Page 78 of The Order

Finally, one of the upstairs hallway doors opens, and I stumble forward into what I can only assume is a guest room. I quickly scan the area, feeling the light brush of air caress my skin. The curtains framing the large window on the wall farthest from the door danced and fluttered hypnotically in the open space. As I turn back towards the door to continue searching the other rooms upstairs for a bathroom, through another window in the room, I see a figure standing on the rooftop, staring forward, still like a statue.

The curtains distort my view of the figure, my curiosity urging me closer to the window as the wave of nausea I’d been battling seems to die. My hand swipes away the diaphanous curtain panels, giving me a clear view of the dark-skinned boy standing at the roof's edge. I’ve seen him at the Academy. He’s a third year, and, from what I remember, a nice boy. He’s in a gray sweater, with his arms crossed over his body as he whispers silently to himself. Slowly, I make my way back to the open window and carefully step outside onto the roof. My footing is still a bit uneven, given the alcohol working through my blood. The boy doesn’t seem to notice as I clumsily make my way over to face him.

I look around, half expecting someone else to be out here.

It’s only him.

“Are you okay?” I question, seeing his body tense up at the sound of my voice.

"Everything is clearer now,” he whispers in a voice I can hardly hear.

I pause my steps toward him, looking at the red soaking the front of his shirt. Blood. His hand shakily holds a small cutting knife that he must have found in the kitchen downstairs.

He turns his body toward me, and I see the blood trickling down the side of his neck from behind his ear. I look down as I hear his foot move and see the blinking of a red light. A small metal piece attached to long tendrils thrashes and spasms out and around his shoe, trying to find something to cling to.

His chip.

His lip wobbles while he speaks. The knife remains clutched in his hand, his blood mixing with the tears now rolling down his young face.

“Why don't you come inside with me, and we can get you cleaned up.”

“They won’t stop coming for us,” he says in a sob, pointing at me with his bloodied hand. “We’re being lied to. It starts with this parasite we allowed them to put in our heads,” he says, smashing his foot down on the chip, letting the light fade beneath it. “He will deliver you himself to the devil if he needs to. Can you not see it?”

He’s crazy.

This boy has lost it.

“I can get you help if you just come with me,” I whisper, extending my hand toward the boy.

“The Apparatus is near,” he says, looking back toward the dark sky. “They will lead us all away from this eternal hell,” he continues, taking one shaky step forward.

I move toward him, completely disregarding the slope of the roof.

“Wait-”

“I do not have the strength to wait for them.”

The world goes silent as he steps off the roof. His eyes are closed. His hands lowered to his sides. Desperately, I skid down the panels of the roof, my hand wrapping around the material of his sweater as he slips further down. My nails drag down his arm, our hands finally meeting as I battle with gravity. Our hands clasp as we’re dragged over the side of the roof. I brace myself for the fall, still scrambling to grab any part of the roof’s edge I can with my free arm. My fingertips scrape across the roof tiles, and I can feel my nails splitting and breaking as I grasp harder for purchase. Suddenly, our movement stops. I grunt as a searing pain festers in my shoulder from the weight of trying to keep us both from plummeting to the ground.

“Help!” I scream, feeling my fingers slowly begin to slip. I look down at the boy, watching his eyes grow wider with fear. My fingers hold tightly to his wrist, feeling a rough spot on his skin, identical to the one on my hip.

“Free yourself, then free us all,” he whispers.

Grabbing the small knife, he cuts my hand, forcing me to let go of his arm as a smile consumes his face. I watch in horror as his body plummets to the ground, hitting the pavement with a crack so loud it hurts my ears. I don’t have the stomach to look down at him, feeling my bloodied hand try to hold me up. My arm begins to give out. I cry out once more, fighting back the tears and emotion. My weak arms quickly try to pull me back up. I hear a girl scream from inside, shouting at others to call an Official once she notices the boy's bloodied body on the concrete.

A shadow casts over the roof, moving closer, giving me the slightest sense of relief that someone has come to help.

“I’m over here!” I yell, kicking my feet to try and force myself back up. My stomach drops once I see Josh’s face. He peers over the roof, covering his mouth once he sees what's below me. I feel my hand begin to slip again, screaming as I quickly try to reach for him.

“Josh, help me!” I yell, reaching for his leg. He steps back, crouching to his knees to watch me.

“What happened, Forest?” he questions, cocking his head at me. Panic consumes me as the possibility that Josh may let me fall quickly becomes a reality.

“Josh, this isn’t funny. Help me up!” I yell, feeling his hands wrap around my wrists, only to drop my right hand immediately

“Did you push him, Blackburn?” Josh questions, taunting me by loosening his grasp more. My shoulder feels dislocated, ready to tear away from my arm.

“God damn it, Josh, no! He jumped. I was trying to help!” I yell, watching him let out a scoff at the statement.

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