In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER FORTY

They seated Matthew alongside Jason, and the pair of them sat in their little plastic chairs, backs against the cool white wall.

The remaining man was standing before them, rotating his dark, glinting pistol in his hands. He rested it against the table in the center of the room, putting it down with a clack. He was still human. Matthew thought about talking to him, trying to change his mind, but he felt as though he'd talked enough for all five of them.

"So, you're the kid they've been looking for then?" He asked Matthew, who eyed him suspiciously.

"I guess. I didn't know they were looking for me," Matthew said.

"You've put a real wrench in Brick's plans," the man said, and Matthew was ashamed that he almost smiled.

"Really," he said flatly, hoping the conversation would stop and that they'd just kill him already. He thought about reaching for the pistol, but his right hand was unfaithful, and he knew he'd drop it.

The man kneeled before Matthew, looking up into the boy's face. Matthew grimaced, suddenly feeling like a child. Jason was silent at his side, his hands balled into tight fists.

"You look like you've been through hell," the man said, squinting up at Matthew, his eyes running over his skin, the blue blood caked onto his clothes.

"But don't you worry, kid. You'll be there soon enough," he said, sarcasm making his words feel icy against Matthew's own.

It happened too fast -- faster than Matthew had time to blink. Movement, from his right -- Jason swung at the man, his arm making one quick, fierce jab at his neck. Contact, and the man sputtered, gasping for one sharp breath, when Matthew saw it. Jason's small knife fit perfectly into the man's neck.

The man stood, reaching to pull it out.

"Don't!!" Matthew screamed, but he had already pulled it. His skin opened like a slashed pillow, feathers rushing out in all directions.

Blood spurted from the gash, squirting out in thin worms around over his body, staining his clothes, his teeth, his hands. He crashed down onto his knees before the boys, who instinctively jumped to their feet, evading the bloodbath. Matthew gasped, his hands reaching up around his face for comfort as he watched. He found himself edging towards the back wall as blood pooled over the floor around the man's body, the man's eyes went pale and still. He teetered forward onto Matthew's chair, the rest of his body crumbling beneath him, a lifeless pile.

There Matthew stood, frozen, unable to wrench his eyes away from the body, chillingly still. Jason was unmoving, still holding the small knife in his hand, scrunched up into his fist. Blood had splattered his pants. Not the blue blood that Matthew was familiar with -- the same, with it's harsh metallic smell and hot, oily texture. This was different -- these stains were sharp, bright crimson.

Matthew jerked his head to the left, and threw up onto the linoleum floor.

He looked back at Jason, holding his stomach with his good hand.

"Jason..." he started, looking up at the boy, who suddenly looked small and frail. His face was pale, mouth agape. He looked a few years younger than he really was, and wholly unsure of himself. He looked like he wasn't prepared for what he had done. But it was too late. Matthew's heart sank, knowing he couldn't save him.

"Go Matthew," Jason said, his tone dark and heavy with an emotion Matthew didn't recognize. Matthew couldn't move, in fact, he was physically unable to until Jason reached out to him, yanking his collar. Matthew stumbled out into the open room, struggling to balance in the man's blood.

"GO!" Jason shouted with a voice like thunder, and in the beat of silence that followed, Matthew could faintly hear Brick's intro. His words cut in and out of Matthew's awareness, familiar all the same. At a level that was practically instinctive.

Matthew went to the staircase and opened the door, rushing into the darkness. He tripped on the first step, taking that misstep to turn back to see Jason, still standing there in the pale light. He was still looking at Matthew, devoid of emotion. His shoulders had sunk, and he was shrinking by the minute. Matthew's stomach felt awful, churning over in circles. He hated Jason but he couldn't leave him.

"I'm sorry," Jason said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. He turned out of the room, putting his weight against the door and rushing out into the hall, beyond where Matthew could see. Matthew felt himself start to cry, and he did as he scrambled up the steps -- tripping over the darkness and his tears.