Solo

by Mike Kilroy

  “You’re a faggot who plays with dolls.” Solo heard the voice of his father coming from the darkness.

  His mother’s words echoed: “Why can’t you be more like Lydia?”

  Then he heard Lydia: “I can’t help it, Morris. He’s always drilling things into my head.”

  “Eye Lyds?” Solo called out.

  “Help me, Morris. You have to help me.”

  Solo felt around for a bottle of alcohol and grasped one. He took a large gulp. He hated the taste of it. He hated the burn as it sloshed in his mouth and trickled down his throat. But it made him forget—at least a little bit. It dulled his mind. It made him sleep without the dreams that haunted his slumber.

  It also made him piss, and this closet reeked of urine.

  Solo discovered it was true that the other senses are heightened when one is taken away. It was as dark as a coffin in this place, but he could hear every faint scuffle of feet above him in the common area—he could even tell by the gait who had made the steps.

  Mar clumped when she walked.

  Suicide Girl dragged her feet in shuffle.

  Gingivitis Guy walked tenderly and hesitantly.

  BRG stomped and skipped.

  Normal Looking Guy, well, walked like a normal guy: even, precise steps that were perfectly spaced, coming down each with the same force.

  He could hear them speak sometimes, when their voices became raised. He hoped someone was fighting for his release, but he knew deep down they could have just as easily been fighting over who was to play Ping Pong next.

  He could feel the cold and dampness of the wall, feel the imperfections in the stones. He could differentiate between the textures of the brown hair compared to the gray when he ran his fingers through the mop on his head and the whiskers on his chin.

  He could smell, too—the urine, surely, but also Mar’s scent when she came down to give him food and water at about the same time each day.

  I’m an animal in a zoo now. That’s all I am.

  “Mom was right.” Tom’s voice came from the darkness. He talked to Solo from time to time in this prison—mostly when Solo was sober; Not so much when he was drunk—another comforting side effect of excessive inebriation. “Why can’t you be more like Lydia. She’d never find herself in this predicament. You’re gonna die alone down here.”

  “Probably,” Solo answered. “Better than dying up there, I guess.”

  It was feeding time. Solo heard Mar clump along and then smelled her as she drew close to the door. He could see the glow from her flashlight spill in from under the gap between the floor and the door and was happy his eyes still worked at all. Even as faint as that light was, it was almost blinding.

  Solo braced for the flood of light that was about to crash into him. He covered his eyes with his arm, pressing the sleeve of his flannel shirt tightly to his head. Still, the light gushed in and made him wince.

  He heard the tray slide on the floor, the door close and Mar’s feet pound away. He didn’t know why he yelled out to her, but he did. “Mar! Wait.”

  The steps stopped.

  “Please. Talk to me a little.”

  “You have Tom to talk to.”

  The hammering steps started again, growing fainter.

  “Mar!” Solo yelled loudly, making his throat burn. “Please!”

  The steps came back to him, louder.

  “What?” She barked.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  There was a pause. Solo could hear her breathing. “I’m sorry. We have to figure out why you are here.”

  “You know why I’m here.”

  “No, Solo, I don’t. Not really. And you don’t, either.” Solo could hear her breaths become faster and then the strain of anger in her voice. “You have no file. We all have files, but you don’t.”

  “I don’t know why I don’t have a file. Maybe it was lost. Maybe BRG has it hidden away somewhere because of what’s in it. But locking me in here is madness. It’s cruel and you’re not cruel.”

  Solo heard Mar brush something from her face. Tears, maybe. “I am cruel. You read my file. I’m a monster.”

  “That was who you were. Not who you are now.”

  Solo heard a faint tapping on the door as if Mar was softly banging her head against it in conflict. “I can’t let you out.”

  Solo could hear his heart pounding faster. He felt every beat pulse through his body. “Why not? Let me out of here! Please! For God’s sake, let me out!”

  More tapping on the door, louder now. “You don’t understand. They want to kill you. I’m keeping you alive by keeping you down here.”

  “I’m going to die in here. I can’t take it much longer.” Solo began to weep. “Please, Mar. If you feel anything for me, let me go.”

  Deep breath, long exhale. “I … can’t.”

  “I am just like you. I am a monster.”

  More tapping on the door, and then pounding like one makes with a fist when they are angry or scared or in pain—or all of the above. “I don’t know, Solo. You don’t seem like much of a monster. You could be one of them, one of the doctors or staff. You could have done this to us.”

  Solo laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was so absurd.

  I’m many things, but definitely not a doctor.

  He wasn’t much of anything, really, and certainly not in a control group. He was just as flawed and broken as Mar and the people upstairs.

  Why couldn’t she see that?

  “Mar, that doesn’t make sense. You’ve gotten to know me.”

  “I’m sorry, Solo. We can’t trust you. I’ll try to keep you alive as long as I can.”

  Solo heard her feet bang on the floor, growing quieter until they were gone, like everyone he knew and loved in the Before.

  There weren’t that many to begin with.

  Solo sat on the floor, cold and damp, and crossed his legs. He rocked like he once did as a kid, to and fro. It soothed him, the rhythmic motion. He never really understood why it quieted him so, but it did, and that was good enough.

  It would have to be good enough now.

  He wanted to go back to the Before, to ask Dr. Hu questions, to seek out Dr. Kline, to find his file, but he didn’t know how to get back.

  He was stuck here, in this prison of space and time.

  Alcohol didn’t work—he knew that. He tried that, for sure.

  “Tom,” Solo cried out. “Tom, I need you.”

  Silence.

  “Tom!” Solo yelled again. “Please. I’ll do anything you say if you help me out of this. Tom! Please!”

  He heard the soft chuckling of his brother in the void. “Vows made in storms are forgotten in calms.”

  ***

  Solo and Eye Lyds sat on the warm ground across from each other, weeds of ryegrass and yellow foxtail rising high all around them, obscuring them, sheltering them.

  “You’re supposed to laugh,” Solo said. Eye Lyds looked at him with a blank expression, her little nose scrunched up. She took the ladybug pin from her hair and held it carefully in her cupped hands.

  “It wasn’t funny.”

  “That’s not the point. You’re supposed to laugh anyway.”

  Eye Lyds laughed. It was a terrible fake one and Solo cringed.

  “We’ll have to work on that.”

  “Why do I have to do this? It’s stupid.”

  “You have to fit in.”

  “Why? I don’t like any of them.”

  “C’mon, Eye Lyds. You have to try.”

  “Don’t call me Eye Lyds. I hate it. It’s stupid.”

  “Lydia, please, this is for your own good. It’s for your own protection.”

  She turned her head to peer to her left. Her eyes got big and round and her mouth slacked open.

  Solo lowered his head and sighed.

  “Hey!” Solo yelled. “Listen to ME!”

  Eye Lyds’ head didn’t move. Her stare was unblinking.

  ***

 
; Solo’s eyes shot open and then shut against the bright light shined into them.

  “Solo, get up.” Mar whispered.

  Solo turned his head away.

  “Solo!” Mar said in a hushed yell. “We don’t have much time. Get up!”

  Solo slowly pushed himself to his feet. His legs were stiff and felt like ropes. He wobbled as he felt his way toward Mar.

  “We’re getting out of here,” she said, clutching his arm and pulling.

  Through slit eyes, Solo stumbled along, the shaking beam of Mar’s flashlight guiding him. He reached out and Mar grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. Her skin was wet and sticky.

  They walked briskly and Solo stumbled and fell to his knees. Mar jerked him back to his feet. “Solo, please. We have to hurry.”

  “What … what’s going on?”

  “You were right, okay.”

  They pushed their way through a door and into a hallway that was dimly lit, but still bright to Solo’s sensitive eyes. He shielded them with his arm as he followed Mar through the corridor.

  Mar said through heavy breaths, “We’re almost there.”

  Then, they came to a sudden stop. Solo swayed and tried to focus his eyes.

  His pupils finally adjusted enough for him to see Suicide Girl and Normal Looking Guy standing in the faint light in front of the arch to the gloomy, snowy street outside.

  “Let us go!” Mar yelled.

  Suicide Girl’s bellow was loud and almost sinister. “Not after what you just done!”

  “Mar, what did you do?” Solo asked, peering down at her hands, which were covered in blood.

  It would take a lot of K-Y to get all that blood out.

  “What I had to,” she said. “I’ve always done what I’ve needed to do to survive. I’m saving your fucking life.”

  Suicide Girl and Normal Looking Guy began to slowly walk toward them. Mar held up her knife, the part of it not covered in blood glinting in the soft light. “Don’t come any closer.”

  “Or what?” Suicide Girl said defiantly. “You’ll gut us like you gutted the guy in the robe?”

  “Solo’s not the enemy. I believe him.”

  “Don’t matter much now, does it? You’re the enemy now.” Suicide Girl walked closer. Mar waved the knife toward her. “Just because we’re the only ones left doesn’t mean there ain’t no laws. You have to pay for what you done.”

  “Like you paid for what you did, Olivia?” Solo’s voice caused Suicide Girl to stop. Her lips opened in shock and anger. “You read the file? He read the file!”

  “Yes, I did, Olivia. How many people died in that fire? A dozen?”

  Suicide Girl covered her ears and gritted her teeth. “It was an accident!”

  “No, Olivia. It wasn’t.”

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” She screamed. “Their teeth. So white. Their skin. So black. Why did I have to remember?”

  Normal Looking Guy hugged Suicide Girl tightly and then peered angrily at Solo. “Why did you do that to her? It just proves you’re one of them.”

  “No, Duane.”

  His eyes grew large as he rubbed his hand through Suicide Girl’s hair.

  “How long before Olivia becomes your next victim?”

  Suicide Girl peeled herself away from him. “What’s he talking about?”

  “How many girls like her did you hurt?”

  “I loved them.”

  “That’s not love, Duane.”

  “I cared for them.”

  “You didn’t care for them, Duane. You hurt them.”

  Normal Looking Guy thrust his finger angrily at Solo. “What did you do? It’s all coming back to us, what we did, all the terrible things. We all remember now. You can’t remember because you don’t belong here. You’re one of them! The people who cut into us and fried our brains and drugged us.”

  Normal Looking Guy stalked toward Solo, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists and his nostrils flared. Mar slashed at him with her knife, but he ignored the cut she made on his arm. She began to slash again, but Solo stopped her.

  “It’s okay. He won’t hurt me.”

  Normal Looking Guy, who was now Angry Looking Guy, stood face to face with Solo, his chest heaving. But he didn’t hit him. He didn’t so much as raise a fist to him.

  “I don’t know exactly what I did, Duane. But I did something. I did bad and terrible things, too. I deserve to be here just as much as you do. I wish I could remember it all. Before the rest of you put me in the closet, I didn’t. But I do now. I wish there was a file that explained everything and I don’t know why it isn’t here. Believe me, Duane, I wish I wasn’t like you, but I am. I am broken. I am a monster. But Mar and I want to leave. Let us go.”

  Normal Looking Guy backed away toward Suicide Girl, who peered at him with a shocked expression mixed with repugnance.

  Solo and Mar began to walk slowly toward the arch. They did nothing to stop them.

  Solo felt the gust of cold hit him in the face and his teeth began to chatter. He had no coat. No gloves. No backpack.

  He turned to gaze at Mar, who dug into her bag with her red hands and pulled out the silver construction hat.

  “Here,” she said. “At least your head will be warm until we can find some clothes.”

  Solo took the hardhat, placed it on his head and began to walk briskly down the road, a thin film of snow blowing on it like a fine dust.

  Mar hurried to catch up to him. “Solo.” Her voice faded into the cold like the wisp of her breath. “Why didn’t they stop us?”

  “They are particular kinds of monsters,” Solo explained. “We didn’t fit the profile.”

  Solo began walking again; Mar followed a step behind.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her guilt.

  She meant it.

  “I know you are.” His stare was fixed and steady toward the horizon as he slammed his hands into his pockets. “I know you are. You’re a particular kind of monster, too.”

  Monsters with a code, he could understand. Monsters like Mar, he couldn’t.

  ***

  Solo held down the vomit, covering his mouth.

  There were at least a dozen of them, in various states of decay, from skeletons to fresh kills, flies buzzing around some of the carcasses.

  Rabbits. All dead.

  Solo opened the garbage bag and stuffed the corpses inside as quickly as he could. If his parents should find this scene … he didn’t know how they would react.

  He heard footsteps and the weeds rustle behind him. He held his breath.

  Eye Lyds emerged into the clearing, her mouth slacked open and her already big eyes swelled even bigger.

  “You found them.” She said.

  “I did.”

  “He made me do it.”

  Solo nodded. “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. It’s okay.”

  “Morris, I’m sorry.”

  “I know. You said that. It’s okay, Eye Lyds. I’ll take care of it.”

  ***

  Solo’s head throbbed. The memories cascading into his mind were painful.

  Solo and Mar found themselves in what was a store in the Before. Solo knew it well; it was the place he and Tom had plundered for many months in the After.

  It was their favorite hangout.

  The shelves were mostly barren, but it was warm and Mar was determined to scrounge something they could use.

  Solo walked slowly down the aisle. He was almost in a daze, a stupor. He felt nothing and that scared him more than when he had felt everything.

  Then he saw her. She looked at him, stoic, as if she had never seen him before.

  He smiled at her. She was just as stunning as he remembered.

  She was wearing that dress, the beguiling flower-patterned one that made his heart flutter so.

  “Oh, Livvy,” Solo said. “It’s been so long. Wait ‘till you hear where I’ve been and what’s been happening.”


  Livvy didn’t speak.

  So quiet, that Livvy.

  She was a good listener.

  Solo grabbed her hand. It was cold, but smooth. He caressed the top of it with his thumb. “How have you been? You look good.”

  Her cheeks were red. She was blushing. Then again, she always had a rose complexion. It highlighted her cheek bones and was quite dazzling in contrast to her doughy face.

  She was a homebody. She didn’t get out much. She didn’t get much sun.

  “It’s been crazy,” Solo said as he kissed her hand. “So crazy.”

  He felt eyes piercing his back and he glanced over his shoulder to see Mar. She stood, as still and motionless as Livvy, her mouth dropped open and her eyes big and round.

  “Solo … who are you talking to?”

  Solo turned his gaze back to Livvy. He swallowed harshly and let go of her hand.

  “No one. Did you find anything?”

  Mar patted her backpack. “A few things. There are warm clothes for you. We should stay here tonight.”

  Solo turned back to Livvy and stared into her hypnotic eyes. “No. There’s a better place not far from here.”

  He hated saying goodbye to Livvy, but it would be awkward for her if they stayed. “I’ll be back for you,” he whispered, pushing a fall of hair from her eyes. “I promise.”

  ***

  Solo noticed Mar staring at him, concerned, from time to time. She just didn’t understand. That was okay. Solo didn’t quite understand, either.

  Solo sat in front of the hearth, the wood crackling. When he closed his eyes and just listened, he almost felt like he was back in the Before, sitting in front of some random fireplace on some random winter’s night, instead of downstairs at Pink Girl’s old house.

  Mar snuck another concerned peek at Solo as he watched the fire. He loved staring at the flames as they whipped at the darkness and moved and rolled randomly. It was mesmerizing and it kept his mind off the more dire thoughts.

  “Solo, I’m sorry.” Mar’s voice was strained.

  “I know. You told me.”

  “I wanted to tell you again.”

  Solo smiled and nodded. “It’s okay. Really.”

  “How can it be okay? I’ve done bad things to you. I probably will do bad things to you again.”

  “I know you will. It’s okay. You can’t change who you are. I can’t change who you are. It’s futile to try.”