smokeSCREEN : bookpHOR

"The leader ring."

"Well – just listen. Now Cypress's dad was big into meditation. So he starts teaching Cypress to meditate when he's like, four years old. Now in these meditations, Cypress's father introduced him to the idea of like, a power animal."

"A what?" I cock my head to the side at her.

"In a meditation – it's something that just comes to you, and there's no explanation for it. Cypress's power animal was this huge black wolf – red eyes.

"When did he tell Michelle this?"

"Well, Michelle says he was super upset last night and he just wanted to talk, and she asked him. And…" Sophie's not sure if she should be saying this. "And he told her," she says. "Anyway – the black wolf with red eyes – creepy, I know.

Anyway, Cypress meditates and sees this wolf thing more and more. And soon he starts talking to it. And the wolf says he's there to protect Cypress. If Cypress is ever scared or angry or hurt – to give all those bad feelings to the wolf. And the wolf will take care of them. Thing is, though, after the war? The wolf's not as friendly as he was. He's always tellin' Cypress to do weird shit, like kill Jessie and take the Westwood crown and shit."

"Trippy," I say, nodding.

"Oh, just wait," Sophie holds up a hand to me. "But still, whenever Cypress got really upset or something, he could just – he calls it "snapping away". So let's say you're bitching at him, right? He gets pissed, snaps away, chats with the wolf for – whatever – fifteen minutes – comes back and it's the same fuckin' second.

And he goes and talks to the wolf a lot after the war.

Now, two years after the war, Cypress has the dream. Don't ask – listen;

The dream is this;"

* * *

'cypress' :

I've been trading back and forth between the ring in my pocket and listening to his whispers, to the ring on the floor and hearing him scratch.

Right now it's in my pocket.

I've taken to not responding to him – but it hasn't worked.

I'm having trouble handling it.

In the meantime, I'm finding a way to escape in order to occupy my thoughts.

There are no vents, aside from the window – the wiring in the celing is impossible to get to, and I can't find a way to open the door – it opens out into the hall.

That's left me with the only other objects in the room – two large crates.

Of course, I'm praying for explosive. Weapons. Blades.

It takes me a half an hour to get the first board off, and inside, I discover stores of glasses.

I sigh.

But the wolf whispers;

come on

McGuyver

there's got to be something you can do with glass

I sit for a while and think over the crates.

First I pull everything out and stare at it for a while.

Hundreds and hundreds of water glasses. A few hundred wine glasses. Highballs. Rock tumblers. Hm. Around a thousand glasses, in all. Covering a third of the floor.

Making it hard to walk around.

I look at the door. It opens out into the hallway.

Hm.

* * *

bethany 'crow' :

"…and, the wolf turns to him and there's like, fire in the wolf's eyes – and the wolf says 'kill 'em all'!" Sophie says.

"…and then what?" I lean in.

The midafternoon Sun is pretty hot.

"Then, nothing – then he wakes up," she tells me.

"So that's the end of the dream," I say. But she shakes her head.

"Here's where it gets… a little weird; The wolf is dying to know the ending to the dream, for some reason. But Cypress is too scared – he always wakes up at that point.

Now the ring is important because a lot of times when Cypress and his dad meditated, they focused on the ring like it was a crystal. It's really important to Cypress like that.

But, okay – so three years after the war, right? One day Cypress is in a fix and he can't handle it. The wolf asks if Cypress wants help – Cypress says yes."

"…what does the wolf do?" I whisper. I don't know why.

"He didn't say," Sophie shrugs. "But Jessie is so terrified by what happens, he claims Cypress's ring as a show of strength. The next day we attack them and take the ring from Jessie. Cypress is so ashamed of what he did, he vows to never listen to the wolf again."

"Ten years ago," I say. Sophie's nodding.

"But lately it's been reappearing."

And I'm nodding.

He did say something about a wolf last night…

"And sometimes, since we gave him the ring back, he's been snapping away to talk with it. Now – apparantly – last night Cypress snapped away. Only things didn't freeze – they kept going and he doesn't remember it. Like the wolf… took over."

"…what happened?"

"I don't know – but Cypress needs help."

I stare at her for a long, long time.

"Yeah, that sure is a decent yarn, Soph."

I gather myself to my feet – I feel like a walk.

Sophie's already up, snapping at my heels.

"It's not a yarn – I saw some of it, it's true. And Michelle-"

I spin and warn her.

Just my eyes.

And she nods.

"It's true,' she says again.

Fuck that. And I lean in, narrowing my eyes at her.

"What exactly do you know about it?" I ask. "Got something to say?"

She's staring at me like she's been gut-punched, quaking from tip to toe.

"…I… Iwasgettingoff intherestaurant," she whispers.

Cypress got to her.

Shaking, shaking.

"You're lying," I say. "Look at you – you're fuckin' vibating!"

"No, it's true!" she shouts. And now, the petite sk8ter seizes me at the shoulders and shakes me. "You have to belive me, it's the truth, that's the way it works!"

"No – he told you to lie for him!"

And I stalk off away up the hill, nearing the wide concrete piazza.

She follows me, relentlessly, into the neutral piazza, and onto the huge old circular skating rink at the center. Recently huge cracks in the concrete have been bursting forth with dark soil. Green grass.

A few forget-me-nots.

Funny – I didn't think they grew around here.

"Why have you decided to hate him so much?" Sophie's barking at me.

"Who?" I say.

"Cypress!" she barks. I shrug.

"Cypress who?

"You don't mean that,"

"No – y'know what? Fuck him! I said it – fuck Cypress!"

"But he's yours!" Sophie's saying. As if I've gone completely irrational. "How can you just walk away? What do you want?"

I light a cigarette.

"You know what? I want a sign from God," I say. She rolls her eyes, looking away. "I want an omen." I call up at the sky; "Tell me, O Lord, is it destined to be?"

It sounds like it could be a scream or a roar or a shout, carried on the wind, but it's definitely a word;

"YES."

Accompanied by the sound of smashing glass.

shink

Sophie and I both snap our heads around.

A five-inch long, half-inch-wide needle of glass is imbedded in some of the soil bulging forth from the cracks.

"Is that…?" Sophie says, leaning forward.

"Cypress's ring?"

I draw the shard of glass out of the dirt – it's actually ten inches long, and is somehow wearing some styleish silver.

"It's a glass finger, wearing his ring…" Sophie whispers.

And I'm staring at it.

I can't hear her.

This is trippy.

"Fine then," I say as I stand, pulling the ring from the glass and a throwing dagger from my boot. "What do you figure – that window there?" I point to a small one, high up in a concrete wall of the Market. Looks like the one.

Sophie nods, and I slip the ring down the blade of the throwing knife, tying it quickly with a strand of hair I yank of out of my head.

"Then let's see if Fate sees the ring back to its owner," I say, heaving the knife.

That window is impossibly small.

Maybe ten inches wide, and thirty yards away at least.

And the dagger flies through the air.

Right through the window.

And we're both staring.

…what else can we do?

* * *

'cypress' :

I sit in one corner – the ring is in the other.

I managed to fandangle the glasses into what I consider a fairly ingenious, if somewhat cliché trap, and now I'm content to wait for company.

Without the ring, the wolf can only scratch at the door. And whine. Bark occasionally.

scratch, scratch, scratching at the door

forever

It's driving me mad.

I would gnaw off my leg to escape it.

I spring to my feet and cross the room, snatching up the ring.

//

"Do you plan to bark in my ear all day?" I shout across the mountaintop at him. He stalks back and forth on the salt-and-pepper stones, those red eyes never leaving mine.

i've been shouting for years

you simply weren't listening

"What is it, then? Is it the ring? I should melt the fuckin' thing down."

and forefit our birthright? he snarls, but I cock my head to the side.

"What are you doing now?" I ask.

I snap…

He's grinning at me.

But I'm calm.

I am Zen.

//

As I snap back, I feel naked for a brief moment. As if the warm blanket covering me has been thrown away.

He was meditating.

What was he doing?

I reach to pull the ring from my hand, but stop. I can still feel… whatever it was…

And I set my hands on my knees.

And I close my eyes.

And I let it come back.

I let it come back.

/

Ah.

…where was I?

I feel the ring.

Warm metal.

And my father sits across from me, whispering to me to concentrate on the ring. Concentrate. Om.

And it's pulling me back. I snap out – high above the Forks. And down – down to the concrete they poured over all the grass. Down to

Sophie.

Crow.

They're talking.

And walking.

Mostly talking.

About me.

Sophie wants to talk about Cypress.

"Cypress who?" Crow says.

"You don't mean that," Sophie tells her.

"No – y'know what? Fuck Cypress. I said it – fuck Cypress."

/

I tear the ring from my finger and just stare at it. Just stare at it.

just slip it on, he whispers.

Was it real? Or something he created?

just slip it on. do you hate me that much?

"Yes!" I roar, heaving the ring. Only this time, it manages to smash through the small window on the far side of the room.

Out, out into whatever's beyond.

And now that the ring is gone, everything is silent.

Just the blood in my ears.

Blood makes noise.

Let Drac deal with that.

It's not his time.

And I breathe free. I grin.

I deserve a cigarette.

As I light one, it occurs to me that my father would disapprove, but-

Pi…

The ring spins, a flash of silver on the floor in front of me.

….iiiiinnnnnnnn….

I can only stare.

…nnnnnn…

Agape.

…nngggggg…

As it rattles to a stop. And whisper;

"Fuck me."

What can I do?

I reach for it.

just slip it on

And clutch it.

just slip it on

as the shaft of light from that one window crawls across the room

i'll make us strong again

as it cuts across my face

just slip it on

as the sun sets outside

i will make it all okay

and the patch of light on the wall turns bloody-red

just slip it on

Nine Inch Nails plays over his whispers;

just slip it on

it won't give up / it wants me dead / goddamn this noise inside my head

* * *

* * *

all pain disappears / it's the nature of / of my circuitry // drowns out all i hear / no escape from this / my new consciousness //

that me that you know / he used to have feelings / but the blood has stopped pumping / and he's left to decay // the me that you know's / now made up of wires / and even when i'm right with you / i'm so far away

* * *

* * *

michelle :

I've been in the bar all afternoon – going over maps and talking to the other Alphas.

It turns out Lisa had been sending messages back and forth with the guys and, vicariously, the old ones for the past two days.

"We don't know – they just want whoever it was who attacked them at Weswtood. That's Cypress," Saku says.

"They attacked him – he defended himself."

"Yeah, times thirty," Martha grins. She and Saku touch knuckles, grinning. I narrow my eyes at her.

"You stoned?"

She shrugs.

"A little – so?"

"What do we have on the Boys' defenses?"

Saku hands me a chart.

Everything's charts when you're a leader.

This many guns – this many Cetas on patrol.

We made symbols for everything.

The door to the mall closes, and we all glance up. It's Crow and Sophie.

"…what?"

"Where do you want us?" Crow says, and I have to grin.

"Sophie – get to the front for when people go down. Crow – find a good sniper rifle and get to your post."

They both nod and dash off as Nikki squeezes in past them.

"It's going down in a half hour," Nikki says. "There's somone from the old ones who's gonna' make sure it's Cypress before they come in to take him away."

"Well, we don't have him – the boys do."

"The deal's with both of us – we're supposed to have someone there."

"How many old ones?"

"Three, in total. The messenger and two soldiers for protection."

"Then we'll have three as well." She nods.

"Who?"

I sigh.

"Gunfighters. People good in close quarters."

"Give Martha a couple nine-millimeters," Saku says. But I shake my head.

"I'll want you there with your blades," I look to Saku. "Do you have them?" She nods.

"Good to go."

"You're both from the same floor – are you sure you both want to come?"

Martha and Saku look at each other and Martha shrugs.

Both Alphas don't usually go, 'cause someone has to be around to lead the floor.

"They're all grown up, now," Martha says, nodding to me.

"How long?" I look to Nikki.

"Half an hour."

They all stare at me.

"…what're we gonna' do?" Saku says.

"Well…" I lean back against the bar. "I know what I wanna' do. What do you guys think?"

* * *

Martha, Saku and I sit on the front steps of the Terminal.

A small car is coming.

Distant, at first.

Now we see it – tiny and blue coming out of the tunnel to Main Street.

And the three of us stand, as we see three men from Westwood exit the Forks Market.

Nine of us meet in the pavement between the buildings.

One of the men is Jessie – the Westwood leader..

The second is the one who met Cypress at the doors – I don't know his name, nor the name or the third.

Two of the old ones are huge, burly men. Sores all over their faces.

The other old one is a tall, slender woman – though I can't see her face under her hood. I suspect she's the messenger.

"Which way?" she asks. Jessie opens his arm towards the Market, and she looks to me to go first.

The third man leads us deep into the Market, far around to the south side.

The man who met Cypress at the doors walks beside me. Jessie is behind Saku and Martha, behind me. Following us are the old ones, who remain silent as the third man – the one wearing red – finally comes to a heavy metal door.

"What, you put him in a store room?" I turn to the man beside me – the one strapped to the nines with guns.

The third man is opening the door.

"Yes," the gunman says. "You agreed to turn him over, and here we-"

The third man steps into the room, and there is a very strange sound.

A very strange, loud sound.

Like… falling sand. And crystal. But with a lot of bass. And a scream somewhere in between.

And there is a pile of white snow where the third man had been. A bloodied, punctured hand sticks out of the mass as a few remaining shards fall from somewhere overhead.

"It's glass," I say.

"Ken? …holy shit," the gunman whispers. "Cypress?" he calls.

No answer.

"Oh my God…" The gunman peers at the body before calling back to his leader; "He killed Kenny."

The leader brushes past me.

"You… bastard…" Jessie says as he step over the pile of glass. Suddenly he shrieks, falling back, clutching the little blade that's appeared in his shoulder.

Hey – it looks like one of Crow's.

"How much does he fuckin' have in there?" Jessie's yelling as the gunman pulls the knife out. "Did you make sure to get him a missile launcher?"

"Is he always this… spirited?" the woman behind us finally speaks.

We turn around.

"Who – Cypress?"

"The swordsman."

"Well – as far as I know he takes confinement pretty well. But he has been having a bad day besides."

"Ah, fuck, I'm fuckin' bleeding, here!" Jessie's whining.

"…Michelle?" a voice comes from the room. We all freeze.

"Yes – it's me."

"Am I comin' home?" Cypress says.

"…not yet," I say.

"How many people with you?"

"Well, eight now."

I can hear him crunching away through the glass, and catch a glimpse of his blood-soaked sleeve.

"Can… can we come in?" I ask.

I can hear him sniff.

"I wouldn't," he says – the voice echoes down the dark corridor.

"…is it true he's some kinda'… like a demon?" one of the old ones asks now.

"He's barely a full-grown man, you idiot," the woman snaps at him.

We all look at her for a moment, before the shiny Weswtood Alpha and I step aside.

"Then go first, by all means," he says.

She sneers at him and pushes past, stepping over the pile of broken shards. We can all see her, inside the room. She's looking at something we can't see. Or for something. It's dark in there.

"…would you go in?" the guy beside me whispers.

It takes me a moment to answer.

"Not if I were you," I say

"I don't want to see this guy," one of the old ones says now. We both look to him – turning our backs to the door. "He slaughters people, man. Just slaughters 'em. Like they're cattle."

The Alpha and I are staring at the old one.

"You attacked him," I say. "What did you expect?" I glance back to the door.

"We expected him to surrender," the old one says.

"You didn't expect him to be hard as a coffin nail," the gunman huffs.

Just then, I swear I can see the woman – the platinum-blonde – take a sudden breath, reaching for -

"I mean one man against all of us and a tank? And – holy SHIT!"

- her sidearm before a shadow whips out of the darkness, grips her by the face and yanks her out of our field of vision.

"What? What?" Jessie says.

It was so fast.

I'm not even sure I saw it – but now the old ones are shoving me aside, pushing into the room.

Ba-bang.

The first one falls – two clean shots went through his head – and he crumples on the pile of glass. He's got her gun. .

The second doesn't go through the door so fast, and the Alpha beside me reaches out – stops him.

"Man – just don't," he says.

But the old one just grits his teeth, pumps his twelve-guage and steps into the room. He looks left. Then ahead. Then left.

Bang.

A shot to his left – as he stumbles back the shotgun goes flying from his hands – kicked away. It's snatched out of the air by a bloody sleeve and whipped around to point at the man's neck.

Broommm.

The body tumbles back into the hallway.

All is very

very

silent.

"…Cypress?" I say. "Brie?"

bang

Like a little derringer. But Cypress calls out in pain – and now we hear footsteps. And a shotgun blast.

Brie flies over the pile of glass, skidding to a stop at our feet.

Someone is scrambling towards the hall across broken glass, but the gunman is already throwing his weight against the huge iron door. It whines as it closes shut, snapping and shattering the glass in its place.

From within the room, a deep wail rises as the door closes – and is cut off as the lock clicks into place.

Wham!

We all jump as something hits the other side.