Post by Zane on Feb 13, 2022 11:10:42 GMT -5
The vehicle drove through the snowy night, in defiance of yet not being ignorant to the conditions around it. It had been driving for nearly an hour and a half on moderately maintained roads, for while the roads didn’t have much snow on them, there had also been no service vehicles out on them yet. Under normal circumstances, this journey wouldn’t have been made, especially with the weather forecast being as nasty as it was. Unfortunately, the circumstances that the vehicle was now charging toward was not normal, at least not in any positive way. Yes, it was natural, and perhaps “normal” by default because of that, but no one was ever truly prepared for situations like this, no matter how “normal” they could be perceived as being.
Three men sat in it, two in front and a lone figure in the back. None of them spoke. The two in the front watched the road, while the one in the back watched the world pass by in a semi blur. He was there, but he wasn’t. His body sat in the seat as the massive dark blue truck rode through the night that was so bright that it almost looked like day. It was clear from the look in his eyes that his mind had compartmentalized itself. He understood where he was, but there was a definite distance there. The mind does weird things in order to protect itself and this was one of those times. At this moment it needed all of the protection it could get, so it had erected a mental wall between itself and the reality that it was in.
As well as the reality that awaited it. That one was undeniably worse.
The truck cut easily through the empty streets. Occasionally it had to stop for a red light, but they cycled quickly at this time of night, so the delays were never long. At least not long enough for the passenger in the back. They probably weren’t long enough for the two men in front either, but their relationship to the situation was a little different, so while it weighed on both of them, they’d locked those feelings away in order to serve the greater need of the moment. They had somewhere to be and they weren’t going to let a little bad weather, or more importantly strong emotions, stop them. Besides, their friend needed them to be there. He needed to borrow their strength and calmness because while their friend may have partitioned his mind against the pain, at some point he’d have to drop that partition. They knew that he’d need them at that point. This sort of situation was always hard, after all.
The vehicle turned into a brightly lit driveway. It cruised up to the ticket station and a few moments later they were safely ensconced in a parking spot as the easy part of their journey.
The hard part would come soon enough.
A Bit Later
As the men approached the sliding doors, the view changed from bright and in color to a stark black and white. The scene was also noticeably soundless. They strode in a slightly staggered line with James Spyder and Colin Zale walking slightly behind their former student, Zane Scott. Zane’s expression was neutral, although his eyes weren’t. They betrayed a barely controlled torrent of emotions behind them. His stride was quick and direct as if he’d walk through anyone who stepped in his way without consideration for their presence. Their well-being was of no importance if they kept him from where he was going.
When he was about fifteen feet from the doors, they opened and his father came walking out. His pace has an air of urgency to it. It froze Zane in his tracks. He turned his head ever so slightly in a gesture of curiosity. Although his body betrayed nothing else, his eyes did the talking once again, and there was a rare look behind them.
Fear.
Almost as if sensing this, Colin and Spyder reached out in unison and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. The contact seemed to calm him, but only for as long as it took for his father to reach him. Charles Scott stopped a half step from his son and sighed a heavy-looking and silent sigh. He suddenly looked at least ten years older. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on his son's face.
Zane's strength seemed to evaporate.
Colin and Spyder slipped their hands under Zane's arms and gently pulled him up. Charles stepped forward and placed a hand on his son's shoulder and the other on the side of his face. He gently pulled his son's head down and spoke in his ear. His face was a mask of anguish. Zane stood silently, looking as if he'd been punched in the gut. The four stood silently.
Then Charles pulled his son's head down so that it rested face first on his shoulder.
Both father and son appeared to weep.
Three men sat in it, two in front and a lone figure in the back. None of them spoke. The two in the front watched the road, while the one in the back watched the world pass by in a semi blur. He was there, but he wasn’t. His body sat in the seat as the massive dark blue truck rode through the night that was so bright that it almost looked like day. It was clear from the look in his eyes that his mind had compartmentalized itself. He understood where he was, but there was a definite distance there. The mind does weird things in order to protect itself and this was one of those times. At this moment it needed all of the protection it could get, so it had erected a mental wall between itself and the reality that it was in.
As well as the reality that awaited it. That one was undeniably worse.
The truck cut easily through the empty streets. Occasionally it had to stop for a red light, but they cycled quickly at this time of night, so the delays were never long. At least not long enough for the passenger in the back. They probably weren’t long enough for the two men in front either, but their relationship to the situation was a little different, so while it weighed on both of them, they’d locked those feelings away in order to serve the greater need of the moment. They had somewhere to be and they weren’t going to let a little bad weather, or more importantly strong emotions, stop them. Besides, their friend needed them to be there. He needed to borrow their strength and calmness because while their friend may have partitioned his mind against the pain, at some point he’d have to drop that partition. They knew that he’d need them at that point. This sort of situation was always hard, after all.
The vehicle turned into a brightly lit driveway. It cruised up to the ticket station and a few moments later they were safely ensconced in a parking spot as the easy part of their journey.
The hard part would come soon enough.
A Bit Later
As the men approached the sliding doors, the view changed from bright and in color to a stark black and white. The scene was also noticeably soundless. They strode in a slightly staggered line with James Spyder and Colin Zale walking slightly behind their former student, Zane Scott. Zane’s expression was neutral, although his eyes weren’t. They betrayed a barely controlled torrent of emotions behind them. His stride was quick and direct as if he’d walk through anyone who stepped in his way without consideration for their presence. Their well-being was of no importance if they kept him from where he was going.
When he was about fifteen feet from the doors, they opened and his father came walking out. His pace has an air of urgency to it. It froze Zane in his tracks. He turned his head ever so slightly in a gesture of curiosity. Although his body betrayed nothing else, his eyes did the talking once again, and there was a rare look behind them.
Fear.
Almost as if sensing this, Colin and Spyder reached out in unison and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. The contact seemed to calm him, but only for as long as it took for his father to reach him. Charles Scott stopped a half step from his son and sighed a heavy-looking and silent sigh. He suddenly looked at least ten years older. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on his son's face.
Zane's strength seemed to evaporate.
Colin and Spyder slipped their hands under Zane's arms and gently pulled him up. Charles stepped forward and placed a hand on his son's shoulder and the other on the side of his face. He gently pulled his son's head down and spoke in his ear. His face was a mask of anguish. Zane stood silently, looking as if he'd been punched in the gut. The four stood silently.
Then Charles pulled his son's head down so that it rested face first on his shoulder.
Both father and son appeared to weep.
2013, '18, '23 
2013 