Route 26

ix

The minutes tick away as fast as they possibly can, and in a blink it's two in the morning. I can't sleep. Perhaps it's because I slept for eleven hours straight on the road. I can see the sky from a tear in the tent, and for the first time in many years, I can't count them. I tried to wake up Ray but he wouldn't budge, so I suppose I'll wait for sleep to come to me tonight. 

It's 2:15 am and everyone's still asleep. There's nothing much to do right now. I turned the light off, so it's completely dark. It may help me fall asleep. I stretch, try the forty push ups, blink my eyes, but nothing works. A weird noise from the opening of the tent catches my attention. I grab my phone and shine the dim light over to it. It's a rat! I make poor attempts to shoo it off with my hand, but it creeps closer. It stops as if sudden realization hit it, and turns around and runs away. I turn the light off again. 

"Damn rodent!" It's Nicholas. 

He happens to be awake at this hour. I remove the sheets and wear my jacket. It's colder outside. I exit the tent and sit beside it. I watch him as he whistles the tune. Cut my metal braids you clueless fools, and I'll help you see your perks too. Slowly, he unwraps the bandages around his wrist and reveals the most astonishing marks. The wounds aren't blue-black or red. He touches the skin around the wounds carefully. They're gold. He's bleeding gold. He cleans his wounds with a napkin. I don't know if he can can see any of it, but the napkin turns red where the wound still remains gold. I shuffle to my feet. He turns around to face me.

"Ben? You're supposed to be asleep. What are you doing up so late?"

He wraps the bandages again. He should wash those when he gets a chance, it could infect the wound.

"You're supposed to be asleep too."

He nods. He reaches in his pocket and takes out a cigarette and a lighter. 

"Can I have one?" I ask.

Nico gives me a blank look. "Do you smoke?"

"No, but I would like to try it once."

He goes silent for a moment while the smoke dances. "Sure," he says while handing me his, but he jerks it back quickly, "only if you promise not to smoke again."

I nod, and he gives me the cigarette. I look at him, confused. "I have no idea how this works."

He studied my face as if he were looking at one of those complicated graph-related questions in geometry he was clearly not interested in. "It's fine. I can teach you. You just have to breathe in the smoke and let it out through your mouth just the same as air."

I breathe it in, but just as it reaches my throat, I cough. This is inconvenient. I try a second time, and it's better. I let it out with ease. Nico holds out a hand, and I give the cigarette back to him.

"What is that?" I gesture to his wrist.

"Chain marks."

I look to his neck. "Then, that must have been the leash."

"It was."

He takes a puff. "The mountains have been moving around us. You've noticed it too, haven't you?"

I flinched, "You can see it?"

He nodded. "I've been noticing it quite a lot these days while travelling. The others don't, though. It could be because of the moon."

"What do you mean? The moon moves the tides, not the mountains."

"Well, my mum used to say that. I believed that for a long time before the stories stopped."

"What did she say?"

"She said the mountains moved the rocks and people were ignorant to not notice it. Like the tides, the masses moved because they suffocated staying in one place."

"What other stories did she tell you?"

Stories have been an escape from here, from the cold, dry truth. They provide some warmth, loosen the chain, maybe turn the cuffs to lilac petal so it doesn't hurt too much. Anything can become a drug, anything can become addicting. You just have to let it overpower you, drown you till you can't feel yourself without it anymore. That's the kind of victory I have allowed stories. I have given them myself.

Nicholas continues to tell me more. He told me that humans could swim as naturally as fish and breathe underwater till they decided fish were not equal to them and stopped. They decided they were superior and wanted to live above them. He said that they discouraged swimming, and children grew learning to walk only. They forgot it, but when the gills disappeared, they were confused. No matter how much they tried, they could not get them back. 

A small group of fish, who were arrogant, began to jump out of the water. They fought for the title of the highest jumper. Of them, a fry flapped her fins and floated in the air. Many more learned to do that, and were up in the air for hours. Like the humans, the fish became birds, and grew claws and wings. They no longer had gills or fins.

He told me more and more till he was tired. 

"You should go to bed. It's a ten hour drive before we reach Ledrin." 

He stands up and starts walking toward the tent. "I'll see you in the morning, Ben. Good night."

"Good night."

A gray eyed lady sits in a cottage lit with candlelight. She wore a yellow tunic and had skin the colour of elm tree wood. She sat at her table waiting for a guest. Her silver locks, like stars, wise and bright, a thousand years old, defined her face well. She was not young, but her eyes, childlike and sterling, told another story. 

"Wake up, weirdo!"