In Shado

III

I watch my bare feet pass under me, pressing the dark blue grass. I uncross my arms and push my hair back. I'm whit-blond here, which was weird to get used to at first.

I'm at our creek, where Sal, Rune and I have met every night for the past seven years. There's no one here.

"Guys?" The air is stagnant. My voice sounds like a bullhorn in a church.

I start forward slowly, feeling exposed. Anything could spot me here. It doesn't help that I'm a silver spot among the dark. If my dress and hair weren't eye-catching enough, even my skin has a sheen of silver, more prominently around my eyes, ears, and down the sides of my neck. Everything I touch leaves a smear of silvery residue.

"Sal?" I whisper, scanning the area.

Something glints in the moonlit grass. I bend down and pick it up. It's a silver leaf; dried blood clings to one edge.

Foliage clinks behind me. I stand sharply and turn around.

"Rune?"

My eyes dart around too fast to actually see anything. I need to find somewhere safe. Somewhere safe. Always sought for, never found. Shado, this world, is an endless forest filled with creatures—and people-like creatures—who usually want to cut their teeth into us. We call them roamers. Some people are just passing through, like us. Some can't leave: cursed by Shado to remain and be driven mad. The trees don't grow fruit, streams don't carry fish, and the water coats everything in a plastic jelly. Not drinkable. The roamers go after flesh and blood. Us. Anything that moves.

I can make and control light, which has scared them away before. Rune...he's more complicated. For the most part, using powers draws attention.

A green, metal-feathered bird shoots out of the branches above, screeching like the damned as it flaps overhead. Something could've heard that. I shouldn't stay. My friends clearly aren't here. It's been over a week since I've last seen them. I ran into Sal a few days ago, but he kept flickering in and out like a hologram with a bad connection. He was trying to tell me something, but when he reappeared, he'd forgotten he'd just talked me. Eventually, he didn't come back.

I'm starting to get anxious about the whole thing. I'd never say it aloud, but I feel like they're my family. They're figments of my imagination, yet I...still love them. So why is my brain chasing them away?

~

"Hey." Beth taps her finger against my skull. I open my eyes. "You fell asleep. And I think you're laying on the remote. You rolled over, and the channel changed."

The light from the TV glares through the darkness of the living room.

"Sorry." I push myself up and push my hand into the warm recess between the chair arm and the pillow, searching for the remote. Beth's slouched in the recliner. I'm on the sofa behind the glass coffee table.

She laughs. "You tired?" She sits up and reaches for the bowl of popcorn on the table.

"I'm always tired." My fingers runs across a row of rubbery buttons. Found it.

She plucks a piece of popcorn from the top. "Think I can catch this with my mouth?"

I grin. "Go for it."

She tosses it up, and it bounces off her cheek.

I laugh, and my eyes wander to the TV screen. They stop at a grave-faced reporter with a microphone in hand. "In local news, Elliot Qat, the man responsible for a Delaware County crash, has been apprehended." A mug shot comes onto the screen.

"So, what did I miss?" I ask. We were watching a movie.

A picture of two guys appears onscreen. One is taller, with a muscled arm around of a guy with black, overgrown hair and dull green eyes that match his t-shirt. Both are smiling, posing in front of a porch rail, drinks in hand.

"The victims, however, are still hospitalized. Friends and family gather in support, all praying for the Mathis brothers to get better."

They look vaguely familiar, like celebrities you've seen in a movie, but you can't remember what movie you've seen them in. I probably saw them around town. I go to the high school to walk home with Beth sometimes.

The picture flashes away, and the news lady is back. "One of the victims is still in critical condition. The other—" Beth changes the channel back to the movie.

The image lingers annoyingly in my mind, taunting me to remember, dangling that "tip of the tongue" feeling over my head, yet blocking me out at the same time.

My heart skips a beat, and I suddenly feel uneasy. "No way." No. No. No, it's not true.

"What?" Beth tosses another piece of popcorn in the air and scrunches her face up before it hits her eye.

I open an internet browser on my phone and type "Delaware county car accident." Several headlines pop up, and I open the first link.

The same mug shot from TV, surrounded by text. I scroll down to find the other image

It's them. He was telling the truth. When are you going to figure it out?

"What is it?"

I look at her, head full of static. I can't say it. She'll think I'm nuts. I think I'm nuts.

"Nothing."

I scan the words surrounding the image. Tuesday night, brothers Chris and Jake Mathis were the victims of a gruesome collision with a drunk driver, who escaped with minor injuries.

He told me he can't wake up. He said something was wrong. This is it. He's in a coma. That's what he was trying to tell me. He doesn't know!

"I don't believe you."

"Neither do I."

She laughs. "What?"

"You know how I have two friends in my dreams?" I show her the picture. "These guys look exactly like them."

"...The guy with tiger stripes and his antlered brother with red eyes?"

"He doesn't have red eyes. Just the skin around his eyes."

Her chin drops in a halfhearted nod.

"I didn't say it was them. They just look like them. A lot." I look back at the picture again. Yes, the people I'm used to look different. Sal doesn't have stripes or a hobbit hairstyle, and his irises aren't weirdly large. Rune obviously doesn't have red antlers...but it's them. Though, I shouldn't have said so to Beth.

"Is that really what they look like in your head? Like...dead on? Like it doesn't just resemble them?"

It is them. "No. I just thought it was strange."