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santacarlacoven · 7 days

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Blood Magic

Chapter 5: The Show

A week had passed and it was like everything was starting to line up. Work at the shop was getting easier in your routine. Santa Carla streets and back roads were becoming more familiar. The old bike was cleaned up and coated with a nice sheen of candy-apple red spray paint. But the biggest change was the nightmares. After that night at the tide pools, you were haunted by visions of bodies in bloody water. Voices would scream beside maniacal laughter, and hands would reach up as you waded helpless in the bottomless ocean. A chorus of voices would call out your name. Some begging, some goading, some calling you deeper into the red water. Each night you woke up in a cold sweat, but just like wounds, time made it face. Nights became more peaceful; the faces, the screaming and laughing were as if chased away into the inky black of sleep. Through the night it was as if a quiet voice kept the monsters away while lulling you into the blackness.

Ely noticed too. Though not one for prying, she would ask how you slept, and gave her appreciation to how much better you've been doing. She went from a stranger to someone who has seen you at your most terrified, and now she wasn't even sure where she was at as a roommate. After all, that's all you both were: roommates. But the time together was something that couldn't be ignored.

You had run out to pick up lunch for the both of you, which was becoming a bit of a routine of its own. You pedal along on your bike past the boardwalk, past the movie theater, to the Los Panchos next to the community center. It was nice seeing the faces become gradually familiar, and it felt like being back at home hearing the staff bantering in Spanish and breathing in the smell of carne asada and cooking-smoke. You sat back in a booth taking it all in, but you picked up something.

“It’s that girl!” It sounded like a kid whisper-screaming.

“Yea?” another kid answered.

“Yea!”

��Guys don’t just say it out loud!” another voice whisper-yelled. “She’ll hear us!”

“No, she won’t”

“You are not a quiet person!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Kids were always refreshing, but it still was weird, because you knew they were talking about you, as you were the only other person in the restaurant. You looked behind you, and three booths down you picked out three heads huddled together, suddenly quiet and with their heads down. If it weren’t for a red bandana, you wouldn’t have cared. It was those kids at the arcade a while ago, and another one. Figuring you had nothing better to do, you stood and walked their way.

“Hey guys,” You drawled flatly, “How’s it going?”

Scattered across their booth table were comic books and teen magazines. They looked up at you quickly but tried not to make much eye contact, but the one new boy sat upright and looked you in the eye.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” His little voice was pitched but steady, “My friends weren’t raised with manners, so I’m trying to be a good influence for them.”

The boy sat next to him smacked him in the arm, but the boy just sneered back.

“Good on you, kid.” You answered, “I’m sure they’ll learn. So how’s it going with Castlevania?”

This time one answered, “Pretty good. How’s it going being cattle?”

“Excuse me?”

“Dude come on!” the polite boy groaned, but Baby-Rambo was deadset.

“Have you wised up yet, or are you still as dense as the rest of the walking meat market?”

Gosh this kid didn’t get enough attention growing up.

“You know,” You hummed sarcastically, “I actually saw a dead body the other day.”

All three boys looked up with wide eyes.

“What!” One gaped.

Sure, the wound was still fresh, but you were at the point where if you didn’t start making whatever happened smaller than it was then it wouldn’t be good. You had to start joking about it.

“Yea,” You raised your eyebrows cartoonishly, “And it suddenly rose from the dead and started talking! And you wanna know what it said?”

“Yes!”

“For fuck’s sake!”

“What did it say!” That last one was screamed like a madman.

Before you could give them a melodramatic answer, the girl at the register called your name. Your order was ready.

“Next time, boys. Have fun.”

But the boys clambered over each other and stood in your way.

“It’s very important you tell us about what you saw!” the boy with the darker hair spoke as if he were a police officer or something.

“Dudes, come on, move it.” Two of the boys were actively blocking your way.

“No way, you tell us what you saw, and you tell us now!”

“Alright boys,” it was starting to get irritating, "fun’s over, move.”

“Listen lady!” the dark-haired boy barked, “If what you’re saying is what we think it is, you and everyone in this city are in danger, and people are going to die!”

The bandana-boy chimed in, “Mothers, children, babies, everyone. Dead!”

“Jeez, chill out,” They were pissing you off, but they were so angry it was almost bewildering, “Back off.”

“Ed, Al, come on,” The polite boy pleaded, tapping on their shoulders, “Come on, she’s fuckin’ with you guys, just stop.”

“Stay out of this, Sam.” One hissed in a more hushed voice.

You took the moment to shove past the boys and move towards the front, “You guys need to chill on the fuckin’ comics.”

“And you need to wise up, bitch!” one of them shouted.

“Hey!” you were heated.

“Hey!” One of the cooks moved from the kitchen to the register, “How many times I gotta’ tell you lil’ idiots to leave people alone? Get the fuck outta’ here!” He made eye contact with you and handed you your bag, “Get along, mija, I got it.”

The last you saw of them they were fighting inside while you went along on your bike. The only thing that nagged you was that… well, it seemed that they were right. You saw a body come to life, and these kids act like they’re in danger every day. As much as you knew it’s unhealthy for a kid to live in fear, they kind of had a point… And it made you question just how much they actually knew. It was something to think about, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to think about the implications of that night any more than you already did. So, you rode the red bike back to Madame Ivy’s and set the food down in front of Ely.

“Bon Appetit.”

It had become a habit to share lunch at the tarot table. Neither of you actually put anything on the table, with the only exception of the occasional coffee mug. Plates were left on your laps and you two took to talking. Things were still new, getting to know each other and all. It was certainly easier to talk about surroundings than personal lives.

“Is Santa Carla, like, a big Halloween town or something?”

With her mouth full, she furrowed her brows and jerked her chin up slightly. What do you mean?

“Like, in October, does everyone get really into it? Or is it not a big deal?”

She nodded in understanding and took a second before speaking, “Halloween’s pretty big. I mean, we’re a tourist town so all the holidays are pretty exaggerated. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” You thought back to the boys at the restaurant. It’s one thing if it happened once, but running into them twice was something else. They were so angry, they almost seemed… scared. “It’s just-”

“This isn’t about the body thing, is it?” she interrupted.

“What? No, no. I just ran into these kids a couple times, and they just talk crazy talk all the time. I guess I thought they might be scared of something. Like, maybe they saw something for Halloween and thought it was real.”

Ely shrugged, “I mean, maybe? Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It’s just not the first time I’ve run into them, and this time they got really… I don’t know, intense? Like, they were trying to stop me from leaving and were talking about people dying, and danger and stuff.”

Ely put her food down and thought about it, “Listen, don’t worry about it. They’re probably just dumb kids. Like, how old were they?”

“I don’t know, maybe thirteen, fourteen?”

“Exactly,” she dismissed, “Who wasn’t annoying at thirteen? Just ignore them, they’ll go find someone else to bother. Anyway, more importantly, you doin’ anything tonight?"

"No, not that I know of."

She finished the last of her coffee and brushed off her hands.

"I have tickets to a show, but my friend had to bail," she paused for a moment, not from shyness but just the nerves of asking, "So...would you be down?"

You could tell she was going out on a limb, but something about her- that night- just felt right.

"Who's playing?"

***

It was dark. The venue was a dank hole in the wall literally called "The Pit". It was hot and sweaty, a layer of smoke lined the ceiling through the whole place, and it stank like weed, smoke, and booze. The place was crawling with a sort of people: punks, metalheads, scruffy and leatherbound "low lives" your mom warned you about, potheads and alcoholics, grunged up headbangers and "skanks". You breathed it all in.

"You good? Ely asked.

You couldn't help but grin, "Feels like home."

In reality, your old place was nothing like this, but it truly felt like something else. It was like the places you crawled away to in the middle of the night when no one could stop you. The midnight shows that bled into the 3am house parties or the back-alley raves downtown. You carved a spot for yourself in the back of those bars and clubs where you could just be. It was the one thing you've craved for years.

Freedom

You were sweaty, hot, dazed, cramped, and hyped on adrenaline, but God did you feel free. Everyone was there for a good time, and that's what you were going to have. The both of you elbowed your way through the crowd, your hand in Elysium's as she led you through the packed crowd. The band was getting started and it was getting harder to thrash your way through.

You didn’t know the band, but you didn’t care. The crowd made the push to the front as the drums thundered and music echoed through the crowded venue. Suddenly the two of you were lost in the sea of screams and smoke and laughter and alcohol and absolute madness of it all. Even if you didn’t know the words, you still fell into the joy in it all. Screaming with Ely, thrashing like a madman, you dove into the pit that formed in the crowd and partook in the beating. It was cathartic. Like all the tension was literally beaten out of your body and released as screams and singing, and for the first time in weeks you felt right.

Ely eventually pulled you out of the pit and together you danced along in the crowd. But suddenly the speakers frizzed into a moment of static before the music died and the house lights came on. A gunshot cut through everything as the crowd suddenly created a wave of people hitting the deck. Even the band crouched out of shock as a deep voice boomed.

"Everyone on the floor!"

They did the opposite. Like roaches under a sudden light, everyone scattered, but the sheer numbers of the commotion made it like a tidal wave pushing you in the chaos. The excitement turned to panic. There was no control as bodies pushed and shoved, all trying to escape as police officers beat down people around them with cuffs in hand. You tried to find your friend, but she was lost in the sea of people.

"Ely!" You screamed out but there was no response, just the screams of chaos and commotion.

"ELY!” Boots and heels stomped your feet, you had to keep moving or else you’d be trampled.

Now.

Something to be understood is that stampedes are real. They’re harsh, sudden, overwhelming, and confusing. The panic doesn’t just gradually set in, but it doesn’t just hit like a train. The truth is that your brain and body fall into different time processes. Your body is hit with the sudden panic, but it doesn’t reach your brain for a few more moments. That’s because even though the brain is aware that the heat and sweat and pushing and shoving are just another fun part of a concert, your body has evolved to sense the danger before you can even realize it. The panic is instant, but the realization is gradual. What comes of this is a deep panic that only grow and grows and builds until you realize the situation: There are cops with guns, and your stuck in a crowd that’s going to kill you if you don’t. Keep. Moving.

You had to move, and the thing about a stampede is that you can’t control how fast you get out of the crowd. Not unless you have the size, strength, and skill of a football player. All you could do is keep moving, keep your body upright (because stampedes tend to lean in the movement and if you end up sideways, you will be on the ground and won’t be able to get up), and wait for a break. The break comes when enough room opens around the crowd that everyone can scatter into the open, and there’s finally freedom from it all. In the mania you tried to push to the back exit of the club where the alley is closer. Time in the stampede is somehow grueling and instant, possibly from the adrenaline. Suddenly you’re being pushed against the brick walls of the alley while people pushed past. Jagged corners tore past cotton and flesh and somehow made your skin cold from the concrete but hot from the growing bruises. You tried to pull yourself forward but with so many moving bodies trying to get ahead, it was too much. Suddenly an elbow slammed your neck and forced your head hard into the wall.

Then you went down. It was so loud that nothing could be pulled from the drone of screams and stomping feet. Someone stood on your leg. A boot stomped your hand. You tried to hug the wall, but a shoe slammed into your hip before someone fell over you. Everything hurt. Your head throbbed. Your body burned in blood and blunt trauma.

Get up.

Your vision doubled.

Get up.

You had to get up.

Get Up!

Suddenly a hand slipped under your arm and dragged you to your feet. Someone larger and stronger than you dragged you through the crowd and out into the open. It was all a bit of a blur in the dark. You were thrown over a motor bike and the person sat behind you on the seat, arms draped over you to reach the handles. The engine revved to life, and they rode off away from the sound of sirens and screams.

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