Fall of Hope (Book 1): Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes (40 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Danny
is rapping on the door and has been for the past three minutes. He
seems likely to continue until the world comes to a devastating end.
Bobby leaves him until his neighbours' suspicion is about to arouse,
then peels his sweaty skin from the sofa to answer.

“
Dude,
I know things are tough, but there's just no excuse for the lack of
clothing.” Danny motions towards his mate, then steps through
with flowers in his hand.

Bobby
closes the door and follows his mate's 'I'm trying my best not to
look too happy, but not too sad either' face. In other circumstances,
Bobby may have taken the opportunity for some light ribbing. Right
now though, there appears to be no situation he can conceive of which
would warrant it. Just seeing Danny today is a direct smack in the
gut.

Disappearing
into the front room, Bobby grabs his filthy jeans from the floor and
slips into them. He didn't want to admit to anybody he is sleeping
down here, but after a few days, Danny and his mum noticed. Miss
Summers told him it was understandable, 'e
specially
with your poor mother getting stabbed in your room'.
She
hadn't outright said that, but Bobby could see it in her eyes.

There
are now two rooms within this empty house he can no longer stand to
enter. He hasn't even slipped inside his bedroom for a clean pair of
underwear. The stench coming from him must be miserable, but he must
be immune to it because he can smell nothing.

Clothes
sit on the dining table, still folded and fresh. He has picked them
up and allowed the jasmine scent to flood his nostrils, but wearing
them seems like an awful idea.

The
last items she washed, desecrated with body odour and food residue.
She'd love that.

“
My
mum sent me with the flowers. She's worried that you wouldn't have a
reef, so she ordered you one. It's yellow and says 'mum'. She didn't
know what colour and you wouldn't say. She said she chose it because
it's a summer colour and your mum was always out there—”

“
It's
fine. Thanks.”

My
mum liked blue. I'd have picked blue. Are you stupid?

He
wants to say what he's thinking, but keeps quiet.

What
does it matter now, anyway?

“
These
are," Danny mumbles, holding the flowers out as he stands in the
doorway, watching Bobby struggling with his t-shirt. “Are in
case you want to throw them in with the coffin, or—”

“
Okay,
just put them down somewhere.”

And
leave.

Danny
struggles to find somewhere to rest them among the mess of papers and
food boxes. He settles for the single chair at the end of the coffee
table.

“
I've
got this so you can write your message on.”

After
he has rolled his t-shirt down, Bobby plucks the card from Danny's
fingers and gives it the once over. After he reads 'in loving memory'
across the top in fancy script, he drops it on the mantelpiece.

“
Cheers,
I'll fill it in later,” he crocks.

Those
words pulsate in his vision before he can no longer stand it, so he
reverts his gaze.

When
Danny locks eyes with the painting now hanging on the wall beside the
fireplace, his face scrunches with confusion. The instructions told
Bobby to hang it there, so he used tape around the corners to hold it
in place. It isn't as grand as it was in the frame, but it conjures
the same feelings Bobby needs to get him through another day.

“
Mate,
listen—”

“
Danny,
I know you mean well, but don't.”

“
You
don't look good,” he comments, ignoring his mate's request.

Of
course I don't, my mum's dead. My dad murdered her and left me to
deal with it. I have no one in my life—no family, nothing.

Bobby
turns and walks into the kitchen with his eyes stinging in the
corners. At the sink, he stops and peers into the garden with obvious
discomfort. The garden will never again have the amount of care it
had before.

I
won't be able to stay here. I can't make the payments, so they'll
chuck me onto the street and I'll never be close to her, or Benji
again.

A
tidal wave of sadness drowns him when he considers the rooms he
cannot enter. He feels foolish for not having sat on Benji's bed in
all those years to feel him close.

Ignoring
the thoughts as best he can—crying is not something he wants to
be doing in front of Danny—he pulls back. He opens the fridge
and pulls the milk free. Different coloured bags, tubs, bowls and
trays from the concerned neighbours stare at him from the shelving.
Just the thought of opening them curdles his stomach, so he slams the
door closed.

Who
the hell is here to eat it, anyway?

“
I
just mean are you going to be okay for the funeral? My mum asked if
you need a new suit because I can lend you one—”

“
I've
still got the one from Benji's funeral.”

“
That
was three years ago though, you've grown since then,” Danny
comments. He props himself against the counter and watches as Bobby
reaches for a glass from the top cupboard.

“
I
haven't grown that much,” is all he mumbles back, wishing there
was a polite way of telling someone to
get
lost
.
He can hear the depression and indifference that has settled inside
his mind, and he wonders whether this is what his mother felt when
she fell inside herself.

“
I'll
get my mum to get you one in case.”

Screwing
the lid back on the milk, Bobby turns to his lifelong pal and
grumbles his thanks.

After
replacing the carton, he drifts back and gulps the milk down in three
parts. It could taste like toilet water for all he acknowledges as he
wipes the white moustache away.

“
Hey,
maybe you could come around mine and do something. It might take your
mind off all this for a bit. We could shoot the undead—”
Danny curses himself and shifts his gaze. “Sorry.”

“
It's
okay,” Bobby replies after a moment. “I've got to do
something, anyway.”

“
Oh,
yeah?”

“
Yeah,
I'll explain later.”

“
It's
to do with those dreams you've been having, isn't it? Is that why
you've got that painting?”

Bobby
glances over to him and wonders how much he can tell him.

Maybe
he'll tell me I'm mad and I'll be able to let it go.

“
I
guess. What day is it?”

“
Tuesday,
why?”

“
That
means I couldn't have dreamt that.”

“
Dreamt
what?”

“
But
somehow I lost hours between there and the alley, then I ended up
back here.”

Danny's
face contorts with worry as he moves closer. His nose curls up at the
smell lingering on his mate, but he remains grounded. He doesn't want
the whole
pity routine
to surface and fears it may show in his
eyes, but he reaches a hand out regardless.

“
It
m
akes
no sense.”

“
Bobby?”

“
Oh,
did I tell you?” Bobby snaps his head forwards his mate and
forces him to drop his hand. “Remember that dream you had of
Gunner and I? Well, I think he might be real—a real person! I
know it sounds kind of crazy, but I saw him—”

“
Bobby?”

“
And
this place—the one I've been dreaming about—it's real, I
swear. I was there yesterday, but only it isn't the same. Maybe it's
because the place needs help—that might be why the war Gage
talks about is so important. I even found the painting out in the
trash that shows it is, don't you see?”

“
Bobby,
you were here yesterday,” Danny says, dropping a hand on his
shoulder.

“
T
he
bluebells should lead the way to the house, but they weren't there.
The house must be there somewhere though, I just have to find it.”

“
I
was with you yesterday. You had some kind of breakdown and then fell
asleep. I left you on the sofa last night.”

“
It
was in day. It's always day there. Even though the mist was blocking
it, I could still see the sun through the trees. Do you know what
this means?”

Licking
his tongue out over his bottom lip, Danny's face is now a blend of
worry and panic.

“
I
know what it sounds like, but you've got to believe me. I saw it with
my own eyes. I felt it too. And I know there are more people out
there like me because I saw their faces in my dream. There's Gage,
the artist who painted the picture and this dude with fire coming
from his hands. Oh, and this beautiful blonde girl. I reckon you'd
love the dark-haired one though, she looks like something from a
fantasy—”

Danny
rubs at his face and stares at the ground for a moment, listening to
him babbling on before he interrupts. “Dreams can be like that,
Bobby. After all, I should know. I have them all the time like the
one with the girl. They feel real when you're in them, but
ninety-nine percent of the time they mean nothing. It's just lucid
dreaming.”

“
No,
they're not like that—”

“
I
know you want to believe what you saw is real with—”

“
With
what?” Bobby snaps more harsh than he intended. “With
everyone leaving? You think I'm going crazy, don't you? You think I'm
cracking up, but I'm not. Mum and I used to go there. We used to take
a picnic and walk through the woods where there are millions of
bluebells. The sun never goes down, apart from yesterday, but there's
this red path and—”

“
Bobby,
stop.”

“
You
don't believe me? There's this gap through my shed and it leads
straight out into the woods. I don't know how, but it does and it has
since I can remember.”

“
That's
not possible, don't you see?”

Bobby
grabs Danny by the upper arm and pulls him into the hallway. “Come
with me and I'll show you. Just let me get my shoes on.”