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Authors: Jamie Wang

Requiem for a Mouse (30 page)

BOOK: Requiem for a Mouse
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PRINCE

 

Prince sprinted back home. “Flower!” he shouted through panting breaths.

“Prince. Where have you been?” Flower stopped mid-step. Footprints in the dirt tracked her nervous pacing. “The Dragon let me go, told me that you’d come right after. What happened?”

“Hawk’s Lair is burning.”

Flower’s eyes grew large. “What?”

“It’s the Lions, they burned down Hawk’s Lair!”

“Oh my god,” Flower said. “Prince, we need to find Bolt and Mav and get out of here.”

Prince shook his head. “We’ll never get another chance like this.”

Flower gave him a look of disbelief. “What are you talking about? We need to escape while we still can! It sounds like a war’s about to break out.”

“We can’t escape.” Prince chuckled. “Why do you think The Dragon let us go? It’s because he controls everything in this city. Wherever we run, he’ll be watching. And even if we could run, where would we go? Do you know what’s beyond the borders? What direction do we head? How far do we go? Flower, how do we even find Bolt and Mav?”

Flower nudged her head from side to side. “I don’t know.”

“Flower, nothing is how we thought it was. We’ve been lied to since day one. I learned the truth in Hawk’s Lair. He controls it all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mice, Flower, Mice! Drops, Hawks, even the pedestrians, he’s responsible for everything!”

“You’re not making any sense!” Flower yelled. “Prince, you’re not telling me anything!”

Prince faced Flower dead on, his eyes staring into hers. “We’re going back to The Dragon.”

“What?” Flower looked at him like he was crazy.

Prince hurried into his tent. “Grab your things. We’re leaving.”

“No.” Flower crossed her arms and shook her head. “You have to give me something, Prince. Tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s no time.” Prince was already gathering the things from his tent. “Just trust me!”

“Prince,” Flower pleaded. “Please tell me something.”

When Prince came out of his tent, his face was stern and voice commanding. “Listen to me, Flower. If we don’t move now, we’ll never get the chance to again. Right now, The Dragon needs us. This is the weakest he’ll ever be. I have a plan.”

“But Prince, he needs us to get Mav. Mav’s family.”

“He’s our responsibility.”

“But… but…” Flower could barely start her sentence. Her voice trembled until it waned into silence.

“Flower.” Prince gave her a hard look. “Trust me.”

Flower gave him a slight nod and left for her tent.

Prince let out a held breath. He gripped the silver knife in his pocket. He had yet to cut anyone with it, but he imagined that would soon change.

Sorry Sasha, but it turns out, strength is all that matters.

He stood and curled one hand into a fist. His broken knuckles pulsed with pain.

BOLT

 

Grey clouds plastered the sky. Every now and then, a sporadic rain drop splattered on his head. If the sky had roared during the previous week’s storm, now it whimpered.

Bolt stared at the sloppy graffiti on the wall by Flower’s tent. No doubt, it was her handwriting, but the lettering didn’t cut neatly like usual, it shook and wavered, making slow curls instead.

‘Going to The Dragon. Are Safe.’ It said.

Bolt held his fingers up to the letters. The paint was dry. He stared at its last sentence. Below the graffiti, propped against the wall, was a knife with its tip burned black.

“Are you really okay?” he muttered to himself.

“What are you going to do now?” Lissandra asked from behind him.

Even though one of the reasons he came back was to introduce her to his family, he had forgotten that she was even there. She stood behind him in the middle of their home where they had once gathered around every day to eat.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bolt asked, reaching down to take the knife.

“You’re not thinking of going against The Dragon are you?”

Bolt shrugged. “If that’s what it takes to save them.”

“How?”

“However I can.” –Bolt turned to see Lissandra with crossed arms— “What?”

“It’s The Dragon.” She replied. “He’s dangerous.”

“That’s all the more reason I have to.”

Lissandra raised her eyebrows, her eyes glistening with worry. “Hawk’s Lair just burned down, something’s coming. Everyone knows it, you were with me at the marketplace today. It was empty. Now is not a good time to take risks.”

Bolt nodded. “But it’s the only time I have.”

“Maybe you should lay low for a while, wait for this to blow over.”

But by the way Bolt looked at her, it was obvious he had made up his mind. He took the apple out of his pocket and stared at its scarlet skin. “You know; I think I’m going to keep this for now.”

“Didn’t we come here so you could give that to her?”

Bolt shook his head. “I’ll give it back to her when I pay back my debt.” He tossed it in the air and caught in his other hand before taking a large bite of its side.

Lissandra watched his theatrics with the corner of one eyebrow raised. “And how are you going to do that?”

“I’ll beat The Dragon.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

Bolt looked back, his face the picture of tranquility. “Joking?” He grinned a crescent moon. “Who the hell do you think I am?”

EPILOGUE

 

“Another please,” Lissandra said. She sat inside an empty bar, the only patrons inside were herself and a stranger to her left. They both stared straight ahead as if the other didn’t exist.

The bartender poured a clear liquid into Lissandra’s glass. She sniffed it before throwing her head back and gulping down the vile syrup. Vodka, Gunther’s favorite. She was worried about him, it had already been two weeks since he disappeared and one week since she started looking for him. But other than scouring the city, she could think of no other way to locate him and it wasn’t working.

“I’ll have what she got.” The man on the stool beside her said with a scratchy voice. It was the first time he had acknowledged her presence.

Together they finished their drinks.

“So, what’s your story?” asked the stranger without turning. He wore a red baseball cap with some bird on it. He kept his head low so that it hid his face completely.

“I do what I have to to get by. Right now, I’m a Mouse,” Lissandra responded.

The stranger let out a deep and hoarse laugh. It sounded like he was coughing but the sides of his cheeks lifted in a smile. “I used to be one of those.”

Lissandra furrowed her brow. “When?”

“Just a few weeks ago, before everything went to shit. It’s a bad time to be a Mouse.”

“It’s the only thing I can do right now.”

“That’s not true.” The stranger chuckled through his words. “There are so many things you could do instead. You’re just not willing to do anything else.”

“Like what?”

The stranger turned and for the first time, Lissandra noticed the burn marks from his chin to his ear. His skin looked like an overstretched plastic bag with gouges and rips across it. A gaping hole on his chin glowed white where the bone was.

“You can steal. You can kill.”

Staring into his eyes was like staring into an abyss, so dark that not the slightest light could escape.

“No thanks,” Lissandra said. She got up and pushed in her stool. “Have a good one.”

“Wait.” The stranger held up a hand to stop her. “This one’s on me.” He nodded at the bartender to pour them another drink.

When the drinks were poured he grabbed his glass with his right and offered the other with his left. Lissandra stared at the clumps of flesh that rose and fell off his hand like valleys and cliffs. She could see each knuckle through the torn skin. Patches of skin looked like char.

“Take it,” He said.

Cautiously, Lissandra reached out and grabbed the drink from his hand. When she did, his lips curved into a grin, further stretching the holes in his face.

“To those taken too soon and to those who will be soon enough,” he said with his glass raised. Without giving Lissandra a chance to reply, he held his head back and downed the drink.

Lissandra set her own drink back on the bar.

The stranger dropped a fistful of bills onto the table. He hopped off his seat and walked toward the exit, but stopped at the door. His voice rumbled deep enough to be a growl. “There’s a storm coming, Mouse. Everyone can feel it, in the back of their throat, like an itch just begging to be scratched. And what is that itch? Why, it’s a scream.”

Without another word, he left.

Lissandra shivered. It felt like a winter breeze had just made its way down her back. She had a feeling that they would meet again.

 

BOOK: Requiem for a Mouse
7.06Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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