Ver Las Lanchas Como Mariposas

5: Greenery

Hasia slowly blinked back to life. He shot up and coughed, ridding his lungs of the red smoke still burning his nose. He tried to rub his eyes but only found that his hands were cuffed behind his back. The cuffs themselves were bolted to the floor with a thick silver chain. He rose, his body aching from the struggle.

He was moving. Or, the ground was moving under him. He realized he was being transported, probably by an armored truck. He was a prisoner.

Although the back of the truck was dim and bare, he caught glimpses of the front through a thick, bulletproof glass with chainlink on either side. Masked figures, similar to those from the parade sat in both front seats. They were larger than the attackers, though. Their masks weren't red, either---instead, they were a striking violet. 

It was dawn, from what Hasia could see. The sky was a muted purple with flecks of white stars that faded slowly. 

One of the Masks saw him looking into the window and shouted to sit. 

"Where are we?" Hasia asked in return.

"Sit." It grunted back.

"Tell me where we are. What did I do? Who are you?" 

The Mask held a hand and miraculously shifted the glass and chainlink away. It brought up a knife in the other hand, almost reaching Hasia's throat.

"Sit down, kid. They want you alive, but I'm trained to defend. Ask too many questions, and we might have to tell them you got violent."

"Who wants me alive?"

"Damn it, I said sit down!" The Mask held its hand up again, forcing Hasia to his knees. The glass shifted back to its original position, save for a small hole that seemingly couldn't return. Instead, as if melted, it dripped down Hasia's side of the wall. Through the opening, Hasia could see the small screen the Mask held. 

A feeling of emptiness and anger flooded Hasia. He hated being trapped, knowing nothing. Most of all, he hated that he couldn't make any money. He made appointments and contracts that were due today, and there was no chance he'd be able to just "make them up." 

His eyes didn't move from the screen as he tried to calculate his location. Before he could get enough information, the handled thing suddenly flew out of the hand of the Mask. Not dropped---flew, as if it was hit or pulled.

"Shit!" The Mask said. The screen bounced around the front of the truck into the lap of the driver, then onto the dashboard. The passenger Mask rushed to grab it, distracting the driver, and causing the whole truck to swerve. 

Hasia noticed that the bolt holding the chain was beginning to look hazy. The colors shifted as if they were melting into each other, then bubbling up. He reached for it and it wasn't hot---it wasn't anything. It wasn't even really there. The metal bent around his hands like smoke. He pulled the chain from the bolt with ease. 

"What the hell..." He whispered. The truck hit a bump in the road, causing Hasia to lose his footing. As he regained it, he realized the whole interior was now alight with a hazy teal glow. He saw every groove, every screw, every bend in the metal. He could even see the exterior; he spun around slowly as he took it all in. He saw the ground on which the wheels turned. But it wasn't like real sight, when light bounces off of an object. He was sensing the object was there without light, as if by echolocation.

Each point he concentrated on began to turn into the teal of its contour. He reached for the point to be met with the same smoky quality as the bolt. 

His gut told him to focus on the front tire. As he did, the whole thing glowed blue-green, brightening with every rotation until he couldn't tell it was rotating.

Suddenly, the truck swerved, centered around the wheel. Hasia broke his concentration to see that the opposite side was rapidly nearing a large tree. It was going to crash. Hasia braced himself for impact, waiting for the tree to smash into the side.

Instead, the tree carved through the back of the truck like a knife through butter. The entire back half fell, leaving a large gash. As this happened, the Masks in the front were thrown around, knocking their heads on the dash and steering wheel. They didn't move.

When the truck came to a stop, Hasia stood and gazed out the open back. The sun kissed the land and dewdrops shimmered in the new light. The air was fresh and spring-like. It was all dipped in a green light, absinth-stained and pure. 

For the first time in a long while, Hasia felt calm. He took in as much of the air as he could in a long breath as if the scene was embracing him like an old friend. There was a familiarity to the whole thing. He hopped out of the truck into the silent morning.

The other truck broke the silence.