The question’s intended for Roc, but Trevor answers instead. “I think they got dropped.”
My heart skips a beat. Getting dropped in the middle of the mosh pit we’re riding on is a dangerous thing. Not only could you break a bone from the fall, but you might get trampled by the hundreds of sightless, stamping feet that can’t tell the difference between a human body and an inanimate object that’s in their way.
“Or they just reached the edge of the crowd!” Roc yells over Trevor.
“That still means they got dropped,” I return.
“But they’ll be safe,” Roc says. I know he’s just guessing, but it still manages to give me hope that they’re okay.
I will the hands below us to push us forwards faster, to get me to Adele, but our pace, albeit reasonably fast, remains consistent. A minute or two later we reach the left edge of the stage and by straining my neck and lifting my head, I realize Roc was right. The press of sun dwellers is thinning, the hands are disappearing, and I get the strange sensation that we’re about to go over a waterfall.
Adele and Tawni are nowhere to be seen.
I squeeze my muscles tight, preparing for the drop. With a final firm push by some wandering hand directly on my butt, I’m thrown forward, out of the reach of the sea of partiers. There’s a quick pull of air in my gut, my stomach dropping as I fall. Curling my legs beneath me, I manage to land on my feet, but in an awkward, crouched position, my ankle turning and crumbling beneath my weight and the hidden weight of my steel weapons. The ground is hard and unforgiving, hammering my knees and scraping my shoulder as I’m pitched forward.
I come to a stop just outside of a broad shadow cast by a gigantic speaker set next to the stage. Being this close to the speaker makes it feel like the pump, pump, pump of the music is actually inside my head, making it hard to think.
There’s a voice that sounds like it’s miles away, a mere whisper by the time it reaches my ears. “Nice landing, ace,” Adele says.
I glance around, seeking her, but all I see are Trevor and Roc careening off the edge of the crowd simultaneously, Roc bouncing off the rock on his butt, and Trevor hitting flush on his side, his head jerking in a cringe-worthy manner. “Dude, you okay?” I say to Trevor, who seemed to get the worst of the fall.
“I’m good,” Roc answers. “I’ve got lots of padding down here,” he adds, rubbing his butt.
“I meant Trevor, butt wad,” I say, motioning to the last member of our group, who’s still lying face first motionless on the ground.
“Oh,” Roc says. “Trevor, you good?”
“Uhhhh,” Trevor says, flopping over onto his back. He takes a deep breath, raises a hand to his head, holding it gingerly. A trickle of blood squeezes through his fingertips.
“You’re bleeding, man,” I say.
“You think?” Trevor retorts. “I know I’ve got a hard head, but that was a nasty blow.”
“Can you walk?” I ask, knowing we need to get away from the edge of the crowd, which is ebbing and flowing like a living organism. Any second it might move in our direction, trampling us into the dust.
“I’ll do my best,” he says.
Roc pushes to his feet, still massaging his well-endowed behind, while I stand up and limp over to our fallen comrade. My ankle and knees are throbbing and there’s a burning sensation in my shoulder, but it’s nothing I can’t handle right now, while the adrenaline is still flowing. Later—I don’t know. Bones and muscles and tendons might tighten up, walking might be difficult. But I’ll cross that inter-Realm bridge when I get to it.
Together, Roc and I haul Trevor to his feet, his head bobbing around like last year’s heavyweight champ’s skull after taking an unprotected uppercut by the contender, a gargantuan by the name of Moe Bradley. (Yes, Moe is now the new heavyweight champ.)
We manage to hold him up, however, one arm draped over each of our shoulders. His feet are like rubber, stumbling and flopping like a baby’s legs during their first attempt at walking. We’ve got him up, so the next concern is finding Adele and Tawni. Did I imagine her voice mocking me when I fell? Perhaps I hit my head too.
“Over here,” Adele hisses, an invisible voice from the shadows behind the speaker.
Roc and I glance at each other, shrug, and then assist Trevor to the side of the stage. With each step, his legs seem to recover, requiring less and less of our help to walk. By the time we reach the shadows, he’s practically walking on his own, a good sign.
We step into the dark, blinking away the drastic change in lighting. It’s incredible how dark it is once you’re out of the watchful gaze of the artificial sun. After spending so much time in the gloomy Lower Realms, I’ve almost forgotten how different the world I grew up in is. We expect things to be bright because that’s the way it is.
“Is he okay?” Adele’s voice says right next to my ear. I half-jump out of my skin, cursing under my breath.
“Holy—” I spout. “You scared the stuffing out of me.”
“You’ve got stuffing?” Roc asks smartly.
“Sorry,” Adele says. “Can’t you see us?”
“Not yet. We’re flying blind at the moment.”
“I can see them,” Trevor mumbles.
“Yeah, well my night vision isn’t as fine-tuned as yours,” I retort, sounding unnecessarily harsh, even to my own ears.
“That sucks,” Trevor says, laughing.
A hand touches my shoulder. “I’m right here,” Adele says. “Tawni’s here, too. Is he okay?” she asks again.
“I think he might have a concussion,” I explain, as Trevor continues to giggle beside me. “He took a pretty hard knock to the head. We need to find a place to rest and get fixed up. We also need to find a place to switch clothes.”
“What?” Trevor screeches beside me. “I’m wearing the hottest new trend to come out of subchapter one in fifty years! I’m not switching clothes!”
Ugh. He’s getting worse. “Why do we need different clothes?” Tawni asks.
“Although we’re able to blend in here, in a less crowded place we will stick out,” I explain. “That line about our clothes being trendy in another subchapter will only work on drunkards and morons.”
“So most of the sun dweller population,” Roc chimes in.
“You lied to me!” Trevor wails. “I thought this outfit was in.”
Ignoring both stupid comments, I say, “The sooner we look like everyone else, the better.”
“You’re halfway there with that lovely hat already,” Adele says.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” I say, finally seeing Adele’s outline in the dark. “Roc, any thoughts on where we can hide out for a while?”
“Everything will be closed today, so if we’re willing to smash a window or pick a lock…”
“We’re willing,” I say.
“I’m good at smashing stuff,” Trevor says.
“Okay, then we should hit the first clothing store we come to. I think there’s a Paradise Sun around here somewhere. Or maybe we can find an In Crowd. Both of those stores will have everything we need to disguise ourselves appropriately.”
* * *
We end up at In Crowd, which is only two blocks down and one across. Although we pass several late festival attendees, they’re so focused on getting to the concert that they barely even notice us.
As Roc predicted, a red “Closed” sign hangs on the door of the multi-level store. After a quick glance down either end of the deserted street, we lean Trevor up against the wall. He hasn’t spoken in a while, for which I’m grateful, but he is humming to himself, his eyes closing for periods ranging between five and ten seconds, much longer than a normal blink, even a particularly slow one. So much for him being the one to break the glass.
“There’s no alarm system,” Roc notes. “We don’t have much crime up here. Other than the occasional drunken brawl, that is.”