Fall of Hope (Book 1): Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes (32 page)

Is
that what they are trying though, or are they preparing for
something?

Bobby
Ames: Well, since you told me about them, I have seen them more than
once. It started with one standing alone, staring at me. Then three
were in my dream, then more on the street. No one else noticed them
though.

Static
Whisper: Serious?

Bobby
Ames: Yeah. I was wondering if you could tell me any more about them,
or what you think they want.

There
is a pause, so she must be thinking. Yet, whether she is trying to
work out if he's joking, or what to tell him, he isn't sure. But she
is not typing, so he waits. He uses his time to turn around and check
on his mother again.

The
room has darkened since he sat down. After staring at the bright
screen, he struggles to squint within the gloom to see the outline of
her body. Once he does, he waits to see her chest rising. Words form
under her breath. To Bobby's ears as he stains to hear it sounds as
though she is repeating the word “light”.

The
light shall guide the way and forever bind us.

Shaking
his brother's dream words from his mind, he turns back to the screen
to see Reggie hasn't logged out like he assumed she would. She is
typing.

Bobby
clicks off the page, saves the feeble attempt at a poem and closes it
down.

What
the hell follows 'whispers travel across the precipice', anyway?

“
Light.”

Spinning
around again, he stares at his mother in the darkness. That single
word is more defined than any other time, then silence resumes.

“
Light,”
Bobby whispers in agreement. He tries to bat it away from his
conscious mind by telling himself it is nothing but a meaningless
word.

Is
it though?

Writing
pops up at the bottom of the screen and Bobby reads the message left
by Reggie.

Static
Whisper: Do you think something will happen? Are they after me? I'm
not sure what to tell you, all I know is they are from somewhere
else.

Bobby
Ames: Where?

Static
Whisper: I don't know. Should I pack and leave?

Bobby
Ames: Another planet, another dimension, another time—where?

Static
Whisper: I don't know, but it's bad wherever it is. I can feel it
when their eyes crawl over my body. I'm going to go now; I have to
get away from here.

Bobby
Ames: Wait! Don't do anything silly. You said everything was okay.
Maybe they are just watching us for something. Maybe they can't hurt
anyone at all. Have they ever harmed you?

Static
Whisper: No, but that doesn't mean they won't.

Bobby
has a flash of them dragging him under the water with their clawed
fingers around his ankle.

Bobby
Ames: Don't panic, please. I think they aren't here to hurt us. I get
the impression they can't.

Static
Whisper: What the hell does that mean?

Bobby
Ames: How do you know they have eyes if you've never seen them?

He
thinks back to what he saw of their eyes while asleep and shivers.

Without
divulging Gage's plans of smuggling them both into another world, he
cannot explain. Yet, when he saw them on the street, they were
transparent like the other creatures. They hadn't touched him in his
dream either until he was in the blood.

Static
Whisper: I never see their faces. They are always hidden under those
big hoods. It always appears to be only darkness inside, but in my
dreams I have seen them once, or twice.

Bobby
Ames: Doing what?

Static
Whisper: They watch as they stand in a red sea.

Bobby
Ames: Watch what?

Static
Whisper: There is this figure standing on the shore. All around him
are dead bodies and trails of blood. It's horrible and I always wake
up coughing like I'm choking.

Bobby
Ames: What does the figure look like?

Static
Whisper: I don't know. He is a shadow without features.

Bobby
Ames: How do you know it's a 'he'?

Static
Whisper: I just know, like the way you know something is true deep
down, but can't prove it.

Thinking
back to his dreams, a chill caresses his skin and slips beneath the
material.

Bobby
Ames: And what do the red coats look like?

Static
Whisper: Their faces are white. Their skin seems thin on the face,
but around the neck it hangs in thick rolls. Their eyes are absent
and the skin beneath them stretches to reveal red slits. They are
disgusting.

Bobby
Ames: Do they have leaking wounds on their foreheads?

Static
Whisper: Yes! You've seen their faces too?

Bobby
Ames: Yeah, it was an ugly sight! Listen, you have to stay put and
wait. We can figure this out together, okay?

Do
others see them, or is it only us?

The
light shall guide the way and forever bind us.

Looking
at her fake name, he cannot help considering whether there is more to
this than he realised.

If
we are the only people able to see these monstrosities, then what
does that mean?

Bobby
makes a mental note to ask Gage when he next comes creeping in from
wherever he goes. Maybe he knows something about why they are
appearing.

When
he spins to check on his mother again, a tingling noise jolts him. He
reverts his attention to the screen to see another page pop up. It is
the inbox to his email, which is funny because he doesn't recall
having logged in today.

My
email has never made a sound like that when receiving mail.

Using
the mouse, he expands the page to see he has received a new email
from an unknown source. The email says the sender is from Jason
Burns, but he cannot say he knows anybody by that name.

Must
be someone asking for a poem.

Yet,
when Bobby opens the email, he sees it is not someone asking for a
poem. The simple message he reads sends a chill to his heart.

How
the hell does he know my name?

Bobby,

It's
nice to find you after so long. I've been waiting for this moment to
arrive for ages, but I guess we'll be meeting in the flesh soon
enough.

There
is no time to explain what is going on as they are watching as I type
this. I don't know whether this will reach you, besides the blind
faith it must.

I
have to tell you that, although the time ahead will be difficult, you
must keep your head. Be ready when the time comes. Do not engage the
red cloaks; you must avoid them at all costs!

This
is your trial and you cannot fail, for everything in existence
depends on it. We depend on you.

Anyway,
I have remained here too long and must go before they catch me again.
Just follow the light and we will cross paths soon enough.

The
Artist.

The
artist? So who is Rocky Kaufmann then?

As
Bobby mulls over the “light” everyone keeps referring to,
his mother mumbles the word. He doesn't bother turning to her this
time as he stares at the screen, expecting more. There is nothing
more to be had, so he clicks back onto the other page to find Reggie
has logged out.

“
Well
that answered my question,” Bobby whispers, referring to these
so-called red cloaks.

We
are not the only ones.

If
The Artist's message is anything to go by, then maybe they are
dangerous after all.

Or
at least he believes they are.

He
wishes he could update Reggie with this new information for her
safety, so he sends her a message hoping she will log back on and see
it before she does anything silly.

With
any luck, she will pack up and leave like she threatened to.

But
without the vaguest idea of what danger they possess, he is at a loss
to what to suggest. All he can do is pass on what he knows and tell
her to not go anywhere near them.

He
turns the computer off once the message sends, then spins around and
glances toward his bed. Tonight he will have to sleep on the sofa.
The thought of waking his mother to send her into her bed disheartens
him. So, he kisses her forehead and leaves her in the darkness with
the stars now twinkling in their full glory.

•

Out
through the front room window, Bobby watches his most loved three
stars of Orion's belt. Yet, they warm his heart none, so he pulls the
curtain closed again.

Bobby
settles beneath the thin blanket with his bare legs finding crumbs.
His body dips in the crevices of the cushions, and a frustrated
exhale escapes his lips.

He
is sure sleep will elude him for the rest of the night. When he rolls
over to check the time on the TV's digital clock, he sees it's
already three minutes past ten. His father is yet to roll in, but he
hopes it remains that way.

He
is probably slumped against a wall somewhere covered in his own
vomit, or in some woman's bed.

But
thoughts of his father soon fall away as sleep overrides his eyes and
pulls him into an unknown world.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Whispers
travel across the precipice

In
words that are never defined

And
they mean nothing to you,

Yet,
they rattle sempiternal inside my mind.

The
moment he opens his eyes, the familiar crimson allure greets him.
Within the clouds, the crackles of lightening soar inside as though a
quiet storm is brewing.

Something
sharp bites at his toes as moisture pops and slips against his
ankles. He recognises the foul stench as sea weed. Enough of the
stuff washed up on the shore and wrapped itself around his chubby
little legs when he was a child.

Rubbing
at his temple, he peels his back from the sand where he lies. As he
darts his eyes over his surroundings, his vision is hazy and unsure.
He wipes the sleep away from the corner of his eyes—something
he hasn't done before while asleep. His skin feels like rubber as he
swipes against his eyelids; the action isn't satisfying at all.

As
he clambers to his feet, grains stick to the back of his legs and
scratch between his toes. Moisture clings to his lower half as he
draws his knees into his stomach, causing the sand to stick to his
cheeks. His orifice sucks up the grains like a magnet and make him
uncomfortable enough to shuffle on the spot.

His
brunette locks stick to his forehead. The trimmed sides expose the
tips of his reddened ears from the bitterness of the elements.