Red Sky in the Morning
Author: Amata le Fay
Title: Red Sky in the Morning
Story: Etherlands - RP
Flavor(s): Teaberry 7 (neither fear nor courage saves us)
Toppings/Extras: None
Rating: PG13 (language)
Word Count: 1153
Notes: Ah, the first RaTs story of a new character. Meet Hob, everyone.
“Hob!” The boys behind him began to snicker. “Truth or dare?”
The nine-year-old, still out of breath from trying to climb the landfill pile the gang called “shite mountain,” shifted his weight from foot to foot and coughed. After a moment, he took out a yellow-stained handkerchief and spit up something like bile. Then Hob looked up, with an unnervingly determined look in his eyes. “Dare.”
“You done seventeen dares in a row, Frobisher,” Huy said, crossing his arms.
“Worried we's thinking you weak?” Gristlemoon slapped Hob on the back, causing the younger kid to cough again. “Scared?”
“Time to do a truth now, Bobby boy,” said Haygreaser, grinning with his rotted, blackened teeth. He grabbed the back of Hob's shirt and pulled him in closer. “How the sodding 'ell you got your bulge?”
Haygreaser poked the golden mass under the boy's neck skin. The mass scuttled away, crawling along Hob's cheekbone and settling near his nose. Haygreaser blew on the finger that touched the mark-it had gone chilled upon contact, as did most things that touched that part of Hob's skin.
Hob pushed his way out of the older kid's grip and crossed his arms. “I sodding said dare.”
“A'right, then.” Huy smirked. “I dare you to tell us what the bloody ether bulge is all about, freak!” The mob shouted their taunting agreement. “Tell!”
“Fine. I'll tell.”
Hob bit his lip, then went into another fit of coughs, tearing the bottom lip enough that gold-laced blood pooled above the surface. And as the rest of the gang members stared, Hob ran into the nearest cloud of the thick smog that covered irregular splotches of the Lever 6 Ether Zone.
“Hey, Frobisher! Truth or dare?”
Hob, fifteen years old and covered in ash from the McGoverns' chimney, leaned against his brush and squinted to see who was calling to him from the opposite rooftop. “Whaddaya think, Lenny?” He gave a throaty laugh. “Dare! Always dare!”
“Then catch!” Lenny grinned widely, then took something from his inner pocket and tossed it through the air. It landed at Hob's feet. The boy picked it up and brought it into his line of vision. It was one of those lighters you could get for a penny down at the thrift shops. “Make me some sculptures!”
Hob laughed again, then made a show of coughing into that ratty old handkerchief he always carried. He put aside his brush and put his hand to his moving blemish, which was currently hanging about his right shoulder. Pushing it down until it spread itself across his fingers, he flicked on the lighter and dropped it amongst the soot lining the rooftop.
As the spark turned into a fire, the ether around it that usually glistened yellow began to burn to black. Hob flexed his hand and pressed the fingers against the flames.
They froze in place and seemed to ice over with a golden glaze.
Someone below, seeing the black patch of air lingering around Hob and the stilled fire, screamed. “You crazy bloody sons of bitches! You wanna burn us all up for a lark?!”
“Not for a lark!” Hob tried to suppress his giggles. “For a dare!”
“Truth or dare, Hob?”
He stared at the pale-skinned girl's deep brown eyes and ruined the moment by coughing. “Sorry,” he muttered, then looked away as he said, “Dare.”
“You always say dare!” Toni swatted at his arm. “Every single time! It's like you got a problem with the truth or somethin'!”
“No, it ain't that.” Hob idly scratched at the bulge under his neckerchief. “Dares just suit me. All I do, it's like, either be afraid or be brave, and dares give you the chance to be brave, and the opportunity to run away scared.” He began laughing.
Toni cut him off. “Do a truth this time. I dare you.”
“Aw, whatever.” Hob sighed. “Just 'cause you're cute.”
Toni chuckled. “Okay. Gotta ask-”
“-how'd I get the bulge?”
“Yeah.”
“It's complicated,” he said after a pause. “I weren't born with it. It happened when my mum and dad...” Cough. He didn't let Toni see the phlegm, which was now almost completely gold. “Before I joined the Viper gang. I was cut in the leg by the killers and the ether moved in the places blood-the places I lost blood. It was bloody freezing in my veins. I was eight then. And then they came back for me, the, the-they didn't want a witness lying around, they thought they could burn me up 'til I was dead. But I froze the fire and ran away. Strong and scared. Fear and courage.”
For a while, neither spoke. Then Hob's expression turned even darker. “They was wearin' fancy suits, and high-quality gas masks.”
Toni looked horrified. “Scholars?”
Hob nodded. “You and me are the only ones who know. You can't tell anyone, Toni. If they find out, they'll come for you.”
“I won't tell.”
“Swear on your parents' life.”
“I swear.”
Truth or dare, Hob?
Through the clouds of suffocating gas, the outline of a man in a mask appeared, breaking through the mists. Hob saw him before he saw Hob. The nineteen-year-old sneaked out the fire escape of the shoddy slum apartment he shared with Toni. The man in the gas mask drew closer, glancing at his ethometer. Hob knew it would show this was a Lever Seven Zone.
The shadowy figure reached the door. Hob wasn't sure, but it looked like he was sliding something through the peephole.
Hob glanced back at the sleeping Toni. How much danger was she in? What would they do-what were they doing to her?
Dare. Always dare.
He ran down the fire escape and bolted towards the intruder. Watching the building's windows in the corner of his eye, he could see ether growing thicker and thicker inside, then the gas turning to a horrible shade of red. “TONI!” Hob scream. “GET OUT OF THERE!”
The masked man whirled around and headed in Hob's direction. “Robert Frobisher! Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head!”
Hob flipped him off and shouted obscenities as he slammed his body against the man's. He flexed a muscle to push his ether bulge into his fingers. “Try and burn me again,” he growled. “I dare you.”
The man reached into his pocket. Hob dug his own fingers into the man's arm, which stiffened immediately, and within seconds iced over. The boy took out the contents of the intruder's pocket. The gun, the ethometer, and a vial of red gas with a label on it. Hob could read, if only barely. The label said: PAX. HIGHLY TOXIC.
Hob stole one last look at Toni's window-drenched in red-and then stabbed the man who'd murdered his best friend and true love before disappearing into the night, revenge blazing in his heart like a wildfire that would never grow cold.