Arizal Wars Series

Chapter 2: Escort Part 2

It hits me like a violent punch to the gut. Whatever he's doing, whatever game he's playing - it's real. I suppress the heat of panic rising to my cheeks and focus on the carpet, quickly calculating the situation. He's older than me but not ancient, and could probably catch me if I tried to run for it. But if he's planning on taking me somewhere, there will be no other time to escape. It's now or never.

"I can see you're trying to decide if I'm insane," he interrupts my thoughts with his smooth, velvety voice.

I suppress a gulp. "Aren't you?"

"It would seem that way, wouldn't it? But I assure you, Fallon, I'm in my right mind."

My eyes flicker to the door behind him. It could lead anywhere. Another bedroom, a closet. A back porch. "I need to use the bathroom."

"By all means," he waves me on, "if you feel you must feign a full bladder for a moment of solitude..."

"It's not for solitude."

"I know," he responds automatically, "but with no windows, there's no escape. So solitude is the best you have."

So he knows. If he knows and isn't trying to restrain me yet, maybe he won't. Maybe the best thing is to be direct and above that, more confident than I feel. When I speak, I use conviction as if my words are not up for debate.

"Earth didn't have a war."

"Give it a moment."

"But you're lying."

"Why are you fighting this?" he furrows his brows at me, as if I'd offended some crucial opinion of his. "I'm trying to help you."

"I don't believe you," I stand up, my legs still wobbly from the fresh weight. "Whose house are we in?"

"It's not a matter of believing if its fact," Clarence shakes his head, "and unfortunately, the people who lived here didn't survive. Some places remained more or less in-tact than others. I found you here."

My eyes drop from his to the floor. Clusters of fringe point in opposing directions, muddied by overuse, and the bottom cushion in the maroon chair sits lower and slightly discolored from the arm rests and back panel. A light coat of dust blankets the gray television but on the wooden stand supporting it, away from both Clarence and I, a circle of condensation remains.

A chill runs through me as I look back to him. "But why would I..."

"Clearly you were searching for food and water."

"And my clothes?"

"You must've rummaged through some old closets and found them. There's no other way."

I glance over his green button-up and khakis. "And yours?"

He hesitates for only a second. "Try to remember, Fallon. Think about it. Think about the famine. The rioting. When your government collapsed..."

"You said Earth."

He smirks at the correction, "Indeed I did. Some held hope America would bring about the change the world needed..." his voice trails off as he looks to the billowing red sheers, lost in his own thoughts.

When I realize he's not going to elaborate, I do a quick sweep of the room. There's the door behind him, which could lead anywhere. The glass panels to my right are closer to him and the hallway disappearing beyond the couch would only lead further into the house, not out of it.

But then there's the door to my left, at the end of a narrow entry way, just beyond the kitchen. I hadn't noticed it before, Clarence having led me into this room for our chat. He's seated still, gazing off and I'm already on my feet. I could do it. If I sprinted, flew through the door - granted it's unlocked - I could run as fast as possible, finding someone, anyone who'd help. I could make the best attempt. I could escape.

"Fallon," Clarence says, his sights still set on the sliding glass panels, "it'd be best not to."

I freeze, dread returning. Is it too late? If I make for a run for the door now, will I reach it in time? Instead of fleeing immediately, I shift a step, careful to keep the sound of my shoes from betraying me. "You said you were here to help me."

Clarence breaks his gaze and looks at me. With surprising sincerity he admits, "I am."

Another step and his eyes drop to my feet.

"Then understand I'm fine on my own." Another two steps. "Always have been."

"Fallon..." he's requesting now, in a desperate way I almost feel sorry for. "Please don't make this difficult."

Another step.

The door is right behind me. I'm closer to it then Clarence, who hasn't budged an inch. He sits deflated, as if he has no intention of running after me. Will he when he must? Or is that someone else's job? A new thought fills me with terror as I work out the possibility that maybe Clarence isn't alone in all this. The idea that someone could be waiting on the other side of the door fills me with newfound terror. But it doesn't matter at this point.

"Thank you for the water."

"And what do you think is out there?" he flies to a stand, his hand outstretched, mocking the door like some clichéd routine. "Salvation? Escape?" He walks closer as I back up, gripping the handle in a closed fist. "Think really hard, Fallon. Think about it. What happened before you awoke?"

"I..." my mouth drops and just as I'm about to tell him it doesn't matter, I see it. Hear it.

Fire.

Crackling as it cooks the night, the trees, the houses and the bodies. Children screaming, running from black clouds, desperately clutching bits of food, clothes, pieces of once- somethings.

"You see it, don't you?" he steps closer. "You remember now?" Another step.

Grey skies linger as ashes lie strewn about school graveyards. Nomads crossing deserts in the former cities, garbage overflowing like water from a mountainous fountain.

"Fallon," Clarence approaches slowly, extending his hand as he nearly closes the gap between us, "come with me... let me help you. Let me take you home."

He moves for the final step but I swing around, jetting out the door.

A gravel driveway leads to the same type of road ahead, the only interruption in an otherwise grassy field. There are no houses, nothing other than the road, which disappears into the distance both ways. Everything's out in the open, especially me, my heart racing as I quickly try to recalculate. I jet to the side of the house, passing an open garage and round the outside walls, keeping low, searching for a hiding place. But there's nothing.

"Fallon?" he steps through the front door.

Pressed against the wall, I slide down, inching my way toward the back. My pulse speeds, my breath coming in and out in rapid beats.

"I'd rather not do it this way..." his voice travels.

Behind the house, off in the distance, lies a thicket of trees following the road in both directions. It's a good fifty yards away but offers a canopy of coverage. If I sprinted, I might be able to -

"You won't make it," he calls from above, standing atop the roof. "But... might we hurry this up? I do have other appointments."

My stomach drops.

I'm running before I'm able to ponder, darting to the front of the house and into the open garage. An old Cadillac greets me, the walls lined with boxes and Christmas decorations, tools and lawn chairs. There's a door in the back and I race to it, pulling it slightly ajar. It leads into the house, across from the kitchen and dining room. Backing up, I head for a blockade of boxes and shrink to the ground behind them, waiting.

Footsteps enter.

They stop just as quickly. "Really, Fallon. Why are we playing this game?" A heavy sigh escapes. "I'm only here to help you." He moves on the other side of the car, toward the open door.

I creep in the opposite direction, behind the shield of boxes, back toward the outside light.

"The sooner you trust me," Clarence closes the door, still in the garage, "the sooner this will all be over."

He's rounding the front of the Cadillac and I'm nearly to its back bumper. I just need to slide out and make for the tree line and then...

...I'll figure something out.

"Fallon..." Clarence tries again but I'm already slipping past the wall and out of the garage.

Once outside, I book it. Running as fast as possible, I take off for the trees behind the house. My heart's racing, threatening to explode, my long legs not moving fast enough. I don't look back. There's only ahead. Only the camouflage that'll keep me hidden. I'm halfway there when his voice sounds next to me.

"The sooner you understand I'm here to help you, the sooner I can take you home."

He must be running next to me, but I don't stop.

Keep going. Just keep going...

"Fallon..." he tries once more, his hand outstretched as he glides along next to me easily.

Almost to the trees...

But suddenly, he's there, in front of me by a yard, cutting off the tree line as an available exit. I dig my heels into the grass with a sudden halt. Which way? Which way? I'm ready to collapse but the fear of death keeps me moving. Spinning, I race in the opposite direction, back toward the house.

I don't get far.