((The Monday Triple: page 3 of 3))
‘...Okay,’ said Hector.
‘Don’t gimme that shit. My entire worldview is crumbling over here, and all you’ve got for me is “okay”? I don’t know what’s real anymore, you son of a bitch.’
‘...Then why do you sound more excited than upset?’
‘Excuse me? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘You must be going crazy. It’s the only explanation. Crazy Hector, that’s what they’re gonna start calling you if you’re not careful.’
‘Hector the Crazy. Hector “Crazy” Goffe. Crazy Hector and the Crazies.’
‘Did you just put me in a band?’
‘Oh, man, I would love to see you as the lead singer of a band.’
‘I’d sooner face Ivan again.’
‘What kind of band would it be, you think? Heavy metal?’
By the time the group’s destination came into view, Hector was more than ready for a fight to rescue him from this conversation.
It was a hulking platform suspended in midair by a host of thick cables. It wrapped all the way around one of the city’s enormous pillars and was positioned about halfway up to the next layer of streets and buildings. The group had already traveled up two layers on the way here, and the view to either side of Hector was not something he would soon forget, he thought. Like a sea of fireflies flickering in the darkness, both above and below--some moving, some not, but all reminding him of life, of how many people were still relatively nearby, even if he couldn’t see any of them.
“Hmm,” said Diego Redwater, staring up at the platform above their heads. “That looks like a defensive position, if I’ve ever seen one. I guess they’re expecting us, eh?”
“We were not exactly subtle on our way here,” said Asad. “No doubt, they received plenty of warning.”