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Chapter 7

"How long has he been up there?" Zora asked an officer.

"Four and a quarter hours," he said.

"What's the exact time, in minutes?" she asked.

"What's it to ya, babe?"

Zora pulled out her badge, showing him the silver circle engraved with a snowflake. "We're ICE, and we're investigating something of potentially global proportions. The government has given me personally Level 7 clearance. When I ask questions, I get answers. Now, one more time, how many minutes?"

"I see why they call you ICE. Uh, we got the call at 2:56, so that brings it two fifty-five. Fifty-six," the cop peered at his records.

Zora nodded and found Marc to relay the information. He was talking quietly with Death, watching the guy on the bridge.

"--must be important."

"What's important?" Zora asked.

"Level 8 stuff. It's classified," he said. "What did you find out?"

She narrowed her eyes, but answered. "The target is Alex Beidersted, a name given to him at his first foster home. He is fourteen, has been with twenty six foster families, surprisingly good grades for moving around so much, and his current foster parents are the Joneses, those people over there."

"Fourteen? He's only a kid," Death said.

"You aren't that much older yourself," Zora said.

"Still," she said. "You shouldn't kill yourself at fourteen. You haven't even given life a chance yet. Well, you shouldn't kill yourself at any age, but you know what I mean."

Alex looked down from the bridge to the black water two hundred feet below. There was a crowd of people standing on the bridge's road, but he stood on top of the spire that held the suspension cables up. Was he seriously going to do this? Could he?

A girl with curly brown hair called up to him. "Hey! If you come down right now, we'll get you a cookie! No, no, a puppy. Yeah! Just climb on down-- carefully-- and you can have a puppy." She looked really proud of herself.

He turned back to the water. It would be cold, sure, but dark. Dark and silent. He would finally be alone, escape from the horrible light. The light that never stopped talking.

He bent his knees to jump. "Wait!"

A girl in a plaid collared shirt stood on the next spire over, panting. A deeply tanned man was at the bottom. He must have helped her up.

"Hi. I'm Cindy. Who are you?" she asked, even though she already knew from talking to his foster parents.

"Alex. Alex Beidersted," he said. Tears were threatening to spill out of his eyes. He swiped angrily at his nose, rubbing away snot so he could breathe.

"Alex. That's a great name," she said. "Why do you want to jump, Alex?"

"To stop them from talking," he said.

"Who from talking?"

"The light. The light is screaming at me, and I want it to stop!"

Cindy raised her eyebrow, and Alex swung his arms downward, like a kid throwing a tantrum.

"The light. Every photon, they can all talk. They're living, smart, and they never shut up! There's so many, it's like having an entire beehive in my head, all the time, every day, all day."

"You know, I have some friends who deal with stuff like that. I bet they can make the photons be quiet," she said.

He laughed bitterly. "No they can't. No one can. I've been to doctors before, and they all said I was crazy. The crazy schizo who has voices in his head."

"But you aren't, are you? That's why you didn't use your pills to kill yourself. If you were diagnosed, then they must have given you pills."

"They wouldn't have been able to do it. The pills don't work at all," he said.

"So you must have tried them to know that," she said.

He nodded. "I just want them to stop," his voice cracked and he pushed down a sob.

"I don't think you're schizophrenic, Alex," she said, sitting down cautiously. He mimicked her without thinking.

"You don't?"

Cindy shook her head. "I don't."

He sniffled and gazed back out at the water. It was late fall, so even though it was early, night had already fallen and brought a chill with it. He didn't notice though. He was a bit preoccupied.

"I'm studying with Jehovah's Witnesses, starting to learn the Bible. It says that death is like sleep. 'As for the dead, they are conscious of nothing at all', Ecclesiastes 9:5. Like a candle snuffed out. The flame didn't go anywhere, it's just gone. Your 'thoughts perish'.

"No more thoughts. No feelings or senses at all. It would be silent. For once, just once, everything would be silent.

"I want that. This is the only way," he said.

"No, it's not," Cindy said insistently.

"Then what is? How can you possibly silence the light?" Tears were flowing freely down his face now. He made no effort to hide them.

"Well... Give me a sec, I'll think of something," Cindy said. He obliged, looking up at the stars for one last time. He wished they were brighter. But then again, more light would make the never-ending noise louder.

"The problem is you can hear light," she said. "So what if we moved all the light away from your ears?"

He almost laughed. "What are you talking about?"

"Block the light. If it can't get to your ears, then you can't hear it," she chuckled. "You need headphones."

His face was a canvas of emotions in quick succession. Confusion, understanding, happiness, horror. He tensed up and gripped the spire like his life depended on it.

"Get me down from here!"