Forest of Rope

Chapter 12

Dec 24

“SOCIETY'S CANCER”: the furiously painted words draped proudly across the garage wall, bleeding from a worn but durable sheet of cloth just shy of the drum kit, amplifiers and the other instruments. All five original founding members were there, mulling around in a haphazard semicircle, some standing, some slouching. The location was Tom, the drummer's garage which the boys used to frequent on special occasions to record or rehearse.

Tom's place had the best acoustics and recording equipment but it came at a price. It had always been a nightmare to practice in as he lived with a bountiful family of ten. Although Tom's family were Jewish, the place was still pretty crowded even at Christmas.

Tom threw back his carelessly tied ponytail and looked out at the desolate faces which had invaded his garage once again.

There was Tyler, their bassist and arguably the band's most talented member. He leaned modestly against their vocalist, Jordan who looked ready to fall asleep.

The atmosphere was dense and impregnably awkward. Tom looked hopefully at Alex their lead guitarist, Society's Cancer's life and soul of the stage to lighten the mood. He detected effort to break the tension in his expression but it seemed that the silence was unrecoverable even by him. The last face he looked at was Riley's which looked barely alive as he'd been unable to get out of bed for the past three days.

Everyone still had questions. Everyone had heard the same vague, forgiving response from Alex. Then they'd heard the news and everything changed.

It had been both crushing and infuriating at the same time. No one could believe it. Yet here he was, in the flesh, sitting nervously beside Alex as if no time had passed between them all. It felt like looking at a living ghost, someone who didn't truly exist, who hadn't existed in their lives for half a decade.

Time dragged infinitely by, one millisecond at a time, until finally someone reacted.

'Fuck this.'

It was Alex, their last hope of salvaging the wreckage of their friendship and he seemed to have given up. Without so much as a look at the others he marched for the door, dragging his guitar along with him. Everyone's spirit seemed to break at that moment. Without a leader they couldn't even sit in silence properly. Without him they were doomed.

Tom, Jordan, Tyler and the living ghost Riley all hung their heads down miserably at the floor, waiting for the garage door to slam.

What came next however, was the sound of amplifiers resounding with power. They all threw their heads up in shock to see Alex jacking in his axe before brutally murdering the silence with a deafening onslaught of viciously struck power chords.

The sheer force of Tom's speakers raised the hair on all their necks. The energy of Alex's playing seemed to break down the barriers of time which separated them, transporting them into the past. Soon enough, boyish smiles began to flicker amongst them.

The longer Alex played, the stronger it became until one by one they began to enter the fray and join him.

All except Riley of course, who had no instrument. His beloved guitar had long since been pawned to keep up with the rent in San Francisco. He gave Tom a smile as he was the last to move. When he realised Riley wasn't following, Tom gave him a puzzled look.

'Not coming?' he mimed due to how loud the music was growing now that Tyler and Jordan had joined in. Riley could do nothing but shrug as he had no good reason to be up there with them or even in their presence in the first place.