Impact: Regenesis Part 4

6:15 PM.

Both.e.l.l, Was.h.i.+ngton Rachel sat relatively alone in her well-worn lawn chair with a cigarette in hand. The marijuana always made her nauseated after only a short while and it usually lulled Jordan to sleep for some reason. He always took more than her, usually double at the very least, and even though Rachel wasn't about to ask, she always wondered what sort of things were intermixed within it. He always bought for them both, even before they started dating exclusively, which often worried her, as she never knew what sort of people sold it to him.

He slept soundly in the chair next to her with his head propped up by his hand that stood erect from the placement of his elbow on the edge of the right arm of his chair. She gave him a once over shortly before taking a final puff from the cigarette between her ring and middle fingers.

Rachel tossed the b.u.t.t away, exhaled, and rubbed her eyes. It was all they ever seemed to do if she scrutinized what they had together; it was truly the only thing that brought them close in the first place, that and the physical aspects of their relations.h.i.+p. Her hopes for a truly dynamic romance died before they even met, seeing as her notion of a fairytale love story failed to exist. If love did exist it was solely from a physical standpoint.

Jordan stirred in his seat, his balance failed him, and the subconscious awareness of his fall woke him just in time to catch himself. He cursed under his breath and resituated himself in the chair, though Rachel mentioned how she wanted to leave and robbed him of another opportunity to catch sleep. Jordan stashed his lighter away, Rachel left hers, and they started out toward the main area of the park side by side. They hardly made it halfway before they heard the laughter of a small boy.

He sat up on one of the lower branches of a great gnarled tree and looked out at the people who played and resided at the park. A wide, crooked, and somewhat toothless grin spread from ear to ear on the young boy's face. "It-ty, bit-ty, twit-ty, wit-ty, ant-ties." he quietly said to himself in the tree. "Heheheh...scurry, scurry, hurry, hurry!"

Jordan looked up at the kid and asked what he was doing. "You're going to fall," he told the boy resolutely.

The boy ignored him and glanced down at Rachel. He gasped and quickly cried out, "You're killing me!"

Alarmed, she took a step back and asked what the h.e.l.l he meant.

The lad immediately smiled once more and thanked her. He pointed to the small leaf she had previously stood upon. He then whispered his thanks to her before he returned his attention to the park-dwellers and commented, "All the little ants aren't marching right..." he took a brief pause before he asked, "What's missing? What's wrong...and who are they?"

Jordan looked out over to where the kid peered but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "He's nuts," he murmured, "Let's just get out of here."

"Wait," the boy stopped them, "Why are they here? Why are they there? And what are they all here for?"

"Are you talking to us?" Rachel asked him.

The pudgy boy looked at her and said he could ask her if she wanted him to. "Do you want me to? 'Cause I will."

"What are you talking about?"

He giggled to himself and asked if she was one of them too. "You don't look like one, but who knows? Ants come in different shapes and colors and sizes and smells. You might be...but you're nothing like me...except for the smile, maybe."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell..." he smiled.

"You can't tell me because it's a secret, or because you don't know?"

The boy suddenly frowned and admitted he was as lost as she was. He hopped down from his perch and led the way out of the forest with Rachel and then Jordan behind him.

The three arrived at the entrance shortly and within a moment a young woman situated in a wheelchair rushed over to the group and called out the young boy's name. "Michael, where have you been?"

The boy smiled and said he needed to see the way things were. He examined her face and quietly asked why she was so sad.

She frowned and told him she wasn't sad. "You worried me Michael; you can't wander off on your own, okay?" Michael failed to make a promise and instead left his sister and ran back over to where his father and grandmother resided near the swing set toward the entrance. The young woman apologized for her brother and thanked Rachel and Jordan for their help.

"It was nothing," Rachel told her.

The girl in the wheelchair took one look at the couple and figured out their earlier activities. She thanked them again and left them to return to her family.

"That must have been pretty freaky," Rachel said as soon as the girl was out of earshot.

Jordan didn't add anything to her comment. He only let out a breath and remarked at how he loathed that young woman. "She ratted me out once after I cheated off some kid's paper in a chemistry course I took last year. The b.i.t.c.h basically gave me a failing grade and two detentions." Rachel offered apathetic condolences and urged him on toward his car.

They pa.s.sed the family at a distance a moment later. The young boy, Michael, waved to them, but neither one returned his sign with anything more than a slight smile.

7:25 PM.

Both.e.l.l, Was.h.i.+ngton Ian sat in his room as he flipped through a photo alb.u.m. The book contained pictures taken of his, though only one of which had him in it. That photograph was of a trip he'd taken with Drake, Jordan, Nick, and Nick's brother Victor on a camping trip the five of them took two summers ago. Only the four boys were in the picture, as Victor took it with Mount Baker in the background.

The rest of the photos Ian took of people and places he had seen, many of the photographs were in black and white, only a few were in color. He flipped through the images of angry commuters, majestic mountains, trash-filled alleys, and one of Jordan when he was in a fight in Tacoma.

His alb.u.m was only half-full, and once he reached that point he set it back on his desk, adjacent to his bed. The walls of his room were bare, the s.h.a.g carpet was free of clutter, and everything was in its place. He fell back to his bed, closed his eyes, and tried to think about his day, rather than an excuse to get out of the part Drake planned. He thought of how someone could be hurt, that an argument would arise, and how it wasn't worth the effort...though Ian knew Drake would reject any and all reason or justifications Ian might dream up.

There was a quiet knock on his door before Ian heard his mother ask if he was hungry, "Dinner's ready honey. I made a tuna ca.s.serole and rice."

He told her he was and that he'd be out to eat with her in a minute. Ian stared at his ceiling for a moment before he brought himself to his feet and out to their small dining room. The ca.s.serole and rice sat out in front of two place settings. Ian neglected to mention that Drake bought a late lunch for him, Jordan, and Rachel, but Ian knew he couldn't abandon what his mother prepared for him. He looked at the two place settings again and felt another frequent dagger of guilt when he imagined his mother alone each night for dinner.

Ian's planned exodus to London weighed on him. The notion came to him from one of his high school teachers who took a year to travel and live abroad. Ian heard tales of the adventures and of what his instructor learned from that time away and Ian wanted that for himself. Ian worked a part time job and saved everything he could for the rest of his high school career, and with a little additional help from his mom Ian managed to have enough money for the move. However, Ian failed to consider his mother in all of his planning. He tried to call off the whole endeavor, but his mother wouldn't allow it. His mother was a relatively small woman, with fading brown hair, and had what Ian considered a frail const.i.tution. She was, however, one of the strongest women he knew.

She smiled and asked about his day. Ian took a breath and told her about what happened, how Rachel mistakenly insulted Nick, and how Nick stormed off. His mother frowned, "That poor boy's been through a lot..."

"I know."

"You don't spend very much time together though, do you?"

He shook his head, "I really only know him through Drake. Other than that I can't say I have any real connection to him."

"Yes, but wasn't his brother your English teacher last year?"

"Yes."

"Then there's something."

He only nodded, and tried the ca.s.serole.

7:32 PM.

Lynnwood, Was.h.i.+ngton Nick clutched two grocery bags to his chest as he slowly rode home. It was his first attempt at riding with anything and as such his heart raced. He took the roads slowly and took the turns with the utmost care. When he finally arrived home though, he found only his stepfather's car in their driveway. Nick's heart sank.

He opened the garage door, parked his bike inside, closed the garage door behind him, and crept into the house. His stepfather was a heavy drinker and smoker, and because of his habits, there was a wall of stale smoke and liquor in the air every time anyone walked into their home. Nick made his way to the kitchen and emptied the tattered bags on the counter near their fridge. A loaf of bread, six cans of tuna in water, a head of lettuce, a few tomatoes, a brick of cheese, a bag of frozen chicken, celery, six apples, and three cartons on cigarettes.

Nick grabbed the cartons and went into the living room, where he found Paul with a beer in hand and his glazed eyes fixed on their television. Paul's hair receded but retained its jet-black color, though Nick suspected he dyed it regularly. Paul wore a dirty, stained gray tee-s.h.i.+rt along with a pair of tattered brown shorts. The dancing light from the television cast distorted shadows across the man's face, partly due to the stubble across his face and neck.

"You get home from school this late?" he asked without removing himself from the program.

"N-No, school doesn't st-start until the fourth of September. I-I was out with Ian, Drake, and Jordan today," he answered, eyes locked on the man's, whose were locked on the screen.

"You get any food?"

"Yes, b-b-but only a f-few things un-until V-Victor g-gets paid."

"You get more smokes?"

He handed the man the cartons and Paul set them on the recliner with him. Nick turned to leave, but was stopped when Paul asked whether he bought anymore alcohol.

"N-No, Victor gets that f-for you."

"Victor, Victor, Victor...you always have him do everything for you...you need to work harder," he opened another beer and gulped it down.

"P-Paul...I-I think you've h-had enough of that t-tonight."

The man scowled, "Do you drink?"

"N-No."

"Then how the h.e.l.l would you know anything about drinking?"

"Y-You've got w-work in the m-morning, you need to stop"

"d.a.m.n it I know!" he yelled and chucked the empty bottle at the wall next to Nick, it shattered, and Nick shrank away. Nick s.h.i.+elded himself from anything further. Paul continued, "It doesn't do anything to me, so quit yelling s.h.i.+t at me and get the h.e.l.l out of here!"

Nick ran into his room and he slammed the door behind him. He took a seat on his bed and shook as he let out a strained breath. His phone rang and he answered weakly, "h.e.l.lo?"

"Nick? It's Drake. Are you alright?"

"Y-You mean a-about today?" He tried to laugh it off but knew it wasn't convincing. He couldn't breathe but managed to mutter to Drake that everything was fine.

"Alright, I just need you to promise me something."

"Yeah?"

"Don't turn this party into a disaster, okay?" Drake joked. "I can't let Ian hold this over my head, you know what I mean?"

"S-Sure, I'll-I'll-I'll try..."

"Great, talk to you later."

Nick hung up and threw his phone on his desk. He turned to his radio and flipped to the nearest rock station and turned it up to a point he knew wouldn't get Paul's attention.

His cell phone vibrated loudly from his desk and he dutifully retrieved it. Nick saw a text message left from his brother that contained an apology and a notice that he wouldn't be home until late. Nick merely sent back his acknowledgement and his a.s.surance that everything would be fine. Afterward he dropped it on the floor and shut his eyes. All he tried to think of was the music he let wash over him.

7:40 PM.

Both.e.l.l, Was.h.i.+ngton Drake walked down the staircase of his home and into the kitchen; all the while he followed the scent of fresh pasta, bread, and vegetables. His father was on the phone while he finished preparing their meal.

"I have to agree with you there, Jonathan, their demand is a bit too risky, it is a big investment, and I know neither you nor I feel it would be worth the cost anyway," Tony spoke through his headset.

As his father finished up business, Drake found the pile of mail and flipped through to see if anything interesting had come. All they ever received were advertis.e.m.e.nts and the occasional letter from family or friends, as their newspaper and magazine subscriptions all came through electronic readers. Their bills came through his father's email, all business related materials were at his father's office, and coupons for local grocery stores came through both of their email addresses. The busiest times of the year for their mailbox were elections and tax season.

However Drake did find a letter from his pen pal from South Korea. Drake befriended the young man when he was in grade school as part of an a.s.signment, though in the end he was the only one of his cla.s.smates to strike up a lasting friends.h.i.+p with his buddy. They only used physical mail because his He immediately tore open the envelope and began to read the letter, Drake, Your school hasn't started has it? Well it is sort of nice not having to return to school this year. I had an interesting week with Kyle just so you know. (I've told you about Kyle before right? He's an overbearing guy who literally has an opinion about everything). But anyway, we were out at a club and Kyle's going off on how beneficial socialism could be (or something along those lines...I wasn't actually there for this part, I was getting drinks) and Kyle goes on p.i.s.sing about half a dozen political science majors in the bar. (He might have insulted their choice of study too, since Kyle thinks a political science major is absolutely useless...though he said the same thing about a formal education from any university for that matter, so he might have been an a.s.s about their university now that I think about it). In any case, a brawl erupted, I had to jump in, and one thing led to another and two of the guys are in the hospital, one with a ruptured lung and a couple of broken ribs and I broke the other guy's arm at his elbow. Needless to say, Kyle and I are laying low for a bit, and I don't think I'm going clubbing with him anymore.

But in other news, thanks to Kyle I finally made myself a s.h.i.+ny new email address, so you should let me know what yours is so we can put this outdated medium to rest. Plus we'll be able to write more frequently too.

I've gotta get going though, (Kyle's about to start Firefly from the beginning and I haven't seen it in a long time) but I'll send you an email as soon as I hear back from you.

I hope the rest of your break is good too.

~Yong "Jonathan, tell Kitayama that we'll make our final decision later in September." Tony continued his discussion.

Drake took the letter and replaced it into the envelope and dashed back up to his room. He set the letter on his desk and took out paper and pen and wrote back, Yong, I'm a bit jealous that you've completed school, but aren't you going to attend a University later anyway? I know Kyle would say it's pointless, but you can't get a decent job without one. (What does Kyle do for a living anyway?) Either way, have a good time while you have this time off (and try your best to stay out of trouble).

Kyle seems like a bother though. I don't know how you put up with him, though I know he offers a deep videogame and movie collection, so maybe that's it. But these fights you seem to stumble into keep you sharp I guess, so there's one positive aspect in all of that trouble he seems to bring you.

And where is Kyle from anyway? Maybe you can come to the States if he travels back here sometime.

~Drake "Dinner!" Tony shouted a flight below.

Drake set the letter next to the one Yong wrote him. He returned to the kitchen and joined his father, who had dished them both up. They said a prayer before they ate; their meal consisted of cheese covered pasta with a thick tomato sauce, a side salad, steamed green beans, and fresh baked bread with a light garlic b.u.t.tering. They both drank water.

The two ate in silence for only a moment before Tony broke it and asked, "So what were you up to today?"

Drake swallowed and countered with his question, "D'you mean my day at work? Or my life afterwards?" he smirked.

"Either, or both." Tony smiled. Drake chose not to talk about work and started off by telling him about Jordan and Rachel's relations.h.i.+p. "Rachel Lee, Rachel? Your cousin?" Drake nodded, "Interesting...Well just make sure he takes good care of her."

"Of course." Drake gave way for a slight pause before he added, "She mistakenly insulted Nick today."

"Was it bad?"

"Well it wasn't so much as an insult," Drake corrected himself. "She tried to poke fun at him but hit a nerve."

"Ah."

"Anyway," he changed the subject, "I've told you that Ian's moving to London at the end of the month, right?"

"Yes."

"Well I'd hoped to throw a farewell bash for him." Drake looked at his father and said, "I could work my way up to this or just ask, is there any way I could get some money to throw that party for Ian?"

Tony quietly sipped his water before he made his decision. He nodded and told Drake, "I want you to do all of the planning on your own, alright?" Drake agreed, and Tony continued, "I don't care if you get Nick or Jordan to help you get the word out or to help you manage some of the finer details, but I want you to work on this, alright?"