to hear.
In seconds he’d be upon her.
A hand clamped onto her shoulder.
She swung around, hoping to land a smashing blow onto his nose.
He blocked her swing, gripping her wrist. “Whoa!” he cried. “Hold on!”
“Zekeal!”
His voice was a rasp. “I couldn’t call you. I’m losing my voice.”
She covered her hammering heart with her hand and bent forward. Nausea came in a wave, then passed. She had never been that terrified before.
“Sorry I scared you,” he said. “I saw you turn down here and came to get you. There aren’t any clubs in this section and it isn’t exactly safe. What are you doing here?”
“Do you know where the Lobo2MeClub is?” she asked.
“The Lobotomy? Yeah. You meeting someone there?”
She shook her head. “Just needed to get out.”
“That’s where I’m going.”
“Really?”
“It’s where I’m going now,” he replied. “Come on.”
She followed him back out of the darkness and he yanked open a black metal door at the first building they came to. Blasting music assaulted them as they walked in. It was so loud, it vibrated in her skull.
It was exactly what she wanted.
He pulled her close when a slow song came on. It was as though electricity ran between their two bodies. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see a snapping white current running up their sides.
In that wordless exchange they’d made a connection. “It’s hot in here,” he said, still moving to the music. “Let’s go upstairs to the roof.”
A different song came on. She’d heard it for the first time just that morning on the radio. “Okay,” she answered. “But first I want to hear this.”
“The Monsters,” he noted. “They’re astral.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and again she felt covered in that invisible veil of energy.
The Monsters
“Quasimodo”
Written by Kurt Conklin
(Music pounding)
I am a freak. I walk this planet. I don’t know my name.
My thoughts are melting into puddles. Somedays I am insane. I cannot say what’s in my heart or what I think in my brain. I am a freak walking the planet in constant pain.
(Softly)
But your love puts me away. Your love puts me away.
Is it real? Is it real? Is it real?
Is it a dream? Is it a dream? Is it a dream?
Your love puts me away. Your love puts me away.
With you it’s all okay. With you it’s all okay.
(Pounding)
I am a freak and there is always ringing in my ears.
My head is pounding with a million terrifying fears.
I do not know if I can last another day or if I can even remember how to pray. I have one thought and that is for you to stay. Esmeralda, stay. With you it’s all okay.
“I know how the guy feels,” Zekeal said softly.
“You do?” Kayla questioned. He didn’t show that kind of hurt. No one would ever guess. He always seemed completely self-assured.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Let’s go upstairs.”
She followed him through a back door onto dark hallway stairs. They came out to the roof of the club. The lights from the reactors were nearly blinding. Slowly, her eyes adjusted.
He leaned against a waist-high wall running the perimeter of the roof. Taking hold of her wrist, he gently drew her closer to him. Turning her hand palm up, he ran his finger along the delicate blue veins of her hand, tracing a line down to her wrist.
She looked out at the river, which reflected the lights from the generators on its black surface.
“I heard about your dad,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you have any idea what … drove him to it?” he asked gently.
“My mother says the bar code killed him, but I’m not sure why she says that. It banged him out, though. He went into this deep depression right after he got it.”
She read pain in his large, dark eyes. He understands how it is , she realized. The bar code’s affected him, too.
“My dad got fired and my mother kept getting promoted in her job after they were tattoed,” he said. “At first,
In seconds he’d be upon her.
A hand clamped onto her shoulder.
She swung around, hoping to land a smashing blow onto his nose.
He blocked her swing, gripping her wrist. “Whoa!” he cried. “Hold on!”
“Zekeal!”
His voice was a rasp. “I couldn’t call you. I’m losing my voice.”
She covered her hammering heart with her hand and bent forward. Nausea came in a wave, then passed. She had never been that terrified before.
“Sorry I scared you,” he said. “I saw you turn down here and came to get you. There aren’t any clubs in this section and it isn’t exactly safe. What are you doing here?”
“Do you know where the Lobo2MeClub is?” she asked.
“The Lobotomy? Yeah. You meeting someone there?”
She shook her head. “Just needed to get out.”
“That’s where I’m going.”
“Really?”
“It’s where I’m going now,” he replied. “Come on.”
She followed him back out of the darkness and he yanked open a black metal door at the first building they came to. Blasting music assaulted them as they walked in. It was so loud, it vibrated in her skull.
It was exactly what she wanted.
He pulled her close when a slow song came on. It was as though electricity ran between their two bodies. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see a snapping white current running up their sides.
In that wordless exchange they’d made a connection. “It’s hot in here,” he said, still moving to the music. “Let’s go upstairs to the roof.”
A different song came on. She’d heard it for the first time just that morning on the radio. “Okay,” she answered. “But first I want to hear this.”
“The Monsters,” he noted. “They’re astral.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and again she felt covered in that invisible veil of energy.
The Monsters
“Quasimodo”
Written by Kurt Conklin
(Music pounding)
I am a freak. I walk this planet. I don’t know my name.
My thoughts are melting into puddles. Somedays I am insane. I cannot say what’s in my heart or what I think in my brain. I am a freak walking the planet in constant pain.
(Softly)
But your love puts me away. Your love puts me away.
Is it real? Is it real? Is it real?
Is it a dream? Is it a dream? Is it a dream?
Your love puts me away. Your love puts me away.
With you it’s all okay. With you it’s all okay.
(Pounding)
I am a freak and there is always ringing in my ears.
My head is pounding with a million terrifying fears.
I do not know if I can last another day or if I can even remember how to pray. I have one thought and that is for you to stay. Esmeralda, stay. With you it’s all okay.
“I know how the guy feels,” Zekeal said softly.
“You do?” Kayla questioned. He didn’t show that kind of hurt. No one would ever guess. He always seemed completely self-assured.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Let’s go upstairs.”
She followed him through a back door onto dark hallway stairs. They came out to the roof of the club. The lights from the reactors were nearly blinding. Slowly, her eyes adjusted.
He leaned against a waist-high wall running the perimeter of the roof. Taking hold of her wrist, he gently drew her closer to him. Turning her hand palm up, he ran his finger along the delicate blue veins of her hand, tracing a line down to her wrist.
She looked out at the river, which reflected the lights from the generators on its black surface.
“I heard about your dad,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you have any idea what … drove him to it?” he asked gently.
“My mother says the bar code killed him, but I’m not sure why she says that. It banged him out, though. He went into this deep depression right after he got it.”
She read pain in his large, dark eyes. He understands how it is , she realized. The bar code’s affected him, too.
“My dad got fired and my mother kept getting promoted in her job after they were tattoed,” he said. “At first,
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