# Ending 1.5 Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Bridge, Part Two
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A quiet weekend passes into a foggy Monday morning. The last Monday we would have at Volcano High. Just thinking about it made me giddy. I only wish I could say the same for Fang, trapped in an unshakeable mixture of depressed and royally pissed because of Trish. Despite my requests, she's come to school with me today, claiming I wouldn't be able to handle Trish on my own. While that is true, I don't exactly want Fang to handle her either, considering the bloodshed that happened last time. Sure, Fang said they were just pinpricks, but I have firsthand experience with those 'pinpricks'.
"You know, you could just skip math," Fang sighs with a hint of frustration. "It's a formality at this point. The only thing you're gonna get out of it is a horn to the brainpan. Hell, I skipped first and second so I wouldn't have to deal with her."
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"Yeah…" I hum, tossing the offer around in my mind. "I dunno, all of this doesn't seem right."
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"There's nothing you can do about Trish. Even if she wanted to fix this - which she fucking doesn't, if that wasn't obvious - it's not like she'd listen to you. Didn't you already try that?"
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"Yup."
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"You're still gonna try anyway, aren't you?"
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"I'm thinking about it," I grumble.
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"Wouldn't you rather spend time with meee instead?" she says, fluttering her eyes. I smile, cheeks warming at the thought, but I can't shake this feeling.
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"I would, but I think it would be better for all of us if something went right for once. Might as well try."
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"I'll have an ambulance on standby."
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The bell rings and we part ways, me towards math and Fang to one of her hiding spots. As I walk, I ponder what to say. What can I say, for that matter? God, I almost wish I could tell her everything, right to her face, just to see her reaction. Not like she'd believe me. Not like I'd do it in the first place. Whatever, point is, Fang is hurting and if Trish can get her horns out of her ass, maybe things will be slightly less awful.
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My train of thought is interrupted by a rough bump into someone. I look up at the dino blocking my path; an off-pink velociraptor smelling faintly of something I'm better off not identifying.
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"Oh, didn't see you there, Reed," I say.
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"Guess you didn't hear me either," he replies, holding an uneasy smile. "You, uh, headed to math?"
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"Yeah. This whole thing with Trish. None of it is right, you know?" Reed's smile falters, his demeanor shifting and stance widening.
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"I get it, Anon, I really do. Today's not the day," he says, his lowered voice cutting through the din of the hallway.
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"What?" I balk. "Reed, this is bad enough as it is. You're saying I shouldn't even try?"
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"It's because of how bad it is. I don't know everything, but I know enough. Won't matter how good your intentions are. You need to keep off of this for… a good bit. I dunno how long that'll be. Might be a while."
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"Might be never?" I respond offhandedly. Reed stalls for a moment, as if he came to a realization just now. He sighs, and I see genuine sadness take him for the first time I can remember.
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"... might be. Look, I've gotta stick with Trish. She's got a lot on her plate already. Maybe… maybe this will all work out, but if it doesn't…" A pit forms in my stomach and Reed weakly holds out a fist. "You've been a real one, Anon. Since the day we met."
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Speechless, I lightly bump his fist.
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"Deuces." He smirks, but it does little to hide his pain as he turns and walks away. I stand in silence, struggling to process what just happened. Autopilot kicks in at some point, pulling me past the math classroom and towards the roof where Fang is certainly staying.
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"Any new holes?" Fang asks from the top of the enclosure.
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"Wha? Oh, uh, nah..." I grunt, climbing up then sitting next to her. Fucking hell, why does this hurt so much?
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"You alright? You look like you just walked in on your parents."
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"I, uh…" Pushing that mental image aside, I attempt to piece together a coherent sentence. "Ran into Reed. Said I probably shouldn't mess with Trish."
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"Alright, and what's the real reason?" It's like I'm a fucking book, except I don't know what's written.
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"He… made it sound like we weren't gonna see each other again. It's… kinda messing with me."
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"Well, it's the end of our time at school. A new chapter in everyone's life or some shit. Everyone's cycling each other in and out like they do every few years; looks like we're no different." I… what? Fang's words tumble around in my head as I attempt to give them meaning. This is normal?
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"Well, yeah," Fang continues off of my thought. "Sometimes, the people you talk to just stop, maybe for a reason, maybe not. It happens… to… everyone?" Fang seems to recall who she's talking to. "Oh, shit. Uh, sorry."
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"Don't worry about it; I'm sure I'm an exception. Guess I should be glad I got a notice?"
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She attempts a response but trails off before it starts, only giving me a slow nod as she seriously processes this.
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"That never happened at your old school?" she eventually asks. I shake my head, reflexively frowning at the thought of Rock Bottom.
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"I never told anyone I was leaving, either. Just vanished one day. Only my parents know I'm here, not that they care what I do."
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"Damn… you told me how bad it was, but I guess I never really thought about it. Were… were you scared?"
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"At first, yeah. Thrown into a near-literal shark tank with nothing but a few belongings, a shitty lease, a tiny allowance, and an ultimatum on what I had to do with my life. Would've been a lot to throw on someone competent, and I didn't even get that much."
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"You ever regret it?"
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"Never. Staying would've meant six months in utter hell, on top of all that other crap. At least here, I got to be away from some of it. For a while anyway, before Trish somehow dug all that shit up again. Whatever. Won't matter in a week."
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"Yeah…" Fang breathes, filled with a sudden worry. "What did you mean by 'ultimatum'?"
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"Oh... yeah." Too late now. You know what happened last time. "I'm not exactly getting a ton of post-school support. It's either college or the military. And college seems to be out of the question, considering my grades from these last two semesters." Fang pulls her knees up and rests her beak on them.
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"So you'll be cycling out too." Such a simple sentence, and it stabs me in just the right spot.
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"That's not…" It is. "Not for a while…" When does recruiting start? "A few months…" Fuck.
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"There's still time."
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"Time for what?" Fang mutters, riding a fine line between blinding rage and deep sorrow. "For Trish to take another pass at us? For dad to throw you in a cell? For Naomi to try and shove more wedges around us? Maybe all three at once?" Fang shudders, burying her face into her knees. "You keep saying it will get better when we graduate, but it won't. Someone will do something eventually. I know you want to, but you can't just... magically fix everything. And even if you could?" The grip on her legs tightens and draws blood as her wings flare out behind her. "When it's all said and done? Time's up, you're off to the military! And then I'm back to square fucking one!"
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Fang goes limp, struggling to continue through her sobs. "Everyone has their own… special fucking ideas… of what they want from me… of who they want me to be. And… and I'm scared. Sooner or later… they're all going to get to me. I can… feel the walls closing in. They're going to squeeze the life out of me…" I wrap an arm around her and take a bloodied hand with my free one, trying to shoulder some of the burden as she falls quiet.
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The silence is indescribable in both its length and agony. She needs you. Say something. Anything.
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Slowly, her hand squeezes mine and her breath evens out. Her eyes widen a bit, still wet but no longer freely flowing.
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"Anon…" she whispers. My head turns and our eyes meet. My chest tightens and the air goes still. I swear I can hear her heart racing alongside mine. She takes a deep breath as she stares, and I feel her muscles tense. "Let's run away."
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My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. A thousand questions clamor to be heard, each one as pointless and unimportant as the next. One makes it through.
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"Are you sure?" I whisper back, already knowing the answer. She nods without hesitation. The breath I didn't know I was holding leaves me. I nod back.
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I watch her soul reignite in real time, the emotional maelstrom that threatened to tear her apart, seared away by a raging inferno. One of the warmest smiles I've ever seen graces her face.
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Completely renewed, she lunges forward, arms and wings wrapping around me, the down cradling my shoulders and her arms pulling me close, nearly knocking me onto my back. I can't help but return her warmth. A fresh tear rolls down her face as she buries it into my shoulder, a sigh lifting of the weight of the world after far too long.
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“Let’s get out of here,” Fang mumbles. “I never want to see this fucking place again.”
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We return to my apartment after making ourselves scarce, Fang having spent an absurdly long time looking back at the school while flipping both birds with her hands and another two with her wings, somehow. I forced the initial panic away as we walked, assuring myself that this has certainly been on Fang’s mind for a while. Hell, probably before we even met. Plus, a hopefully nicer place with just Fang and me, away from prying eyes and scheming minds? Count me all the way in.
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Fang flops onto the bed face first, giggling mirthfully like she had the entire way back. It’s terminally contagious and I find myself giggling too as I sit down next to her. A hand reaches up and grabs me by the shirt, yanking me down onto my back. She leans over, peppering my face with tiny kisses. I fail to counterattack, the leverage she has and the length of her beak keeps me away from any potential advantage. Eventually, her assault slows and stops, leaving us wrapped in each other’s arms, giggling and sighing.
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“So… should we start packing?” I ask after a few minutes. “I don’t see too much of a reason to stick around much longer.”
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“Hmmm… not right now…” Fang mutters blissfully. “We can wait a bit…” A hint of doubt creeps into my mind, forcing out my next question involuntarily.
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“Uh, when?”
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“Relax…” she whispers, tracing a claw around my shirt. “Friday. When everyone is distracted by graduation, we… slip away…” A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes, my doubts with it. I chuckle lightly, chiding myself. I have no reason not to trust her with this.
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“Yeah… that sounds nice. You, me, your guitar, a nice place to ourselves. A new lease on life.”
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“Mmhmm… away from all this bullshit. Without a trace. I bet Caldera Bay is nice this time of year.”
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“Yeah, probably. Pretty far, though…”
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“That’s the point, dweeb.”
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“Pretty pricey, too…” Oh for fuck’s- could my cynical side shut up for five minutes?
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“Most things are. What are you so worried about?” she asks, looking up at me with concern.
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“I… everything. I can’t help it. I’ve been doing my own thing for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to take the backseat. Please, just… walk me through all this…”
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“It’s simple…” I close my eyes and sink into the bed as Fang whispers her plan to me. ”We pack up our stuff, take a plane to the Bay on Friday, and we do what I’ve always been planning on doing. Play music, then get rich and famous. The music scene up there is even bigger than it is here.”
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“Yeah, alright…” It’s fine. It’s a good plan. And if it goes bad, we’ll only be homeless in the most expensive area of the country.
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“It’s… it’s not gonna go bad…” she grumbles.
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Fuck.
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“And if it did… so what? It can’t be that bad.” That got me to open my eyes. Violently. I resist the urge to scream as I sit upright. “What?” she blurts in surprise.
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“Fang… are you winging this?” For a moment, she looks genuinely hurt.
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“I- no! I mean, maybe a little bit… but I’ve always wanted to go to the Bay…”
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“That’s fine, I get it, just… do you know how much rent is up there?”
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“Well, no, but-” Every fear and doubt I have is confirmed all at once. She continues talking, but my brain is too preoccupied to listen. I have a hundred different things I need to bring up, yet I can’t focus on any single one long enough to actually say it. Getting there, finding a place, food, rent, bills, safety, everything in between, everything moving forward, with three days to figure it all out-
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“Anon!” Something comes through and gets my attention. It’s Fang, grabbing my arms. We’re standing up halfway across the room. When did we stand up? “Stop freaking out!” Freaking out? I’m not freaking out, I’m completely calm. Sure, my heart rate is a bit high and I’m breathing pretty quickly, but that’s fine, I just have to work through this little puzzle. Hopefully that blurring in my peripheral won’t hinder me and-
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Why do my arms hurt? My focus realigns and trains onto something in front of me. It’s Fang, clawing my arms. “Fang that- kind of hurts!” She lets up and backs off a step.
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“S-sorry! I just- you were mumbling super fast and not listening and- I don’t know-”
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“Okay okay okay, let’s just take it easy,” I interrupt, placing my hands on her shoulders. Slowly, our breathing levels out and my heart rate returns to normal. “We should… talk about this a bit more.”
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“Do you… think this is a bad idea?” Fang asks hesitantly.
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Relax. Keep your mouth shut. Think about the answer. What’s the alternative? Staying here, and- no. Absolutely not. She already said she won’t stay, anyway, and I’d bet my life that she means it.
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“It’s… the best idea we have,” I respond. “Which is why we need to be careful and really think this through, because I don’t think we’ll get a second chance.”
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“Well, alright… what do we do, then?”
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Keep it simple, start from the top. Who, what, when, where, why, and how? ‘Who’ is us, ‘when’ is Friday, ‘why’ is… yeah. ‘What’ is a bunch of cash and whatever we can carry. ‘Where’, we’ve got to figure out. ‘How’ will come along with it. That… honestly doesn’t sound that bad. You get all that?
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First stop: A local library. Given the area, it’s no surprise it was in pretty poor shape, but it had an internet connection with plenty of privacy and obfuscation - exactly what we needed to go without a trace. What followed was hours of working through lists of cities and towns, staring at maps, and poking around the websites of regional stores and apartments. Granted, we had no idea exactly how much money we would end up with when we were ready to go, but the broad strokes here were more important.
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Candidacy for our new home slowly narrowed to a dozen, then half a dozen, then three, two, and finally, one. A city called Haffton, with a population of just over twenty-five thousand, and one of the last stops before the emptiness that’s found further east. According to Rockipedia, the name is derived from ‘half-town’, an older and somewhat derogatory term used to describe the rare and curious settlement that sustains a population almost equally human and dinosaur. That interesting bit aside, it seemed to check all the boxes we were looking for. Good distance from Volcaldera but feasible for us to get to, lower cost of living without being completely impoverished, and no glaring social issues or other horrible things that would make someone reasonable think twice about going. A rail line connecting Volcaldera and Haffton solidified the decision, answering both our ‘where’ and the ‘how’.
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With that, our Monday was over and done with, and we had three days to figure out what we were going to do with all the crap we had lying around. My computer, desk, chair, vidya… I couldn’t take them with me, there was no point in leaving them here, and we needed all the money we could get, which meant I had to find a way to sell them.
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There was no shortage of junk dealers and pawn shops around here, and a few of them even took an interest in what I was offering. The smaller stuff was easy enough to carry around and sell off, although I felt I was being borderline scammed by some of the offers I was getting. Unfortunately, time was of the essence and I had no real ability to barter, so I had to take what I could get. As for the larger stuff, some asking around brought me to someone willing to strike a deal: they bring their car to my apartment and get loaded up there, and I give them a ‘discounted’ price. I’m sure that discount meant I was getting pennies on the dollar, but cash was cash, and every little bit will help when we kiss this place goodbye come Friday.
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Thursday evening. The apartment is barren, the rest of our things are packed, and our target is in sight. Now we had to endure the worst part of it all: waiting. Desperate attempts to keep our minds occupied went on for hours. Double checking our suitcases and idle conversation only passed the time for so long before it grew quiet. With the mental ticking of each second becoming painfully apparent, my mind grew desperate for distraction, skimming over the events of the past few weeks. Six months since I disappeared with hardly a trace from Rock Bottom, and now I’d be disappearing without a trace from here. With the ptero of my dreams…
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Whose family doesn’t know this is happening. My folks seemed more than happy to see me off, but what about hers? Her dad will probably open an investigation if we just vanish, and Naser… he nearly blew a gasket when Fang hid away for just two days. I don’t want them chasing us down, but having them think we might be dead seems a bit much.
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I rack my brain for an idea. Delayed text message? Put something through the mail? Upload a video to SnooTube? No, no, no, keep it simple, stupid. Where’s the first place someone would look for us? Here, obviously…
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Fang sighs in annoyance as I wriggle myself out of her embrace and off of the bed. “Gonna make sure we got everything for the fourth time?” she teases.
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“Not… exactly…” I respond, searching a suitcase for a pencil and a piece of paper. One of the few things that survived the mass sell-off was my desk, owing to it costing more to transport and house than it would ever be worth to anyone with half a brain. The chair was gone, but I’ll deal. Now, what to write?
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“Hope you’re not planning to leave behind any hints.”
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“No, I just… don’t want them to worry too much.”
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“Whatever makes you feel better,” she scoffs, pulling a blanket over herself. Not surprising that she isn’t interested.
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It takes a couple of minutes for it to register that I don’t really know what to write. I’m not the one leaving people behind, and I only have a slim window into the deeper issues at play. What can I say that hasn’t already been said?
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“You know, this might be more suited for you,” I offer. “It’s your last chance to say anything you want.” A beak perks up in response. A few seconds of thinking pass, and she pulls herself up and over to me.
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“Fine. Scooch,” she mumbles, bumping me with her hip and taking the pencil. It doesn’t take long for the scratching of graphite against wood pulp to fill the room as she fills line after line. I consider taking a look, but decide against it. We might be close, but whatever she’s writing is certainly a level above my clearance. I take the time to rethink what I can write. I might as well put something down, seeing as I’m just as complicit in this as Fang.
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It doesn’t take Fang long to slam down the pencil, a satisfied - if somewhat malicious - grin on her face. Guess I should try softening the blow.
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I quickly run into the same issue of not having much to say that wasn’t already said, but I run with it, regardless. A brief summation of the hellish roller coaster that this month has been. One last ‘goodbye’, ‘well wishes’, and ‘please don’t come looking for us’ to bring it all together. The last period to cap it off.
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Satisfied, I return to bed with Fang. Maybe it wasn’t much, but maybe it will be enough. Not worth worrying about, in any case.
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Tomorrow, we’re off to Haffton.