Indigo Rock

Part 2

Chapter 2

Cyrus took out his Android. The other boys were glued to their screens like moths to a purple flame. The peculiar mist materialized and seeped into his phone. "Okay, now what?" he asked, fingers trembling.

"Go to any of your social media," answered Jonesy. "Insta, TikTok, doesn't matter. Look at your top post, and scroll down."

There's that paranoia again, prodding the back of my neck. Be it my mother's warnings or the town urban legends, I reflexively shot my hand up and said, "Cyrus, don't. We don't know what this thing is." The stone glowed fervently, as if irritated by my doubts. But it was lifeless. Inanimate. It couldn't show emotions.

Could it?

"It's all chill," Jonesy said with all the calm in the world. His pupils were dilated, with roads of red blood vessels branching out. "Everything's nice and groovy. Just try it!" I furrowed my brows at his tone. Surely an object this odd, this enigmatic would've garnered more fear. But Reece and Jonesy treated this like an outing at Disneyland.

Cyrus tipped a shrug. "Come on, Jess. We hiked all the way up here, didn't we?"

I sighed. "If anything happens, I'm raising that money you owe me to eighty bucks." I grabbed my phone and followed suit. After the purple mist diffused, I flicked my thumb to my Instagram. "Hang on, whose pictures are these?" The more I scrolled, the more my forehead creased with confusion.

"Check the dates," said Reece, the wonderment of a giddy toddler in his voice. "They're your pictures, posted three years from now."

I caught his response, but the words sounded like underwater warbles. "That's-that's impossible." My thumb swiped furiously. A photo of me in a cap and gown, wearing Cum Laude honor cords, at a university I hadn't attended. Me at a music festival I had never been to, with friends I had never met. A selfie of mom and me; my hair dyed red, no-burgundy?-and mom sporting the gray locks she dreaded.

I dug around for the right words, but all my lips could muster were, "This is impossible."

Jonesy stood there, laughing at our slack-jawed bewilderment. "Like I told you earlier. Minds will be blown!"

"Check this out," Reece flashed a picture of him in a blue and gold football jersey. "I made the FBS in Notre Dame - my number one choice! I... I can't believe this."

My eyes stayed magnetized to the small, bite-sized glimpses of my future. "You're sure this is real?"

"It's real, brochacho. I was trying to find a prime smoking spot a few weeks ago, far outside of town. And that's when I found it." Jonesy peered at the stone. "That's when I found Indigo Rock."

"But how?" asked Reece. "How'd you know it'd be this internet-time-machine thing?"

"You could say it was pure accident. I'd like to think the universe wanted me to find out," he said. "How'd you think I told the chief about that robbery? Indigo Rock, that's how! And I'm still finding new ways to use it."

Reece rubbed his chin. "Um, say you wanted to look up the winning lottery numbers..."

"What do you think I'm doing now?" said Jonesy with a sly smirk. Reece gasped. He lunged at him, wrestling him for his phone.

"No offense, but you guys sound higher than a giraffe's pussy right now," Cyrus said, breaking up their tussle. "I don't see anything," he studied his phone closely, "my Instagram is exactly the same. Facebook, Twitter, nothing's changed."

"What? That's impossible." Jonesy pushed Reece aside, grabbing his phone. He thumbed through his socials. Nothing. Nada. "It's worked for everyone I've taken up here! Unless..." Our bated breaths echoed in the still forest.

"Unless what?" Cyrus asked. There was something in Jonesy's eyes. A thought. Quick, fleeting. But I've seen it before - at a doctor's appointment I went to with Cyrus. Before he could respond, strobes of flashlights shined in the woods, and voices, deep and heavy, repeating codes we couldn't decipher. Military, perhaps? The boys and I didn't stick around to find out.

"Shit, let's get out of here!" Reece grabbed my hand and led me away, with Cyrus and Jonesy not far behind. We ran as fast we could, down the embankment, away from the stomping of army boots. The glow of Indigo Rock fizzled in our peripheral, further and further, until the bleakness of the forest enveloped us.

At last, the orange hue of the bonfire. Familiar grounds. Safe grounds. Was any of that real? Most of our schoolmates had gone for the night, with the usual stragglers left over. "Dude!" Reece grabbed Jonesy by the arm. "Who were those guys? Military? FBI?"

A few kids gawked at us, and Reece let go and calmed his theatrics.

"Hell if I know - I've never seen them before! The government must be monitoring it now." Jonesy paced nervously. "I need to go back up there. I never got those Powerball numbers!"

"Are you serious?" I groaned. "That's what you're worried about?"

Before any of us could express our whirlwind of emotions, Cyrus' chest inflated and burst in a fit of coughs, the harshest I ever saw him have. He kneeled on the dirt below, and Reece and I went down to comfort him. "I'm..." He gasped for air. "I'm fine. Don't worry."

I helped him to his feet. "It's time to go home."

"Do you guys want me to take you?" Reece offered. A kind gesture, and one I would've accepted if we hadn't driven. "We're okay," I said. Reece and I exchanged amicable nods. "Thank you, though."

Reece braced Cyrus by the shoulder and helped him into the car. Like an instinct, I peeked in the direction of Indigo Rock, a dot of purple in the hills. I closed the door, and before riding away, Jonesy looked in the window and said, "Keep this between us, okay?" We all shared another look-a pact, of sorts-and I gunned the engine to life, riding out of the woods into town.

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They say bad things happen to bad people. The Law of Attraction. And as such, good things happen to good people. Reap what you sow, yada yada, insert religious text. Why, then, was the shittiest of all things happening to my brother?

The better half. The good twin.

I couldn't tell you all the colorful curse words I had for the universe, as I stood there at his bedroom door, watching him hooked up to an oxygen tank and a home health nurse checking his vitals. It was the morning after the bonfire, and Cyrus had never looked worse. Mom sat at his bedside, etched with dolor and frustration.

"What were you thinking, Jess?" and "How could you be so irresponsible?" were some of the words hurled at me last night. Cyrus didn't want me blaming myself, saying: "I'm an adult, Tadpole. I made the choice to hike up there." But I knew the risks. And I let him go anyway.

"Jess?" Mom looked up with damp, puffy eyes. "You can't be late to school, sweetheart. Go on, your brother's well taken care of." I couldn't help but hear the disdain in that go on.

Cyrus peeked his eyes open. "I'll be okay, Tadpole," he rasped, then held up our signature hand gesture: a C-shape with his palm meant to imitate half a heart. I threw mine up to complete it. With a few parting words, I got ready for the day and left out the door, hearing my mother's faint prayers coming from the bedroom.