Kairos - Blood (MxM) | Book 2 | ✅

26.Nothing

The present world shone too brightly. Grays dipped too much into whites and chased away the slithers of dark memories blinking at me from my muddled past.

Night. Motorcycles hummed and rumbled on the road, then parked in that rest area under the many eyes of the mountain wall. We had flashlights and the beams swayed and wiggled like spotlights pointing at faces and at our surroundings. I left the car under cheerful claps and words of encouragement.

"Rookie! You done good! He's a fucking natural!"

Why were those guys so happy?

Henry's yells in the distance pulled me back to the present. I heaved as my feet stomped the rotting carpet leaves shrouding the forest ground.

No, no, no. I still have to figure out what I'm remembering.

Quiet murmurs of slushing water gripped my attention. I followed the sound as if it was whispering secrets.

"Watch your step!" a guy's voice had resonated through the woods, distinct from other raspy voices in the background. The rustling of greenery had braided in his words.

The air was warm and fresh. I was back into my 14-year-old self. My tennis shoes splashed through a creak, soaking wet and heavy. Men laughed around me so I kicked the water at them. At Mike. His long blond hair flowed freely over his face and shoulders as he skipped around me, taunting gleefully.

My flashlight followed him and I dashed to tackle his tall slim figure.

Then we were both drenched and trembling in the chilly night, running, laughing and climbing up rocks.

"Come on. We're almost there, rookie," a buff bearded guy urged me on.

His leather-clad arms helped me up a mossy cliff.

I was on top of the world.

"Tonight we christen this boy and, blah, fuck it," a stubby man spoke in the light of a bonfire. Waving a beer bottle, he added with a chuckle, "You're one of us now, Steve!"

Intoxicated by cheers, I drank deeply from my beer.

The taste invaded my mouth and I tripped on a wrinkly tree root waking up from my reveries. With an arm wrapped around a thin trunk, I stared down at mushy dead leaves.

Make sense, damn you! I swore at my past, at my stupid faulty memory, at my useless brain.

"Sir!" Henry yelled from behind me.

Thrush-thrush. His feet darted over the ground closer and closer.

"Go back to the car, Henry!" I screamed annoyed.

The cliff I had climbed at 14 loomed over the area. A rock bed folded in three layers — that promised an easy climb. I dug my fingers to get a firm grasp, but the moss coating the rock was fresh and slippery even in December. My heart drummed quickly, ticking away the opportune moment of remembrance and panic rushed through my swollen veins.

I won't remember. I'll never find out. There's no point trying to get up there. Even if I make it, even if I see the spot, who's to say my memories will clear up?

A loud groan left me and I pulled myself up on the first layer. A fingernail bled, staining the mossy surface as I searched for a good place to grip.

"Steve!" Henry called out from below.

"Go away!"

"You'll get yourself hurt. Come down, please."

Second layer. There. I could do it. Only one more to go. I glanced down. Over 35 feet. My throat constricted as a swarm of locusts wrecked havoc in my stomach. A deep breath and a smirk made the fear subside.