And the story continues.....
Maximilian, having otherwise paid religion of any and every sort no attention throughout his life, began begging any and every god he could think of for help. He even attended any supernatural presence that might be up, or around, or out, there, just in case. He wouldn’t have himself lose help on account of names and semantics.
Maybe the girl, Sarah, needed a little ushering. He nudged forwards his hand, but she only used that to take a couple steps forward then stopped, still locked to his hand. Another nudge merited the same, and gradually it seemed less and less like he was encouraging her outside and more and more like she was leading him into the not-so-great outdoors. When his foot scraped the lip of the threshold that typically held his door in place, he arrested the progress. He was an adult, damn it, and he would not be forced into action by a child.
Had he merely released his fingers, Maximilian would not have been able to struggle free from Sarah’s grip. As it was though, he took her hand so tightly in his that the pressure on the back of her hand forced her fingers loose before he flung the entire offense away. In practically the same motion, he snatched his bear back, though he was careful not to hug it to himself. It would require several baths in disinfectant before that would be even a possibility to be entertained. Two big steps placed him properly within his house, and he closed his door as much as possible, its frame creaking in complaint.
Maximilian acted so fast and so fearfully that Sarah only had time to gasp before Maximilian was hiding behind his door once more, head peeking around the wood. When she realized where he was though, she didn’t cry. She didn’t restart her symphony of sobs, nor did a sniffle run anywhere near her nose. She only stared at him, her blue eyes deep lakes that threatened to drown him if he were not careful.
“Don’t look at me like that!” he demanded, voice whining. “You’ve had your sob; now go find your parents.” He stared right back at her as if she would rush back into his house if he blinked.
“I need you to find my parents.”
“No, you don’t. You got lost on your own, and you can get found on your own.”
But she only stared at him.
And elicited another sigh from Maximilian. Apparently, all the gods in the universe had conspired against him to leave him in this plight – or they had simply ignored him, he couldn’t be sure. Last time he ever tried their phone line though.
“Look, I’m not going to walk miles or anything,” he said.
She said nothing.
“And I’m not giving you the bear.”
The door began to creep open.
“I’m just with you until we find another sap to turn you over to. I have things to do, after all.”
And the door shut behind Maximilian Culbern as he took his first step outside in twenty-seven years and tried not to breath. Breathing required inhalation, a clever path all the terrible scents of the world had found to weasel their way into his system and torment him. He handed over both the bear and his hand, resigning to a march of misery. Soon, the scents would come.
They weren’t as bad as he had remembered though, when he finally took a breath. Maybe his memory had failed him, but more likely, twenty-seven years had been time enough for the world to solve some of its problems. He was just glad it had finally clued in to the proper priorities.
Still, it wasn’t all roses and rainbows walking outside. For one, he hadn’t slipped on shoes, for they had become a near obsolete commodity to him, save for one pair of cushy slippers. He remained convinced that each pebble was a thorn placed judiciously in his path, even when the many stops he demanded of Sarah revealed nothing of the kind of malicious weapons he imagined. Even the ground, where it hadn’t been peppered with mines to be avoided, was rough enough on his poor, sensitive feet.
That, and he was starting to smell something. Without realizing it, he took another sniff, anxious to solve the mystery. He might say he had never smelled anything like it before, but he wouldn’t rush into such a claim without better testimony. It got stronger as Sarah led him on. Almost as if she knew where to go, her feet fell confidently on the ground. It must have been because she had shoes on and didn’t have to dodge the vicious rocks scattered overtop.
Then Maximilian noticed it.
A distance from his house, yet still visible were he to look out the window he never utilized, there was a “Road Is Closed” sign. An orange blockade decorated the road with its garish presence too, reinforcing the message conveyed by the black letters painted across its broad surface.
That was all how it should have looked, how it had looked for longer than Maximilian knew. One day the blockade wasn’t there, and one day it was. He didn’t make a habit of looking out of the window in the corner of his kitchen though, so he wouldn’t know when it had decided to take up lodging on his street. Not that it was a problem for him; he didn’t drive.
But now, its surface was ragged and slit, the wood popping out from the middle, intruding its plain grain on the painted outside. Pieces of the blockade had been flung from it, splinters of wood littering the surrounding road and coating it with orange snow. The blockade had been simple, one board held up by triangle props on either side, triangles that leaned in to the ground now that the center had robbed their neighborly support from one another. They tilted towards one another, trying to regain what had once been so present, so assumed. From their mangled bodies, Maximilian could make out “Ro … sed.” The rest of the words joined the pieces on the ground.
Sarah led on.
.................
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