saints and soldiers » klance

5: Calling All Skeletons

Where did you go as the lights went black?
Look what's become of me
I've grown to love your disappearing acts
Do one more pretty please

Keith's eyes were still open when the alarms began going off all up and down the hall. The sun had risen eighty-seven minutes ago. He hadn't gotten so much as a minute of sleep.

The wall across from him had sixty-two imperfections- nicks and scratches, patches where holes used to be, chipped paint. All the wear that came with years of use. For all he knew, the boys occupying the rest of the room had inflicted some of the damage. Or they could have been as new to this situation, to this building, as he was.

The alarms clicked off one by one as new sounds began to fill the building- covers being thrown back, feet on the floors, sleep-fuzzy voices drifting through the hallway. The alarm that had gone on blaring below him flicked off as a lazy, flopping arm reached out to slap at the buttons.

Three of the boys had gotten up and were milling around the room, pulling on jackets or locating belongings they'd stashed in cupboards or under beds or floorboards. One cast him curious looks every now and then, but for the most part, they ignored him.

He was okay with that. He was used to being invisible. It was always better that way, anyway.

The last two boys dragged themselves out of bed as the other three made to leave the room. Keith still didn't move, watching them move around in his peripheral vision as his eyes remained fixed on the opposite wall.

It took them another five minutes to leave. On their way out the door, one paused and looked up at him. "Bro," he said. "You comin'?"

They waited for several moments, staring up at him, before turning to go without another word.

Keith ignored the look they shared at his silence.

It took another ten minutes for the noise to die down. He figured they were all eating breakfast, or maybe most of them had left. He wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to risk running into anyone. He had no desire for human contact. If it were up to him, he would just stay there, curled up in a silent, motionless ball forever, until he faded away.

He should have known he'd never be so lucky.

Twenty-two minutes after the noise had died down, the door swung open. Keith eyed the intruder out of the corner of his eye.

The man had startlingly orange hair and a mustache to match. Dark blue eyes held a manic energy that made Keith instantly wary- energetic people, bubbly people, they could be hard to deal with, for completely different reasons than the kind of hard-to-deal-with he was used to handling. Maybe that was why he hated it so much.

"Hello there, John was it?" the man asked in a strong Australian accent, walking into the room. It was clear that he was talking to Keith- the room, probably the whole floor, was otherwise deserted, but the orange man's eyes wandered. His fingers bounced against his crossed arms. Too much energy.

Keith almost rolled his eyes. He'd take the devil he knew any day, even if it did mean broken ribs.

Anything except...

The man strolled over to Keith's bed, and his hand popped up, extended toward Keith. "I'm Coran. I work closely with Allura, who you met last night if I'm not mistaken. I'm here to take you back to our Second Chance facility downtown." Coran's leg didn't stop bouncing through the whole speech, and there was an energy to his voice and face that was far too animated to hint at a calm, easy-going creature.

Anything except that.

Keith didn't reply. Coran seemed to be waiting for something- for him to speak, maybe- but all Keith could think about was the obnoxious tapping of Coran's foot.