RED PARALLEL

Chapter 3: Born To Run

Song: Hallelujah, by Logic / Low Light, by Aquilo.

The package was squared and beige, the seize of his palm.

"What's this? Gum?"

"Food."

"What we gonna do, Phantom Hag?"

"Just follow me, Troy."

All the kids were getting back home except for the two boys. They walked along with the playground in the opposite direction. Owen carried a large bag that made giggling metallic sounds as he shuffled.

Traviz poked the bag. "The fuck is this noise, Phants?"

"No, no, don't touch it. Might explode."

"Hell!"

"I'm kidding. But it's true."

"Ookay, that didn't make sense. Again."

"There are two types of stupid people, Troy. The ones who're blind and think everything makes sense, and the ones who simply don't get anything because they lack imagination, abstraction, or even a logical line of thought. Guess which of one those you are?"

"The one who's gonna kill you soon."

"I'd love to see you try, dumbass. Let's keep on, it's a long walk."

They turned left and right, right and left, and right, and straight, and left, and right, and right, and Traviz wished he had gone back home instead of following that gangling noise to nowhere in particular.

"Can we stop? My head's dizzy." Traviz bent his body.

"No, Troy. Stop pretending and move. Here."

Owen turned left in a tight corner and disappeared. Then, Traviz saw him climbing a short wall, jumping, and vanishing again.

"Come!" Owen called from the other side.

Traviz stepped up and jumped.

The sight was pretty shocking. All the houses and buildings and walls and cars and signs and pavements and everything looked as if part of a post-apocalypse zombie attack scenario. Owen smirked, watching Traviz's stunned face.

"Cool, isn't it? The ruin of humanity. So beautiful."

"What the hell we're doing here?"

"This is our meeting spot. Come, I'll show you."

Traviz followed Owen against his will, feeling a cold rush caressing his bare arms. But thanks to the cold he had an excuse for shivering, because deep inside, or maybe not so deep, he knew he was shitting his pants out of fear.

They reached an enormous set of concrete, settled in many levels and angles. They were entirely stamped with crazy drawings as if someone had played doodles with a colored pen. A giant colored pen. A yellowish light illuminated the big walls; the contrast between the colorful drawings and the grayish zombie scenario was ridiculous.

Traviz gawked at the doodles. It was composed of long and swaggy thick lines, colorful cobras dancing and smashing across the wall. Some cobras were dark-greened, angry and pointy as if electrocuted; others were fat and fluffy, pink and soft, stuffed and almost popping like bubbles; there were also black and brown ones, angrier and irritated, making a dense spider web.

Traviz felt a twitch in the core of his chest, and it was warm. His heart jumped. What was going on? His eyes traveled across the gigantic wall, and all the cobras, the squirming lines, around each other, dancing and playing... Traviz frowned, watching the endless stamp as if it were a living being. Something was wrong. That thing... Why did it look so familiar?