Dead End

A Long Way Down...

June 22, 2018

       Apollo is glad to say that he came back from the dead. Twice. He isn't too happy about nearly dying twice, but it all worked out in the end, and being a ghost wasn't so bad. It all begins one cloudless, summer day...

       Morning shines through Apollo's bedroom window and he is up before you can say, "intelligence, please?..." He tumbles downstairs, gobbles down a breakfast, retreats back upstairs to fumble through his closet for the climbing gear that should be in there somewhere?... Ah! There it is! And is out of the door before anyone else wakes up. His family knows he'll probably be climbing again. His parents go crazy though. He's surprised that someone could be surprised so many times without getting tired of being surprised. But here he is. Some things just never change.

       About fifteen minutes later, Apollo shambles down California's sandy slopes to the beach and walks for five more minutes along Pirate's Cove black sand shore until he is standing at the base of the dark rock face, towering over him and casting the whole seashore in shadow. George isn't here yet so Apollo sits down in the sand with his back against the rock and begins to untangle his pile of climbing gear, barely used but already dented and scratched. His dad used to rock climb when he was his age, but, as he has told Apollo many times, regrets ever introducing it to him because of how much time he spends away from home.

       Apollo hears whishing on the sand a few feet away and looks up to see George slouching down the beach with his gear over his shoulder, orange tank top like a bright beacon. It kind of reminds Apollo of a traffic cone on a road.

       "Hey George!" Apollo waves.

       George responds with a wheeze and stumbles to the sand beside Apollo.

       "If we wear this while we're climbing, we're going to be climbing down, not up." George groans breathlessly, doubling over and resting his elbows on his knees.

       Apollo finally untangles his gear and lays it in an organized pile in front of him, it's silver color stark against the black sand.

       George sits down beside Apollo and dumps his blue gear in the sand beside Apollo's. Apollo frowns at the gear, discerning a loose rope that is knotting everything together, and expertly gets to work puzzling out the heap. George mutters, "Oh no."

       "What?" Apollo asks, looking up. "Oh." A group of stuck-up college students with tank tops and tanned biceps are walking toward them like they own the beach, their sandy Californian style beach hair tossed in a mess on their heads. They look like the Nike manicans that you see in stores modeling for clothes, and you can tell they know it. Apollo grinds his jaw. Him, being merely seventeen, has half their muscle and even less tan.

       "Hey, Apollo. George. What're you up to?" Jayden, the tallest, most modelistic of the group, is the one that normally does all the speaking. He is also by far the best climber in the group. But Apollo knows he's better. Which is why Jayden hates Apollo and George so much.

       "Go away Jayden." George grumbles, arranging his gear.

       Jayden raises an eyebrow. "Oh, come on!It's in four days. If I didn't know better, I'd think that you were scared." Jayden's friends grin savagely.

       Apollo feels his face turn red and is about to say something remarkably rude when George quickly interrupts. "We're just preparing. So you can go do what you want instead of bothering us."

       Jayden folds his arms and turns to Apollo, as if George weren't even there. "I actually came here to ask you to a race but, I guess you need that climbing gear for a reason." Jayden eyes George's shiny new gear.