Two Seconds

Fletcher raised his head towards the shop's door, "What was that?"

Dana was seated across him on the floor. She was crouched down behind the circle made of licorice. Her face was close to her hand which had a red marble loaded between her fingers. She aimed, stuck out her tongue, and flicked. The marble fired away and missed its mark, a pearl marble. She clawed her helmet in frustration, "Darn it! It's this helmet's fault!"

"Did you hear that, Dana?" Fletcher asked again. He thought he'd heard it before but he wasn't sure. It sounded like the roar of metal. "It sounded like it came from the mountain."

Dana sat up straight and placed her hands on her lap. The red marble rolled into the patch of sunlight that came from the sunroof above. She set her red eyes on Fletcher who was still confused and concerned. Her happy demeanor that lasted through their game of marbles was replaced by a solemn seriousness. A tension between calmness and severity balanced on her words, "It's a cry of the past, Fletcher. I was never fond of the saying 'past is past'. It's never so final. The past will persist no matter what. You'll learn that by heart."

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Talking weird. Sometimes, it's hard to understand you, Dana." Fletcher scratched his helmet since he couldn't scratch his head. It was one of the many phantom actions he had ever since he wore a suit. He eyed the store door with the bell above the frame. "I think I should go. Mom might be home soon. She had a fit last time I was late. It's been three days and I still can't find the cookie jar. You should sell cookies. Those are yummy, you know?"

"I'm sure you'll find it soon. But before you scurry on home…" Dana stood up and moved towards the glass jar full of candy drops. As she removed the glass lid, she glanced at the dagger impaled upright on the wooden table behind the counter. Her slender gloved leather hand reached down and dug deep into the pile of colorful candy.

It was easily Fletcher's favorite part of any day since he arrived above the soil. He rushed to the counter and, hand open and ready, waited excitedly for his treat. But what the shopkeep revealed was a candy he had never seen before. "What's that?"

Dana brought out a peculiar black piece of candy and placed it on his palm. It was bare without a wrapper. "It's a special one, Fletcher. Why don't you try eating it here? I can tell you've been using that room."

"How can you tell?"

Dana tapped over her visor where her nose would be. "Smell. It's like burnt fruit. Now, go on and eat. Weren't you in a hurry to head home?"

Fletcher smelled himself but as most of their conversations went, he didn't know what she was talking about. He raised his eyes to the sunroof. The sky was amber swirled with a deep purple. The counter was in the shade. He was afraid but he found courage as he remembered a certain moment. It was from his father's resolve to continue the light treatment. His little hand opened his visor slightly ajar, just wide enough for his fingers to deliver the treat. Though light didn't hit his skin directly, his lips pricked.

Dana watched as Fletcher ate the candy and closed his visor down. Draped by the dark, she couldn't help but relish the moment. It was one she had been waiting for so long. She muttered to herself, "We are the sum of our experiences."

"It's very sweet," commented Fletcher through a muffled voice. He liked sweet things but he debated with himself whether it started when he met Dana or even back then in Asrora. He licked and tumbled the candy around his mouth.

"It always is at first."

Fletcher turned to Dana. He looked at her red eyes which lingered on him. A feeling of uncertainty boggled him. He wasn't sure if she spoke. No, his ears didn't lie. He was sure that he definitely heard a voice. It just wasn't hers. He looked around but there was no one else. But being in the light for so long, made him blind to the details of the dark; he failed to see Dana's scythe-like smile and the ravenous intent in her wide eyes.

RING!

The door swung open and Abigail's shoulders heaved up and down with every heavy breath she took. Her eyes darted around the shop until she found her son by the counter. Seeing him alive and well, rather than warmth, it was like her soul lit up like a frenzied wildfire. "Fletcher."

"M-Mom?!" Fletcher was surprised that he almost choked on the candy. He never imagined that today would be the first day his mother ever came to the shop. "What are you doing—"

"Get over here, Fletcher. We have to go home."

"Mom! This is my friend, Dana." Fletcher felt the excitement spread like electricity within him. For the longest time, he wanted his parents to meet her and possibly buy from her shop since he never really bought anything. He mostly went there to play and listen to Dana's stories. "She's the shopkeeper I've always told you and dad about! We were just—"

"Your father's dead, Fletcher! Don't make me go over there and get here this instant!"

Fletcher froze except for his smile which faded. He didn't know what to think. Was his mother telling the truth? How could he be dead? Why? The last question echoed painfully in his mind. The shock crippled him on the opposite spectrum of when he first saw the sun.

He wouldn't have returned from his pause in time if he didn't feel a sharp pain on his wrist. He looked and found his mother's hand clamped strongly. Before he could utter a word, he was pulled away from the counter. As he was dragged towards the store's exit, he turned and saw Dana waving back at him with a smile.

Through habit, Dana spoke, "Come again—"

Abigail flicked a glance as stern as silver steel. Only a Fellden such as Dana could witness the receiving end of that fierceness through the dark tint of their visors. The look said all; it was a mother's smoldering protectiveness that any more interference wouldn't be tolerated.

And Dana got the message.

The bell rang again and the door was slammed shut. Alone in the shop, Dana raised her hands in the air. She was ecstatic and joyous. She felt the electricity fan like lightning in her nerves. She got the dagger from the table and hugged it close to her chest. "Can you believe it?! Because I can't! I really can't! We're so close!"

"Put me down." The dagger replied. It was a man's raspy voice which was low and unamused as it perpetually was but retained an unnerving and commanding presence. "We don't know if things will come to fruition. Enough with your jubilations. We have so much more work to do."

"There really isn't a day when you aren't happy. I really thought today would be the day." Dana shrugged then something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. Blood pooled beneath the doorway to the storeroom behind the counter. Her happiness was sapped from her. She slumped against the wall behind, "There must be some reason you're a dagger and not a sword... Anyways, work, huh? Guess I better get to it…"

"I don't appreciate what you're insinuating."

-----

Out on the street, the chaotic scenery that surrounded Fletcher gave him no time to process his father's death. Shrill screams, manic shouts, and the booms of destruction muddled the young boy's ears. People, both Fellden and humans, ran in every direction; some sought shelter from the rain of bullets and debris while others took arms and joined in the stormy fray.

Smoke replaced the beautiful amber dusk and the snake-like golem raged on as it tore everything in its path. Pelted by bullets from the armed soldiers below, it paid no mind and continued the decimation of the Mori Industries building. But streams of missiles zoomed over Fletcher and sharply cut through the thick noise of chaos. He took his eyes off the golem and saw that the missiles came from a house that was blocks behind where the roof had mechanically split open and in the middle stood the grey machinery that launched them. He didn't know what it was but he returned his attention to the golem's plight.

The golem's crew realized the attack and defended itself with its tail. It wasn't enough. Balls of flames erupted from the payloads' explosions and the tail was critically damaged and set on fire. Like a lizard, the golem decoupled the damaged section of its tail which cratered the ground below and pinned people to their deaths. The attack lessened the golem's offensive capabilities by reducing its length but the new end of the tail carried the same deadly threat that of a speartip the size of a house.

"I don't understand—" Fletcher winced at his mother's tightened grip and pull on his wrist. His feet barely touched the ground. "Mom! It hurts! Slow down, Mom!"

"We can't, Fletcher! Stop dragging your damn feet and run faster!" Abigail ignored his pleas and even picked up the pace. She took notice of the intensifying fight. She spoke to herself, "Is it Heath? Idiots. We already lost The War with a fleet of golems. What makes them think a shoddy one would make a difference?"

Unaware and full of questions, Fletcher cried and he didn't understand that too. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a suffocating sorrow. He had done nothing wrong and suddenly all these bad things happened around him. He ached for his father but even with his clouded mind and pain, he knew he had to be there for his mother too. He looked at her back. He wanted to see her face and learn how she was for her pain must've been greater than his.

"It's going to be okay, Fletcher." Abigail's voice was low against the volume of the noise around them but it was oddly clear to the young boy. Like steady steps down a staircase, she spoke in what was almost a whisper, "It's begun. Everything's begun. They took Jonathan. I won't let them get you. I won't. You'll be different. I'll make us different. I swear."

Fletcher felt something was wrong. He always likened his mother to an underground lake, where its still surface looked as hardy as metal which held a precious affection, but now, he felt afraid of the water's depths. Because of what he had just heard, it didn't feel like his mother was talking to him.

Abigail and Fletcher were close to home. They ran through the open grassy area between apartment buildings when suddenly, a chunk of a building crashed before them. The ground erupted and Abigail covered Fletcher from fists of soil and concrete that splintered from the impact.

Fletcher, protected in his mother's embrace, looked over her arm to the debris where rebar stuck out like incense. He looked at his mother. He finally asked the question he'd been meaning to ask since the shop, "Mom! Are you okay?!"

But Abigail didn't say a word. Not even regarding the pain of the pummeling she received. It was just like when she and Jonathan experienced the beatings. The suit stayed intact and not an open gash on the surface. She grabbed Fletcher's wrist and resumed the rush towards home.

Fletcher, finally free from his mother's clutch, held his wrist gently. They had arrived in front of their apartment door. He wanted to wipe his tears and the snot from his nose but they were still outside. As he waited on the cold floor for his mother's next step, he then thought that he wanted to do a lot of things. He wanted to play marbles again with Dana. He wanted to explore the city and maybe even the world. He wanted to hug and talk to his father too. He felt small and powerless.

'One minute you're having the time of your life, as simple as mine was, and then the next thing you knew was you found yourself hollow. It's just such an extreme thing. But then I remembered what my father said way back. Remember that, buddy? Moments. Good or bad— Well, you know what kind this was. Like that piece of building that almost sent us back to the ground, it took a chunk out of me.'

Abigail was about to find her key to the apartment but instead, pressed the side of her helmet against the door.

"Yes, sir." Ms. Klein spoke. Her voice sounded far but Abigail knew exactly that she was in the dining room. Most people forgot that Fellden had good ears too; Most of their lives, Fellden had to listen for shifts in the soil and rock for cave-ins and rockslides. Each step she took as she leisurely paced around the room could be heard by any Fellden, well-trained in listening, outside the apartment. Ms. Klen continued, "I'll keep an eye on them if they make it back. The mother left in search of the son."

Abigail grinded her teeth as she listened on.

"Are they a threat?" Ms. Klein heels stopped. "I'm not sure. It's a fact that Jonathan Rowe was at the scene. I'll make my assessment soon. But personally… I believe it's best if I leave before they return. Somehow, I don't feel safe here."

A tap on a cellphone's screen and the call was over. Two casual knocks, light and not forceful, came from the door. Ms. Klein was startled and her heels shuffled from surprise. She pocketed her cellphone and as she went to the door, her heels made note of every step. She opened the door and spoke with a rejuvenated skip to her voice, "Ms. Rowe! I've been so worried!"

Abigail stood motionless. As seen by the woman in front of her, her silver eyes lost its shimmer. It was like her emotions were torn away. She didn't speak for there were no words left to be said.

In an effort to escape the one-sided exchange, Ms. Klein peeked above Abigail's shoulder and saw Fletcher on the floor. She waved at him. "Fletcher! It's good to see that you're—"

Abigail reached for the waving arm and pulled with a force Ms. Klein was unprepared for. It took two seconds across the open hallway until Ms. Klein realized she was hurled beyond the railing. She screamed with an immediate fear and it stopped just as quickly as her body was impaled by the rebar that stuck out below.

Fletcher was stunned and a flash of cold swept his skin. Ms. Klein was there then she wasn't. He wanted to shout for help but by what his mother just did, he was afraid. He quivered because he knew then that there was no warmth to be salvaged that day. Carefully, he looked up at his mother. "M-Mom?"

Abigail took one apathetic look over the railing and clenched Fletcher's trembling hand. "Don't worry, Fletcher. We'll be normal."