5-Kit - Eleven years ago
(Fourth of August, twenty-fourteen)
A damp chill crawls through my clothes no matter how high I crank the heater.
Wet tarmac and petrol creep in through the vents. The windows fog at the corners, my headlights slicing through the drizzle as we tear down the road.
“So, if I take your phone, you’re telling me I won’t find that slag’s number?” Melody leans across my lap, her fingers digging into my coat pocket.
I jerk the wheel, swerving over the centre-line.
“Bloody hell, Mel!” I bark, batting her hand away. “Stop it. Christ, I almost crashed. What’s wrong with you?”
My heart’s hammering, palms slick on the steering wheel. The tyres hiss against the slickness, and for a second I swear the car tilts.
“This is what I’m talking about,” I mutter, rubbing my chin as I try to regulate my breathing. “I dunno what else to say. I’m not cheating on you.”
“You might not be shagging other women,” she fires back, voice cracking, “but having private chats and flirting right in front of me? That’s just as bad.”
“It’s part of the act.”
“I want you to stop.”
“Shall I just stop charming the audience?” I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Right, yeah. That’ll go down well. A room full of stiffs staring at us like we’re mannequins.”
She peers out the window, rain streaking down the glass like tears. Her fingers toy with the frayed seam of her cardigan sleeve, a nervous habit she doesn’t let anyone else see. “Louanne told me about Lauren.”
Strips of black stream down Melody’s mascara-smudged cheeks. She wipes at them angrily, like she’s furious at her body’s betrayal. Leather creaks under my fingers as I grip the steering wheel.
“It was one kiss, Mel. One.” I lift my hands off the wheel before grabbing it again as the car drifts. “I pushed her off. Louanne should’ve told you that. She initiated the whole bloody thing.” I face her again. “But if you wanna go there, let’s talk about Thomas.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she screams, her voice bouncing off the windows.
“That’s not what I heard,” I mutter, jaw grinding as I stare at the road ahead.
Streetlights blur into long yellow streaks, the rain smearing them across the tarmac like spilled paint.
We had one of our best sets tonight, the kind that should’ve left us floating. She had the whole pub eating out of the palm of her hand with the last chorus, belting notes that’d make even the angels weep.
Now she’s unraveling beside me.
“Like you said,” I mutter, “he doesn’t have to snog or shag you for everyone to see he wants it.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“You clearly don’t trust me,” I snap out. “Every time we perform we have the same bloody argument ’cause I smile at someone. It’s ridiculous. And honestly? Wouldn’t kill you to smile at a few of the men.”
Her breath stutters, sharp and wounded, as my words hit their mark.
“How dare you!” she shrieks, shoving my shoulder hard.
I slam into the driver’s door as the car veers. “I’m driving! Do you really think—”
The tyres skid for half a heartbeat, a sickening slip across the road.
“Kit!” Her hand shoots out toward me to steady us, fingers brushing my sleeve.
The car lurches, weight teetering like we’ve hit black ice. A high-pitched shriek slices through my skull. The wheel rips from my hands. We spin, and the road is a dark twirling ribbon as the headlights whip like a mad carousel.
Melody’s scream tears through the air, shrill enough to rattle my teeth.
It’s a haze of streetlights and rain. The seatbelt digs into me, biting hard. Acrid rubber seeps into the car as panic fills me.
“Hold on!” I shout, though I’ve got no control, no grip, nothing but the wheel juddering uselessly under my palms.
The car fishtails with a violent jerk, and my shoulder slams into the door. Something in the backseat thuds against the floor. Groaning gears ring through my head.
Melody claws at my arm. The headlights catch the guardrail. A flash—
Oxygen knocks clean out of my lungs. The airbag bursts forward, a blinding rush of white.
My head snaps back, exploding into light and sound.
Then everything goes muffled, as if my ears have popped.
The bag deflates with a hiss; smoking chemicals left in its wake.
My vision doubles, then triples, spinning even though the car is stopped.
I blink hard, trying to focus. The dashboard is warped. Papers and shards of glass hail down. Rain patters across the cracked windscreen, cold droplets hitting my face.
“Mel…?” My voice comes out rough, barely a whisper.
I turn my head too slowly, diaphragm lurching the wind out of me. Melody’s slumped forward, frighteningly still.
“Melody?” My breath stutters. She doesn’t move. “Mel, look at me.”
The world narrows until it fades into nothing but her. I reach out, fingers trembling. My hand stops halfway, too scared to touch her.
“Please,” I whisper.
I can’t breathe. A warbled ringing deepens until it’s a piercing whine that rattles my eardrums. I slump back against the seat. Through the cracked windscreen, the sky stares back at me.
The moon hangs low, not quite full, but massive, brighter than it has any right to be. It glows like it’s watching me, as if it knows something I don’t. Something pulls me out of myself, thinning the air.
A pulse, then shadows swallow me whole. It’s quiet, like someone’s turned the volume down, velvety silence wrapping around me.
The darkness isn’t like unconsciousness. I’m wading through tar. Every inhale drags. Burnt sugar sits on my tongue, clinging to the roof of my mouth like caramel. I try to swallow, but my throat’s dry. My head throbs with a dull, rhythmic pulse, like someone’s tapping my skull.
A faint glow flickers in the black. I blink, and the darkness thins.
Blurry shapes form around me as if being painted in watercolour. Purple. Silver. An iridescent haze of gold. I push myself up onto my elbows.
The air is different; a sweet floral scent edged with crushed mint. It fills my lungs, clearing the metallic taste in my mouth. I breathe it in, trying to understand whether this place is real or just a trick of my dying brain. My fingers brush the ground, and satiny foliage hums.
A thick violet mist curls around my legs, cool and soft as fabric. My pulse stutters, the wrongness of it all settling under my skin. The sky’s a swirling tapestry of indigo, streaked with shimmering trails of light that drift like falling stars.
The mist shifts. I blink hard, trying to steady my vision as the colours ripple. It coils around my ankles, then loosens, drifting upward in lazy spirals as it morphs into an intoxicating mix of jasmine and lavender.
A resonance reaches me like distant chimes carried on a breeze, vibrating in my chest. Beneath it—whispers; faint and fragmented, like someone speaking underwater. I turn toward it.
A figure stands in the distance. Tall and still, enveloped in the mist. I can’t make out a face, but the outline is unmistakable; broad shoulders, long limbs, and hair that moves like black smoke.
My pulse quickens. Melody’s name claws at the back of my throat, but I can’t force it out.
“Who’s there?” I call, though my voice wavers.
The figure steps forward. Mist parts around him, and the air cools. I don’t know this presence, but it knows me. He steps closer, silver-lit eyes glowing.
“Do not fear.” His voice rolls through the space, low and calm, like a serenade woven from despair. “You have passed the threshold, and now your journey begins.”
He stands in front of me like he’s stepped out of a myth I’ve never heard.
“W-what is this?” I ask, swallowed by the vastness of the place.
“A crossing.” His wavy brown hair drifts as though caught in a breeze. The man tilts his head, studying me with a calm that prickles my skin. “You stand between what was and what will be.”
His words settle like cold water in my stomach. I swallow hard.
“Am I dead?”
Where is she? Why isn’t she here?
A faint twitch moves his lips, not mocking, but not kind. Knowing. “Not yet.”
Fierce cold ripples down my spine. The atmosphere thickens with a sweet, resinous scent that clings to my lungs. I take a step, and the spongy ground moves with me.
“Melody,” I whisper, the name tearing out of me. “Where is she? Is she—”
“She is where she must be.” He lifts a hand, and the mist stills. “As are you.”
“That’s not an answer,” I remark, anger flaring through the fear. “Tell me if she’s alive.”
His sneer barely eases. “Your paths have diverged. For now.”
“No.” The mist tightens around my legs like it’s trying to hold me still. “No, no, no!”
I stagger forward, grabbing the man by the arm. His skin is cool and smooth, almost unreal.
“Tell me where I am,” I beg. “Please. I need to get back. I need to help her!”
The mysterious man steps closer.
“You have been called,” he murmurs. “Drawn here by a force much older than you. The moon’s love has marked you, and dreams have claimed you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“You will. In time.” His voice fractures, splitting into twisted echoes. “Your journey begins now, Christopher. Find them.”
A low vibration hums through the air, settling into my limbs.
Streaks of silver sky spiral like galaxies.
The darkness shifts, and the space becomes tangible.
A gust brushes against my cheek, laced with honey-warmed tea.
Mist rises, winding around my torso and shoulders.
It snakes up my nostrils as I’m swallowed.
The ground drops out from under me, a violent lurch that rips the breath from my chest. My head throbs with a deep, pulsing ache behind my eyes.
Iron and fumes coat each inhale. I try to move my fingers.
Nothing. I try again. A twitch. Barely there, but it’s something that anchors me to reality once again.
I force my lids open. Everything’s hazy. Shapes melt as colours bleed into each other. But slowly it sharpens into a smear of pulsing silver.
The moon dangles low, bigger than it appeared through the windscreen. Bright enough to paint everything in this strange, pale glow. It’s close, like if I reached up, I could brush my fingers across its surface.
Freezing beads shock my skin like a million pinches.
I’m outside.
The car, or what’s left of it, is still here, smashed against the rail. Mel’s still here, body slumped, hair hanging forward, her pink blouse stained dark with blood. And I, unfortunately—I’m still here, too.
“Mel…” I croak.