IGNATIUS The Colors of Rage

Chapter b Seizures

Nearly ten years later, Iggy was still a runt. Blind. Disabled. Weak. Some would say that runts are high maintenance with little pay off, but Baine kept him anyways.

Iggy sat on the sofa inside of Baine’s private office balancing a two foot book across his Indian crossed knees. It was about the world’s greatest artworks. It had large pictures and fonts and it was one of few that Iggy had read more than a thousand times, since his reading options didn’t reflect his seeing ability. It didn't matter to him, though. He knew that he was lucky enough to have at least one book that he was able to read, and especially fortunate that it was about art. He didn’t care much about reading, not like Baine did anyway. Art was his love. His companion. His endless obsession. 

He closed one eye and peered up at Baine who stood in front of his massive bookshelf, the one that towered over him and covered the entire wall, plucking out pages of journals like hairs and sifting through them. Research was typically how he spent most of his time. Afterwards, he’d position each page and journal back in order, always a little bit sloppier than they had been, but in order nonetheless. 

On this night, Iggy squirmed restlessly. “What are you reading about?” he daringly inquired. Although Iggy had gone through a delayed puberty during the past two years, he still had a higher voice than an otherwise healthy post pubescent man. It was hard to respect him at times.

Baine didn't even look up from the pages in his hand. Rather than converse, he shook his head and turned his shoulder so that his back faced him. Iggy sighed and put his chin in his hand. He leant over the armrest and gazed at Baine’s large back. Most of his features Iggy remembered from when his vision wasn’t so poor, but as each day went by, he saw less and less. Baine had very warm dark brown hair that was meticulously clean cut. His skin was on the cooler side, white with just a slight hint of beige, and he looked around twenty seven. 

A few minutes passed and Baine could feel the hot arrow in his back. “What is it, Iggy?” he grumbled. “I can feel you staring at me.”

Iggy reopened the book across his lap with his able right hand and looked down. “I’m having a hard time seeing,” he complained. “I think my vision is getting worse every time I open my eyes.”

Baine pressed his back against the bookshelf and he rolled his eyes to look over at Iggy. His jawline was hard etched. “Try closing your left eye,” he proposed, attending back to the pages in his hands.

Iggy tossed the cover to the back with a clap and laid it on the couch next to him. He rested his hand over the title. “It doesn’t help.”

Genuinely unconcerned, Baine replied in his lowest voice, “when’s the last time you ate, then?” The corners of Iggy’s lips pulled back anxiously, and he glared down at the back of his pale hand. Baine sighed loudly and shoved the pages back into the wall. He walked over and sat next to him. His eyebrows lifted and he tilted his head. “Well?” 

“I don’t remember,” Iggy whispered. Then he shook his head and regained volume. “I don’t want to eat. I don’t feel hungry.” 

Baine pressed his elbows into the tops of his thighs and leaned forward. His eyes dug into him. “I haven’t seen you eat in days. Just because we don’t eat, doesn’t mean that you don’t have to. You’re a weak seventeen year old. You need all the nourishment you can get.” 

Blood rushed through Iggy's cheeks and heated his chest. “But my food gets thrown away,” he justified. “Every time I make something, it’s gone before I can eat it all. It’s too hard to eat around here, because everyone hates it so much that they sabotage me!”

Baine turned his head back and furrowed his eyebrows. “No one is sabotaging you…” he stated. He leaned back, breaking eye contact, and exhaled through pursed lips. “Food just smells bad. We try not to be around it.” He relaxed and pushed himself forward again. “Look, cook only what you can finish. Then, it won’t disappear before you can get back to it again, because you’ll already have eaten it.” 

Feeling insecure, Iggy folded his right arm over his left and hugged his pale, left, deformed hand into his ribs. His deformity was a very sensitive place. He never even allowed Baine to look at it, let alone touch it. He shifted his chin to the side, not even pretending to look back at him. "What's the point of boiling a single potato?" he mumbled. “Never mind that,” he continued, now looking in Baine’s general direction. “I don’t feel hungry, so I don’t care. Instead, let’s go outside. The summer flowers opened. I want to get some and bring them inside. Whenever I see them at night, I can’t tell the difference between the yellow ones and the blue ones…” 

“Flowers?”

“And I really want to use them for a project tomorrow. If I get them tonight, they’ll be dried by-”

“No.” 

“But-”

Baine shook his head and stood up from the couch. “It’s almost morning. Ask Nansen to take you out tomorrow.” He circled around the couch and plopped down behind his desk. He picked up a page from the desktop and scanned it. The document was an incomplete message sent from the nearest house located forty miles away that was similar to theirs. The house belonged to the Silgrias, and all that was written was, Emi... Silgria Family. 

Iggy sunk back into the cushions with his arms still tightly crossed over. He grasped another idea, and tossed himself half over the back of the couch and smiled. “How about I go out alone?” he proposed. “It won’t be long. I would be back inside in no time.”

Baine glared at him indignantly. “You can’t be serious,” he said. “You know the rules. You can’t go anywhere without me or Nansen. We are here to protect you. What can we do if you go outside in the sunlight and have a seizure or something? We’d burn alive trying to save you. Could you live with that?”

All of Iggy’s enthusiasm drained out. He swallowed loudly, drew his hand down into his lap, and turned back around. “Alright… I’ll ask him tomorrow,” he gave in.

“Forget it!” Baine stood and circled the desk. “Just for entertaining the thought, I want you to stay inside tomorrow and the next night.” Iggy dug his fingers into his forearm and lowered his chin quietly defiant. “The idea itself is reckless enough to make me second guess my trust in you. Now-” he dropped his voice “-go into the kitchen, and eat something. You’re disappearing right before my eyes.” 

A half of a bowl of boiled carrots later, and Iggy and Baine were marching along the upstairs hallway toward the last bedroom. A few other house members were also retiring for the morning, but the majority of the twenty some residents were already fast asleep, and the hallways were deathly quiet, until Nansen crossed their path. 

Regardless of the dark smudges in the corners of his eyes that resembled exhaustion, Nansen smiled wide, and glided through the two, patting them on their backs as they passed each other. “Have good daydreams, boys!” he teased.

“I’ll switch with you!” Baine called after him as he distanced himself further down the hall.

“No way in hell! Twenty four hours shifts were your idea, remember?!” Nansen twirled with a mischievous grin, just before he dashed through the door of his bedroom located at the top of the stairs. 

Baine peered down at the old cot sitting outside of Iggy's bedroom door. A decrepit thing, layered with blankets to make it a tad bit more comfortable. Baine growled at the sight of it. “I’m getting to the point where the floor looks more inviting,” he declared.

Iggy rounded the corner to his own bedroom and halted at the threshold. “You can always sleep in my bed with me,” he offered.

“With you?” he laughed in mockery. “I think not.” 

“Well… Your choice then.”

Baine plopped down onto the cot. It held for a minute too long, then it gave up on its duty altogether. His foot busted through the end, the springs snapped out of their holes, the sheet ripped through the metal frame, and he landed on the floor.

“Ahhh!” he hollered, flinging the blankets up while simultaneously climbing out of the frame. “Bloody hell!” He thrashed the frame over onto its side and folded it up like paper. Then, the cot went flying down the hall. He looked over at Iggy. “Just go inside, already!” 

Timid, Iggy scurried behind the door. He covered himself with his blanket and went to bed as if he were at fault for the broken cot. 

Baine, for the first time in at least a year, left Iggy’s proximity while he was the one on duty. Off to find adequate sleeping equipment, he came to the lower lobby, but then he heard a particularly unsettling whistling coming from the entertainment room and lost sight of his original intention. The security panel was on the wall right next to the front door. There, Baine picked up the singing emergency line and held the static receiver to his ear. “Baine speaking,” he answered. 

“Amare speaking.” Amare’s voice was low and secretive. “Reporting from the outer wall. There’s been an intrusion.”

“What?”

“An intrusion. Two civilians are dead. Someone infected got through.”

“What did the day guards see?” 

“Nothing, sir. The murders just occurred. Whoever it is, they’re on their way to you. I advise that you stay around the security cameras.”

“Got it.” Baine braced himself. He flipped open the security system screen. The cameras showed a long stretch of the inner brick wall surrounding the house, as well as the only drivable entrance barricaded by a cast iron gate. “Keep me informed.” 

“Of course.”

Iggy woke up a few hours later. It was much too quiet and still for it to be evening again. He curiously slipped out of bed and set his ear against the door. He heard nothing from the other side. He turned the knob slowly and steadily, until there was a narrow opening. Except for the hill of discarded blankets that he saw as a blob before his door, the hallway seemed empty. 

Baine never returned. 

So, he shut the door and pressed his back into it. Maybe he should have been scared or worried, but he wasn’t. Adrenaline saturated his body along with a desire for adventure. He rushed across his room to his covered window, grasped the thick curtain, and paused.

It was forbidden to remove or draw the curtains open during the day. Not often, he was brave enough to sneak a peek of daylight, but today, he was thrilled by the idea of basking in it! Without further ado, he spread the curtains apart and let the light in. It flooded his room. Blinding! Behind him, it highlighted all of his projects hanging from the walls and ceiling. Shadows danced to and fro… but he wanted even more. He crawled inside of the window ledge and drew the curtain shut around himself, and he pried open the old latch and swung the loose window ajar. The fresh air was warm and full of life, breezing easily with the smells of flowers, grass, and other things. The experience was nothing like nighttime garden strolls, and still… he wanted more!

The wall beneath was two stories high and rigid with building stones. He had climbed down from his window only twice, both times before the incident with his left eye and the onset of regular seizures. But today, with the sun shining golden orange, he was confident that he could do it again. He dangled his feet from the ledge, his arms held onto the window sill, and he found the first prominent ledge with his toes. One by one, he stepped his way down to the soft grassy earth beneath. Green. Flush green. Bright green. And not only green, a green that he could see well! Joy warmed his heart hotter than anything else ever could. Hope was reborn.

He bolted right into the plush garden. In the realm of flowers and plants, the garden was relatively fresh, having been planted over the span of fifteen years. Along the wall, there was an intricate pattern of vines crawling toward the sky. Beautiful round flowers appeared like multicolored spots, freckling over the stones. Orange, blue, and white all crowded together. His jaw dropped in awe, for he could see them with this light like never before! He caressed a petal at a time with his fingertips.  He dove in nose first to smell them. Then, he picked them one by one, forming a small collection in his hand. He looked up at the solid blue sky, shaded with gray and white fluffy clouds, birds flew overhead in pairs singing. 

Eager to discover all of the world’s beautiful galore, he drew his gaze downward, back to the garden. Near the tree overlap that hovered above the tall brick wall, he saw a dark figure standing in the shade. A stranger who was hooded tight.

Moment by moment, the light from the sun lessened. It was all so perfect… familiar. The smell of burnt hair and ammonia filled his nose. The rock covered ground came closer. Then, he saw nothing.