently down the street.
Until, some twenty minutes later, Dead Boy had finally worked up the nerve to ask him about Katana and got nothing but an offhand remark in return.
Nothing about this makes any sense at all…
“And them?” Dead Boy waves his hand to the Hounds, “What the hell’s wrong with those guys?”
Jamar grins as if he’s seen something funny, but there is no humor in his icy eyes. “They’re dogs!” he says with a leer.
Dead Boy frowns, confused by the aggressive yet nostalgic tone in Jamar’s voice. His friend feels so distant, like he’s communicating through a closed window. He obviously remembers me and seems to be making some sort of attempt at friendliness — he wouldn’t be walking so nearby me if he wasn’t — but he’s not the same person I once knew. I have to remember that.
“And, uh … that thing?” Dead Boy continues, relentless in his urge to get to the bottom of this. He waves his hand up high, indicating the giant monster that had until recently been stalking the streets. “What’s that, your superpower that you hinted about before?”
Jamar nods, but doesn’t divulge any other information.
Dead Boy can’t help but feel insulted. He’d once thought Jamar was just joking about having some sort of ability. Guess he just didn’t trust me enough to share this little secret.
“Seriously? Something that big? You couldn’t have just told me back then?”
No answer.
Dead Boy sighs in exasperation. “Look, can you just tell me where we’re going at least? What is all this? What the hell’s going on?”
Jamar looks at Dead Boy at last, their eyes locking long and hard. The cold deadness in Jamar’s gaze chills Dead Boy to the bone, but he also senses a deep underlying familiarity yearning to be set free.
“No.”
Dead Boy stops walking, refusing to take another step. One of the Hounds that had looped back near to them pauses with his head cocked to one side and lets out a small whimper.
Jamar takes a few more steps then turns, staring expressionlessly at Dead Boy like he’s a mere annoyance, a problem that needs solving. Katana cackles from across the street. Dead Boy just stares back, silent and defiant.
Finally, Jamar breaks the silence. “We’re taking you to meet Siren. After that, you’ll have all the answers you want.”
“Who’s Siren?” Dead Boy presses.
“After, not before.”
Jamar turns and starts walking again, swinging his bat forward with gusto. “Don’t make us chase you again.”
Dead Boy sighs and follows. No, he has zero intention of going on the run again. He wouldn’t last another five minutes out there.
Time to go meet Siren then. Whoever the hell that is.
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