Summer Storms (5) : There have been plenty of thunderstorms this summer, and everyone is blaming the weather for the strangeness of their electronics--or, bored kids out of school. It’s not uncommon to get phone calls from impossible numbers--strings of letters and numbers, and a blank caller ID. It’s hard to make out any sounds; it sounds like static, and a broken up voice in a language you can’t make out. There is no way to call the number back; it says the line is disconnected. Sometimes, text messages come through, in foreign symbols. The messages always disappear within a few seconds, and there’s no way to reply. People have even had video chats, but the image is always staticky and it’s impossible to make out any details except for a silhouette, and the same strange, foreign language. The city is hoping to have this issue fixed soon, but in the meantime they are asking for patience.
Gideon had been on his best behavior since his three-month hiatus from life. He couldn't be rocking the boat when he still had so much to make up for, and he couldn't risk being labeled a degenerate slacker when he had dreams and ambitions still out there waiting for him.
He'd put most of his Negaverse investigations on pause for the moment. Anything that hadn't been uncovered yet after so many years would likely still be there when he was at a more stable place in his life. Feldspar met his quota, but didn't put much more time into his duties than that. That meant no late nights out on the town, no excessive training with his general, nothing fun, basically.
But it was just for now, Gideon assured himself.
Once he'd reestablished himself as reliable and not likely to just ******** off for months at a time, he could go back to how things were before: easier and freer and doing what he felt was most intriguing to him. There were limitations, but as long as he kept his wits about him and didn't dive headfirst into stupidity, he could go back to scouting information on his parents' murders and picking up more tasks within his branch.
It would be just peachy to get back to that, but currently, he had a bedtime. He had a bedtime so that he could get up with ample hours to prepare himself and look professional and well rested and be able to think clearly.
It sucked. But it was just for now.
His body still needed a little too much convincing to fall asleep at a reasonable hour, but he was no stranger to pills, and they helped as best as anything else. They did put him all the way down for a very solid six hours at the least, and it was hard to break out of that fog before the drugs had fully run their course.
He was in a car. A red convertible of some sort, with the top down and wind streaming through his hair. The driver was a faceless, nameless friend. The road was long and winding, curving in loops up and up. The radio was on, but with the whip of wind and the chatter of the driver, Gideon could barely hear it. He thought the tune might have been familiar, though, something in lilting notes with a man singing strange and warbling vocals over top.
Their car swerved, twisting sideways across the road and veering toward the edge of a red canyon cliff as the music picked up.
'One by one we bite the dust,
Kick the bucket and begin to rust...'
Gideon's stomach vaulted for his throat as the car smacked into what was apparently a paper-thin guardrail and careened over the side of the cliff. There was only that sensation of choking on air and weightlessness. There was red dirt and trees everywhere. His friend may or may not have still been there, but the convertible plummeted.
'Ashes to ashes, bones to paste,
You'll wither away in your resting place,'
Oh, ********, it was real. It was a real sound. His ringtone.
'Eternity in a wooden case.
We all. Fall. Down.'
Gideon jolted. His arm flapped out as he fumbled for the phone on his nightstand, blearily dragging it across the little gap between table and bed (and nearly dropping it along the way), before plastering the side of his face to the screen with a dry and crackling, "Hullo?"
Static greeted him. And in his bleary state of wakefulness, the sound made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The static was choppy and strung through with what may have been distorted voices speaking words he couldn't understand. His heart thudded as his lips parted to try and ask- Something? He wasn't sure what.
But the call dropped, and his cell phone made that uncomfortable repetitive beeping noise he was sure only came from landlines.
His gaze darted up, scanning the corners of his room through the darkness to see if something was there- which there shouldn't be, of course. But his heart still raced, his skin still crawled. His throat was tight, and it felt to bizarrely like something was there. How many times had that number called him that it bypassed his Sleep setting? Nothing was there. When he strained his ears, he thought he heard something rumbling...
But it was just the air conditioning kicking on.
It was stupid for him to be so startled, and as Gideon checked the time, he berated himself for getting so worked up at two in the morning. ...But he was pretty well awake now and not totally unconvinced something wouldn't happen between now and morning, so...
That was great.
[WC: 799]
