Journey Of The New Earth

9

<3rd pov>

<Dreamscape>

The day Keith Kogane fell in love was the worst in his life.

At least, so far.

That was the thought on his mind as he lay in the middle of Plunder Road, blood streaming from both nostrils, face swollen, lips cut, and ten dollars poorer. He'd begged his father not to give him the money, knowing exactly what would happen to it, but Mr. Kogane was not one to give in to bullies. 'It's only one kid?' he'd said, eyeing Keith from across the table. 'You just hit him back, son, you're big enough. Goddamn, you let some little bastard push you around, you deserve what you get. It's a tough world, you gotta learn to fight.' With the word fight he'd plunged his fork down into the rib eye on his plate as though it had done him personal harm, spraying juice over the front of his shirt.

Well, Miles Braider had learned to fight, and Keith got the distinct feeling he enjoyed it a hell of a lot, too. He never reacted to anything, Miles, but he had an intensity in his eyes when he hit Keith, an internal fire that no amount of pain would ever quench.

It was four thirty now, but Keith didn't want to go home. Better to stay out as late as possible, come back pretending he went for takeaway. When his father commented on the wounds, Keith would tell him. Yeah, you should see the other guy.

For now he just wanted to get out of the world, away from Miles, away from his father, and away from himself – this weak friendless boy who could hardly think of a reason to go on living if, well, his life depended on it. As he dragged himself to his feet, awakening a whole world of aches and pains, he thought it would be real nice to get away from his body, too.

So he went to the park.

Anderson's Reserve was an enormous basin like a meteor crater, and the trees were thickest right in the middle, at the bottom. In the past, Keith would lie on his back and stare up through towering Pines and Gums at the sky, and drift away. But as he descended into the shade and silence he wondered if he had the balls to stay there ten minutes, let alone all night. True night was at least an hour away, but down here it had come early, and even the crickets no longer chirped.

But God, it was good to be free. When he reached his spot, a soft circle of grass beside a manhole cover, he sat cross legged and closed his eyes, hands resting on his knees like a monk. The blood dried on his swollen face, and though he still felt pain with every movement, somehow it didn't seem so bad anymore. He breathed the rich scent of pine needles and autumn leaves and listened to the gentle creaking branches and the occasional flutter of batwings.

He spoke to himself in a low voice, a habit long nurtured as an only child with no friends. All of his deepest conversations had been with himself, and now he had more serious things to consider than ever. Suicide, for example.

'It doesn't have to be bad. We both know there's no heaven or hell. It would be just like this, now. Total peace. That has to be better than this world.'

'No way. I'm not killing myself, not if Miles gets to live. It would just confirm I'm a coward.'

'Not if you do it in a cool way. You could go out with a bang. Get a big knife, stab Miles to death. Run at the cops so they shoot you dead. That'd be a way to go. You could write a note, blame your dad.'

'That's twisted, man.'

He chuckled to himself. 'Yeah. Think about it, though. Suicide, man. If it wasn't so great, why would so many people do it?'

He fell silent for a long time, playing his Final Stand out in his mind, savouring the way it would feel to sink a screwdriver all the way to the hilt into Miles Fucking Braider's neck, when the unmistakeable sound of leaves crunching beneath a foot made his eyes snap open.