In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

He was flying down the stairs before he had time to decide whether or not it was a good idea. His mom clearly didn't think so, and she called out after him from the fifth floor landing. Her voice echoed down in waves in Matthew's direction, but he was going too fast to stop. Olive followed him down one flight, then ran back up.

He couldn't understand what propelled him to go further -- he had to see it up close. He had to see what had become of him. Even when he knew what horror awaited him, even though it was past curfew, even with everything -- he ran.

It gave Matthew vertigo to go so quickly. He took big, bounding steps, going a few at a time, reeling around every sharp turn. He tripped a few times over his feet -- he would've been more careful if he hadn't been replaying the last few moments over and over again in his mind.

He pushed through the heavy metal doorway leading into the lobby. He had never been out at this hour, and the world was eerily silent around him. His breathing sounded loud, hollow, against the quiet. The darkness at this time of night was startling. There were no lights left on for latecomers, no need to light any path. Outside of the blaring white lights that covered the street, it was a maze of black darkness.

"Dad," Matthew said to himself as he walked towards the double doors. He could see the dark mass, the outline of his father's body against the floor. The blue ink seeping into the earth around him.

As Matthew neared, pushing open the right door with his hand, he came to a startling realization. Now standing in the open night air, feet planted firmly along the dirt path he had tread so many times, he felt more alone than ever.

The blue puddle was just that -- a blue puddle, and nothing more. His father's body had vanished into the night.

Matthew stared for a long moment in disbelief. His mouth hung open, quickly growing dry with the ashy air. Out of the corner of his eye, movement. A flash of white.

Matthew's stomach lurched, and he looked upward over his shoulder at the building above him. His mother's face and Olive's, both looking down on him, shock fresh on their faces. His stomach dropped, and he wished he hadn't acted on impulse. One of many times in his life he wished he had held back.

He took a few steps backward, turning to face the double doors again. Landing a firm hand over the handle, he tugged, and the door rattled. This time, they didn't open. They were locked, automatically, upon his leaving -- one of the rules of curfew, which Matthew had completely let slip his mind in his frenzy. He stepped out again into the path again, just out of the white lights, looking up once more, fear brimming on his expression.

Then, from afar, yards away at the beginning of B Block, he heard the familiar rising tone of the Bot's alarm system. It had seen him -- it was too late. He had to move. It was warning him that he was in for a world of pain.

Curfew lifted at five in the morning, with the rising of the vendors and shopkeepers. At this rate, Matthew calculated he had roughly nine hours to spend evading the Bots. A feat he immediately recognized as impossible.

He figured he could accept his defeat, come up with an excuse, talk his way out of this. Maybe they would listen, he could try to reason with them that it was all a mistake. His mind flashed with the memory of his father's face, igniting red, and his hands tight around his neck. He swallowed, and it still burned from the pressure.

And without another thought, Matthew turned to the right and he ran.

He could hear his mother's voice call out to him as he started off, and the blaring tone of the Bot rushing after him. Its footsteps hastened from shuffling to heavy pounding against the earth. He sped off into the darkness, away from the flood lights that bathed the street. He had to try. He had to try for his father.

"What the hell is he doing?" Jean asked from above, her voice mixed with anger and confusion and pain. Olive hadn't the faintest idea of how to help her either. Her own mother was upstairs sleeping when she had heard the commotion downstairs. It was Jean's screams that brought her right away.

"I don't know," Olive said, and Jean turned to her suddenly.

"Do you think they'll take him away?" She asked frantically, her face appearing cold and worn in the faint night glow. Olive hesitated, and Jean turned back to the street. "I can't lose him. It's been the two of us for years. I can't afford to lose anyone else."
Olive watched her expression shift to one of pure sadness, and she put her hand on Jean's shoulder, offering whatever warmth she felt she could.

"I don't know, but Matthew is smart. He will be alright," Olive said, hoping her words were convincing enough for the time being. She believed in Matthew, but she knew what they -- the Bots, the First Five, DefTech -- could do.