The Artists' Palette

Chapter 2

I shuffle behind the captain.  I am terrified, and more miserable than I have been in my entire life.  We reach the helicopter, and I step inside cautiously.  Lark sits beside me.  I shoot him a nervous glance, to which he replies with an exaggerated smile and a wink.  I know he’s just as nervous as I, but it’s just like him to play it off as a joke.  God forbid he let down his armor of fake smiles for a minute.

            We start to lift from the ground, and I cling to my best friend.  I know that he loves that we are in the air, though this is one of the few things that he won’t broadcast to the world.  I remember clearly the day he told me how much he yearns to fly away.

            We were in the attic of the Artists’ Palette.  It was in the later days when everybody had joined, so we could hear the hum of happy busywork beneath us.  Lark and I came up there so that we could be alone.  It was my birthday, and he had a present for me, but didn’t want to give it to me around anybody else.  (I’m the only one he lets his guard down around.)

            We sat down, and he pulled a necklace out of his pocket.  It was simple; a piece of leather with a clay bird strung on it.  But the bird was beautiful.  It was a deep blue, his favorite color, and had phenomenal detail.

            “Lark, I love it!  Thank you so much!” I exclaimed, and gave him a hug.  He blushed, and hugged me back.

            “I was gonna paint it orange for you, but I thought blue was easier hidden,” He replies.  Hesitantly, he adds, “And I didn’t want you to forget it was from me.”

            I pulled back from his grasp.  “I’ll never forget it’s from you.  It’s amazing!  Why a bird, though?”

            “Because birds are free.  They can fly away if they’re scared or upset, and nobody can hold them down.  They get to soar through the clouds, and they can go anywhere in the world.”

            “So is it safe to guess that you want to be a bird?”

            “Sometimes.  But I can’t leave Aaron.  I’d be fine with leaving Mom. She wouldn’t even care.  But I couldn’t leave Aaron to fend for himself.”

            “I get it.  But wouldn’t Aaron still have your Dad?”  Lark looked as if I’d slapped him.  I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.  “What did I say?”  I asked him frantically.

            “You don’t know?”  He whispered.

            “Know what?”

            “My dad is in prison.  My mom was cheating on him, and he found out that my younger brother, Aaron, wasn’t his son.  He went crazy, and killed the man that was Aaron’s real father.  My mom stopped being a mom then.  She just ignored us.”  I noticed that tears were rolling down his cheeks.  I didn’t know what else to do, so I just hugged him.  “That’s when Torin, my older brother, died of drug overdose.  And Aaron was only two.  So I take care of him.” We stayed like that for a while.  I don’t think we left that position until AEH was over.

            My thoughts are drawn back to the helicopter by the buzz of a plane nearby.  My head snaps up, and I see Lark looking down in worry.

            “Excuse me?  Captain?  What is going on?”  I ask.  He smirks.

            “Haven’t you realized?  Those planes are filled with poisonous gas.  They are going to be dropped on your pathetic village very soon.”  My mouth drops open, much to his enjoyment.

            “W-what?  But I thought y-you said that by sacrificing ourselves we would s-save our town!” I stammer.

            “Did I? I believe you misunderstood me, little girl.  I said you would spare your people from torture, which is true.  They won’t be tortured. They will simply die.”

            “No!  Please, sir, I am begging you!  I will do anything!  Don’t do this!  You are taking so many innocent lives!”

            “You should have thought of that before you created your weak attempt of a rebellion.”

            I have never felt so powerless in all my seventeen years of existence.  There is nothing I can do as the bombs are dropped but watch.

            I see the people in the streets instantly collapse.  The gas is colorless and odorless, killing swiftly and silently.  Bodies litter the streets, and I want nothing more than to lunge out of the helicopter and save them all from their fates.  Instead, I’m up here, safe from the gas.  I tried to protect them, and all I did was save myself.  Can it get more selfish than that?  I’m the one who started the Palette, the form of rebellion that brought this all on.  And as if that isn’t bad enough, I fled, and left my family and friends to die.

It’s unfathomable that everybody I know is dead.  Gone.  And it’s my fault.  If I hadn’t created the Palette, they would still be alive.  I should be heartbroken, or at the very least, hurting.  Not… Not whatever this is right now.  Numb, trapped in thought, unable to feel.

            My mind floats to my family.  The amazing tales my mother came up with.  The fishing trips with my Daddy.  Eating ice cream and crying over sappy chick flicks with my older sister, Ashla.  Pulling pranks with Cavyn, my fourteen-year-old brother.  Making seven-year-old Lukas laugh at my lame jokes.

            It just doesn’t seem real.  I feel as if I live inside a horror movie.  Everything is as though I am watching it through somebody else’s body.  I see tears falling silently down my cheeks.   I hear Lark’s ragged gasp and the captain’s cackle as if I am underwater; they are muffled and faint.

            Through his sobs, Lark puts his arm around me reassuringly, and I lean his shoulder.  He puts his head on mine, and I feel his tears falling on me, as well.  At least I still have my best friend.

            The helicopter slows down as we approach a large hill. The captain smiles widely. “Welcome,” he says, “to the Cranium.”

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Hey, me again.  That's Love Ansimov over there >> who is Echoe Springs in my head.  

All done! Carry on :)