Mythos 004: Last Ride

The news station shakes.

Kaze pauses, mid-sentence, mouth gaping as his eyes finally leave me to turn heavenwards. His fear is acute, and I cannot blame him. He has to know the chaos that lies outside; he has to realize what this means for him, for Iwaku. I utter a small prayer for his comfort, and take advantage of his distraction to slip back out into the streets, tugging my coat closer around my frame to guard against the churning debris which fills the air. My eyes, too, flick upward, and I see a pair of figures flitting overhead through the dust and rain. They are not the only shape rising above Iwaku’s skyline; all of the major pieces on the chessboard are moving into check.

I feel that I understand this game a little better, now.

My focus turns to Central Highway, the major artery of the city, still madly pumping with the heat and fuel of so many speeding vehicles. I wonder idly what exactly their destination might be at this late stage. Are they driving for the mere sake of it? Are they driving only to feel alive, to feel viscerally part of something? Is there somewhere they hope so desperately to reach, when the world is dying and turning oh so very still all around them? Perhaps all or any of these are the answer. I’ve seen stranger ways of facing up to entropy.

I glance over my shoulder at the news station once more, and then my feet are leading me back the way I came, back to where I left my bike waiting quietly in the shadows.

This would be my last ride.

I’d better make it count.

No I don’t know where to go
No I don’t know how to show
I just don’t know it

One of us shall surely die tonight
I don’t care, no I just don’t care
Either way I die tonight
So I don’t care
No I just don’t care