In The Sight of These Hills (Dolan Twins)

A Dozen Masks

Chapter 12: A Dozen Masks

"And hold your gaze
There's coke in the Midas touch
A joke in the way that we rust
And breathe again"

-Ben Howard's "Oats in the Water"

"What are we going to do?" Grayson whispered, and Ethan stepped away from him again. He was scared, he had admitted that much, and so was Ethan.

Ethan bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. He turned back to their father's room. Had Grayson's wrenching woke him up? The door was still closed, the silence as loud as a scream.

"I don't know," he said, turning his eyes back to Gray's, "I've been doing some research, though. It's been three days, right?"

"Yeah," Grayson said, even though three days hadn't felt like three days. It had felt like a lifetime, almost, like reality had been stripped violently of its original meaning and given something else, something strange and foreign.

"I have some websites saved," he admitted, and that felt stupid saying aloud, like a website could save either of them, like that could save Grayson. Lean towards the internet when all else fails. He closed the refrigerator door, ignoring the chill in his palm from grabbing the handle.

His heart was still thudding in his chest and he couldn't look at his brother. It had been a horrific sight to see Grayson like that: the bloody red meat, his wolfish eyes. They had been yellow, he could have sworn, but, then again, it was so dark that he couldn't have really been sure. God, he wanted to get the image out of his head.

"I think," he swallowed, turning, "I might have found something."

~

There was fog that morning, and it rolled against the skyline even before the tips of the sun's rays touched the top of the autumn trees, the decaying beauty of the forest, of Morrison itself. It was still in the silence of a Tuesday morning, when most of its residents were fast asleep and their cars were yet to be pulled out of cold morning driveways, their bodies yet moved to work or school or whatever activity they partook in. The fog rose and drifted away when the sun rose completely, streaks of red and orange and a salmon pink engulfing the New Jersey sky. Then, it began to rain.

It was raining when they walked to school. It hit the ground like little teardrops, bouncing off the concrete, the parked cars, and the two black umbrellas they held above their heads. It was a cold rain too, painful. Ethan listened to the way that the cars' tires splashed through the areas near the edges of the road, bringing the water up like little title waves. Grayson stuck close to him and the worry that he felt was dripping into Ethan's conscience and vice versa. They were just going to pull their hoodies up and tough it out but then they realized, looking out their front door's clear glass frame, that it was raining way too much for that.

"I think you need to see a doctor," Ethan said, stepping off the curb. The water bleed into his vans, making them a darker green than they were already. He clenched his umbrella tighter and stepped away from his brother so the two wouldn't get tangled up.

"You're kidding, right?" Grayson asked, looking over at his brother. He was thinking about the dream, how he had eaten raw beef.

"Yes, Grayson" he retorted, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The cold wetness of the air made him sniffle, and he let his free hand push into his sweatshirt pocket.

"I don't think a doctor can help me," Gray said, and he looked up as a leaf spun down to land on the wet sidewalk a few yards ahead of them.