In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER SEVEN

He was in the apartment, but it looked bigger than usual. He felt small, barely the height of the couch. He was finding it hard to walk.

Luke was there, sitting just opposite him. He was really there and talking, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He was saying nonsensical things that Matthew couldn't really hear or understand.

He had dark, longish hair that fell in delicate waves at his ears and a wide, toothy smile. He looked something like Matthew, but in a smaller version with a smattering of dizzy freckles, like splattered paint.

He was there, in the flesh, before him. He was back. Matthew was so happy that he was back. So happy that he didn't question when or why or how.

There came a pounding at the door that made Matthew jump with fright. It was hard, heavy, with unnerving determination. Luke's face went pale, and he glanced at the door, then straight back to Matthew. His eyes were wide with fear.

"Matty!" He screamed, and he reached out to Matthew. Matthew started saying something, something reassuring. He tried to run to Luke, to grab him, do something, but he was being held back by forces out of his control. He felt like he was moving in slow motion--

The door gave way and four Bots entered, rushing the entrance and immediately advancing upon Luke. The boy raised his hands up to his ears and clamped them over tight. Their blue lights blazed, internal alarms humming that long monotone note, increasing in volume. Matthew was reaching for him, trying his hardest to get to him, his heart was pounding--

"NO! No, don't take him!" Matthew was shouting, struggling to get free. The Bots were already there, and they seized Luke with cold, hard hands. They lifted him just enough, dragging him across the room towards the door. His little feet kicked up into the air, but his face was spread with such a blatant look of hopelessness that all Matthew could do was scream.

"Don't be scared! I'll find you!" Matthew was yelling frantically, and just as the door shut behind them,

he snapped awake.

The room was stifling, and he sputtered as he sat up in bed. The world around him was painted yellow, and the sunlight flashed inward at Matthew's face. He squinted, propping his hands up on either side of the mattress. Something crinkled under his right hand -- the letter, now wrinkled from having rolled over it in the night. His throat was dry, and his limbs felt heavy. Sore, for reasons he wasn't sure of.

The picture of Luke's struggle, his frightened eyes, had frozen over Matthew's heart and put him in a daze. He took a few long breaths in, bringing his hands up around his elbows and cradling himself at the edge of his bed. His head was filled with dizzying reassurances: it was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. He really felt like crying, but tried to forget about it.

His mom was sitting at the kitchen table, eating synthetic eggs and drinking a tall glass of water.

"Hey Matthew," she spoke cheerily, smiling at her son as he entered. 

"How'd you sleep?" She asked. He shrugged in his stupor.

"You'd better hurry, or you'll be late for school," she said, and Matthew was launched into a panic. For the time being, his mind was redirected.

He barely made it in time, just as they were closing the big iron gates at the front of the school. Matthew pushed himself through the crowd -- the morning rush, where everyone was huddled, taking small, shuffly steps to avoid trampling over each other. It was the same everyday, the initial funneling into the main building for Inspection. Matthew peered over the hundreds of heads, surprisingly finding the few familiar ones not too far off.