Indigo Rock Page #2

Is it possible to grieve someone before they're gone?

• Fiction
• Horror
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My brother crossed his arms. "What he said." 

"Curfews are in your vocabulary if you had a mom as strict as ours. If the car's not back by midnight, she's gonna crucify us." 

"Trust me, you don't wanna miss this," said Jonesy. "I took some guys there last weekend, and it totally blew their minds. I'm talking some psychedelic, life-altering stuff here." 

Two weeks ago, Jonesy was the talk of our little town. An armored truck on its way to Western Union was stopped by two criminals -- a bank-robbing duo named the Leonas. Before they could steal a single dime, however, cops burst onto the scene and quickly apprehended them. 

No one knew how, but the local stoner himself, Jonesy, alerted the sheriff of their plan. 

"What do you mean?" Reece asked, echoing my curiosity. "What's at Indigo Rock?" 

"Hike up there with me and find out." Jonesy fashioned an impish look. "I'll give you brochachos time to deliberate. But if you decide to come, don't forget your cellphones." He got up and faded into the bonfire's smoke, leaving us to contemplate his words. 

Bring our cellphones? Maybe there was a gross, rotting animal he wanted us to take pictures of. One time, Cyrus hid a dead skunk in my tent when we went camping at Pike's Peak -- the little shit. I wouldn't put anything past these mountain boys. 

"I say we go with the weedhead," said Reece. 

Of course he does. 

And my brother didn't need much convincing. Me on the other hand? "I don't know. The bluff up there is pretty sketchy, especially at night. Take one wrong step, and you're tumbling down a mountain." 

"Come on, Jess," urged Reece. I flinched, not expecting my name out of his mouth. It was a good flinch. "You used to love doing stuff like that. Remember the three of us in fifth grade? We went out on adventures all day! Like that time at Royal Gorge, when Cyrus fell and the branch caught his backpack. You were nearly a goner, man!" He sighed. "We were the Three Musketeers back then, weren't we?" 

I couldn't tell if Reece was reminiscing from the booze in his system, or if he genuinely missed those days. Either way, it was nice hearing it from him. 

"Then we got to high school, and you turned into a brain-dead gym bro," said Cyrus, more a quip than an insult. Reece responded with a dimmed smile. A look of fondness, and if I didn't know any better, regret. 

Sitting there around the fire, inhaling the robust mix of wood and ash, brought about old feelings. And for whatever reason, call it impulse or nostalgia, I said, "Screw it. Let's go with Jonesy." Their heads creaked in my direction. "Let's check out Indigo Rock." 

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

"Seriously?" My brother lurched excitedly. 

"Seriously." 

Reece clapped the dirt off his hands. "That's the dare devil twins I know! Don't worry, I'll protect you from the pothead, in case he tries anything weird." 

"What do you think is up there?" Cyrus asked as we walked towards Jonesy. He stood at the mouth of an overgrown trail, lighting up his umpteenth blunt. 

I threw a shrug. "Guess we're about to find out." 

"Well, well, well. I see you've chosen to leave reality behind, and enter the Matrix." Jonesy flicked his head at our schoolmates, partying around the bonfire. "You see those guys? They're like rats in a maze. But you three? You're about to bust the maze wide open." 

"Cut the bullshit, man," said Reece. "Whatever this thing is, it better be good." 

Jonesy took a long sip of his blunt. "Do you have them?" 

We flashed him our smart phones. "Affirmative," said Cyrus. 

"Very nice. Follow me, brochachos." 

It was an ungodly hour, and the trail was ungodly dark. Mount Evans had a slew of sanctioned hiking trails. This particular one, with unkempt pines and thickets you'd need a machete to hack through, was not one of them. Pine cones crunched beneath our feet, like we were tomb raiders traversing a path of skulls. 

The further we went, the harder my paranoia thumped in my chest. 

Everyone in town knew of Indigo Rock. A meteorite struck the area fourty years ago, and since then, it had been the subject of many whispers. Strange lights emanating from the hills, reports of disembodied voices, all second-hand and unsubstantiated. 

But paranoia festered and spread in a small town. 

Cyrus pulled a low-hanging branch with a mischievous grin. He released it as Reece rounded the corner, walloping him in the face. 

The football jock nursed his cheek, laughing. "You asshole -- you always did that when we were kids." 

"We're still kids," Cyrus added. "Just 'cause we're graduating, doesn't mean we can't have fun." For a moment, the boys transformed to their fifth-grade selves again, how I'd always pictured them in my head. Before the peer pressure, forced conformity, before SATs and college admissions. 

Just fearless children, armed with their imagination. 

Jonesy, ahead of the pack, paused to mull over a fork in the trail. "Aha! It's that way." He pointed to a steep embankment, moonlight like an ocean of diamonds against the pine needles. "Word to the wise: if you're lost, let the moon guide you." 

"Wait, we're lost?" I asked. 

Jonesy coughed. "No. Of course not." 

Reece kneaded his forehead. "I swear, Jonesy, if you get us lost out here..." 

"Hey, what's that?" Cyrus said. Our heads swiveled to where he pointed. Something pulsed, just beyond the embankment: a dim, purple glow, blinking like a beacon. 

I peered up at it. "Either we all have contact high, or there's actually something up there." 

"Oh, it's the latter, my friend," Jonesy huffed capriciously. "That's Indigo Rock. Come, hobbitses. We're nearly there!" 

He dashed uphill toward the light. 

"Hobbit?" Reece murmured. "I'm six-foot-one, asshole!" 

As Reece trudged behind Jonesy, I felt it at the nape of my neck. A dreadful, familiar feeling. I first felt it two months ago, when Cyrus collapsed on the kitchen floor. Then again, whenever chills gripped his body, or when he'd lose his appetite. Tonight, it was fatigue, weighing on his bones like an anvil. 

I could feel every bit of it. 

He sat on a tree stump, gasping a lung full of air. "Hold up, Tadpole. I need to rest." 

I crouched beside him as Reece and Jonesy faded from view. "Sure you want to keep going?" 

"Yeah, I'm good." He inhaled slow, deep breaths, the way his PCP taught him. "I just need a sec." 

"Admit it, Nathan Drake. You clearly underestimated this hike." 

He flipped me the bird, which was I love you in Cyrus-talk. We watched clouds drift by the silver coin in the sky. It was peaceful, aside from the crackling of his strained breaths. 

"So, you know that last line in Playing For Fools?" he said, an owl hooting in the distance. "I never told you what it meant." 

"I thought your song lyrics were supposed to be cryptic." 

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