Indigo Rock Page #5

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

• Fiction
• Horror
• Mystery
• Science fiction
• Anthology

								


He snorted. "You're still weird as ever, I see." 

I gave him a smirk-and-punch combo. "I still have my right-hook, too." 

"Ow. I see that." Reece rubbed his arm. "If those military dudes show up, I'll just hide behind you." He bumped his shoulder into mine, causing me to fight off another blushing spell. Curse these teenage hormones. 

"So, that thing must be pretty important if the military is involved," I said. "Classified, I mean." 

"Must be. They scared the shit out of me last night. I mean, we really shouldn't be going up there," Reece said. "What do you think? Should we turn back?" 

The itch intensified. All I could picture was my brother in bed, hooked up to his oxygen tank. I should be in that bed -- the bad twin, the worse half. 

"No," I huffed stubbornly. "We came all the way here, so let's go. Let's go now." 

He tipped his head in agreement. 

We gave the area a final scan. When certain the coast was clear, we trekked the rest of the trail, pushing past a labyrinth of fernbushes and blue thistles that left burrs on our jeans as souvenirs. 

Finally... 

There it was again. The stone, just as we left it. The bewitching glow instructed us to step closer, take our phones out, and let the purple tendrils seep into our screens, absorbed through small, molecular cracks. 

Like the addicts that we were, we followed its commands and commenced our glimpse into the future. 

Reece beamed at his phone. "Holy shit, I'm getting a scholarship at camp next summer! I knew my scores weren't enough to get me in." He held a picture of him holding up a Fighting Irish jersey, dated one year from now. 

With a tepid smile, I said: "Congratulations." 

It felt odd, to say the least, seeing snapshots of our future. Spoilers, more like, with no warning. But we wanted to be spoiled. Indigo Rock let us peer into our life's novels, and read the halfway mark. 

A voice inside of me knew I shouldn't be doing this. "You're going to hate what you'll see," that voice warned. But just like Reece and Jonesy, I had to know. 

I had to. I had... 

The gasp came out of me sudden and sharp, piercing through like a spearhead. "This isn't real. No... no." 

Reece glanced over. "Jess? What's wrong?" 

I struggled to peel my gaze from the Instagram post. But the longer I stared, the more my heart shattered. It was a picture of Cyrus and I posing with our heart-hands, sitting in a hospital bed. A day that hadn't happened yet. The caption read: 

In loving memory of my brother, my twin, my soulmate. Two years since I lost you, and the hole in my heart grows larger each day. Time heals all wounds? Well, I'm still waiting... and waiting. 

Maybe the healing never comes. Maybe we simply make room for it - hope for the best. 

I tried to read more, but the tears welling in my eyes and dripping on the screen prevented me from doing so. 

Then, a snapping noise, coming from the trees behind us. Was it the military men again? The scent of weed wafted from that direction, and we quickly knew we weren't in danger. "Reece? Tadpole?" Jonesy strolled up nonchalantly, his blunt in his hand. "Well smack my ass and call me Chucky! Didn't think you'd be back so soon. How's it going, brochachos?" 

Then, a move no one predicted. Not even me. 

I jerked forward and launched a right-hook across his mouth. Jonesy crumpled to the ground, cupping the spot where my fist had landed. 

"What the hell!" Jonesy yelled. 

As I stood there---livid---the glowing of the stone magnified by a hundred, like it was taunting me. Mocking my discovery. Its voice was machine-like. Binary code in audio. 

You must know more. 

Let it consume you. 

Look upon the rock.


3. BARGAINING 


Reece helped him off the ground. "Jesus, Jess! What's the matter with you?" 

I pointed at the juniper tree. "That thing is what's wrong with me! Why... why did you have to bring us here?" 

"I, I didn't know---" 

I stormed off before Jonesy could string his response together. "Jess!" Reece yelled. "Where are you going?" 

Reece's shouts grew more faint the further I walked, then blended with the chitters of the forest. 

I swiped the tears sliding down my cheek. These are fake tears! Tears for things that haven't happened yet. That may never happen. I climbed on top of a boulder, overlooking a vast ocean of pines. The day was warm, radiant. An antithesis to how I felt. 

What the hell does Indigo Rock know? I thought. It's nothing but a dumb stone in a dumb tree. My brother was a person, flesh and blood and bones that lived. That breathed. 

"And he'll keep breathing," I uttered, with all the strength I could summon. "He's fine. He's fine. He's fine." After the fifth or sixth repetition, the words came with tears. 

I buried my head between my knees. Seconds later, arms wrapped around me, the arms of a certain football jock. "You okay?" Reece asked, holding on tightly. If only my problems could dissolve inside his hug. 

I shook my head. "I lied earlier. Cyrus wasn’t doing good this morning." I brushed away messy bangs, exposing the stress on my forehead. "I've never seen him this bad. And... I don't know what to do." 

"Listen to me." Reece wiped my cheek with his sleeve. "Your brother is a fighter -- always has been. And whatever you saw back there? You can't let it get to you. We don't know how this works. It could all be bogus." 

I wanted to respond, but all I could give was a pitiful nod. We sat in silence, with picturesque views slowly lifting our spirits. There was last night's bonfire, its wisps of dying smoke still visible. There was Crystal Creek to our left, where Cyrus, Reece and I used to fish for rainbow trout. 

"Oh, God." Reece cringed. "Crystal Creek? Isn't that where..." 

"You found a leech in your you-know-what, and Cyrus had to pull it out? Yeah, that's the place." 

We both let out snickers. Sitting here, we gazed upon our old haunts tucked between green and yellow trees and glittering streams. What Reece said during the bonfire was true: we truly were the Three Musketeers back then. Why couldn't the stone transport us back, instead of forward? 

"Tell me the story again," Reece said. The way he spoke had the cadence of that ten-year-old boy I once knew. 

"What story?" 

"How you got your nickname," he said. "Talking about it always cheered you up, right?" 

He was right. It did. I set my head on his shoulder and rewound the clock. Cyrus and I have always loved animals. Growing up, mom let us own a variety of pets. One Christmas morning,
swimming happily in a fish tank, were big, wiggly creatures foreign to us. 

Tadpoles. These weren't your average, garden variety 'poles. They would eventually grow into giant bullfrogs, but until then, their plump, baby versions were the cutest things my five-year-old eyes had witnessed. 

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