Red Rain

Chapter 2 - American Idiot

Finally, I touch down at the entrance to the Bridge. I gaze up at the large, ungainly-looking building, which arcs out over Coldfire Creek itself before embedding itself into the rock face on the other side. With its stack of boxy structures, it almost looks like the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.

I fold my wings up and hand my ID to the guy at the security checkpoint. He slides it through a modified credit-card scanner, consults his computer screen, then nods his approval as he returns my ID. The glass door next to the checkpoint opens, allowing me to climb the spiral staircase leading into the heart of the Bridge.

The Bridge is kinda like a combination of a community center and a shopping mall. Most of the restaurants and stores in town are here, and all the indoor parks-and-rec-type facilities, like the library, the yoga classes, and yes, the pool. To my delight, when I reach the top floor, I see a long hallway nearly devoid of any presence, be it angelic or demonic. That's the real reason why it's called the Bridge - not only because it's a literal one, but because it also includes a portal between Heaven and Hell. There are thousands of other Bridges, each connecting two of the three known dimensions, and all serving as neutral ground.

I glance up at the long skylight which spans the length of the top floor and watch as the sheer cliff that forms the southern bank of Coldfire Creek - at least, in Heaven - approaches. Soon, I pass through to the other side, and now the cliff is behind me, while above and ahead of me is an unbroken view of Hell's fiery red sky. From here, right on the boundary, I can almost see Gabe's school, Castledown Academy, perched on a mountainside to the south, looking so bizarrely identical to Balthazar Academy on the other side of the Bridge.

I enter the pool room and find it nearly deserted, except for two girls. One, a black girl practicing her backstroke, I recognize as Kelly Jackson, a girl whom Gabe dated for a month or so in freshman year. Before they fell apart, she was the only date he's ever brought home to meet Mom. Their breakup was tearful and messy - Gabe was so devastated over it for weeks afterwards - but they've since become friends again.

The other girl is another friend from Gabe's and Kelly's circle - Fionna Lee. The first time I met her - while paying Gabe a visit at Castledown - I'd been molting, like so many of my freshman-year classmates at that time. It's one of the more annoying aspects of angelic puberty, along with painful growth spurts and mood swings. I'd been struck by how pretty she was, and even more surprised when she tried to hug me hello. Trust me to respond by losing half a dozen primary feathers out the back of my shirt right there. She practically died laughing, adding to my mortification. I see her pretty often still - usually either at Castledown or here at the pool - and she still remembers this moment all too well, if the nickname she's always reserved for me is anything to go by. It's a major reason why my stomach likes to tie itself in knots whenever I see her.

Today, Fionna sits in a plastic chair at poolside, reading a book. It's a popular Hellish title - Cinder. Gabe loves that book and its sequels to death, but I've never been able to get into it myself for whatever reason. By the time I change into my trunks, Kelly is already done and has left for the girls' locker room, while Fionna continues to sit by herself and read.

Hoping she hasn't seen me - the longer I go without her trying to engage me in conversation or me trying to engage her in a war of wit, the better - I look at the rows of targets placed high on the wall at one end of the room. Choosing one of them, I reach down into the chlorinated water, concentrating on my elemental power until I feel the familiar buzz. It feels like there's a bunch of electrified wires floating in the water around my hands, waiting to be shaped and controlled by my thoughts.

I pull up a sphere of water, about six inches in diameter, and lob it across the room, but completely miss my intended target. In my head, I hear a little buzzer noise as I mentally punish myself, and wonder what just happened. I'm not a perfect shot, but I at least manage to hit the right target every time. Maybe my concentration's a little off today. Wouldn't surprise me.