C8 The bad feeling was justified pt2

I shivered from the spring night breeze, and from the situation in general. It was wild to even imagine that all of this was real. If anyone had told me yesterday that today I would see the head of the country in person, who would stare at my silhouette in the dark, circling around me with a squinting gaze, I would have had the hiccups of laughter. It seemed that fate had decided to get even for all the quiet years of my childhood and adolescence, and had crammed thirty years’ worth of impressions into today.

“Let me be first.” My escort took his hands off my shoulders. “I don’t think they’d hook that thing on me.”

Kai, counting his steps aloud, moved about five meters away.

“Thirty more steps,” the president ordered.

“What am I supposed to do?” For the first time this evening, I decided to intervene.

“Stand and keep quiet.”

“Do as you’re told, if you want to live,” the minister added.

‘What if I don’t want to?’ it ran through my head. I’d already been planning to end my life for twenty-four hours or more. If I started running around and screaming, would they kill me? I agree.

But would death be painless?

The fear of slow and agonizing execution of my still-living body made my feet stick to the green lawn, and even if I wanted to step off now, I couldn’t – my brain had decided to go into survival mode. And I was curious as to why all these serious people were holding a ‘shamanic gathering’ in the middle of the night on the damp grass around a half-naked girl, covered only by a short man’s coat.

“I guess it isn’t me,” Kai shouted out of the darkness in relief.

“My turn,” said the minister, straight as a stick. He slowly, leaning on his cane, walked about twenty meters.

“Nothing,” exhaled the president, who was preparing to repeat this peculiar and incomprehensible ritual of stomping on the field.

“Father, let me.”

So this silent guy with the contemptuous look was the son of the head of the country himself? For the first time, I regretted not listening to my classmates in the old days, when they were crazy about the heirs of rich politicians.

“What? Are you trying to get ahead of me? Aren’t you a little young for such exploits?” Cirkul sneered.

The president received an equally sarcastic chuckle in return.

“Today I became an adult under the law of the Kingdom of Rith. Have you forgotten already? How quickly your old age has taken its toll…”

The air in my chest froze at those words, and neither went up nor down. Even if he were a son, or even an emperor or a god of our planet, wasn’t it dangerous to say such a thing to Rizor Cirkul himself?

But to my surprise, the president only laughed softly and pushed the ‘newly minted adult’ on the shoulder, saying, “Stop standing around and go already.”

I swallowed viscous saliva, and coughed as the air finally decided to move. My skin felt cold, it became incredibly sensitive, and the sensations were exacerbated by the goosebumps that came from either the chill of the night or the foreboding of something unpleasant.

I was always getting sick of the knotty feeling in my stomach, the tingling in my side that came from worry. And at that moment, I looked, hearing the loud pounding of my own heart, at the guy walking away, at his back in his dark jacket, at his hair ruffling in the wind, at his smooth, silent gait, and I waited for disaster. My intuition rarely deceived me, now every part of it in my brain was screaming about impending trouble.

And it didn’t take long. The bad feeling was justified.

“Sixteen, seventeen...”

About the twentieth step, a ‘garrotte’ squeezed my throat, and my eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, were blinded by the bright light. The collar around my neck beeped viciously, and the diodes flickered in colorful illumination. I imagined myself for a moment as a Christmas tree that had been garlanded and danced around.

I was short of breath, my throat was in a hurting grip. I collapsed to my knees, wheezing, trying to rip the strange thing off me, which was taking my life so painfully. My fingers were disobeying me, my nails were digging into the skin on my neck, leaving marks, and I hoped not to the point of bleeding.

Huh, that’s not how I planned to die.

“Go back.” Through the growing panic I heard the president’s voice speaking to his son.

As soon as Cirkul Junior stepped back two steps, the pressure on my poor larynx eased. Like a crazy one who rejoices at the return of sanity, I sat on the ground and gulped for air, glad that I could just breathe.

The beeping and the lighting went away as quickly as it had appeared, frightening me even more with its abrupt disappearance. The darkness around me seemed to grow more malevolent after that, it drew fear from deep within to the surface, letting me flounder in shallow water, trying to find the bottom, but drowning in terror more with each heartbeat.

“Grant, you’re in trouble. You got a ‘pretty nice’ present for your birthday...”

“Kai, shut up!” The minister slapped the blond guy who had donated his coat to me.

The rest of the dialogue blended into incomprehensible sounds for me, meaningless scraps of phrases and words. I was shaking from the shock I’d experienced, salty tears dripping into my palms.

Only when the black sneakers appeared near me was I able to whisper barely audible, “What is that thing?”

Nobody answered me. Instead, someone leaned over and put his arm around me.

The next second the cold ground waved the green dew at me, Grant lifted me up and pressed hard, almost to the point of pain, against his chest. The faint scent of toilet water and peppermint shampoo hit my nose.

And I should have burst out, screamed, and run away, but I felt so calm, as if a dust brush had gone over my head and wiped away all the particles of irritation, fear, and worry.

I covered my eyes, lost in the feeling of weakness and wild peace, counting my breaths and exhalations. We were already at the car when I found the strength to lift my lids and meet Grant’s twinkling gaze. His black eyes peeked out from under his bangs.

“Sleep,” he said with just his lips.

I was about to protest, to return to the cold reality, but the warmth and serenity that came in a new wave blew away any impulse.

The last thing I remember was the slam of the car door and the darkness of the cabin. The soft ground of the field changed to hard asphalt, and the raindrops drummed on the roof. Last night’s thunderstorm was back, but now I was at peace.

Nightmares were not waiting for me behind the light haze of unconsciousness, the yoke of the past had decided not to take its toll on my soul. For the first time, it was so peaceful. So quiet.

So not lonely.