AshesAndBlood Page 6

  I don’t know if it helped, having Megan tell me about my son. It has me twisted inside, unsure about everything. My mind is in two different places, which isn’t healthy. Alive in this world while dreaming about my home world, longing to reunite with my family.

  Drinking helps. It numbs the pain. The first year was the hardest. Waking up, afraid I’m late for school, to realize my ass is asleep in a barn and I need to take a piss, but there’s no indoor plumbing. No school, no friends, just another nightmare I need to drown out after taking a leak.

  I started drinking junior year, had a job frying chicken next to a liquor store. I became friends with the college guys who worked there. We exchanged food for booze. At first, I brought the liquor to parties. It wasn’t long before I drank every night. Mom blamed it on herself and a lack of a father figure.

  I blamed no one. Alcohol makes me relax, it makes my mind stop racing. It mellows me out and calms me down. Most of the time, I’m a happy drunk, but God knows there’s a nasty drunk hiding somewhere. For the most part, drinking quiets the nightmares and silences the never-ending screams at night from Brian and Dave.

  I tried the other option. When I think of that dark night, it causes me to rub my neck every time.

  I can still hear Brynjar yelling as he found me hanging from the barn rafter. I’m surprised to this day that the old beam held my weight. He knew. I must have acted funny that day, drank more than normal, fought with him more, something must have shouted a red flag, ’cause he found me just in time.

  I don’t remember what went through my head, what had urged me to make the noose or step off the stool. I will never know what exactly set me off or what had been my tipping point. I can’t say if it was something someone said that sparked a painful memory or if I wanted the limbo of living between two worlds to end.

  Brynjar cursed at me for what seemed like hours after cutting me down and bandaging the rope burn. Blobs of tender maroon and yellow bruises developed around where the rope had dug into my skin. The abrasion from thrashing left me with a one hell of a nasty scar.

  At that point, Brynjar yelling at me was the most he had ever spoken. He called me names in different languages, berated me, told me I was unworthy to be given a second a chance and have thrown it away. He called me selfish for letting him down.

  I let him down. What about life letting me down?

  That was it. That’s when I lost it and told him. I told him everything.

  Where I was from, how this wasn’t my world. That my friends died, how I ran away as nunda ate them alive. That every night since, their screams haunt me, taunt me, and that they never let me sleep. Words flowed out, starting from childhood to that night—the night we had gone camping—and he listened. He heard every insane word. I rambled on for hours, into the early morning.

  I yelled about my family, how my father abandoned us, how my mother depended on me, that I protected my sister, how I was the man of the household, and that my family needed me. How I needed to go to college, to make enough money to ensure Mom had financial support when she was too old to work. That I had to make sure men respected my little sister, how I promised I would walk her down the aisle. I spoke of things nobody in Capo would comprehend, but he didn’t utter a word. He made no facial expression, he only puffed his pipe and poured more bicki when our cups went dry.

  He didn’t argue. He never called me crazy. He nodded and told me to move my belongings into the house. From that night on, I’ve lived in the house. He never said my story was a lie, or that I was insane. He accepted me and moved on. We woke up the next day like nothing happened. That was the only day he let me sleep past sunup.

  Moving on is my goal, but like most things, it’s easier said than done. It’s super hard to date when you have a tough time relating to everyone around you. All of your childhood experiences differ. TV, video games, board games, things you learn in elementary school, everything you know isn’t common knowledge. I thought that maybe someone would notice my metal art and comment on the TV, car, or game controller. A sneaky test to see if any customers have been on or came from Earth. It didn’t work until Megan came in with her friends.

  It’s not that there’s nowhere to meet anyone. I’ve met women since living here. No steady girlfriends though. Most women in Capo have had an arranged marriage setup since they were born. Men of my status, with property and a trade job, tend to travel south for the winter in search of a wife. I’ve thought of taking the trip, even asked Tristan and Xander to join me, but the journey sounds daunting and at the end of the day, I’m lazy. Walking hundreds of miles hoping to find a wife sounds painful—besides a waste of time. After I find that wife, what am I supposed to do? Bring her back so she can spend the next winter trapped inside the house with me for four months? She would be gone as soon as the snow melted.

  Capo’s Secret is my kind of place. It’s a strip club, casino, hotel, bar, and restaurant in one. I’ve spent many nights there. When I’m lonely at home, I don’t feel that way there. There’s always a woman to keep me company, a pretty face to look at, someone to distract and entertain me.

  Brynjar took me there a couple nights after I attempted to hang myself. I didn’t want to leave the house. I was too embarrassed to socialize, and I wanted no one to ask if I was okay. I fucking hate that shit. No, I’m not okay. There’s a ring around my neck to prove it. Asking if someone is okay will never help. Getting someone to relax after a year of never-ending panic attacks will.

  He told me to wash up, to get dressed in my cleanest clothes, and bring money. He always paid me a percentage of what we made. Depending on the project, he would let me keep it all. I’m not going to lie: I was nervous. I didn’t know where he was taking me. I wasn’t sure if the town had a mental hospital and I didn’t want him dropping me off.

  We headed toward Tavern Street, which made me choke. I was sure he was leading me to the back alley where he had found me a year ago in my ripped jeans and torn hoodie, scrounging through garbage, trying to find anything edible.

  I can remember struggling to tell passersby that Capo wasn’t my home. I told them I was lost and needed help. They laughed or ignored me, assuming I was another crazy homeless person. No one gave me any scraps, I had to dig food out of the trash. I was thankful it was summer. It wasn’t too cold at night, but it rained often. I wore a hoodie that was ripped from running through the woods, jean shorts, and sneakers. I had nothing else. I had left everything by the campfire, there was nothing in my pockets. The only protection from the elements that I found was a covered doorway. It shielded me from the rain—as long as it didn’t pour sideways.

  Brynjar found me rummaging through a restaurant’s trash, trying to find something to eat. He had walked out of a pub across the main intersection on Tavern Street. He wore leather boots caked with mud, brown pants, a plain khaki tunic, and a long brown cloak that hung over his shoulders. His black and white beard tangled with his matching mangy hair when the wind blew. Around his belt, he wore a dagger and hatchet. Besides that, there was nothing interesting about him, nothing that drew attention to him.

  He saw me, tilted his head, and studied me. He didn’t give me a pitiful look. I could see him calculate, his gears moving. He took a moment to think before he strolled over and held out the roll. It was left over from his dinner, something he may have planned to snack on later that night. I didn’t have time to think before snatching the roll, nearly swallowing it whole. He never spoke. He merely nodded and motioned me to follow. Without help or an alternative plan, there was nothing to do but follow the only man in Capo kind enough to give me food or show me any form of human decency. He took me back to the barn, gave me clean clothes and a sleeping mat, along with a substantial meal. Nothing fancy, just food he had in storage. Some smoked meats and cheeses with bread, and my first sip of bicki. That was the first act of kindness anyone gave me since arriving in Capo. All he said that night was, “Sleep, new apprentice. We wake before sunup.”

  Actions spea
k louder than words, and his actions from our first encounter have always been to help and guide, even if his words aren’t the nicest.

  I can remember going past that spot with him, all dressed up and scared, and expecting he would say, “This is where I found you; this is where I leave you. I helped you long enough. You’re on your own, nut job.” But no, he continued walking farther down the street. He kept moving. He didn’t even notice the spot. It was like that moment held no significance to him. He marched down the alley with only his destination in mind.

  We had almost reached the end of the back alley when he stopped in front of a stoop. The dwelling had no lights in the windows. Drapes covered them, concealing any light in or out. It made it impossible to see any details. Brynjar walked up the back entrance stoop to an abandoned house. Nothing to see except a huge man propped against the derelict building.

  Big and muscular, he smiled at Brynjar and said, “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “Nowhere fast,” Brynjar chuckled back and laughed. He had barely said a few sentences to me besides curses, let alone laughter. Even when teaching me how to work metal, he didn’t speak. He would smack or growl at me to get my attention. He’d make me watch him, and then I’d have to replicate what he did. Everything he taught was through grunts and punches, his own unique language. To hear him laugh for the first time, I couldn’t help myself but chuckle anxiously. It caused both men to turn around.

  “Is he with you?” Muscles asked.

  “Yes, the laughing idiot is with me.” Brynjar rolled his eyes, sighing. “Come on, idiot.”

  Muscles—his real name is Sean—still calls me The Laughing Idiot.

  My mouth dropped as we stepped through a second set of double doors into a brightly lit room. Identical blonde twins with long, flowing hair, wearing matching baby-blue bejeweled bikinis with frost blue kimonos draped over their shoulders, greeted us. They asked us for our coats and weapons. In return, they gave back a ticket to retrieve our items when we left. Brynjar dragged me past the gorgeous giggling twins into the middle of the building. Still gripping my ticket, I was too distracted by the blondes to notice a line of men forming, waiting to drop off their items or pick them up.

  Brynjar pushed me into the room to behold its grandeur. Solid whitewashed jade hardwood floors with matching banisters lined the entire building. Chandeliers made from the same wood hung from the ceiling. Hundreds of candles in them had been lit, making the room bright. Women with hardly any clothes on danced around, passing out drinks and hot food. They smiled invitingly at every man. Muffled music came from a band playing in another room, drowned by all the giggles and laughter. Bright colors. Oranges, emeralds, lime greens, and crimson reds clung to curvy bodies. The women looked like Victoria Secret models in various sorts of lingerie I never knew existed. Sheer pink babydoll chemises, scarlet and black corsets bursting woman’s breasts; it was impossible to look without wanting to motorboat them. Long, flowing, creamy, see-through lace dresses, fluffy cloud bikinis in different shades of pastel. They felt like what I imagine clouds do, like floating cotton candy with moisture, but not sticky.

  Had I died and gone to heaven?

  Before coming to Capo, I wasn’t old enough to enter a strip club or casino. I hadn’t experienced anything like this. Capo’s Secret was a brand new way to let go of my troubles, fears, pains, and relax. It was paradise. It thrilled me, revived me, and it made me feel alive again. My only comparison to what Las Vegas must be like. Damn, I wish I had gotten the chance.

  “Hi, handsome. Are you new here? Name’s Lilly. Can I get you a drink?” Her voice still echoes in my head even though it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.

  A little blonde bounced my way, and I mean bounced. She wore a brilliant white babydoll dress decorated with silver snowflakes; it hung on her in all the right places. My eyes absorbed every detail of her emerald jewel eyes, her flawless milky skin, her juicy deep red lips, her voluptuous curves, her welcoming arms. She hypnotized me with those curves, she let her body jiggle a little extra with every movement. Teasing me, tormenting me, she drove me mad with lust.

  A real pro.

  I can’t recall when Brynjar wandered off to indulge in the pleasures found at CS. I figured he saw Lilly come over and knew she would take care of me for the night.

  Alone with Lilly, her eyes lingered on my biceps, which I don’t mean to brag, but they are massive. She dragged her fingertips down my arm—the touch of her skin on mine sent a shock throughout my body. It had been too long since a woman wrapped her silky smooth arms around me, comforting me or giving me any physical contact. I needed her.

  “Are you,” in all honesty, I didn’t know how to ask, no matter how you phrase it, it still sounds wrong, “available tonight?”

  “For a handsome man like yourself, yes.”

  “Bring a bottle of bicki.”

  That’s all I could say. Half of me wanted to run out of the building and hide—the other half was driven by desire. I ached to feel something other than endless melancholy.

  I needed to feel again.

  I don’t regret going. When you have no one and nothing, the place makes you feel like you have a home. Being held by a gorgeous woman makes you think someone cares.

  Lilly’s a sweet girl, my favorite. I even wanted to marry her. Since my first night at CS, I spent most nights with her. She’s been a drain on my finances, but there’s nothing else to spend money on. Once, I asked her if she would ever consider settling down, getting married. She laughed and said she wanted a life of adventure, not motherhood. Yearning for never-ending excitement, never knowing what the day brings. Living a life of mystery and relishing every adventure. Lilly promised herself she would never live the same day twice. I try to think and live like that. It helps make life not seem so dull.

  Has Lilly even noticed my absence over the last week? I practically slept there every night. I’m ashamed to tell the girls the reason why the house is in such disarray. I don’t want them to judge me or call me a creep.

  I didn’t always go for women. I wish I made that kind of money. The bar’s atmosphere is close to a club. There’s always someone to talk to, a drunk who won’t remember the conversation the next day. Hell, most won’t remember they met you the night before, or the night before that. It’s the perfect place for someone like me. I can vent about being homesick and no one ever recalls the discussion. I always have to make sure they are drunk, revealing nothing descriptive about my home, but at least there are people to vent to, even if they don’t care. I think overall, I was lonely and bored. It’s hard, surrounded by a town of people but unable to talk to anyone or find anyone who would understand.

  Years ago, stumbling back from CS late one night, a crowd of people was yelling, making a scene. Drunk and bored as usual, I forced my way through the gawkers to discover Xander, a stout-shouldered man, beating the shit out of some dude. I saw string bean Tristan trying to pull the raging bull Xander off some poor drunk. He was having a hard time. I laughed, pushed the string bean aside, and picked up the bull by his belt. No one expects to be given a hanging wedgie during a fistfight, at least not by some bystander. After a year and a half of swinging a hammer, lifting, and bending metal, picking up Xander meant nothing. I could hold him—his pants, not so much.

  Holding his ass up in the air, he dangled for just a second before I heard a loud rip. Then I dropped him.

  The bull crashed to the ground, craning his neck to see who the hell had hung him by his belt, ripping his pants and underwear. It gave the drunk time to scramble away to safety. Seeing Xander’s face made me think he looked hurt. Like someone killed someone he loved. He didn’t appear bad or that he wanted to hurt someone; he was sad. He looked like someone had died. I found out later that the fight had started when the drunk asked Xander how his parents were. The man had been traveling and hadn’t seen them in over six years. Xander’s parents had died during the plague and the unlucky man didn’t know.

  I
held out a hand to help him up. He took a second, and then decided against fighting me. Upon standing, his pants and belt completely separated. Laughing, I invited them back to the forge to escape the crowded streets and have a drink. Xander had to hold up his pants up the whole walk to Brynjar’s house. That was about seven years ago. Drinking in the barn and laughing about the fight was the first night I felt I truly belonged somewhere. Thought Capo could become my home.

  Our home.

  My cousin, my only family member on this planet, is here, and she may stay along with her friends. Which, I wouldn’t mind in the slightest, especially if Dana stayed. She’s perfect.

  Dana’s strong, smart, capable, tiny, and bubbly. Knockout gorgeous. I never thought someone that radiant could pick up a hammer and swing it equally as hard as a man can swing. Her eyes get me with every glance; deep pools of sea green that always meet my gaze, ready for anything. She fears nothing. I can remember her as a kid, daring, demanding to go first. It was always a competition between Dana and Megan. Both are so much alike. They had epic catfights about who went first off the diving board at my aunt’s house. They’re best friends because they’re the same person, practically. Megan is slightly lazier and crazier, but I will never say it to her face.

  I hope they feel comfortable here. It’s not what we’re accustomed to, no running water or electric, but it’s not bad. Having them here encourages me to save money for a beach home one day. I’ve heard the Gold Coast is beautiful. I miss the beach. The sound of the ocean, the smell of the salty air, the warm sand between my toes; I’m sure the girls will miss it too. We all grew up minutes from the beach. It was home for us all.

  Who knows what will happen. With how many bachelors are living in Capo, they might each end up getting married. However, eventually, I want to make it to the beach. Seeing them, being with family and friends makes dreams seem possible, even if it’s a drunken dream.

  Yeah, the nights are the hardest. Thinking about everything repeatedly until the liquor finally makes it stop. It’s time to piss, get a fresh bottle, and fall asleep to the screams.