The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,27
counted off seconds lost almost imperceptibly in their ears. But when the days fell silent, the seconds were louder than thought itself.
Even so, he thought, measuring each second gone by was even more of a waste than letting them slip by unnoticed. He had no way of knowing what came ahead, and he couldn’t see an escape from death in his future, but he still had today. He still had warm air brushing past his skin, and sunlight settling on his features, and a car full of friends around him. He pulled his mind out of the despair it so easily slipped into, though it was almost comfortable in acceptance now. Although he had almost forgotten, he remembered why he was driving, why he had put so much effort into escaping the city, even life, for awhile.
They had finally reached a more rural area, and with Nameh occasionally pointing out turns, were making good progress. Suddenly, he realized that he had little idea what had been going on in the car up until this point. Apart from Nameh’s directions, he had tuned out most of the conversation and music with his thoughts.
“Everyone holding up okay?” he quietly put forward.
“It speaks!” teased Nameh, “Ready to join the land of the living?” He only laughed in response. “Plus, it would be helpful if you told me exactly where we’re going, considering I’m giving directions.”
“Can’t do it.” he replied smugly. “Do you want to completely ruin the surprise?”
“Aye aye, captain.” she mocked.
Mira perked up at the sound of conversation in the front of the car. “Hey skipper, make yourself useful and change the station.”
“Nothing country.” repeated Seth for the fourth time, “Unless, of course, you want to arrive at the mystery destination with only three remaining.”
“I’m sure you’ll just die.” said Mira sarcastically.
“Actually, I had planned on murdering the one responsible.” he retorted.
Nameh had fallen silent again, but in a comfortable manner that Max imagined was peace. Her eyes were fixed on a far off point on the horizon, and he wondered what she was thinking about. Maybe she was listening to the melancholy clock as well, or maybe just remembering something beautiful.
He fixed his hands loosely on the worn-smooth leather wheel, and thought he might let the car coast as far as it would take them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DESTINATIONS
Mira’s hair softly blew in the fading-summer wind. The sun beat down on worn cloth seats and soaked into drained bodies. It felt as though the light was filling up an empty space inside her that had been empty so long, she scarcely remembered what it felt like when filled. Max and Nameh chatted quietly in the front of the car, only backing her growing suspicion. Nameh had been acting strangely of late, and she was becoming more and more certain that Max had something to do with it. She probably shouldn’t question Nameh about it; she thought to herself, it was a rare occasion for her to be interested in romance at all.
Mira found herself, to her own surprise, wishing that the others could have come along. She decided Seth was too dark and quiet for her taste, though she didn’t by any means dislike him. Talar and Cal were bright and funny, while Wyd was uncomfortable around her, but kind. Max was a breath of fresh air: both free spirited and lighthearted, from what she could see. Every now and then, though, she could see a shadow pass over his features like ominous clouds on a clear day, but they would be gone nearly as soon as they had come. It left her wondering if she was simply imagining things, or if he held some deep, troubled soul inside a cheerful exterior.
The wind swam into her lungs as the small car pressed on toward some distant place she had no knowledge of. The funny part of it was, she didn’t have the slightest shred of care for where they ended up. The only direction she cared about was getting away from the massive and strangling city for a while. She didn’t think humans were ever intended to spend so much time trapped between the metal bars forged by skyscrapers’ shadows. After a certain amount of time, the very flesh of you calls out for sprawling fields and wide open nothingness, flowing water and rushing wind, sturdy trees and soft earth, and stone that lives, not tamed stone crushed by metal and poured into convenient footpaths. Man will never rid itself of the world