“Or a Midol!” Chris half-teased. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait outside?”
Wade glared at Geoffrey. He was almost done, but he couldn’t help but notice that his solo sounded really damn good. He knew Chris would kill her song, but that didn’t stop Wade’s gut from doing another nose dive.
“I’m not takin’ my eyes off you now,” Wade said. “Or ever.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Get a fuckin’ room.”
“Both of you – relax,” Chris demanded. “I told you before: I can play your shit in the dark.”
Wade stared at Chris again, unable to get the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.
“Are you sure there isn’t somethin’ you wanna-?”
Just then, Dark Water’s drummer had finished strong. The crowd cheered and cameras flashed as Geoffrey Henz took in the attention. But as the crowd died down, Axel’s familiar voice resonated throughout the auditorium.
“Alright! Up next is…CHRIS REBMAN FROM HERETIC!!”
The crowd went ballistic and the entire building shook from its core. But Chris ignored Wade’s question and took a deep breath. She adjusted her beanie and hoodie one last time before she stepped out on stage. But out of nowhere, Os appeared.
“Os! Fuck me, man! Where the hell have you been!?” Wade fired at his brother.
“Sorry man, I had to take care of a few things,” he answered without a care in the world.
Wade shook his head in annoyance and redirected his attention back out to the crowd. The entire auditorium went ablaze with screams and Wade smiled when he heard the rallying cry of Chris’ name.
“CHRIS! CHRIS! CHRIS!”
Chris strolled out on stage – carrying her snakeskin drumsticks high in the air while soaking in the cries of everyone around her. Wade shook his head at her overly-dramatic entrance, but at least she kept her head down just as he told her.
“Chris will rock this house with LIVE DEAD!” came Axel’s voice through every speaker.
The roar that echoed throughout the auditorium forced Wade to cover his ears. He’d never been more proud of Chris since she joined their group. Now, Wade thought, history was going to be made.
Ignoring Wade’s ‘advice’ from earlier, Chris twirled her drumsticks in the air several times. She felt the wood as much a part of her as her own fingers. To Wade, she appeared completely calm – the exact opposite of how he felt.
And she was. She did her best to keep from smiling as she stared down at the masses from beneath her hair and beanie. This was what Chris lived for and now, she would give them and Wade a show they’d never forget.
As she sat before the drums, she stared down at them for a moment, all while she entered a semi-meditative state. But long after the crowd died down, she still hadn’t even touched the drums. Soon, confused whispers broke out like wildfire.
Puzzled by her delay, Wade couldn’t understand what had come over her – or why the hell she was staring at the drum kit as though she’d never laid eyes on one before. He broke out into a cold sweat when off to stage left, Rick laughed along with the rest of his cronies.
When Wade couldn’t take another agonizing moment, Chris turned her head and made eye contact with him. He couldn’t read minds, but when she put aside her drumsticks and brought out her ‘good luck charm’ from her back pocket, it was all he could do to not get physically sick.
“Oh my god…” Wade whispered.
He watched as she carefully rolled it up and when she put it to her face, he couldn’t breathe. And as soon as Axel’s voice came alive through the microphone again, he felt the blood leave his face and his knees begin to buckle.
“I-I don’t believe it!” the competitions’ host screamed excitedly. “Chris Rebman is going to play…blindfolded!?”
Wade became sick with fear. He fought every desire to run on stage and yank her off. Hands down, he knew Chris was the most talented drummer he had ever come across, but not even Hess could do such a thing – and certainly while not performing such a labor-intensive song.
As soon as Chris finished situating the handkerchief over her eyes, the audience returned to a ruthless volume. But Heretic’s drummer remained eerily calm as she brought out her snakeskins – allowing them to hover over the drum set.
She deliberately took her time to adjust her chair, to feel for the toms and cymbals, to ensure that they were positioned accordingly for the oncoming assault. Chris breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, allowing herself to achieve a state of heightened awareness.
A trance took hold of Chris; her mind, her body - she was somewhere else entirely. The deafening roar of the crowd began to fade away until there was only sweet silence. Chris pictured herself in a room – the same room she had visited so many times before. There was only her, and her drums. She breathed in deeply once more and exhaled forever.
“…in the dark…” she whispered.
Chris found her zone.
She twirled the snakeskins several times in the air hearing it whistle through the darkness before it connected with the largest cymbal. As it came crashing down, she felt every particle, every atom fill the room as she went up and down the entire line of drums hearing only the beat and the sound of her steady breathing.
To Chris, this was nothing. She was in control of everything, every molecule down to the fabric of time itself. She slowed the song down in her mind but each hit on the tom came clear, distinct, and pure.
Her sticks became an extension of her arms and she ruthlessly beat the toms into submission. To the naked eye, her hands were a dizzying blur, so fast and agile. But Chris could see them. Even though she was without eyes, she didn’t need them. The drums were in head. They always were.
She breathed in and out with purpose and time itself seemed to slow to an incomprehensible halt. She could have stopped mid-stroke if she wanted. The music, the beat - everything belonged to her. She was in control. There was nothing she couldn’t do. Nothing that wasn’t beyond her reach, her understanding, or comprehension.
She stopped mid-stroke to twirl her drumsticks in her hands before she went back to her song. The snakeskins were dense – but that’s what she loved about them. Any chance to feel the beat of the drums come alive within her body gave Chris an otherworldly feeling she had yet to experience.
With each strike the beat swam in her body, telling her exactly how hard to throw it back down. It was her sonar.
She had this; the rhythm, the beat, even her breathing was perfect. The strain in her wrists and legs worked overtime to deliver a performance worthy of such an artist - worthy of Chris Rebman.
She felt nothing while she was lost in the zone; she wasn’t thirsty, hungry, hot, or cold. Everything about her was relaxed and calm and the only things she could hear were the drums and the sound of her deep, steadied breathing; in through her nose, out through her mouth.
She came down on the cymbal one last time. And with urgency, she jerked her right arm high into the air, feeling one of the snakeskins leave her hand.
1, 2, 3…
She counted to herself as her hand waited patiently behind her back, open and ready to accept the object that did acrobats above her with dizzying awe.
4, 5, 6…
She tilted her head slightly, allowing her keen hearing to take in the sound of the miniscule piece of wood as it hummed and vibrated in the air.
7, 8, 9…
On cue, it came back down, just the way she planned it and it landed perfectly in her hand. She caught it and held onto it tightly. Emotionless and fluid, Chris finished strong.
She was done.
Gradually, Chris pulled herself from her trance until a steady droning noise filled her ears and continued to grow louder. Then, flashes of light hit her from all angles - determined to blind her even through the cloth. But there was no mistaking the sound of her name being called.
“CHRIS! CHRIS! CHRIS!”
The crowd roared with approval and Chris knew
she finished performing Heretic’s most difficult song with flawless execution and under the handicap of a blindfold.
She could hardly hear herself think as the thundering mass of a thousand voices vibrated the stage on which she sat. While blindfolded, she slowly rose from her seat and kicked it away - flaring her hands out and up into the air. She remembered to keep her head down, but that didn’t stop the small smile that crept into the corner of her mouth.
But suddenly, the crowd shifted uneasily. Chris could sense it, even though she hadn’t taken off her blindfold, she heard muttering which grew quickly into yelling. Through the wooden planks of the stage, she felt the thundering and angry pattern of footsteps coming towards her.
But she couldn’t make sense of what was happening before it was too late.
“How many times do I have to tell you-!?” growled a voice.
She knew that voice. It was somehow familiar and she didn’t like it. It was a voice that haunted her dreams and her childhood. She ran from it so long ago. She wanted to scream.
“-not to dress like a god damn boy?!”
Frozen, Chris felt her wrist being yanked by a strong hand, but before she could defend herself, another hand palmed her face.
Unable to move or get away, she could do nothing as her blindfold and beanie were yanked off. She watched in horror as they fell down – creating a noiseless yet echoing thud that stopped with the beating of her heart.
Terrified, she looked through her long, wild hair and came face to face with someone she hadn’t seen in years.
“Oh my God! Dad!?”
But Chris couldn’t deny it. She looked up into those cruel, gray eyes, the perfectly set mustached on an aged face, down to the camouflage uniform. There was no mistaking it. No matter how badly she wished she was dreaming, Chris knew she was staring directly into the eyes of her father.
“Holy shit!” someone yelled.
Chris’ eyes darted wildly to that of Rick Delanost who stared at her from offstage. He stood and pointed at her all while screaming.
“I don’t believe this! Heretic’s drummer is a girl!”
His words left Chris feeling naked and helpless.
Chris saw into the murderous eyes of her father – not caring one way or the other about what he had done.
She saw past him and at the handful of security, seemingly frozen midstride to get to her father, but not before ripping Heretic’s secret wide open. But now, her attention turned to the audience and to the projector screens. From where she was, she easily could see her own terrified face, blown up exponentially for all to see.
Cameras flashed from every angle until she saw spots, but they couldn’t blot out the confused and bewildered looks coming from so many thousands of faces. They neither booed nor cheered, but to Chris, they did something far worse.
Absolutely nothing.
Finally, her father took her by the baggy clothing of her hoodie and jerked her roughly into semi-consciousness.
“You’re coming home with me! Right now!”
He screamed into her face all while his perfectly clipped mustached twitched in anger. Scared out of her mind, Chris was sure the nightmare she had had so long ago came true as she stared into the eyes of her sadistic father.
Even the microphones that surrounded the drum kit caught every word her father said, sending it in all directions of the auditorium. Chris thought she would die.
“Did you hear me?!” her father shouted again. “We’re leaving!”
Chris scanned the other side of the stage – to where Wade should have been standing, but he wasn’t there. Instead, she found only found Joe staring back at her, just as confused and as helpless as she was.
“Wade?!”
Chris tried calling out for Wade, hoping he would appear and save her – not just from her father, but from the wounding stares of stunned faces or the dizzying flashes of lights from so many cameras. But there was nothing – save for her father’s death grip. Os didn’t appear to be much help either as he continued to stand beside Joe looking at her stupidly.
“Stop! Let me go!”
Chris pushed back at her father to get some slack, but when he gave none, she deftly maneuvered out of her hoodie, leaving her hoodie and her father behind on stage.
Without looking behind her, Chris ran past numerous musicians who looked on in confusion, but she didn’t care. She scrambled for the exit doors through the maze of the backstage and soon found them – eerily clanging shut as if someone had stepped through them just moments ago. She remembered what Wade said to her just before they walked in.
“If we get separated somehow, just run to the bus as fast as you can…”
Chris bolted from the double doors with a purpose but there was only the empty darkness in front of her and an eerie silence. Wade was nowhere to be seen.
“Wade? Wade!”
Chris called out into the warm night air but there was no answer. She took off running, feeling the sweat bead on her forehead as she sped toward Heretic’s band bus. Then, in the distance, she spotted a lone figure walking under the few dim lights of the parking lot.
“Wade!? Wade!”
She called out again, but the figure kept walking with their head down while both hands were drawn into the pockets. She broke into a dead sprint until she stood right behind him. She knew it had to be Wade, but this time, there was something very wrong.
Out of breath, she lunged for his arm but as he turned at looked at her, she was met with anything but the person she knew.
“Wade! Please…stop!” she begged, trying to catch her breath. “I just….I dunno…what happened! I-I dunno how he found me! I-!”
“Just stop already!”
Startled, Chris looked up at Wade and at the tired face that stared back down at her. Even without much light, she could already tell how bloodshot his eyes had become.
As much as Chris struggled to get out a single, coherent word, Wade held up his hand as if gesturing for calm
“Just…just stop.”
“I-I don’t understand. What’s wrong? I-!”
“What’s wrong?” Wade shouted angrily, making Chris jump back. “What’s wrong!? Didn’t you see them, Chris!? Didn’t you see how they looked at you? At what you are?!”
Chris was on the verge of tears, trying desperately to process everything that was happening. But she couldn’t understand how the hell her father found her all of a sudden.
“I don’t…I don’t understand…” she cried.
“What don’t you understand!? They’re not ready for you, Chris!”
He bore down on her – angry and mean, like he was going to attack at any given moment. But soon, Chris heard her father in the parking searching for her, calling her name through the metal sea of buses.
“Christine! Christine Rebman!”
It was as if the sound of her full name awoke Wade like an alarm, but after a moment of silence, he become cold and despondent.
“Maybe…I’m not either.”
Just then, it seemed that everything Chris knew and loved came to a terrible halt in less than a second.
“Christine! CHRISTINE!”
Her father’s searching cries came closer and she knew it would be only a matter of time before he found her.
“You said…” she began, trying to swallow the knot in her throat. “You said… ‘no one would hurt me here’.”
Wade sighed and broke eye contact with Chris, but his emotionless response robbed her of any reconciliation.
“Go home, Chris,” he said, backing up onto the bus. “Just go home.”
Wade then turned and disappeared up the steps, but the doors weren’t the only thing to block any dwindling view she had. A thick film of tears came down over her eyes while she stood there, dumfounded as Heretic’s front man left her completely and utterly alone.
She heard Joe come up behind her. He tried talking to her, shaking her by the shoulders, but she was unresponsive as the tears slid down her so
ft cheeks. She heard him yelling for Wade when he broke away from her but she couldn’t hear anything else.
Chris stood alone in the dark of the parking lot, hoping a bus would come alive and run her over. After all, she would have chosen that over her father. But she didn’t lift a finger to fight the firm grasp that came over her wrist a second time. And she swore she heard the smile in his voice when he whispered cruelly into her ear.
“You’re lucky. Guy I know says he’ll be able to ship you out by the end of the week.”
Her father’s intentions paled in comparison to how alone she felt just then. But even as he father drug her away, she still kept her eyes locked on Heretic’s bus. Any minute, she thought, Wade would come out and rescue her from her father. But not even the sting and humiliation of her reveal could prepare her for Wade’s performance. And on this night, when she needed his protection most of all – he wasn’t there.
“Chris! Christine!”
She heard her name being called by strangers, and it didn’t take long for news cameras and dozens of reporters to invade her personal space and shove microphones in her face. But she didn’t care about them, or anything else for that matter.
All she could do was stare at Heretic’s bus as her father hauled her away. Even when her father shoved her inside of his jeep, they continually hounded Chris for questions, dogging her at every angle until her father stepped on the gas pedal.
Chris stared off into space as her father expertly drove them towards the interstate. But it didn’t take long for the reality of what had happened to hit her. She grew dizzy and swooned until she fell down exhausted onto the back seat.
Chapter 22
For three days, Wade rarely emerged from his room. Not for Os, Joe, or even Mike. The few times he came up for air was to take a piss, but even then, no one was brave enough to say anything. Since Chris’ reveal, they noticed a sudden and frightening change in their friend. They never discussed it but they didn’t have to. The pain in his face and eyes cut deep into his once happy expression and Joe couldn’t remember the last time he cracked his lips to talk, let alone smile. He neglected everyone and refused to talk.
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