A Fistful of Dust

Daniel

10:25 AM

Fatigue from soldiers’ gunfire forced Daniel to be frugal with his power. A mental miasma of drowsiness reduced him to burrowing his way through walls with situational super-strength. Concrete felt heavy but malleable and hitting rebar with his fingers was like scraping a stone buried in clay. At least another squad hadn’t found him. Also, he didn’t feel the urge to shoot down cameras. He tried to remember the reason but making it to the next checkpoint took priority.

Breathless by the time he reached the next UE, Daniel thrust his hand into the containment unit and drank in sweet relief. Head cleared, he widened the opening with a few sweeps of his arms and stepped inside.

“Stop!—” the first voice from the telepathic communications said, “You’re getting dust in the wax.” An albino boy rushed over, arms outstretched, “And you’re knocking them down!” His smooth and immature features, no younger than Daniel, frowned in frustration.

Row after row of lit candles circled the room ranging in height from an inch to four feet and width from skinny to squat. Some rolled out around Daniel’s feet during his entrance. “You should have come in the front,” the boy pointed at the metal door, “Somehow you lost your Rosetta Stone, and I couldn’t tell you!”

“Sorry,” Daniel apologized, trying not to stare.

A wick burning clean flame protruded from the top of the boy’s head. Wax dripped in strings of beads to his shoulders instead of hair. Eyes with thick white irises met Daniel’s, a flicker of flame in the depths of the dark pupils.

The boy sighed, “No, I’m sorry. As I said, you didn’t know.” By the bright fluorescent lights above a host of flaming candles, Daniel saw no blood or veins beneath the waxen skin. “It’s just that I wanted to leave the room nicer than I found it.” The anger drained from the boy’s face and he gave a wan smile, “I’m Paul, remember?”

Daniel nodded back, gaze drawn to Paul’s light linen tunic and pants made for trekking desert dunes. His body shape was on the rounder side with soft edges instead of muscle—Paul probably didn’t get much exercise here. His feet bore ancient sandals with leather straps. The golden emblem of a Lighthouse with a path winding up to its base glittered over his heart. It called out to all in the dark with its lonesome beam.

Rather than springing to escape, Paul trimmed the wicks of the far candles and adjusted their height. Daniel noticed patterns—whether by candle shape or arrangement in the rows—almost like a puzzle. He entered the boy’s room with cautious steps.

Thick layers of wax covered the bed, streams pouring off the sides where Paul’s head must rest at night. Seven candles stood sentry on the head and foot of the frame. A row of books rimmed a large unlit candle serving as a nightstand, the titles too small for Daniel to read at a distance.

Another unlit candle shaped like a chair faced a row of six wax busts. Daniel recognized one of them as a younger Rana. That’s right! Rana was going to deactivate their surveillance while I release the others! Wait, who’s that? What was her name? It’s on the tip of my tongue…

Paul noticed his confusion, “Talking to people in your head feels weird, right? I like to look at their faces when they speak.”

“You did these?” Daniel asked while inspecting the work, impressed. He recognized another as himself from three years ago. It appeared the humanoid UEs were around the same age. Busts of seventeen people he couldn’t identify decorated the corners of the room alone or in pairs.

Paul sat in the chair and glanced at the carvings, “Yes, well, that’s the easy part.” At a gesture, Danie’s old bust melted and reformed. “It’s been a while, you know?” the candle boy shaped wax as if with invisible tools, “Three years.” Paul finished updating the sculpture into a near-perfect likeness. He rubbed his forehead and smiled, “We’ll all be reunited soon. It’s good to see you.”

“Thanks,” Daniel replied, aware he sounded lame.

Ignoring the lackluster response, Paul shook his head at the carvings, “It’s not like I can take the candles with me.”

Daniel thought of his room, his treasures. He thought of his scented candles and felt a pang of homesickness for Mary. His certainty he would never see her again grew. “No,” Daniel said, “You can’t.”

“Want to talk?” Paul motioned for Daniel to join him on the candle chair.

Daniel looked at the albino boy in surprise. While he lacked experience making conversation, he had to unburden himself of these choking feelings, at least a little. He sat. “Did you know Dr. Adelaide?”

Paul grinned and nodded, “She’s a nice lady.”

On a different day, it might have irked Daniel to learn other kids were so familiar with his Mary. Today he was glad. She hadn’t mistreated Paul because his abilities weren’t useful to the Facility. The sense of finality, that he could only learn more about her through secondhand stories, became more real each minute. “I’m going to miss her.”

Paul studied his sandals, “I miss my uncle every day.” His shoulders sagged, but then he straightened his back and lifted his head, “We have to move forward. We have to walk our path.” He stood, “But you don’t have to walk alone. Friends can help,” Paul offered Daniel a hand.

Daniel wondered if Paul’s wax body was immune to his ability and eagerly accepted the hand when the thought occurred to him. Paul pulled a grateful Daniel to his feet and hopped back.

“Oh, dang,” Paul shook his hand in pain, “I forgot about that.” He showed Daniel severe burns on his palm. However, instead of blood, the wound secreted wax to reform albino skin. “Most things don’t hurt me, you know. That’s a real nice power you’ve got.”

“Sorry,” Daniel shoved his hands into his robe, “Hurting people doesn’t feel nice though. I… I don’t like my power.” He thought back to his possession by The Ruin and shivered.

Paul wiped a trickling bead of wax from his face, “That makes two of us. I’m numb, like a dummy or a statue in a museum. I can’t feel the difference between stubbing a toe and petting a cat.” He ‘trimmed’ his ‘hair’ by breaking a piece off. “I mean, it’s nothing like what you deal with, but you’re not alone in resenting the road you walk.”

Daniel didn’t know what to say. His problems seemed far worse but, strangely, Paul’s sentiment comforted him. He beamed at the candle boy.

Paul cocked his head as if receiving a message and glanced back, “Hold on, I’ll make it so you can hear them.” Paul scratched at his neck, crumbling away ‘skin’ in flecks to reveal a thin chain beneath the surface. He dug it out, tapped the little stone tablet strung there, and hung the necklace over his tunic. The scratch marks smoothed over with fresh wax and became new skin.

A chime sounded in Daniel’s mind, and the third voice spoke, :No offense, Paul, but you’re no more effective free than locked up—by yourself. We should free people in order of usefulness, not randomly. Have Daniel head straight for me, my magic will make everything easier.:

Magic!?

“I adjusted the Rosetta Stone so Daniel can hear you now, Kenta,” Paul said.

:Excellent work. Daniel, look for the brightest aura—that’s me.:

As Daniel suspected, his ‘second sight’ wasn’t unique. He focused on detecting auras, “There’s someone between us and a little to the right,” Daniel said, hoping the others could somehow hear him, “I don’t like doubling back for them, I’ll pick up that person on the way.”

:No! Any delay will make the situation worse. Come directly to me!:

Groaning drifted through Daniel’s mind, :I feel a headache coming on…: the second voice said, sapped of its previous energy, fatigued and sick.

“Cassie, are you alright?” Paul asked. His worry making Daniel anxious.

:No, Paul, I am not alright!: There was an echoing screech like microphone feedback inside his head, :I need help, fast!:

The fourth voice preempted the third, :Kenta, there is no time to waste planning our order of escape. We could argue for hours on each of our merits and needs, but the time for a decision has come. That critical decision is yours, Daniel. My sole request is you act now.:

“Right, move along,” Paul said as he left the room and Daniel followed. “We’ve got to keep going or we won’t get out of here at all.” Paul spoke fast and walked fast, unsettled since hearing the second voice. He glanced over his shoulder at Daniel to absently mention, “So you know, Cassie’s room should be the smallest aura; near Kenta.” Paul ducked his head in an apologetic nod, “Still, as Lea said, your decision.”

Daniel didn’t like how insistent that third voice was being with no one else clamoring for Kenta’s release. Not suspicious, exactly, but worried Kenta wouldn’t be as helpful as promised. Meanwhile, the girl Paul seemed to be at odds with one moment and worrying about the next might be in real danger. It came down to his gut wanting to trust the candle boy.