***
Explosions of yellows and black fill the room. Images of artilleries and jet fighters tower like jagged tombstones over a darkened hall full of glazed eyes.
Planes with red lines with silver-tipped wings race across the screen, showing at once the unlimited potential of man and his inevitable self-demise. And the only thought on my mind was, “What’s the point?”
“We will remember you,” they promise the soldiers. But that’s no value at all. Who cares if anyone remembers you when you’re gone? There’s not much room for ego when worms are wiggling between your toes. There is no honor in the sacrifice of one’s hands anymore. It’s enough to make one want to scrape one’s eyeballs off the floor. To dedicate oneself to the expansion of a world where horrors were dated and narrated neatly on overheads and chalkboards was a cheap bet.
Still I couldn’t get the kids out of my head. It was a thin line, I mused – the place between the people who become a part of your life and the ones that just walk right out of it.
A part of me knew I would never see them again. But it had been a nice day, I reasoned. It almost seemed fitting that these new characters I met should fade into oblivion.
Then the door swung open. In sauntered a staunch woodsman with stubble and eyes with contempt. He started arguing with the professor and I listened half-heartedly to his fragmented logic until I noticed the American accent. My head clanged with all sorts of bells. Not alarm bells – joyous bells, of the church and wedding variety.
“Did you know that Gloria Steinam worked for the CIA?” the woodsman challenged.
The professor sighed. “Did you know that you have a conspiratorial mind?”
As the fight dragged on I slid my way across the desks, one by one, until I was sitting directly behind him.
“You’re American,” I whispered once the professor droned again.
He nodded. “Pennsylvania. You?”
“Illinois.”
“Blue state.” Good. I had his trust. Let us begin.
“Where you staying?”
He puffed his chest and let out a long exhale. “A hostel at the moment. I’m looking to get out as quick as possible. I think my roommate is homicidal – so that’s an issue. I’ve caught him staring at me while I sleep.” His eyes rolled upwards and he gave me a sideways glance.
This was it. My big sell. I took a deep breath. “I’m at the Railway campus.”
“That place looks nice,” he said. “It’s just really expensive.” Bingo!
“It is nice,” I stressed. “Real nice. The only thing is, now I’ve got these friends here, and I want to live with them, but I’m locked in this contract I don’t want.” I waved my hand as if the thought had just occurred to me. “If I could just find someone to cover my rent, for like, a hundred and forty dollars a week” – his eyes glowed – “I could give up my room and live with them.”
“I’d take that room,” he said, almost tripping over the words. He said he’d need about a week to get his things in order. The bell rang and we shook hands. I had never benefited so much from attending class.
“Then the unthinkable happens,” the professor thundered.
THWACK!
I was reading Kubla Khan when I heard something hit my window. Rocks? Was I in a bad romance novel? Then a voice in the dark called out my name. I poked my head out the window to find Jack waving his arms.
“Hellooooooooo!”
I couldn’t believe it. “Hey!” I called out into the darkness. “How did you find me?”
“She’s here!” Jack’s wings fluttered. “You have no idea how long we have been looking for you. Stop the rocks!” I looked to my right. Each window had a rock-shaped hole, running all the way down to the end.
“I’m so glad you’re back!” Shelley called. “I thought we would never see you again!”
My brow furrowed. “But you left me.”
“Our car broke down on the way back.” Shelley shook her head. “And we all thought, ‘Where’s Addison now?’”
I had been with them only one night, and I was not only part of the group, I had become the one to whom all responsibility was deferred. Perhaps they were just being lazy, but still – I was secretly thrilled.
“Our biggest party of the year is coming up next weekend. You have to come!”
Were it not for the cows. “I can’t make it,” I mourned.
“You have to.”
“I have to go to a farm next weekend.”
“A farm on a weekend?” Jack was incredulous. “For what?”
“Some cultural thing.”
“Ben!” Jack shouted. The boy slouching next to him stood at attention. “Addison here,” he said with a gesture, “is going to miss our party to go on a cow killing expedition, against her will. And” – he resounded with a final blow – “she’s vegetarian!”
Ben gasped. “No!” He turned with a start. “Don’t do it.”
“I have to do it.”
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat.” Jack’s accent made the word nearly indecipherable. “If you want to milk a cow, or kill a cow, I have friends with farms. And I will take you down there on some other weekend, and you can hug as many cows as you want. But don’t miss next weekend. You have to come to Flat 56!”
I paused. “Flat 56?”
“Where we live,” Jack insisted. He turned to Ben. “How many people live there – ten?”
“Something like that,” Ben said. “It’s always changing. It’s an abandoned floor above a bar in the city. We throw the biggest parties. Huge parties and everyone dresses up.”
“All the people here,” Jack gestured with a sweep of his arm at the kids milling around, “I only know from Flat 56 parties. We’re headed there now. You should come!”
I glanced at the clock. Midnight.
Leslie rubbed her eyes in the other bed. “Who’s there?”
“Where’s your place?” I asked.
“On Broadway,” Jack said.
“Are those the people from the beach?” Leslie fumbled for her glasses.
I must have been hearing things. “Come again?”
“BROADway.” He called again. My fingers danced on the frame in contemplation. “All you have to say is maybe,” Jack’s voice sang up to the window.
“I’ll be down in a second!”
“Where are you going?” Leslie gasped.
“I don’t know!”
Outside Jack was discussing logistics with Ben. “How many does that make in the car – ten? Twelve. It doesn’t matter. We cut out the seatbelts ages ago.”
“But how will you get back?”
“Somehow,” I lied.
“You’re insane.” Leslie lunged for her robe. “And I’m coming with.”
I leapt out the door and sprang down the stairs. The door groaned as I slammed it shut. I looked up one last time. Goodbye Railway, you rat bastard half hostel half jail soul sucking empire. May we never meet again.
I struck the key into the ignition and the car roared to life.
I was on my way.
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