Exodus (3 page)

The cool air rushed past his face as the sky turned to a deep black.  He felt his wings tucking tight against his shoulders and he moved even faster.  Before he knew it he had entered the cold confines of space.

He looked back down at Earth one last time and the tiny blue dot fizzled then faded away.  Anthony blinked and rubbed his eyes and he was back in his cell staring at the brick wall.

III

“So let’s talk about that dream again,”  Dr. Shipiro said almost mechanically.

He stared skeptically from his heavy birch desk to the lanky teenager sprawled across the dark brown leather sofa.  He’d been eyeing him for half an hour, clicking his teeth as the youth recanted a story about whale guts.

Dr. Shipiro removed his glasses and rubbed his brow.  Tiny lines of stress wrinkled across his pale skin.  He huffed and ran his fingers through his graying brown hair.

He had the appearance of a man who’d known former glory, but had been robbed by time.  His narrow nose bore marks from years of wearing glasses.  His slender arms, which were surely formidable weapons at one point, looked weak and fragile as he stretched and rolled up the sleeves of his white button up.

His office was crammed with old furniture and ancient books covered in dust.  Like the man that owned it, there was a hidden splendor underneath the layers of neglect.  A shadow of a past life, before the burdens of others had sucked it dry.

On the wall behind the desk was a small circular window.  It was just high enough that you could peak out of it when standing.  A ray of light beamed through it, giving the swirling dust a halo effect.

Dr. Shipiro cleared his throat and looked back over to the boy on the sofa.  He was a rangy seventeen year-old with bleach blond hair.  His dark tanned arms hung limply off of the couch, his sandals barely hanging from his feet.  He was wearing a sleeveless white t-shirt and camouflaged cargo shorts that clung to his waist with the help of a frayed rope.

“Times up,” the boy said as he sat up and glanced at the clock.

“It would appear that you are correct.  Next week then?  And please, think about what I said earlier, letting go is just part of the process.”

Mikey smiled as he slowly stood up and stretched his hands to the ceiling.  His stomach grumbled loudly, voicing its dissatisfaction with the hour long session keeping him from french fries and pizza.

“Sure thing doc,” Mikey mumbled as he turned and headed out of the office.

His sandals slapped against the hardwood floor, echoing into the air like an angry duck.  He pushed open the heavy mahogany doors and lazily marched into the lobby.  In the center of the room was an enormous green rug with Legos scattered across it.  A little boy, no older than six was tossing the plastic blocks around.  When Mikey walked out the boy gave him a menacing stare and chucked one of the Legos at his head.

“How dare you!” the woman sitting in the chair behind him shouted out.

“It’s okay, he didn’t hit me,” Mikey smiled.

The lady looked bewildered.  “You would’ve deserved it if he did, giving him such dirty looks.  Tim, come sit with mommy.”

“Whatever lady,” he absently flicked his hand.

Scratching his head Mikey stepped around the rug and kicked the pile of Legos on his way.  He looked across the room, where a tall, dark-haired boy wearing a form fitting white t-shirt that read “
Embrace Mediocrit
y
”
and frayed blue jeans was leaning against the wall.  He was laughing to himself and staring at Mikey shaking his head.

Mikey rolled his eyes and headed towards him.  The boy across the lobby was seventeen as well, but the stubble on his face, chiseled arms and tattoos made him look much older.  His eyes seemed young, but dark and piercing like someone who’d seen through the façade of the world.

As Mikey approached he straightened himself and made an unreadable face.

“Looks like things almost got ugly for you,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well we all can’t be on steroids.”  Mikey shot back.

The boy looked down at his chest and flexed.  He looked back up at Mikey with a sinister grin and then turned towards the door.

“So what’d old doc ship wreck say today?” he asked looking back at Mikey.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” Mikey groaned.  “Now let me get the keys Steve, I’m driving.”

“Pfff, yeah right loser,” Steve laughed as he shoved Mikey.  “I’ve had enough near death experiences.”

Rolling his eyes he turned and pushed open the glass door that read “
Shipiro & Shepherds Therapy Center
.”  The tawny colored brick building had almost become a second home.  Hours upon hours spent divulging their deepest secrets, or at least the made up adventures that kept everyone smiling.

Stepping outside Mikey yawned again and looked over to Steve with a grin.  Steve was staring into the ether, obviously deep in thought.  His hair blew about in the wind like a wayward buzzard, his hands clenched tight against his side making the muscles in his arm flex.  What a difference two years made Mikey thought. 

Steve had gone from a fat kid with bad hair and incredible charisma, to an all-out bad ass.  It was like he’d crawled into a cocoon a caterpillar and come out a dragon.

At one point he was nearly two feet shorter than Mikey and now they were dead even.  His body bore the signs of someone who had been forged by fire. Someone who had forgone the rearing of nurture and love and instead been tested by the harsh realities of life.

It was now mid-afternoon and the rays from the sun were blinding.  Mikey gazed across the street as cars zipped by.  Steve had already gone ahead of him and was standing in front of a car parked on the curb.  Mikey shook his head as Steve gawked with his mouth wide open.

“Marry the thing already,” Mikey yelled and jogged across the street. 

Steve smiled and plopped into the lipstick red sixty-eight Chevy Camaro.  He rubbed his fingers across the dash with a greedy grin on his face.  Gripping the steering wheel in his hands he leaned in close, his lips hovering above the leather.

“You miss me sweetness?” he whispered.

Mikey shot him a look and shook his head.  The pristine muscle car was Steve’s pride and joy.  He’d spent summers with his grandfather restoring it and now that it was finally drivable there was nothing he loved more in this world.

It was a traffic stopping shade of red with white racing stripes running along the hood, all the way down the trunk.  The hulking chrome wheels gleamed in the sun, accented by the stickiest set of racing tires money could buy.  The interior was massaged in ebony leather and under the hood was enough power to reverse the Earth’s rotation.  

Still smiling from ear to ear Steve turned the key in the ignition and low growl vibrated the air.  Pressing the gas his eyes lit up as the car roared like a lion announcing its presence.

He looked to Mikey and puckered his lips as he buried his foot in the pedal.

“Oo yeah, sweetness likes it rough,” Steve gasped.

Slinging the car into gear he snapped back in the seat and sped off.  Mikey gripped the door handle with white knuckles, his jaw clenched tight.  They tore down the road like a space shuttle.  A gray smoke trail dissipated into the air as the thunderous engine faded away.

Mikey mumbled prayers under his breath as the car flung around corners screeching like a banshee.  He slid from side to side in his seat while Steve laughed and buried his foot into the floorboard.  

Within minutes the red Camaro was sliding into the North Shore High School parking lot.  Thick, black tire trails ran across the asphalt like a toddler scribbling with a marker.  Impressed with his record timing, Steve pumped his fist and mouthed a little cheer under his breath.

“You know, most people aren’t in a rush to get to school,” Mikey huffed.

Steve laughed and patted the shifter.  “What can I say?  Sweetness wants me to get my edumacation.  Who could say no to a face like this?”

Mikey rolled his eyes and picked his books up off the floor.  Laughing Steve reached into the back and grabbed his bag.  He took one last look at his car then headed for school.

As they walked through the halls of North Shore High, every eye seemed to turn and follow Steve.  Kids gawked as they whispered to one another and pointed.

“Two years you’d think they’d be over it by now,” Steve grumbled.

“You did free climb out of a chasm and hike back to civilization.  I’m not even sure I know who you are,” Mikey grinned.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but just as he did a tall brunette with perfectly tanned legs walked passed him.  Their eyes met for a split second then he looked away and sighed.

Patting him on the back Mikey whispered in his ear.  “It’ll be alright man, we’re gonna find him.”

Steve smirked and headed into the cafeteria.  It was now lunch time and the school was buzzing.  The normal hierarchy of high school was at play which Mikey and Steve did all they could to ignore.

The punk rock kids were on one side, huddled around a green haired boy with gauges in his ear strumming a guitar.  The jocks were sitting on the tables, pandering to every girl that’d give them the time of day and tossing the occasional spitball at underclassmen.  The nerds were circled together in the corner, their heads buried in I-pads with fingers furiously pounding at the screens.  To the left, the preppy girls thumbed their noses at each person that walked by, and then critiqued their outfit like a vindictive version of “What Not to Wear.”

Straight across the cafeteria was a set of double doors that led out to the courtyard.  In front of them was a spunky redheaded kid.  He was jumping up and down waving his hands furiously.  He wore beige shorts with a green shirt and slightly resembled an overgrown leprechaun.

Steve tapped Mikey on the shoulder and nodded towards the doors.  “Mit’s looking lively.”

Mikey snickered as they crossed the cafeteria and headed outside.  Mit grabbed a plate of pizza and followed behind them.

Stepping into the courtyard the bright sun scorching overhead was blinding.  The ground crackled like it was stuck in an oven.  If it weren’t for the breeze from the ocean the heat would be unbearable.

Spring break had just ended and the anticipation for the summer seemed overwhelming.  Most of the kids were already wearing board shorts and had donned sandals in lieu of sneakers.  With mid-terms lurking around the corner no one seemed particularly eager to get back to class.

“What’d the doc have to say to you?”  Mit asked as they gathered around a bench.

“Same old same.  As long as I agree with whatever he says.  Guess it helps him sleep at night.”

Steve started to laugh, but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Boys,” a deep baritone voice boomed from behind them.

They looked up in unison to find Principal Harris surveying them inquisitively from behind his bushy white eyebrows.

While he normally wore dusty old suits or his faded military uniforms, today he was in khaki pants and a flowered button up shirt like a Hawaiian tourist.

“How are we?” he asked, looking at each of the boys individually.

“Good, good,” Mikey snickered.  “Special occasion today?”

“Oh yes, it’s quite fastidious that you’ve focused on my fatuous frippery,” Principal Harris dove into one of his rants.

Steve rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Can we help you Mr. Harris?” Mit interrupted him.

“Oh...no.  I guess not.  Carry on boys,” he turned and walked off.

“Harris is losing it,” Mit stared after him.

“Hell, he never had it,” Mikey laughed.

Steve grinned at them both then bent down and pulled an apple from his bag.  He bit a chunk out of it and juice sprayed out and dripped down his chin.

“So Clark’s house tonight?” he smacked.

“Yeah, but I liked you better when you ate Twinkies,” Mikey said, sliding over to avoid the spray of apple juice.

Steve shot him a look and kept eating.  When he was finished he grabbed a bottle of water and took a swig.

“So Mit, how’s your therapy going?” Steve asked.

“I finished my last session yesterday.”

“Oh yeah.  So you’re cured then huh,” Mikey jested.

“Of course I am.  I uh, got lost in the woods.  It was all Anthony’s fault.  He wanted to run away and I wasn’t brave enough to tell him no,” Mit said sarcastically.  “Whatever the doc wants to hear I guess.”

“Screw that!” Steve snapped and flung the apple into the yard.  “That’s why I don’t even show up.  I’m not pretending for their benefit that what happened didn’t happen.  And if I get my hands on Frank…uh!”  Steve made a twisting movement with his hands like he was wringing out a wet shirt.

“It was either that or be hospitalized,” Mit retorted.

“I’d like to see them try it,” Steve pounded his fist into his hand.

The bell rung and everyone started gathering their things and heading back inside.  Mit lingered a little longer than everyone else, staring at the spot where Anthony would’ve normally sat.  Mikey and Steve vanished through the double doors not noticing that they’d left a member behind.

“I miss him too,” a voice said from behind Mit.

He spun around and stumbled backwards.

“Nickie, I umm didn’t see you there.”

She grinned at him and then headed inside.  Mit stood for a moment longer before running to catch up with the others.

“What happened to you?” Mikey asked as they rounded the corner heading to trig.

“Nothing,” Mit stared at the ground.

The rest of the day was quickly consumed with lectures and practical exercises.  This year they all shared identical schedules, which meant Mit did the work and they all copied.  By the time the final bell rung Mit had assembled a novel worthy pile of notes while the most anyone else had done was construct a paper airplane.

“It’s really nice you driving us around and all,” Mikey grinned as he hopped into the grumbling sports car.

“Eh, I do what I can,” Steve smiled.

“Oh I was talking to Sweetness.  She’s starting to grow on me.”

Steve shot him an evil look and closed the door.  With a roar they peeled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

“Hope Clark’s got something good,” Mit said from the backseat.

“He said we were getting close,” Steve replied.

Twenty minutes later the red Camaro rumbled through the neighborhood and pulled up in front of a decrepit two story.  Mikey immediately jumped out of the front seat and darted onto the crumbling front porch.  He jabbed at the doorbell which buzzed loudly then fizzled out like there was a short in the wiring.

“You’re an idiot,” Steve rolled his eyes at Mikey as he and Mit made their way up the porch.

“I like the sound of the buzzer,”  Mikey grinned.

Suddenly, the door swung open and an aging gray haired man stepped out.  He stared up at Mikey from behind a silver pair of glasses that hung off of his hooked nose.  He wore brown dress slacks, a yellowing dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and a maroon vest that was possibly older than the house.