Fire Went The Wind

Mindless zombies chit-chattering under the graceful shade of a dozen trees. Zombies, all in diverse colors speaking in a familiar yet inaudible language that numbs the senses and pulls the mind back towards earlier days. Days of late nights, beatings and close calls. Serious ass-whoopings!

Chad's firm rear briefly itched and clinched as his memories dragged him back to those sordid days. Days of pungent smells and excessively gelled- and uncombed- hair. He slowly ran his bony fingers through his short, dark hair to the back of his head. The sigh that came after was reminiscent of a familiar Satan well known by his winter-grey eyes.

'Don't forget your undies, dear.'

Chad's mother handed him a transparent plastic bag mashed with boxers. The plethora of colors made it look like an exaggerated rainbow, something drawn by the impulsive hand of a child. Her plump figure gyrated and jittered as she quickly handed him the bag. Normally, Chad would feel embarrassed about openly accepting his unmentionables in the presence and view of his future workmates.

He bent his tall figure and carelessly took the bag from his mother's puffy hands. He took an unconcerned peek inside before dropping his long, skinny arms, the bag dangling near the tip of his fingers like a coat-hanger.

She finally straightened her body to face him. Her little soldier. She beamed as she looked up at him, her yellowing eyes mimicking the dull glow of the setting sun. Her stubby finger tips were pressed against her chubby cheeks, her watery eyes engulfed in the new man in front of her.

He was now a giant. A skinny giant. His protruding cheekbones helped his face not look too elongated, but sharp. His pursed lips held an invisible cigarette. Dressed in a long-sleeved, silky, white shirt and black trousers that deliberately outshone the dying sun, he looked like he was dressed for business but his weary and bored face argued with him.

'Are you ready, my little soldier?' his mother screeched sounding like a children's infomercial.

Chad rolled his eyes towards the massive building. It was nothing short of archaic in appearance. An obsolete relic from ancient times. Colonnades on all sides of the building and large bay windows from the first floor up to the second. A prince's castle redressed for the working class' use. The colossal, green, metal sign in Old English: Saint University nailed just above the entrance seemed almost as though it was asking him the same question as his mother's.

He rolled his eyes back to his elated mother. He shrugged it off.

'This is your first year, dear. Just think of the freedom, the privileges.'

He made a soft grunt. 'This is just high school,' he said, 'with less supervision.'

'But you're a scientist now! A Political Scientist. Think of the possibilities and opportunities that await you: friends, clubs-'

Chad's focus turned elsewhere. His world-weary eyes were now patrolling the environment. Clones and zombies was all he saw. Mindless machines being assembled for a driver to take their wheels and steer them into a tree or a ditch of debt, late nights and broken marriages. The so-called future lawyers would spend the rest of their lives defending murderers. A double-edged affair. Criminals paying criminals to keep the criminals out of jail.

He saw them begin to move in single file towards the entrance of the inordinate structure. The dormitories had been opened. He wondered what his roommate was like. Probably a drunkard. A high school nerd who had heard of the freedoms of college and decided to go all out and pour that freedom in a bottle and gulp it down in a few dozen swigs.

The zombies marched on, like wildebeest to a watering hole where the starved crocodile awaited. His eye suddenly caught something peculiar. Trailing behind was one. A wildebeest? No. This was another type of animal. The others were in pairs but she awkwardly kept her distance, her books in her chest. She was wearing a tight, cotton grey jersey and dark blue jeans. Chad wanted to look away but there was something about her. She was like one of those trinkets in a gift shop, irrelevant but yet your eyes can't look away; mesmerized, beguiled and bewildered. Her head swiveled on its hinges, her semi-gold hair stubbornly staying over her eyes. Her eyes locked with Chad's, but for a moment. Hers were a plush green which did not seem to hold any roses, but a glint of misery if not a last speck of light from the sun. He spotted a faint double chin on her small face and five or six reddish spots which could have transformed into freckles but decided she wasn't worth it. But this could be the orange sun too, playing with her skin as a last laugh before it called it a day.

'-and calls, dear, always remember to call.'

'Gertrude!' Chad's father bashed the car horn twice to halt her incessant chatter. 'I've got a soccer game to get to, if you don't mind.' His bulky body could have easily filled both seats if he had not squeezed himself into a hunching pose.

'In a minute, Gerald!' bellowed Gertrude. Her facial features turned from glee to deep intolerance in a heartbeat. Her expression wavered between sour and joy as she turned back to her son. The mixture was hazardous. She opened her mouth but the words never made it out. Her husband's rude interruption had sanctioned them. She grinned and spread her arms.

Chad gave her a one arm hug.

'Be good, now.' These were her parting words to her son before she jumped into the battered down Honda Fit right beside her hulky husband. The disheveled little car looked like something from a World War II museum. 'Say bye to your father, Chad,' she said half consciously, most of her attention on the seatbelt as she fought to strap it on. The unnerving sight was like watching someone wrestle a python, then, click. She finally began to breathe again.

Chad leaned forward, his hand on the base of his mother's window. He tried to smile. It was a meager line drawn on his face by a few contours that etched together from the narrow depths of his cheeks. 'Bye, dad.'

His father grunted something similar in response.

'Now, remember, dear...'

'He'll be fine, Gertrude!' His father kicked the accelerator and like a rocket, the car sped off.