Descension

CHAPTER 19

Ben stares at the robot in shock, his eyes flitting between its face, its finger, and, peripherally, his chest.

Joaquin gazes perplexingly at the thing, then turns to Ben, "...What does that mean?"

"...I have no idea..." Ben murmurs fearfully, the robot's words echoing in his head, "...but I don't like it."

Joaquin grabs Ben's arm, "Come on, let's just go."

"No." Ben shakes his head.

"I don't like this either, Ben! Now, let's go!"

"No, no, what does that mean?" Ben cries and wrenches his arm from Joaquin's grip, whipping around to face the cloaked figures, "What does that mean?"

Silent, they stare back for a long while, then one of them turns around and begins to walk away. Then another. Another. Two at a time now, then three, four, and five. Soon, they're leaving by the dozens.

"Hey..." Ben calls raspily, "...Hey, where are you?..." he begins to follow them out of the junkyard, having to half-jog to keep up with their wide gaits despite his own long legs, "...Where are you going? What did that mean?"

The figures continue to exit the junkyard, ignoring Ben's calls. One by one they bend down and file out of the cut in the chain-link fence. Ben tries to squeeze between the figures, though they remain an impenetrable wall of crimson, and it isn't until the last of them leave that Ben is able to tumble through the fence's opening. The cloaked figures disperse radially into the void of darkness around the junkyard and disappear into the night.

Ben, panting and drenched in sweat, screams one last hoarse cry, "What did that mean?"

The echoes of his voice seem to catch the attention of one of the cloaked figures. The carmine silhouette slowly turns around and raises its sleeve, the fabric slipping down to the wrist, revealing a black gloved hand. It raises a finger and places it where its mouth should be.

"Shhhhhhhhh..."

The sound dissolves slowly, drawing on for far too long. Ben shudders, gawking helplessly at the figure. It turns around and begins to walk away.

"What the hell was that?..." Joaquin whispers, his unwavering confidence fractured.

Ben stays frozen in place. He can't move.

Joaquin takes a step forwards, urging Ben to move with a gentle pat on the back, "Let's just go, okay? I'll search for our next coordinates."

Ben barely registers Joaquin's words. All he knows is that it's time to go. Now.

A couple of hours later, the group finds themselves at the edge of the NID, junkyards now closer together with businesses and car garages interspersed between them. The dawning sun diffuses softly through the gray, early-morning sky. One of the garages has a sign in Russian, reading Molchan Auto Repair. Dannika, her eyes barely open, immediately registers the sign–her family name.

"Joaquin," She says softly, patting his arm.

"I see it." He murmurs back, then glances over his shoulder, "Hey, Ben, you doing alright back there?"

Ben, trailing a few meters behind him, kicking up gray dust with his shuffling feet does no more than glance up at Joaquin and shrug. Joaquin frowns and adjusts Dannika closer to him in his arms. Joaquin walks to the auto shop. At the driveway, he can smell car lubricants, metal, and stale coffee. He walks up to the garage door and knocks.

"I heard about Nik." A gravelly, smoke-rasped voice calls.

A short-ish man, maybe 5'5", fat and smothered in car oil steps out from the office of the shop, cigar in hand. His thin black hair sparsely sweeps over his head, thick brows hiding his icy eyes, and his lower lip pouts out in what seems to be a permanent way.

Dannika sniffles and holds out a hand, "Dyadya Andrei."

The man sighs solemnly and takes Dannika's hand, "Ya zdes, ya zdes... I miss him too."

Dannika sniffles and sits up, "I need some time with him," she says to Joaquin.

"Of course." Joaquin murmurs empathetically, setting her down on the ground gently.

He holds on to her waist as she stabilizes, then lets go. Dannika shuffles to the garage office with her uncle, leaving Ben and Joaquin alone. Ben stands there for a moment, awkwardly, then stuffs his hands into his pockets and shuffles out of the garage. He makes his way around the building and spots a concrete wall. He walks to the wall and swings his legs over, sitting down on the edge, then laces his fingers together and taps his thumbs, pondering silently over nothing. Maybe his feelings, maybe what to do next, but really, he simply sits by himself and basks in the near-silence for a peaceful hour.

"Hey." Dannika calls softly.

Ben turns around and gives her a small smile, then shifts back towards his original point.

"...How do you do it?" She asks, a choked whisper.

Ben pauses before responding with his own question, "Do what?"

Dannika walks over to him and sits down beside him, "...You seem fine. Not... fine, but functioning. I mean... what's happened to you... all the people you lost, you're still able to do what's needed of you."

Ben shakes his head, "I lost thousands in less than ten minutes. At that point... it's just numbness. You can't even fully process it."

"I... compared to you, I-" she begins.

"No." Ben holds up his hand, sniffling before continuing, "No, no, grief is not to be compared. I'm sorry, you shouldn't feel like you have to hurt less than you do because of me."

"It's okay." Dannika squeezes her eyes shut and nods, covering her mouth with her hand, "Okay." She sniffles and wipes her eyes, then nose with her knuckles, "Thank you, Ben." she says.

"For?" Ben asks.

"For sharing the feeling."

To their left, the sun begins to cast pink and orange light through the thinning clouds, the outline of the city skyline silhouetting the view. Ben gazes at the sight, allowing the sun's glow to burn into his eyes. He blinks, and it leaves a negative blue-green orb behind the darkness of his lids. He opens his eyes again, rapidly blinking to clear the searing pain from his pupils, and when his vision finally clears, he finds Dannika gone, alone now with no one but the sun.