RED PARALLEL

Chapter 4: The Second Departure

Song: What About Us, by P!nk.

Urgh.

He was sitting in the middle of the park, looking at a soccer ball. Mould grew between its stitches. Traviz wondered how it was like to be an abandoned ball. He thought about it so deeply that he felt like the thing itself.

I'm the ball. We're the fucking balls.

Night fell upon him. Starvation raked across his senses. Traviz picked the ball. The leather had a terrible stink. He tossed it away. A wastebasket next to him toppled and shook all the garbage inside. A putrid smell rose. He thought he'd vomit but there was no energy for it. He stayed on the bench, incapable of getting up and going home, the smell joining the dull party.

Yeah, dead ball and stinky basket. We rule this damn square. We're the kings.

Traviz named his new crew. Dully Kooks. Why the name, he had no idea. All he knew was that he would be the spy, the garbage the automobile, and the ball his sidekick.

'Cause balls are made to kick. With our kicks. And you don't kick it in the front. This is sidekick, motherfucker...

Then, Traviz would gather his team and seek for his lost friend, and then throw that damn bench over his head. But seriously, where was he?

Maybe he died, he thought for the hundredth time.

Traviz chuckled. Owen wasn't much of a big deal. He didn't get why he was bothering himself. He had better things to do, like looking at a ball. Why not? Traviz curled up and cried.

"Troy, I pinky promise. Next week, we're doing our Phase Two mission."

"Phase Two? How's it gonna be? Oh, I know! I bet we're-"

"Hold your breath. Wait 'till next week. We're meeting at this spot."

Two weeks had passed, and nothing. Nothing. He dug his head between his arms. But a little noise made him look up.

A small cat, playing with the rotten ball. They looked alike. Dusty, beige, and near. Traviz, tilting his head at the tiny little thing, recalled Owen's hatred for animals: the wacko had drowned a bird and asphyxiated another. Traviz couldn't sleep for three days.

"Fuck off, pussy..." he mumbled to the creature jumping around the ball. It shook its feet. Instead of springing away, the cat looked up and approached, letting go of the ball. "Get off, get oooff!"

It rolled itself around Traviz's legs, purring.

Kick him! I'll kick him.

The little creature didn't know the risk it was putting itself into.

Just kick him.

It was probably a baby. The cat's little paw was upon his shoe, distracted. Different from Owen, Traviz had never killed an animal. Did ants count?

So, are you kicking it or not? This one seems pretty easy. To kill... Like, very easy.

The cat yawned.

How am I killing it?

A distant siren roared and the cat immediately hid behind Traviz's legs. And started trembling in fear. Traviz laughed. "Coooward!"

The little cat curled itself around his left foot and looked up at him, rounded brown-yellow eyes, as if Traviz had said, "It's fine, you're safe."

"Idiot, that's not what I said..."

The dumb cat played with his kick's shoelaces. Then, it rolled over the ground, rubbing its back.