CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - APOLLO
Tainted Reflections
“Wait, come back!”
Apollo ran across the street, hoping to catch Mama before she’d gone inside the house. “I’m sorry for letting you die!” Apollo said, reaching out to her.
Mama turned around and waved. There was something odd in her facial expressions. Her eyes appeared to be empty, and even though she was smiling, it was as if she was looking through Apollo instead of at Apollo.
Even weirder was the closer he tried to reach her, the farther and farther away she seemed. It was as if the entire street of houses extended for what appeared to be an eternity. “Please don’t leave me again, I need you!” Apollo cupped his hand to his mouth.
“Remember Apollo, you’re stronger than this,” Mama said as everything around him disappeared into a void of blackness.
#
Apollo twisted, turned, and struggled. He jumped to his feet, breathing heavily and shivering from the moist shirt sticking to his back. He took a moment to gather his wits, eventually realizing he’d been sleeping in a hotel room.
“Why did you have to leave me so soon?” he asked himself, the room quiet and sullen. The digital clock beside the television on the dressing table read 5:52 p.m.
It was only supposed to be a short nap. Time seems to be nonexistent when you’re still drowning in your sorrows. Apollo looked at the curtains and gave a subtle push, causing them to drift apart. Mama always used to say if you were feeling down, open up the curtains and allow some natural sunlight to bless you with its presence. Thankfully, the sun obliged. Whether it would’ve changed his mood remained to be seen. Only thing that will brighten up my mood is a hot shower and some food.
After toweling himself dry and applying some cocoa butter lotion across his body, Apollo took a minute to admire his appearance in the mirror. It was refreshing not having to wear some ridiculous hospital garment with critter blood crusted to your skin. I actually look presentable now. Apollo exited the bathroom and extended his hand at the table, his wallet and room keycard flying effortlessly into it. Heading down a flight of stairs and through the lobby, it was time to see what the city of Windham had to offer.
The streets were a lot cleaner than the ones back in Toronno and Sauga. The sidewalks were damn near spotless and definitely not as crowded. Apollo had enough space to do several cartwheels without worrying about hitting another pedestrian. And, if he did, the residents here didn’t seem to mind. With the number of people Apollo saw smiling, everyone around this city seemed enthralled with life.
The majority of the buildings surrounding him seemed to be inspired and constructed in a very medieval-like manner, with thick walls and various circular and triangular shapes covering the tops of them. Of course, there was the odd corporate glass office building looking down on the rest of the city, but for the most part, it seemed very reminiscent of Victorian-era England. Unlike Toronno, there weren’t any advertisements slapping people in the face, priming them to get their credit cards ready for a transaction. The atmosphere and energy of the city felt very organic so far. Which, I must say, is a welcomed change.
The sound of a honking vehicle snapped him out of his thoughts, halting him before he crossed the street. A female driver made exaggerated gestures with her hands, pointing toward the traffic lights. Apollo studied her lips as they moved, unable to catch all of what she said, but it went something along the lines of pay attention to the road, asshole.
She sped off down the street as her car engine roared obnoxiously in the air. It would’ve been all too easy to send her vehicle flying across lanes, sending her to a fiery death, but Apollo didn’t want to jeopardize the lives of other drivers and pedestrians. So, not everyone here is enthralled with life, but I suppose every city has at least one miserable prick.
Apollo crossed the street and the smell of fresh grilled chicken tickled his nose. He stopped in front of a large window poster displaying a grilled chicken submarine with mozzarella cheese stringing from its sides. Damn, that looks fire. He read the promotion beside the image:
ORDER YOUR GRILLED CHICKEN SANDWICH + DRINK FOR ONLY SEVEN DOLLARS!
IT'S CHICKALICKIN' GREAT!
That’s kinda lame, but I’m hungry, so I’ll give it a try. Apollo looked at the sign above to catch the shop's name: Freddie’s Grilled Subs.
Freshly chopped red onions, chicken, beef, and pork sizzling on a flat iron grill greeted him as he walked in. The three chefs cooking behind the counter were hard at work: one rapidly slicing vegetables with efficient precision, another slicing meats, and the last preparing the sandwiches and bagging them afterward.
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Quite a few people were waiting in line, but because of the chefs' efficiency, the line moved quickly, with satisfied customers either taking their orders to go or sitting at one of the vacant tables to eat.
A tanned-skinned gentleman appeared from the back. He wore a maroon-colored buttoned-up shirt with the name Freddie stitched in white cursive writing. “I can help the next customer in line!” Freddie said, his voice sonorous and fluctuating like he was singing.
Apollo walked up to the counter. “Hi, could I get the special that’s promoted on your poster?”
Freddie looked at him through his steel-gray eyes, mouth straight. “I dunno, can you get the special that’s promoted on our poster?” Freddie shrugged. His stoic demeanor eventually turned playful as a smile tugged on his lips, revealing a gold tooth. “Just kidding wiz you, my friend. You can get anything you want as long as you got ze money to pay for it!” He turned to one of the chefs. “Ain’t that right, Francesco?”
Apollo smiled as he reached for his wallet. “And could I also get—”
“No!” Freddie banged his hand on the counter, his eyes wide. This time he looked serious, but he couldn’t hold the act for long, bursting out into hard laughter. “I’m two for two! I can tell you’re new here. You’ll have to get used to me.” He placed his hand at his heart and bowed his head as a sign of courtesy. “Which drink would you like, my friend?” He pointed toward the fridge behind him, revealing a variety of choices.
Apollo looked through the rows to see which one caught his eye. “I’ll take the wild berry fusion,” he said, leaving ten dollars on the counter. Freddie punched in his order, giving Apollo his change and his glass-bottled drink.
“Here you go, my friend!” Freddie smiled, handing Apollo a warm chocolate chip cookie wrapped in a brown napkin. “People come back from ze dead just for zees cookies.” Freddie laughed again, harder this time that it turned into a laughing cough.
Apollo smiled and thanked him for his splendid customer service as he slid to the right, waiting for his order to be called. Something magical happened when he took a bite out of his chocolate chip cookie. Warm, sugary goodness collapsed under the weight of his teeth as he chewed, the chocolate chips melting upon contact with his tongue, leaving him with a sublime aftertaste. Now Apollo understood why Freddie said people came back from the dead to eat them. Apollo chuckled at the absurdity even though the cookies were actually out of this world good.
Freddie was obviously doing well for himself because the lineup and laughter began to grow by the minute. The way he interacted and engaged his customers was highly admirable. Why would anyone want to go elsewhere when they could come to Freddie’s, order a sandwich, and know they’ll receive a once-in-a-lifetime experience?
“Large grilled buffalo chicken!” one of the chefs called.
Apollo raised his hand and stepped up to receive his order.
“Is this for here or to go?”
“For here, please.”
The chef grabbed a couple of napkins along with his sandwich and placed them onto a tray. “Would you like ketchup with that?”
“No, thank you,” Apollo said, taking his tray and sitting at the table located in front of the television that hung from the wall. Saliva began to develop in his mouth as he got comfortable in his chair, the smell of freshly grilled onions, chicken, and ranch dressing rising into his nose. Strings of melted provolone cheese drooped from his soft whole wheat bun as Apollo took his first bite, nodding his head in mass approval as he swallowed. Incredible! Absolutely incredible!
This was by far one of the best sandwiches he’d ever had in his life, rivaling Mama’s homemade grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. Apollo uncapped his drink and took a few sips as he glanced at the television displaying CN247 news. A male and female reporter stood in front of the south entrance of Sauga Valley High School, strings of yellow caution tape clearly visible behind them. The ticker at the bottom of the screen read:
BREAKING NEWS
SAUGA VALLEY HIGH SCHOOL MASSACRE
AT LEAST 12 STUDENTS AND 3 TEACHERS DEAD + 6 MORE INJURED
Apollo slowly set his drink down and leaned forward to hear what the reporters were saying.
“So here’s what we know so far,” the female reporter said, looking down at the notes in her notebook. “The gunman remains publicly unidentified, but police and Sauga Valley’s principal suspect he was a student of black descent. The attacks all took place inside the gymnasium at approximately ten-thirty P.M. Police are asking any witnesses to come forth with any information they can provide.”
Apollo’s appetite suddenly escaped him.
“One student managed to capture the chaos outside on his smartphone,” the male reporter said, coverage now showing footage of the scene. “As you can clearly see, students are screaming in all directions hoping to get as far away from the crime scene as fast as they possibly can.”
So those screams of terror I heard last night on my hospital bed were actually scenes from the future? Apollo stored the cap on his drink and twisted it shut. A pity I couldn't find your brother at the dance tonight 'cause I would’ve filled his ass with hot lead the same I did to his friend. The image of the critter pointing his gun at him froze in his mind like a snapshot.
And then Apollo remembered …
Oh NO! I handled the gun! A cold shiver traveled throughout Apollo’s body. “No, no, no!” Apollo muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Everyone’s going to think I’m the one who killed those students at school!” Apollo quickly gathered his things, his knees buckling as he stood and approached the counter. “Excuse me,” Apollo called to the chef who made his sandwich, “is it okay if you could put this in a container and I take it to go?” Apollo’s arms trembled as he handed it to him.
“Not a problem.” The chef placed his sandwich into a container and stored it in a plastic bag.
“Thank you so much,” Apollo said, almost spilling the container out of the bag.
“You got it?” the chef asked.
Apollo quickly recovered and tied the bag's handles so his sandwich wouldn’t spill outside. “Yes, thank you.” He stuck out his thumb before leaving.
The summer breeze blowing across his face was a lot cooler than normal. “How could I’ve been so stupid?” He licked his lips and took a few deep breaths to calm his mind. It didn’t help. Apollo gripped his chest and winced at the thousand knives piercing his heart all at once, or so it felt like. He took a rest along a light pole. With my fingerprints on the gun Donovan used, police are going to be coming after me! FUCK!
Perhaps Donovan was the one to get the last laugh after all, although it wasn’t a death sentence it was issuing. It was a life sentence ... behind bars.
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