Chapter 23
The First Kindling
Elijah wanted to cry but he knew that if he did, his life would get even worse. And yet, he felt that if he didn't cry… his innards would consume him whole. He hung his head low and waited for it to pass, for the mockery to end, for the laughter to cease, for the pain to subside. But it never did–it was a relenting onslaught, one that only got worse as time passed. He tried to ignore them, to set them aside in his mind and stay strong, but it was growing more and more difficult.
He knew why they hated him so much–but it wasn't his fault. It was his father's fault. Everything was his fault. Why his mom and sister weren't there, why every other kid his age in the entire encampment hated him, why everyone mocked him, laughed at him, but never went so far as to physically abuse him.
Leaving the building, he got a few sympathetic looks from the guards stationed about and a few nods which he responded to in kind. They never stepped in, but he didn't blame them. Those kids, just like him, were children of important figures, mostly the guard's superiors, and he wasn't worth risking a career for.
He slid to the rear of the building and sat down on the abandoned cache of boxes and wooden palettes, knees in his arms, sobbing voicelessly. Before all hell broke loose, he lived a very happy life–he had a happy family, a lot of friends, and hobbies that he could indulge in endlessly. Now… now he had nothing but pain and misery. His dad barely ever came to visit him, 'busy' with handling everything. His sister was lying in the nearby hospital, paralyzed from the waist down, on a perpetual suicide watch after an attempt, and his mother… he didn't even know where his mother was. Somewhere in the city, he garnered, buried under the waste and destruction, dead.
And now he heard the stories of monsters showing up and he saw an array of soldiers moving in and out of the encampment with big vehicles clearly hiding something and he was beginning to wonder what exactly he was living for. The future seemed beyond bleak, and the present wasn't exactly pristine either. Just when he was about to stand up and leave, he heard footsteps. Panicking, he failed to leave in time and came face-to-face with them, six boys who made his life a living hell.
"Ho ho, so, you were here?" their leader spoke. Elijah didn't know the boy's name–others simply called him J'--but he didn't care for it either. He was tall, and broadly built, and blamed Elijah because his father didn't get a promotion since Elijah's did. It made no sense, but it never did with kids like him, he knew.
"..." Elijah didn't speak–his mother always taught him that bullies would get bored if he never spoke and they would move on. The problem was that they had nobody else to move on to, at least not here.
"So, this is where you run off every day, huh?" J' strolled and looked about. "Fitting. Garbage living in garbage."
"..."
"You know, we have a bet going on," J' crouched down in front of Elijah. He was a tall boy–well over six feet, despite being Elijah's age. Supposedly, he had a chance of becoming an NBA recruit in an alternate universe where the world didn't drastically collapse. "Whether you're mute or not. I say you ain't, but some of my boys think you got so traumatised, your brain snapped and you can no longer speak. So, how about you clear it up for us?" J' grabbed the top of Elijah's head rather violently, holding it firmly. "Can you speak? Or did you become a retard? Oh, whoops. Sorry. Forgot I can't use that word anymore." a cacophony of laughter followed. It wasn't a funny joke–no, it wasn't even a joke. But that was what they did–they licked J's boots, no matter if it made sense or not.
"..." Elijah remained silent, trying to make himself as small as possible. It will pass, he mumbled to himself. Just endure.
"Haah, so, you plan on making me lose money, huh? Y'know, I don't like losing money," J' leaned in and pulled Elijah's head forward, their foreheads practically touching. "There ain't no guards here to report. We can do anything we want. You think your daddy cares if we rough you up a bit?"
"..." Elijah trembled, his eyes still glued to the ground. He's gonna beat me up, he knew it at that moment. He made a mistake leaving. Even if inside the building was miserable, at least they held back from assaulting him as the guards would be forced to step in. Here, though, there was nobody to step in.
"Buuuut~~if you speak up and win me some money," J' said with a wide smile. "Maaaybe I might just let you go."
"..." Elijah knew it was a trap–it always was. He would be beaten up today and there was no avoiding it. But still, there was a tiny part of him that was hopeful–hopeful that if he did what he was asked, they might let him go. So, he spoke. "R-really?" it was in a tiny voice, a voice barely audible, but J' heard it, and his smile widened further.
"See? He spoke! Told ya', losers! Ha ha ha, you bitches owe me big time, ha ha ha." J' stood up and walked away, and just as Elijah started believing he might not get beaten up after all, he looked up and saw the eyes of other boys. Ah, it was always going to play out this way. Either J' would have beaten him up if he stayed silent, or, if he spoke as he did, the other boys would.
He didn't even get a chance to say anything else when he felt a leg kick him in the back, sending him flat to the ground. He yelped, but another kick came in, this one into his kidney. Then another at his ribs. Then another at the back of his head. Then another. Another. Another. The pain began to assault him from all corners, and he started crying. In part because the beating hurt, but mostly because he was miserable.
"Ha ha ha, is he crying? Oh my god, he's actually crying! Ha ha ha, what a lil' bitch!"
He curled up as much as he could, shielding his head from the direct blows. But it hardly helped with the pain–wherever their boots connected, it hurt. He was certain that they'd cracked at least a couple of his bones, and he worried he might even have internal bleeding. No, perhaps worried was a wrong sentiment–he'd hoped for it. He would die, and they'd be accused, and in some strange, karmic and cosmic justice, they'd be publicly executed.
Elijah knew that it was just his fantasy–even if they did kill him, they'd, at worst, be locked up for a few 'years' and not much else. Such was the world, where true evil rarely went properly punished, and the broken minds who abused and extorted those around them were rewarded with riches beyond reproach. Suddenly, the beating stopped. Elijah wasn't certain as to why–perhaps they got bored–but his questions were answered right after. Apparently, someone else was there.
"Yo, who the fuck are you and do you want to die?" J' spoke to someone behind Elijah.
"..." Whoever it was didn't seem to reply, prompting Elijah to sneak a peek. Standing behind him was a fairly tall man dressed ordinarily, looking at him. Their eyes locked, and in those reddish portals, he saw… sympathy. Not pity, but sympathy.
"Hm? You know this kid?" J' asked, yanking Elijah up by his hair, prompting the boy to cry out again. "What? You wanna save him? Be a big hero? Report to his daddy you saved his boy and ask for a reward?"
"You know what I really want to do?" The man's voice was calm, untouched, even.
"What?"
"Pull out your spine and beat your ass with it."
"... pfft, ha ha ha. That's funny man. Really funny. Were you a comedian or something?"
"Yeah," the man said, smiling oddly as he started walking toward them. "You wanna hear another joke?"
"Sure. Is it about how we're gonna break your legs and force you to lick our toes?"
"A boy meets a God," the man said. "And the boy asks: 'Yo, who the fuck are you and do you want to die?'"
Nobody, and especially Elijah, seemed to see when it happened but, at some point, Elijah was back on the ground, and the man was holding J' up by the boy's throat effortlessly. The group panicked and one of them suddenly ran off, likely to call for the guards, but the man either didn't notice or didn't seem to care.
"You've–you've fucked up, dude. You're so fucked now," J', even with a hand around his throat, grinned.
"... man, I've met my fair share of idiots, but you might just take the cake. Let's say that kid that ran off does manage to get the guards over. So what? I kill you, and then they kill me. I've a feeling you'd be waaaay more pissed off about that than me."
"... you wouldn't dare." Elijah heard something in J's voice that he'd never heard before–fear.
"No, I won't kill you. I'm not in the business of killing kids, after all."
"See, you little–"
"I'll educate you though."
"What do–AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
A blood-curdling scream escaped from J's throat, causing blood to freeze in Elijah's veins. He'd never heard another human being cry out like that–it was primal, glottal, a scream brought to life from the depths of the boy's soul. Elijah managed to squeak his eyes open and glimpsed at the horror in front of him–J'... was missing a leg. An entire leg. His left leg was completely gone, blood pouring out like mad for a moment before it stopped abruptly, like someone shut off a tap. The boy continued to scream in horror, and the man wasn't even looking at him–instead, he was looking at Elijah.
"You have two options," the man said. "Come with me, or stay here and eventually get blamed for this and likely get killed because of it. Because we both know these morons here will never learn self-accountability and will die blaming somebody or something else for their own fuckups. Since, well, they are morons. So, make a choice. But make it quick–that kid will bring guards back in about a minute. So, we gotta skedaddle before then."
It was insane–it was beyond insane, Elijah knew. Even contemplating the offer for a moment made no sense. He was fed and roofed and clothed properly in a world that was falling apart. He was taken care of, living in a perfectly protected shelter. Only an idiot would throw that away to run off with a complete stranger who was, by all appearances, a complete psychopath. After all, he just walked up to a random kid and yanked his entire leg off without so much as an 'oops'. And yet… Elijah nodded. He agreed. It was as though there was a force beyond him pulling him toward the man, like there was power guiding him in that direction, telling him that that was where his future was.
"Alright, good," the man's smile was in complete contrast to the horror surrounding him. It was innocent, playful, and jovial. "Well, off with you." He casually tossed J' away as though he weighed as much as a feather. By now, J's screams had stopped–likely because he passed out–and everything was silent. None of the other boys in the vicinity dared move or utter a sound. After all, none of them could comprehend in any capacity just how a man could simply… rip a leg off. That shouldn't be possible. "Here we go," the man bent forward and casually picked Elijah up. Elijah was as self-conscious of his weight as he was aware of it–and yet the man didn't struggle… at all… to pick him up. "Well, instead of staring like gobsmacked sheep, go help your friends. He's on the brink of losing too much blood to be saved. I stopped him from bleeding out, but if you just stand around like a bunch of idiots, I'll end up becoming a child murderer. And if that happens, I'll hunt you fucks down and kill you–no, wait. See? I am a comedian."
The man began running, leaving behind the confused kids and the military building. Why? Why was he not immediately shot at? There should be guards with a clear view of–he either killed them or incapacitated them, Elijah realised.
At first, the man's speed–though fast–wasn't exactly strange, but as the military compound vanished from their sights as they navigated small alleyways, the man's speed exploded. He was running like an Olympic sprinter except with the added almost-200-pounds of teenage flesh. Elijah wondered, very hollowly, just what he got himself into. And, most importantly, why the man saved him. A lot of unsavoury thoughts began to swim through Elijah's head, but he comforted himself by being very critical of his appearance.
Whatever comes, he settled in the end, it can't be much worse than that place…