0 comments/ 34850 views/ 7 favorites smokeSCREEN: bookTWO By: Riven___Caulfield bookTWO : STARshine * * * silence swimming in a pool of dreams / beneath its depths the forgotten streams / above the city of the evening star / behind its walls, the grand bazaar / as she walks through its endless ways / cursing those who mistrust her ways / please my friend no matter what she sees / tell my lover come back to me * * * * * * The power runs on sunlight. That's what I'm thinking as I wake. Early morning rays stab through the chinks in the single blocked window. Tiny bits of dust dance about in them, wandering aimlessly, randomly through the air. The chaos of it. I slip out of bed and find my boots. I wonder if the others are up, before I become conscious of what woke me - a thumping bass reverberates through the house from the garage. but ya'll can see me now cos you don't see with your eye you percieve with your mind For a second, I can't think of what it could be. It doesn't sound natural – but as I listen, there is a method to the madness and I'm able to go back, far back in my mind to music my older brother listened to. that's the inner so i'mma' stick around with Russ and be a men-tor It's a song – a band called Gorillaz, I think. My brother listened to this CD every Goddamn day. bust a few rhymes so mother fuckers rememeber where the thought is I slip out of the bedroom and glance up the hall – the other doors are closed, but I can hear Lisa stirring in the next room. "Where the fuck is that coming from!" I yell down the stairs before coming to the top of the landing. i brought all this so you could survive when law is lawless "Hel-lo? Where is everyone? Who's on guard!" Something's wrong. I pound down the stairs just in time to see Cypress and Sophie opening the door to the garage. feelings, sensations that you thought were dead no squealing, remember "It's the stereo in the car," Cypress grins up at me. For a second, I can think of nothing better to do than stare at them, oblivious. (that it's all in your head) "Sorry Michelle," Sophie finally says, pulling her toque down. "We'll turn it off. I sit down on the second stair and look up at Cypress – he's not moving. "Is that what you want?" he asks. His hair is in his eyes – for a second, they seem a little too blue, and I can't help but smile back. i ain't happy, i'm feelin' glad i got sunshine, in a bag I don't know how he does that to me. i'm useless, but not for long the future is comin' on "Does it go any louder?" I ask. Sophie grins – Cypress just lights a smoke. it's comin' on it's comin' on it's comin' on * * * Hair whips across my face, and I try to keep it out of my eyes. I pull my knees to my chest and put my feet on the dashboard of the car, looking over to Lisa in the driver's seat. Streaming around the perimiter highway, we decided to take our time making it back to the Tower. Our heads nod in unison to the music, and I look over my shoulder at the others. Crow and Cat sit at opposite ends of the back seat, both staring out windows while Cypress shows Sophie how to use his discman in the very back of the wagon. Where he found batteries I'll never know. "Who came up with the idea of using the car stereo anyway?" Lisa says. "I had the CDs – it was Sophie's idea to stick 'em in the car," Cypress calls up. Lisa gins. "Who's good at electronics?" she asks. "We have to be able to find a working stereo somewhere, right? For like, the floor." "The mall!" Sophie chirps. Lisa and I exchange a glance. "No one's going into the mall to look for a stereo," I say. Lisa just shrugs. "It's been pretty stable lately," she says. "I didn't even hear anything falling last time it rained." "That's 'cause you couldn't hear shit over the rain – the whole east side collapsed," I tell her, turning around in my seat and regarding Crow – she's still just staring out her window. I reach out and gently prod her in the ear. On reflex, she smacks my hand away before turning to look. Her expression is blank – she's just waiting to see what I want. "What's the deal?" I whisper, pointing my eyes for a second towards Cypress in the back. She takes a breath as if she's about to speak, then thinks better of it and shrugs, turning back to the window silently. I look over at Cat, who's still intentionally avoiding any sort of contact with Crow. "Who's got smokes?" I ask. A pack of DuMaurs nails me in the forehead, and I pick it up off the floor of the car to see Sophie holding a hand to her mouth. Sophie's a bit of a smartass, but she knows better to intentionally cross Lisa or I – it was an accident, and I light one before chucking them back. I think I hit Cypress, but I'm not sure. Someone said ouch. I turn around again and kick off my boots and socks, resting my feet out the window to be caressed by the wind as the car rips down the highway. I'm tired – but you're always sort of tired after a floor meeting. "We should do it again," Lisa says on cue, looking away from the road for a moment. Lisa and I have always had an uneasy, albiet somewhat symbiotic relationship. As the Alphas for the thirteenth floor we lead the others together, and I don't outrank her any more than she does me. This causes problems at times, but between the two of us we usually make the right choice. At the very least, we're one of the few floors that hasn't lost a member to the boys or the dogs yet. "What?" I say. "Another floor meeting," Lisa says. Crow perks up. "Tonight?" she asks behind me. Even Cat's looked away from her window. I've been worried about Cat lately – ever since the night Cypress set her free, she's been acting strangely. She does her duty and shoots when she should, but I can tell her mind is elsewhere. "We just had one," I say, turning back to the road and my cigarette. "Yeah, but Cypress missed half of it," Sophie says. "We should totally have one tonight. He's probably never even smoked – have you?" "No, Crow smoked him up," Lisa says. "Well yeah, like two hoots," Crow shouts over the wind. "He needs to get initiated if he's staying." Now there is a pause. We're all waiting for Cypress to re-confirm his loyalties, but no words of comfort come from the back of the wagon. I turn around again, the cigarette hanging softly from my lips and pull off my sunglasses. Cypress is telling Sophie a joke. Or something – she laughs at least. I look from Cat to Crow, and I get the impression they're both wondering the same thing. Not so much about whether or not he's staying, but what will happen now that he is. When we were all convinced he'd be gone in a day or two, it seemed alright that each and every one of us wanted to steal him away and learn his secrets. Tell him ours. He's easy to talk to – what can I say? But now that he's permanent, we are all faced with the question of what to do with him. Or, perhaps, which of us has the right to know him. When Cat watched Crow take the room we'd reserved for Cypress, she had the expression of a woman who'd just been shot through the throat. Desperate to cry out, but choking on her own furies. Like all of us, Cat has no more claim to Cypress than he does to her – but one will feel what one will feel, I suppose. I decide to take her aside tonight and have a chat with her – she's becoming too distant from the rest of the floor. Crow, on the other hand, is more positive and active than I've ever seen. Usually, she silently does her job and lets a sarcastic comment or two slip, but I expect she's been behaving for his benefit. She carries herself differently. Usually she moves patiently, smoothly, with conviction. I've always considered her the most feline, but lately she's been proving her namesake. She is quick, alert, restless even. As if she's waiting for some unknown event. Perhaps I'll have a chat with her as well. "Maybe a floor meeting is a good idea," Lisa suddenly says. I whip around to look at her, and I can tell we're on the same page. Different as we are, we temper each other well, but always with the well-being of Floor Thirteen in mind. "You going to take Crow aside?" she says now, softer. I nod. "Why don't you take Anze and Sophie? I'll take Cat," I say. "And maybe you and me should have a chat too," she says, glancing to me suddenly. She wants to know where I stand on Cypress. "Do we need to?" I ask. She raises her eyebrow. "I dunno – do we?" "I don't think so – where are you at?" She looks back to the road. "I'm just drivin'," she says. "You?" "I'm nowhere – I'm here. I'm smoking." She nods. "Alright," she says. "Hey guys! Floor meeting tonight – we're breakin' in the fresh meat." Sophie claps – Crow silently smiles. Cat just stares out her window. I smoke my smoke. It'll be a long day. * * * We arrive at the Tower just before noon. I hang out the passenger window and wave up to the sentries to open the gates. A Ceta dashes into the tower, and soon comes out with Phoebe in tow. She does a double-take when she sees us, then decides on a course of action and strides forward with a scowl on her face. "I told you to be back yesterday morning!" she shouts. The others pile out of the car and stand behind Lisa and I. "Fuck you – you sent us down there to die anyway," Lisa snaps back. This is where Lisa and I differ. Phoebe narrows her eyes at Lisa before turning to me. "Where'd you find a working car – and what the fuck happened to your leg?" "A long story," I say. "Best told behind closed doors – let's head inside." * * * Lisa, Phoebe and I are in the security office just off the main lobby. The others we sent up to thirteen to set up a room for Cypress, while Lisa and I lay out the story of the past two days – with a few embellishments regading the amount of time spent at the safehouse. Phoebe takes her time, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes before speaking. "…why did you offer to let him escape?" she asks finally, still not looking at us. Lisa and I exchange a quick glance, and she says; "To test him – see if he would. He chose to stay – I think we can trust him." "Unless he's staying simply to gain information about us before heading back to Westwood," Phoebe points out. I shake my head. "Cypress is an ally and an asset," I say firmly. "We're stronger with him here, and he's stronger with us." "Why are you so sure of that?" Phoebe scowls at me. "If he wanted to get back to Westwood, he could have taken the wagon there and then," Lisa says. "He saved my life – he thought quick on his feet, and we all made it back. What I'd like to know is what do you plan to do about the old ones?" "Why should we do anything? They haven't made any moves against us," Phoebe says, pulling a string. A bell sounds outside, and Denise, Phoebe's Ceta, leans in the door. "Food," Phoebe says. Denise silently nods and closes the door. "They will," Lisa says. "They captured us with some intent – I'm sure of that." "Well, you conveniently escaped before you were able to find out what that was – a pity, really." "If Cypress hadn't risked breaking his neck on that roof, I'd be dead right now, or something," Lisa spits, narrowing her eyes. "What do you mean 'or something'?" Denise knocks once and leans back in the room, throwing an apple over my head. It smacks into Phoebe's palm and she takes a bite, telling Denise to bring some beer as well. "One or three?" Denise asks. Phoebe considers a moment before asking; "So… you survived a feral dog attack, and capture by a platoon of well-armed old ones… did you happen to find a scooter over the course of all this?" Lisa and I had completely forgotten about it. "A skateboard," I say. Phoebe considers, then glances to Denise. "Bring two – they can share one," she says, waving the Ceta away. Once the door closes, she levels her eyes on us again. "Insane heroics aside, he can't run around with the rest of us freely – he's a plague waiting to happen." There is a pause – Lisa and I discussed this briefly in the car – whether or not to tell Phoebe. She may simply kill Cypress to hide the truth – I doubt she'd do away with the whole Thirteenth Floor. "Phoebe… there is no disease," Lisa says. "They lied to us." Phoebe just stares. "Did he put the whammy on you two? What the fuck are you talking about." "We touched him. We all did," I say, "two days ago. We're fine." Phoebe's expression does a breakdance from blank, to anger, to confusion – all with a slack jaw. "How… how did he make himself immune? How did he get rid of the disease?" "Phoebes," Lisa says "There never was a disease." Our esteemed leader just shakes her head. "What about Ainsley? And Jocelyn? They both came into contact with boys and died within a day." "Yes, when Jackie was leading," I say. "So what? So…" I look to my boots – I sure wish I had that beer right now. "Do you remember when Ashley came back, saying a boy had spit on her? You kept her quarantined for a week, but she didn't die." "So?" "When Jossy came back, saying a boy had breathed on her, she died that night. Jackie was leading us then." "So what?" Lisa and I just stare at her. Slowly, slowly, her expression skips around again from confusion, to consideration, and finally back to anger. "How dare you accuse Jackie? Who the fuck are you?" "Phoebe – this is the deal," Lisa says. "We touched him – we're alive. After you sent us all on a suicide mission, he risked his ass to help us. And now he wants to stay. This is the deal." Now Phoebe pauses. Even she cannot find a chink in the mail, through which to deliver a fatal stab. "Floor Thirteen… what am I going to do with you?" A knock comes at the door, and Phoebe calls for Denise to come in. She holds a tray with two open bottles of beer, which she sets on the desk before quickly excusing herself. Lisa takes a swig of one of them before handing it to me. Phoebe chugs a third of hers, then reflects before saying; "You will tell no one that you've touched him and instruct the rest of Thirteen to do the same. If you're all still alive by week's end… then we'll have some things to consider, won't we?" Lisa grins widely as I hand the beer back, but the sparkle in Phoebe's eye suggests she's not done. "Perhaps he's not lethal to the touch, but I refuse to believe some slow-witted male is an asset to the Glass Tower as anything but an interpeter for the notes Jackie left behind. I'm not satisfied that his abilities are half what you say. How could he have done all this without weapons?" "He's good with his staff," Lisa says. It's a half-truth, but it will do if ever tested. "Fine. Then we'll give Claire a couple machetes and see who can kill the other first – winner gets to stay. If he can beat Claire, I'll be impressed." "That's barbaric," I say. Phoebe just smiles. "That's entertainment." * * * * * * i can see you lie back in a satin dress / in a room where you do what you don't confess // sundown / sundown / sundown // sometimes / I think it's a shame / when i get feelin' better / when i'm feelin' no pain // sundown / you better take care / if I found you been creepin' round my back stair * * * * * * Lisa and I stroll around the courtyard – despite her apparent distaste for humanity, Phoebe did give Floor Thirteen the rest of the day off. Crow sits at the far end of the courtyard by the garden, regailing a small crowd with the adventures of the past few days. I don't know where Cypress is – I think I saw Sophie dragging him off somewhere when we came out of the security room. "So what do you think?" Lisa asks. "I don't know what to think – Claire's a head taller than he is. He may be quick, but he's pretty wiry and Claire's all muscle." "I'm not worried about that," she says. "He can handle himself." "We're talking about Claire." "Oh fine, let's talk about Claire. Claire has maybe a five-foot reach with a good knife – Cypress has at least seven with his blade and he's faster. She'll be dead before she knows she's been cut." I sit on a bench and let my face fall into my hands. "We can't afford to loose either of them – why would Phoebe insist on this?" Lisa sits beside me and lights two cigarettes, offering me one. "Because if Cypress isn't around, Phoebe gets to keep the status quo." I look over my shoulder at the tower and scan quickly for him – he's not around. "Maybe change isn't so bad," I say, looking back to her. "Who knows how long we've been at war for no reason?" "Whoah, whoah – this war stopped being about a disease when Katie was killed." It's true. Ten years ago, a group of boys found an Alpha of ours named Katie wandering alone – they beat her to death and left her where she fell. She was the first casualty of the war – the first of us to bark as a signal. To this day, before we're sent into risky situations against the boys, Phoebe reminds us it's for Katie. Maybe Lisa's right. One way or another, she keeps talking. "Just because Cypress is different doesn't mean the war is over. Find me another man who's going to let us touch him to prove there's no danger." She may play the devil's advocate, but in the Glass Tower the devil often has good points. "Where are the strays?" Lisa and I both turn around – it's Saku. She stands, hips permanently askew with attitude, thumbs tucked into her belt. "'Strays'?" I ask. "Y'know – Anze and your pet boy." Lisa looks to me. "A shame Phoebe didn't pit him against Saku," she says. "Hush." "What?" Saku says. "If you want to hear a word or two about our pet boy, why don't you wander over to Crow and see what she has to say," I tell her, motioning towards the garden. Saku huffs, but curiosity gets the better of her, and she casually wanders in a roundabout way towads Crow regardless. Lisa and I turn back to look at the courtyard – people coming and going – one girl's coming in with a cut on her forehead – looks like a bullet grazed her. "We're even more popular than before," Lisa smirks. "Sometimes I wonder if it would have been best for the floor not to get so involved in… 'strays', as Saku would say." "It's affecting the floor," I say. She knows what I'm talking about. "It could be affecting everyone – I don't know. Maybe we should have that chat." Lisa takes a deep breath, crossing her legs and creasing her brow. "Yeah, maybe," she says, but shakes her head. "I don't understand it. He does something to us. Well, he does something to me, I don't know about you." "No, he does it to me too. It's his eyes." "Mm – for me it's his lips. I don't know what it is about them, they're just so…" "Appealing," I finish. Lisa nods, flashing her brilliant smile at me. For a moment, we're smiling until we both freeze. She lets her face drop into her hands and groants. "What the fuck is wrong with us?" she demands. "This isn't normal." "You and I need to be strong for the floor," I say, fumbling to find another smoke for myself, now. "That's all there is to it. We do our jobs, and that's it. He's just another… he's just another one of us now – we got to keep the floor stable." "Just another one of the girls," Lisa nods, trying to manage a smile. She wrings her hands together and searches her jacket for more smokes as a hush falls over the courtyard. Cypress and Sophie stand just inside the gates, looking out over the paused scene. smokeSCREEN: bookTWO For a moment they're a pair of silhouettes against the setting sun – Sophie's blocky outline of baggy pants and plain toque beside Cypress's slim, uneven posture. His right shoulder is peaked under the burden of whatever is in his pack, and his staff is strapped to his back. Sophie nods towards us and they step forward – hushed whispers follow them as they cross from the gates to our bench. "Where were you two?" Lisa asks as they walk up. Sophie's all smiles. "We found a stereo!" she chirps happily. "You'd better not have found it in the mall," I tell her. "The glass celings are still coming down." It's now that I notice a small cut on Cypress's cheek. His skin is flawless aside from it – either cowardice or skill have left him with no noticeable scars aside from the two horizontal cuts on the back of his hand – the Westwood mark of a Beta. Cypress just grins his grin, pushes some hair out of his eyes and reaches for my cigarette. He takes a slow puff and smiles again; "Of course not." He flicks the cigarette so the filter's pointing at me, and I slowly draw it out of his fingers. "But I figured it'd be nice to have some tunes for the floor meeting, right?" His eyes are too blue. "Alright, fine – take it upstairs and see what Anze can do with it," I say – I can't help but smile. "Great!" Sophie says. She skips ahead, while Cypress stops to flash his smile back at me before following her up and into the tower. For a moment, I just stare ahead. Then, remembering my cigarette, I take a quick drag and look to Lisa. She's looking back, over the bench, watching them go. I snap my fingers in front of her eyes and she jerks back to reality, staring at me for a moment before shaking her head and pushing her hair back. "We're fucked," she says. I close my eyes and nod. "So fucked." * * * A half an hour later the Sun has set, and Lisa is up in the tower briefing Cypress on why he must engage in mortal combat with our best soldier. Cat, Crow, Sophie, Anze and I are part of the detail setting up the circle of torches in the courtyard. Anze doesn't want to be here – she's excited at the prospect of getting a working stereo. Morbid as it sounds, it's a perfect evening for a "show", as Phoebes would say. The stars are bright and crisp, there is almost no wind and the torches burn brightly as Rachell, a Beta, follows us around lighting them. Crow spikes another hole in the broken ground for me to drive a torch into, and stands, bushing a mess of hair out of her eyes, nodding towards the Tower. I look in time to see thirty or so pour out, all chattering happily at the prospect of watching Claire butcher Cypress, or Cypress butcher Claire – it's hard to tell which. By now half the Tower knows the story of the south end by heart – Crow told it with enough enthusiasm – and I don't presume to guess which way their sympathies sway. As the champion, Claire takes her place first – at the end of the circle nearest the Tower – and waits. Claire is six-foot-eight, if I were to guess, and every inch of her taught as steel. She's from Floor Five, where she reigns as Alpha, and is rarely seen without her full-sized pump-action shotgun, complete with a scope, always loaded with slugs. Tonight, she grips two eighteen inch machetes, which shine in the flickering light. The wave of women washes around the circle of torches, keeping just outside the ring, as Lisa steps into it with Cypress. Cypress does not have his belt, nor his pack, nor any weapon but his staff. I remind myself it's not just a staff as Lisa whispers something I hope is encouraging to him before striding over to where I and the rest of Floor Thirteen are standing. Cypress looks to me, as if wanting an explanation, before Phoebe steps into the circle and walks to the centre. "Ladies!" she shouts. "…and you," glancing sharply to Cypress. A few laugh – most don't. "We haven't had a deathmatch in six years…" "For good reason," I mutter. Lisa nudges me to keep quiet. "But I'm sure you've all heard the story from Floor Thirteen – that this man is somehow skilled enough – somehow worthy enough to join us here at the Glass Tower." A few people boo. "But something tells me Claire has something to say about that…" Phoebe finishes, grinning wickedly as she steps off to the side. Claire immediately strides forward, stretching her arms and getting a feel for the stocky machetes. Cypress stands still, calmly drawing out his staff. "I don't want to kill you," he calls across the circle. A few laugh. Most are waiting to see if he can. For a moment, I feel a tinge of fear that he won't – after all, Cat did get the better of him for a moment on that rooftop. "Then you'll die," Claire shrugs, taking long, powerful steps towards him. Cypress lights a cigarette, and Claire stops. He does have guts. "I said I didn't want to – I never said I wouldn't." The crowd 'oooh's at this, but it only infuriates Claire further. She jumps towards him, slashing savagely, only to catch thin air as he quickly ducks and sidesteps, keeping a good eight feet between himself and the giant. Claire stops and considers – he is quick. Cypress takes a long drag and draws the cigarette from his mouth. He grips the staff at the very top with his right hand – the cigarette in his left. Claire starts for him. "Try it again," he says. "And I'll take your ear – but you pick which one." She stops. He's being too cocky, but he sticks the cigarette between his lips and grips his staff in two hands. "Whichever hand you lunge at me with – I'll take the opposite ear.." Claire shrieks and lunges forward, swinging a machete for his head. He calmly sidesteps again and there is a split-second flash of silvery steel. Claire is grinning, and she turns for another lunge before she stops, staring agape. The crowd shares a communal gasp - skewered at the tip of a four-foot blade is an ear, which Cypress holds out to her for inspection. "I could take a hand next, if that would change your mind." Claire grits her teeth – she feels for an ear that is no longer there and lunges again, roaring. This time, Cypress doesn't dodge – the sword flashes and she drops one of the machetes, screaming. The tip of his sword whips up and in – pressing gently at her throat. Her breath is coming in ragged gasps, her face an awful contortion of rage and bewilderment. "Your right ear and left thumb – I can take you a piece at a time," he says, taking a drag. "But I'd rather not." "The rules are you have to kill her!" Phoebe barks. Cypress turns and roars back at her; "Then the rules should change! – Augh!" He stumbles back, gripping the bleeding slash across his stomach. Claire lunges again with her good hand and he jumps back a second time, whipping the blade around her arm and across her face, splitting the giant's nose horizontally across the bridge. Blood begins to pour out, and they both begin to stumble. I wonder how deep that cut across his stomach is. "I can kill you," Cypress barks at her. "End this!" "Let them stop!" someone shouts. "No one's stopping!" Phoebe roars. Cypress's face hardens and he begins backing up more, moving away from me, closer to Phoebe. Claire slowly edges towards him, now as cautious as a kitten. "If someone is to die…" he says, dodging one more slash from Claire. The tip of the sword flicks across her shoulder and tears it open to the bone. Claire falls, crashing into the dirt, spitting blood, as Cypress spins and whips the tip of his sword to a point somewhere outside the circle of torches. "…I don't see why it shouldn't be you," he finishes. The crowd clears to reveal the a trickle of blood at Phoebe's throat where the blade is held steady, and panicked whispers ripple across the courtyard. "Perhaps you don't," she says calmly, "but for the good of the Tower, you had to prove your worth." Claire is struggling to stand – blood loss has made her weak, and she falls back to the dirt. No one moves to help – no one moves to help Phoebe, either. "Am I worthy, or should I take a limb or two off Claire until you're satisfied?" "You're a man – why not just kill her?" Phoebe says. Cypress narrows his eyes at her and says softly; "The human race wiped itself out. Everyone. Except us. We are humanity's second chance – and you would have us kill ourselves, one by one." Despite his low volume, this echoes off the silent courtyard walls. This echoes through the entire crowd, and now Cypress draws back into the circle, not taking his eyes from Phoebe. "But it's not my place to tell the leader what to do. It's my place to follow her rules – I'm just a Beta." He draws out his arm until he appears for a moment like the hands on a clock – one hand pointing to six, the other at five – the tip of his sword sitting easily at the back of Claire's head. Claire is still struggling to breathe through the torrent of blood. "I'm a soldier of this Tower," he calls out loudly now. "So give me an order, Phoebe." Phoebe's face, gently lit by the torches, is astonished. She swallows, and says the only thing she can; "I order you… to spare her." * * * A half an hour later, Cypress and I lay on the roof, looking up at the night sky, smoking cigarettes. Sophie cleaned up the cut on his stomach – it barely broke the skin – and went to make preparations for the floor meeting. "To be honest," I say, "I was worried you might not win." When we walked up here, we were silent but comfortable. He felt like an old friend. Now, as he lays two feet to my right, I am severely conscious of his proximity. Too conscious. But Lisa and I made a deal. "Well fuck, so was I – that chick was huge. I'm just lucky she was a split-second slower than me." He blows a plume of smoke up into the sky. "It wasn't luck – you saved her life. People have been against deathmatches before, but nobody's ever been allowed to spare someone." "Yeah, well, I should have thought of my little speech sooner – saved Claire a digit." I shake my head. "No, she would have killed you if she could." "Mind if I ask a question?" he says. I shrug. "Sure." "Why did you avoid me today?" "I wasn't avoiding you-" "Sure you were." "No, no, you were gone with Sophie half the day-" "After I got back with Sophie – you saw me three times but made sure it didn't look that way." It's true, I did. "No I didn't." "Alright," he says, standing. "Where are you going?" He smiles softly down at me and flicks his cigarette off the roof. "Floor meeting's in twenty minutes – we should probably get going." "I haven't been avoiding you, it's just…" I stand and face him, our eyes level. Even in the darkness of the roof, his are impossibly blue, and I have to look away. "Okay, what did I do here, cause I don't have a clue," he says. "Cypress… you didn't do anything wrong. You pretty much do everything right." His hand touches my cheek and a wave of heat ripples through me as he pushes the hair away from my face, and turns my chin to look at him again. "Then what's going on? Lisa's acting weird too." "Lisa and I have decided to try to be…" I struggle for the word, but the best thing that comes out is "Unaffected." "'Unaffected'? Unaffected by what?" "By you, you idiot!" He truly doesn't understand. "Me? What did I do?" "It…" I turn away from him and take a few strides across the roof. "It's nothing you did, it's something you do." "Michelle, I don't understand-" "I know you don't… why don't you?" I spin and walk up to him – our bodies press together, and the tip of my nose rests at his. His breath is hot on my lips, and already it's too hard. I'm not sure I could pull away now if I tried. "Does this make you feel nothing?" I ask. No answer comes aside from his breathing. His eyes tell me enough. "This.." I say – leaning forward and letting my cheek stroke gently against his. My mouth slowly draws open and I can't help but sigh. "This is what you do to us – all of us." "I didn't mean to-" "No, it's alright," I say. "But it…" Our lips are so close. It's an ache, deep down inside. Something I can't explain, something I can't begin to control. It's just… "Cypress…" I whisper. His lips graze mine – so softly and briefly, it may well be unintentional, but I am stirred to my core. His hand caresses my cheek on its way to stroke my hair, and I'm lost. I'm tumbling down. Suddenly, he's holding me closer. Suddenly, I'm pushing him away. "I promised Lisa!" I tell him, backing away and catching my breath. "I promised Lisa that it wouldn't effect me. All of us – all of us feel this way. All of us just…" I would die to touch him. "…just want to touch you – we want to… it's affecting the Floor, and I can't let that happen, Cypress! I'm an Alpha, I have to take care of…" His eyes are so fucking blue, but he nods. He nods and hands me a cigarette. "I'm sorry if it's hard," he says. "But it might be harder to have six girls affecting me, than one guy affecting you." Shit. He's right. "Let's get downstairs." He starts walking off towards the roof access door. Suddenly the wind picks up and my hair is blown across my face – I push it out of the way in time to yell; "Cypress!" But my voice breaks, and it comes out sounding like 'Sah-eye-press". He stops, pauses before turning, and says; "Nothing?" And suddenly, I realize it's not just my voice breaking. But I am an Alpha. I am strong. I nod, taking a step forward and a drag of the cigarette. Suddenly it's not a step – it's a stride. And then two, three and four, until I'm on top of him. And he's kissing me. And I'm kissing back. His hands are in my hair – on my face – stroking down my back and hips – gently caressing my throat. Our lips dance smoothly – easily and without thought, and my heart is screaming. Every cell in my body is screaming. The kiss becomes more passionate – I don't just want to kiss him. I don't just want to touch him – I want to take all that is Cypress and bring it into myself. I want to know this man. My tongue instinctively caresses his lips – then his tongue, and after an eternety or a second, I realize we're holding each other tight enough to pop the stiches in his back. I lean forward, letting my head rest on his shoulder as we both breathe in deep gasps. "Nothing," I say. * * * * * * i lay my head unto the sand / the sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punches in it / i'm counting u.f.o.s / i signal them with my lighter / and in this moment i am happy // i wish you were here * * * * * * Every floor of the tower has a few dozen offices surrounding the space that was once taken up by cubicles. We threw most of that stuff out when we remodeled the Tower to suit our needs. Now the central space of Floor Thirteen is separated into a few areas; there is a sort-of-kitchen in the northwest corner, by the office we keep food in. The northeast corner is just a lounging area – old couches and puffy chairs, that sort of thing. In the southwest corner is a workshop – Anze spends most of her free time there, repairing weapons and clothes. In her enthusiasm for what little real work she is given, Anze has become excellent with basic electronics – a low, easy vibe assures that she has indeed managed to get Cypress's ill-gotten stereo running. The others are just now putting finishing touches on the positions of couches and our most prized seat – the light blue chaise-lounge we found at the Forks. Crow busies herself, as always, with the candles as Cat, still not satisfied with the position of her trademark loveseat shoves it in one direction, before regarding it with a strange scrutiny and shoving it in the other. Sophie is busy playing with the stereo, and Anze does her best to help Lisa position the hookah. They all take a respective glance up at us as we come in, first happily, then carefully not to look too long. Cypress smiles his easy smile and strides up to Sophie and the stereo, while Crow takes a personal moment in a long look. "Who's got it?" I ask. "The chaise or the stuff?" Lisa calls back, finally satisfied with the hookah's position. "Guest of honor gets the chaise," I grin. She nods, and sets about showing Cat that the position of her love seat is all wrong – it should be much closer. "Then who's got the stuff?" Anze chirps. "It's in my room," Crow says, finishing a row of candles. "Cypress?" she says. Cypress turns from the strereo and stands, in time to catch Crow's lighter. "Finish the candles for me?" She's smiling at him. Crow doesn't smile. And she certainly doesn't allow anyone else the mighty responsibility of lighting candles. That's Crow work. But he smiles his easy smile back and walks up to the circle of couches to finish the job as she leaves for the stuff. Lisa and I exchange glances. We're both thinking the same thing. One of us must speak to her. But that's soon forgotten. Soon the floodlights inside are turned out and all that's left is the candle, and the gentle pulse of the bass track on some pre-apocalpyse compact disc. And us. Cat finishes prepping it and begins to pack the bowl – it can hold a gram and a half – while we sit back and wait. On average, we only have floor meetings every three months or so, but they're regarded with rnough respect that when the time does come, we wait patiently, first reflecting on the things we plan to talk about. "Okay," Crow says. "Now we had like, the official meeting yesterday, so I take it this is just a casual Floor Meeting For Enjoyment thing?" "Well, one thing," Lisa says. "Have any of you told the others about… being able to touch Cypress?" Anze and Sophie shake their heads, but Sophie does pull her toque down a little. "No," Cat says. "Not me." "Phoebe's ordered us to keep it secret for at least a week – sort of like a quarantine. And we're doing it – alright?" "No problem," Crow saluts and double-checks the tubes on the Hookah, handing one hose each to Sophie, Lisa and I before handing the last to Cypess. Crow's a beta, and outranks Sophie and Cat, but as self-appointed Keeper of the Flame she never takes the first hoot. Lighting the bowl is Crow work. Cypress sits on the only available piece of furniture – the chaise-lounge, as Crow drags her beat-up stuffed read chair to the bowl and readies her lighter. "Then we're set?" "Set," we echoe. Everyone's grinning already. "…what do I do?" Cypress asks. Crow glances to him, grinning and she holds the flame to the bowl. "Suck," she says. Suddenly, the flame is drawn down into the bowl and the huge glass bowl fills with smooth, grey smoke. "Just take lonnnnnng drags off your hose, like it's your last one," Lisa says, drawing back a chestfull. I don't take a hoot yet, I pause to say; "Hold it deep in your lungs – keep it for a while – and breathe it out," before demonstrating for him. Sophie's on her second by the time he begins his first. Lisa hands her hose over to Cat while Sophie hands hers to Crow. Cypress and I go back for seconds. "…what is it?" he finally asks. We all laugh. "Pot," Lisa says. "It's all through the apartments downtown, and a lot of the West End." "Before Jackie died she read up on it enough to set up a pretty decent greenhouse in a sub-basement – low enough the frostline doesn't get to it," I finish. This seems to be sufficient explanation, because he goes for another hoot. But now something occurs to me. "I want to double-check," I say, as Lisa reaches for the hose from Cat. "No one's told anyone else about… touching Cypress, have you?" Lisa hands the hose from Cat to Anze, who sits on the floor between their feet. smokeSCREEN: bookTWO "Fuck, I ain't telling anyone," Cat says. "As if we'd want to – if everyone knew, they'd all want to touch him too," Lisa grins. Sophie's laughing. "Pfft – we'd just turn 'em away at the stairs – that's Floor Thirteen's right!", she says. There is the quick and final sound of a Zippo opening, lighting, and closing, all in the span of a second. Cypress has lit a cigarette. He doesn't say anything, but Lisa and I still exchange glances. "That's no one's right," Lisa says, commanding herself to maintain a serious expression. "Saying that, let's move on – who's got a question?" A different song comes on, demanding an uplifting change in mood, and Sophie raises her hand. I point to her, and she says, "Okay, who thinks what about all those sores on their faces?" "Oooh, I got theories," Lisa says. "It's not the disease," I tell her. Cypress is shaking his head. "No, it's not," he says. "It must be radiation poisoning." "Radiation? What?" "Now there was a war – we all know that – but we wouldn't have been a major initial target – the U.S. would have been. We're in Canada, and Canada is a relatively small player on the offensive military front. Chances are the States got nailed with nuclear warheads and we were more a sweep-up-clean-out operation." We all just stare at him. Then we all start to laugh. "Nuclear?" Lisa laughs. "A nuclear warhead – it's like a grenade so big it would level this whole city, and then leave like, this invisible poison behind for like a million yeas. But the poison doesn't like, make you puke, it warps you on the inside. Where nuclear warheads are used, there's like six-legged frogs and all kinds of weird mutations. The poison's called radiation – it fucks you up pretty bad." Eveyone just stares. "Can a man ever fuck up a party," Sophie blurts out. We all laugh, but Lisa says; "None of them had any extra limbs. Their faces were just fucked up." Cypress shrugs. "You don't get extra limbs if you're just exposed to it. Children – the children born from parents who were fucked up by the radiation? They'd come out with no heads – or an arm sticking out the middle of their backs. Eyes missing – extra fingers… extra mouths…" We're all very. Very quiet. "That's what no one else gets," he says. "What the world was before the war? It was the worst it could be. …so we should all be better." Lisa grins; "That was a fuckin' Kodak moment; 'we are humanity's second chance – and you want us to kill each other one by one'," she laughs. "That was wicked," Crow agrees, holding up the lighter again. "Set?" The hookah fills with smoke, and soon we're saying very little. We're all just sitting back, listening to the music. We hear one or two women walking up and down the stairwell, but I'm keeping an eye on the door and no one's coming in. I think. "What is this stuff?" Cypress says again. "It's this special plant," Cat explains. "When you smoke it, you feel like this;" she raises her arms in a liquid motion, and her hands seem to dance for a moment. "That's totally it," Sophie says. "That's brilliant." "You feel like this now, but tomorrow you feel kinda' slow," I tell him. "So we only have floor meetings like, once every two or three months usually." "It's like I'm drunk, but like… opposite," he says. We all grin. "He's in!" Anze barks. Crow laughs and finds her cigarettes. "Bowl's caked," she says, shifting up onto the chaise-lounge with Cypress. She lights two and hands one to him, while Lisa and I exchange another glance. Crow is certainly staking her territory. "Who's got one?" Lisa says. Sophie's hand shoots up. "You just went," I tell her. Cat raises her hand, smiling sweetly. "Cat," I say. "Michelle – what's it like to kiss a boy?" she asks. Strangely enough, this little event coincides with the end of the CD, and Cypress gets up to put something new in. Now it's just the old Floor Thirteen, all staring at me. "Look, it couldn't be helped-" I start, but Lisa just smiles. "Oh, sure Mich, it happens. He probably grabbed you, threw you up against a wall caveman-style, right?" Lisa just shakes her head before asking; "So our agreement is void, then?" "We should just set up some rules right now," I say. "What good would that do?" Lisa snaps back. "You'd just break them again." "Whatever – all ganging up on Michelle – I kissed him first, why aren't you pissed at me?" Crow says. "You're a Beta, you don't have to set an example," Lisa tells her. "Maybe we do need ules." "Rules regarding what?" Cypress asks – he's standing with his hand on the back of the couch Cat and Lisa are on. Crow's eyes dart up, quick and cutting to his. "Rules regarding you," she says. "Are we still on the kissing issue?" "Yes," we say in unison. "Much like myself, you are the failing in you own logic. Last night, after all of you got a chance to touch me, you all felt satisfied with the situation regarding me, correct?" We nod. "So obviously the only thing that's upsetting anyone is that some of you have kissed me and some of you haven't," he says. "Why fight about this?" "…can I kiss you?" Lisa asks. "Lisa!" "Hey, the scales are tipped here," she says. "Cypress," Crow says. "Kiss her." It's at this point that I slip into my own mind to work a few things out. Lisa certainly won't be satisfied until she's kissed him as well, but it's not right to demand that Cypress kiss her. If Cypress wants to kiss her, does that raise questions about how he genuinely feels towards Crow and I, or does it suggest a loyalty instead to keeping the balance on the floor? Either way, when I look up Lisa's hair is tangled around his fingers as their lips caress and tongues probe. The others are all staring, and I realize it's a shared moment for all of us – I know exactly what she's feeling – I can sense the passion building inside me again. They press against each other for a moment or a month, before she gently pushes away and sits back down on the couch. We all take a breath and Cat stands. Cypress pauses – as if considering if this is for the best. Is this the way it should be? I don't know. But she kisses him. She kisses him hard, and soon he's kissing her back as she strokes his chest through his shirt. "What's it like?" Sophie whispers to Lisa. "It's better than getting stoned," Lisa grins. Cat leans forward on him so much he stumbles back, but he holds her up as she falls forward and they brush lips one last time. She slips back onto the couch with Lisa and closes her eyes, breathing smoothly, as if she is prepared for an ideal rest. "Are you alright?" I ask Cypress suddenly. "I'm wicked," Cat smiles. "I meant Cypress," I tell her. He grins his easy grin, but I can tell he's actually considering it – whether ot not he's okay. "Are you guys okay?" he asks instead. Sophie pops up beside him. "Almost," she grins, gently moving his shoulders until he's facing her. She doesn't kiss him as quickly as Cat or Lisa – instead she reaches up and touches his eyebrows, staring. Her brow creases, but is accompanied by a gentle smile as his hand grazes her cheek. She lets her hand fall to the back of his neck, and slowly draws him down until their lips meet. Her tan, smooth Latino complexion a gentle contrast to his paler skin in the candlelight. Even from this distance, I can hear her breath begin to come in quick gasps. His hands roam from her throat to her hips to her hair, even dislodging her permanently-placed toque, though she doesn't seem to notice. They don't kiss feircely, as Cat did, but with an easy rhythm, as if they both know they have all the time in the world. We all stare at the pair longingly before Sophie gives him a satisfied, loving look, cupping his face with one hand and stumbling back to her chair. Cypress sits back in his chair, and we all breathe a gentle sigh. "Are we all satisfied?" he asks. Anze is fidgeting in her seat. "I'm old enough," she says. "I'm almost seventeen." "No," Lisa says. But Cypress stands and walks over to the smaller, green-haired girl. "Well, we can't exclude her entirely, can we?" he says, reaching his hand out and spreading his fingers. Her eyes are huge as she reaches out, even trembling for a moment, to touch his skin with hers. Her breath is quickening even before they touch, and now as he softly caresses her hands she closes her eyes and lets her lips fall into a rapturous "O". Now he takes he hand and gently kisses the top of her palm, stroking her cheek once as he stands and walks back to the chaise-lounge. Crow grins as she pushes over and snuggles up to him. "Is everyone content?" Cypress asks again. "I'm feelin' good," Lisa says. "How 'bout you guys?" "Wicked," Sophie says. "Where are my smokes?" Crow reaches across Cypress to the belt she'd slung over the end of the chaise-lounge. Cypress reaches for it himself, and for a moment their faces are within striking distance. Crow grips the belt firmly and leans back, closing her eyes and stroking her lips against his. She silently lights one for herself, then hands her lighter to Cypress. "I'm groovy," she says. "Who's got one?" Lisa's hand goes up and I point to her. "What does Cypress think about all this?" she says. Cypress thinks about it, grins his easy grin and says; "I'm feelin' pretty good about everything right now," "No, I mean about kissing all of us." "Oh. Well… I uh… I don't want to rock the boat, so to speak. If we can all just maintain some kind of comfort level with the cross-gender touch issue, it's all good." "Do you like it?" Sophie asks. Now our attentions are really piqued. "Honestly?" he says. "Well yah." "To be honest, I'd like to be kissing someone right now. It's sort of a preferred state, like – mm…" Crow's hair closes in a shiny black curtain around their faces for a moment. And now his fingers slip through her hair, holding her softly to him. I notice something else – she's pressing against him really hard – sort of sliding her pelvis against his leg. Grinning, she sits up and flashes Lisa a triumphant raised eyebrow as she attends to her cigarette. "Oh – see? Now she's got's two," Lisa says. "The scales are tipped." "Why, what do you prescribe as a solution, Lisa?" Cat grins wickedly at me. "I'm not sure you want to keep going down this road," Cypress says suddenly. Lisa cocks her head at him. "What do you mean?" "I mean… things could get complex." "Do tell," I say. "If we're going to be like… a unit here…" He seems caught on something – or debating something to himself, before he says, "ah, fuck it – let's smoke some more." Crow grins and finds the bag. But Cypress's pseudo-warning serves a purpose. No one else kisses him tonight. Everyone wants to. When silences wash over the room there are moments where we all realize we're thinking the same thing. We're all staring at him. Quickly, we look to each other and confirm that we all are. If Cypress notices, he doesn't bring it up. He just finds another cigarette, nodding his head to the beat of the music, smiling to himself and offering me a glance that seems to pass for an apology for action not taken. Complex – that's what he said. Complex things are down that road. But I'm not ready to pull onto the shoulder. Not yet. Not before I'm sure. I burn to kiss him. I burn to be the one on that chaise-lounge next to him – my love for Crow aside. I burn to feel his hands on me again. And now I realize I would give anything to just… delete the others for a moment. Cypress are I would be back on the roof. He would kiss me, softly. He would stroke my face – kiss my throat. I would pull his sweaters off. And we explore that complex road. As the others stare and he smokes, in the solitude of my mind, I promise myself that – if anyone – I will do these things. * * * * * *