Filaria - Brent Hayward [106]
The look on Reena’s face had momentarily returned to one more benign; evidently, Tran so had her interest again, if not her trust. He pressed on:
“I told this man my destination. ‘All the way down’, I said. And he asked me in his old man’s voice if, when I was there, would I search for his brother? ‘My brother,’ he said, ‘had been by my side for a hundred years and has now fallen to his death. Just two days ago.’ He became emotional, saying he had always disliked his brother, disdained him, in fact, and that his brother was a prude, and a hindrance, but now that he was gone he missed him. He knew he should have said something to his brother when he was still alive but it was too late. So I’m . . .” Words faltered. What was he going on about? He tried to calm down but his heart raced in his chest.
“I would have loved my son,” he said. “I’m sure I would have, when the boy was older. But all he did was cry. And take Minnie sue’s attention.” Tran so looked into Reena’s eyes, searching them. “My boy never got a chance to get older. I want him to come back, Reena. I want to tell him . . .” He lowered his gaze. “I want him back.”
“The dead don’t come here,” Reena said impatiently. “If that’s what you’re looking for. Dead don’t come here and neither do gods. People live here. Regular people, like me. Living, breathing people.”
“He was just fourteen days old when Minnie sue got sick.”
“I’m going to keep looking for my friend now,” Reena said. “I wish you luck.”
Feeling heavy and cumbersome, Tran so Phengh stepped aside to let Reena pass. Telling her the story had not helped. He stumbled on, farther down the damp hallway. He would never find his way out of this place. What point did questions have? Quests?
Surely an infant understands that a father is tired and unsure?
The hall gently curved and, as he rounded the bend, he saw, for the third time, the trio of teenage boys. But they were no longer running. This time, they were hardly moving at all. One sat with his back against the wall while the other two knelt by him on either side. They did not notice Tran so approaching. The seated boy had his eyes closed, and glistened with sweat or was otherwise sheened, obviously in great pain. This understanding came as a shock, for Tran so realized he had come to associate the trio with harmless bumbling.
Directly across from the trio was an opened double door, revealing what appeared to be the foyer of a very large room. As Tran so got closer, he saw other boys inside, identical in dress and physique to the three (making Tran so wonder if the three were indeed the same boys he had previously met), moving about, bathed in a sick, green glow.
One of the kneeling boys turned. He must have heard Tran so. He stared for a second, eyes moist and wild. Then he exclaimed in a shaky voice, “Please, sir, stay away. It’s not safe here. You shouldn’t be in this area.”
They had a layer of thin, translucent material over their uniforms. Like a mirage, this gossamer layer also covered their faces and hands, making the boys almost impossible to focus on. They seemed like figments, or ghosts. Glimmering shadows flashed.
“Is he all right?” But Tran so Phengh knew that the seated boy was not all right. Not at all.
The other two were administering a remedy of some sort: in their hands they clasped a small tube, as if it were a prayer card. A third tube dangled from the ill teen’s neck to a tiny box on the floor, tethered to it by a thin and pulsing cord.
“Can I help?”
The nearest boy turned again. “Leave here. Please. It’s not safe for guests here. There’s been a calamity. You should not be here.”
Tran so Phengh looked into the large room now, drawn to it. The area appeared to be even bigger than he had thought possible, as if space itself was distorted. The ceiling was hidden in a greenish haze. And the other boys — there were at least ten — were busy swarming the façade of a massive device that also vanished up