The Boy in the Gray Hoodie

TWENTY-ONE | Crossed Wires

He sat in the darkness, waiting. It was easy to be still at first, but then the medicine wore off and he began to feel anxiousness bleeding through the fog inside his head. The pressure subsided, leaving a void. He felt empty, bruised, and cold. The heavy rainfall had softened to a drizzle, maintaining a dampness in the air that had already begun to fill his lungs by the time he saw the lights. They cut through the black like a knife, pinning bright, hazy beams onto the tops of the trees. Something rumbled—a familiar sound. He'd heard it before when he was in the box. The growl, the red eyes. E7 shuddered, curling against the log, clinging to it. The cut on his cheek, numb from the cold, began to sting as he rubbed his skin against the moss, compressing it. He'd done this for a while, momentarily calmed by the repetitive movement. But then he would remember that he was alone, in the dark, swallowed up by angular shapes that pierced the sky above him, and the panic returned.

Mud slid between his fingers as he pushed himself closer to the log. It rocked a little, cracking under him in places he couldn't see. It felt like the ground—now a pool of brown slime underneath him—would swallow them both up. By the time James came to get him, he would be gone. A noise, quiet and low, emanated from his chest. A cry, or a moan, or some unintelligible combination of the two, came next. Then there was silence. He was too tired now to do more than breathe, his head resting on a pillow of wet moss.

Two lights became three. The third beam was not stationary like the others. It moved, bouncing around the trees and off the ground, scattered and frantic at times. When it fell on E7's leg, he jerked away from it, unsure what was on the other end. He heard James grunt angrily, and then call out. "There you are," he panted, feet following the pattern of rocks down the hill, each one illuminated by the beam of light. When it shined in E7's eyes, he turned toward the log, burying his face in the damp, cold dark.

James stepped off the last rock and onto the ground. Mud splashed up, coating his pants and adding to the layer of moisture already soaking E7's clothes. The foul smell they'd carried when he first put them on was somehow even stronger now. "Ugh," James exclaimed as he tucked the flashlight under his arm and bent over E7. "You're utterly rank," he grunted and stepped back, looking away to take a fresh breath.

The smell.

The sour, sharp, pungent odor.

It was all over him now. The richness of the soil and the tangy spice of pine sap had only compounded the problem. Underneath all of that was the worst smell of all; the musk of fear. It had begun to seep into his clothes the moment he put them on, getting stronger as time moved forward. Hours had passed since then. Now, curled into a ball at James's feet, terrified of where he'd be taken next, the stench oozed like sweat from his clammy skin.

"Come on." James sighed. "Get up. Here we go," he grunted and looped his arms under E7's shoulders and around his chest, dragging him to his feet. "That's it. Now walk up the rocks—steady, steady. I don't have time for broken bones."

One shaky foot planted, E7 hoisted himself up, only to fall back against James when his knees buckled. "I'm sorry," he gasped, fear taking his breath. James hadn't let go yet. Despite the smell, he stayed close.

"Don't apologize. Just keep going. It's not that far..."

"I can't f-feel my feet," E7 mumbled. His right shoe was gone, lost hours ago in the parking lot before James had put him into the box with red eyes. When the beam of light found the ground again, a dark red smear across the rock became visible. His bare foot was covered in grime and blood.

"Where's your..." James turned and shined the light behind them, searching for the missing shoe. E7 opened his mouth to say he had lost it, but the thought of admitting that—of making James angry—pulled his jaw tightly shut.