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“Hey kid, get back here!”
He was twelve now, and running flat out through the streets, some guy’s wallet in his hand which was tucked deep into the pocket of his jacket. His jeans brushed the ground with each step, baggie and over the heels of his worn sneakers.
The people towered over him, adults going about their world and completely ignoring the business of others. It was better for him that way, as they simply stood and blocked the path of the bulky man that was chasing after him. Wiry as he was, he was able to dart in and out of the crowds with no problem whatsoever.
He had done this so many times before. The city was so open to such trickery that he didn’t see any reason why not. He knew no one, nor did no one know him, since he was new, they had moved there only a few years ago and since then his mom had hired on a private tutor to home school him.
But this was much more fun. He weaved around the legs of the people, wearing their trenchcoats and carrying their briefcases. He almost brained himself a few times on the corners of the leather cases, but his own reflexes saved him with a quick shift of his weight to the left or right.
The large man whose wallet he was carrying was quickly lost to the crowd, but he continued on. This had been a different situation. Normally he watched his targets, shadowed them a little, and then moved in, but he had grabbed this man’s wallet without any sort of preparation. It had been an urge he had acted upon, and so far it seemed to pay off. The man’s wallet was quite large.
With a left and a right, then a quick push of his left leg he was in an alleyway between two buildings. Ironically one of them was a bank; this gave him some mild amusement as he moved around and hid behind a dumpster. Pausing with his breath held he listened carefully, but no one was calling for him to stop anymore.
Brushing his dark brown hair away from his dull grey eyes, he pulled the wallet from his pocket. It was large, probably why the man was carrying it in the larger pocket of his trenchcoat, instead of the back pocket of his pants.
How had he known the man kept it in the deeper pocket of his coat, anyway? It was strange, but he didn’t stop to think about it. He was more interested in the loot of his excursion; the wallet was large, it had to be some good stuff.
It was leather with a button haps keeping it together. With a little pop it came undone and the flap folded back, revealing the first layer of credit cards. The man must be loaded, he had about five credit cards and two debt cards. But those weren’t any good. They could track their use, and they did him no good anyway since their PIN number remained a mystery.
So he moved on to the next layer of the wallet. This one had some photos, as well as some discount cards for various stores. He recognized a few of them, some rather ritzy joints actually. Yet another sign that the man was loaded. A devilish grin, dripping with a sudden surge of avarice, spread across his face. No wonder he had acted so brashly, something must have told him this guy was loaded.
Then he checked the cash pocket. Had he been in a cartoon, his eyes would have turned to dollar signs as he withdrew several twenty dollar bills from the wallet. A quick count told him he had about seven twenty dollar bills. He pocketed the money and opened the wallet even further.
Something clicked on the ground, and he quickly looked down, to see a small pebble, about the size and shape of a marble, rolling away from him. It looked exactly like the small blue pebble he had found a few years before, except it was an orange color.
A sudden longing for the stone overcame him. Dropping the wallet, he jumped forward, grabbing the gem. As soon as his hand closed around the pebble, as soon as he felt the warm sensation of the stone in his palm, his vision blurred and everything went black.
And then there was no black. He was floating in nothingness. No black, no white. It was almost incomprehensible how there could be neither darkness nor light, but it made sense to him then, as it surrounded him. He grinned. He was slowly slipping into insanity, surely, if the lack of both darkness and light, the fact that there was nothing, made sense.
Where was he, anyway? Was this hell? Surely it was eternal torture, to float in nothingness, haunted by these dreams, these visions, these memories. Or was it purgatory? He could recall many promises of torture in hell, which would be a relief from this eternal... what?
What was he even doing there? Floating? Sitting? Lying down? He couldn’t feel any ground below him, but something told him he wasn’t floating either. He was just... there. There with an unseen body. What did he look like? He couldn’t remember. If it was himself he was seeing in those visions, then he’d probably look like an older version of that boy. But he just couldn’t picture himself.
Give it a try. Come on, dark brown hair, dull grey eyes... what else? Were there any more distinguishing marks? He couldn’t remember. Brown hair, grey eyes... What did brown look like again? He couldn’t picture it, floating there in a complete lack of color. He knew he had just seen it, in that vision, but he couldn’t picture the color anymore.
He closed his eyes, but it did no good. He still saw only nothingness. It made sense. If his whole body was unseen, so were his eyelids. He was looking right through them, right through them at this lack of everything.
No, it wasn’t a lack of everything. There was something. He was there, a conscious mind. As long as he kept thinking, didn’t extinguish his own thoughts, then the nothingness wasn’t complete. He had to keep it up, for the sake of existence. But surely he would go mad, the extreme loneliness, the lack of control, the boredom...
Don’t think like that. Focus, find something. These visions, they must mean something. But what? He’s had two so far... were they going to show why he had been shot? Why he had been thrown here into limbo? There had to be some significance to them. Why else would he be seeing them... why was he seeing them? And more importantly, how was he seeing them?
He had to focus, don’t think about the nothingness. What did the visions have in common so far? They were both about him... or the kid... if that was him. The kid had seemed... alone in the world. Even running down the street, the adults were foreign, monoliths to help him escape and that’s it.
Then there was the stones. What was their significance? Two stones... two colors. Red and orange... red and orange... what did those colors look like again? No! Don’t stray. The colors must mean something, but what? He raked his memory, but couldn’t think of anything.
What was going on here? Why him?