The snowstorm was as thick as soup when the tractor trailer came out from the tunnel in the mountain. The truck driver was blessing his warm cup of coffee in his hand and kept both eyes on what he hoped was the road in front of him. The snow began to pile against the windshield and the wipers were struggling to cope with the strain. He had hoped to make it to the next town before the storm had hit, but he figured that the cup of coffee in his hand was the only bit of luck he had left. As he topped the next hill, the proverbial black cat crossed his path.
At first he thought it to be a stop sign, but since it was the middle of nowhere, and not an intersection for miles, the truck driver slowed until he saw just what it was. A young boy was walking along the side of the road, with only a thin, ragged brown cloak for warmth. His heart leapt into his throat as his conscience took hold, and he rolled to a stop next to him.
The door popped open and the boy stopped walking to turn and look at the man in the truck, but didn’t say anything and didn’t move.
“What the hell are you doing out here, boy?” the truck driver asked, “Come on boy, get in before you freeze to death!” The boy hesitated for a moment, then slowly climbed up into the passenger seat and closed the door. The truck started off again, and the truck driver looked the strange traveler over.
The boy seemed to be young, almost sixteen, and as he lowered the hood of his cloak, fiery red hair kept in a mess graced the top of his head. The truck driver saw that he was also wearing a pair of headphones, with some kind of CD player or walkman hidden under his clothes. The boy kept his eyes fixated on the storm outside and didn’t say a word.
“So where you headed, boy?” the truck driver asked. Still he didn’t move his head. “Can you understand me, boy?” the boy glanced at him with a confused face, and returned to the window.
“You don’t speak English? I wonder where you’re from?” he said, “Even of you can’t understand me, it’s nice to have someone to talk to for a change. These roads get pretty lonely sometimes.” The silence afterwards was as awkward as a first date.
“So you like music, eh? What kind do you listen to?” he asked, but still no response. The truck driver hit a bump, and he noticed the boy winced in pain. “Hey are you alright?”
The cabin light flicked on and the driver saw what was wrong. The blood on the seat shone in the dim light and he pulled over to the side of the road. Once stopped, they boy continued to stare out the window.
“Hey kid, you’re hurt. Let me help you man. I have a first aid kit in the back.” He said, turning to him. He leaned forward to check his wounds, but he jumped and pulled away, “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to help.” The hood went up again and covered his face while his hand went for the door release. He didn’t open the door and run away, but he seemed prepared to do so.
“Toronto.” He said in a quiet, broken voice. The truck driver stopped and stared at him.
“What about it?” he asked.
“I want to go to Toronto
“You can go there if you like, no one’s stopping you. But you need to get that checked if you want to make it anywhere at all.” He said, “It looks serious kid, maybe you should go to a hospital.”
“No. I’m going to Toronto.” He repeated.
“Why won’t you let me help you?” the truck driver asked in a soft voice. The boy turned to stare at him, lowered his head so that the shadow from his hood hid his eyes, and his lip curled in anger, revealing a pair of fangs.
“Because you’re the ones who did this to me.
The air was cold and crisp even this early in the morning. A young girl toting a book bag peaked a flight of stairs, and then turned to glance up at the clock tower. Her eyes went wide as she saw the time, and she broke into a run to get to her next class. The campus was pretty large, and since it was her first day, she didn’t have a clue where any of her classes were. Being late on the first day wasn’t a good impression on her teachers either. Nevertheless, once she made it to her concept art class, she was relieved to see that she wasn’t the only one rushing to get inside.
Rosette Pegasus took her seat behind a blonde, long haired girl, pulled her sketchbook from her bag and looked up at the projection on the screen to try and learn how to draw a person’s eyes. Her dream was to become a successful cartoonist or even a comic artist, so she decided to take a major in art. Her passion was somewhat private and personal, being about something both very savage and very fictitious. Her sketchbook was filled with drawings of dragons in all shapes and forms, and she had dragon key chains to match. She didn’t really let on how much she actually loved them, however, because most girls would think it wasn’t lady like to like something so ugly and savage. As she looked around the class, she saw most of the girls had at least one pink accessory, and all they did during class was gossip about boys. Even in University, they fit the typical stereotype of a high school drama queen. She had to put up with these kinds of people all through high school, and by now she was annoyed by their type, even though she didn’t know them personally. The only girl, who actually paid attention to the professor besides her, was the short blonde girl sitting in front of her.
The class was over in a short hour, and she made a straight line for the coffee stand in the lobby. Once she had her caffeine, the rest of the day was a breeze, after she found her way around.
With the day over, she climbed into her car and began the short drive home. The University of Toronto
She was going to ignore it at first, but her instincts told her otherwise, and she found herself peering around the corner.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” she called. A pile of boxes nearby shook, and a hand fell out of the pile. She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp, and a little voice in her head told her to run away to forget she even saw anything. It could just be a homeless bum, playing a trick on her to get her to take pity on him and give him food. She was about to turn away to do just that, when she saw the blood oozing out from under the boxes.
Her eyes went wide and every part of her told her to run, but she couldn’t move. Her bag dropped to the ground, she found herself actually walking forwards and she began pulling boxes off of this poor person. Once she reached the victim, the tears on her face was proof of her fear. A young boy with bright red hair lay at her feet, covered in blood.
She didn’t know what to do. Her body was frozen in shock as she shook on the spot. The boy was still breathing, but just barely. But there was something about him that made her look twice. He was dressed in a thin brown cloak, and wore a pair of headphones that wrapped around the back of his head. His breathes became shallow and she panicked; doing the first thing that came to mind.
Balancing the boy on her back and carrying her book bag in her arms, she struggled up the stairs and made it inside her small apartment. She lived in a two bedroom apartment on the third floor, so there was plenty of room for her, but as far as two bedrooms go, these were tiny.
The second bedroom was vacant but still had a bed and dresser, in case she ever found a roommate. She actually just moved in there herself, and she stepped over unpacked boxes to drag him into the spare bedroom. Once she got him on the bed, she mustered her courage to pull back the cloak and check on the damage.
The boy had a bad gunshot wound in his stomach which was still bleeding, but luckily the bullet made an exit hole, so the only thing required to do was patch him up and disinfect the wounds.
Rosette pulled a bottle of peroxide from a box and moistened a cloth to clean the wounds, but when the chemical touched his blood, she screamed as it caught fire, and went out in a flash, as a puff of smoke rose into the air. She then put a drop on a blood soaked bandage, and it too burst into flames. She didn’t know what was going on and she found herself numbly continuing on to wrap him up and put him under the covers, before turning out the light and retiring to the living room.
The television didn’t give her any answers. Her favorite shows passed her by without a word reaching her, because her mind was still in shock from the evening’s events. She was glad it was Friday and that she didn’t have classes tomorrow, because this would change her morning routine.
She turned the television off, but remained seated on the couch in the darkened living room. She pulled her legs off the floor and hugged her knees.
“What the hell am I doing?” she muttered to herself. The silence of the darkened room got to her, and she got up to go to bed.
Upon crossing the bedroom where the strange boy slept, she stopped and peeked inside, where the light from the hallway cast a rectangle of light across his face. His red hair spread across the pillow, and his shallow breathing could barely be heard. She turned to continue down the hall, but he caught her attention when he rolled over, revealing a sizable hole in the back of his shirt. With his ragged cloak now removed, his back was visible, and Rosette gasped at what she saw. Through the hole in his shirt, she could see patches of shiny red scales.
She stood frozen in the open doorway and stared at his back, while he began to stir. He opened his eyes, rolled onto his back, and she could see the panic in his eyes as he began to look around the room, trying to figure out exactly where he was. She tried to say something, but when she opened her mouth, nothing but a squeak came out.
His head snapped over to where the sound had come from, and his eyes went wide when he saw her. He jumped backwards, taking the sheets with him, huddling in the corner from fear. Her eyes softened and she entered the room, holding her hand out to the frightened boy like trying to calm a skittish animal.
“Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you!” she said in a calm voice, “My name is Rosette. What’s your name?” The boy stopped shaking and stared at her from the corner, but still remained silent.
“Do you understand me?” she asked. Still the boy stared at her, but his expression changed from fear to anger.
“Where am I?” he snapped.
“I found you lying in the alley. You’re in my apartment.” She said, “I should have taken you to a hospital, but something told me I shouldn’t.”
“Where is this?” he asked again. Rosette became confused, trying to understand exactly what he was asking. Without realizing it, her imagination took over.
“This is Earth.” She said. The boy’s stare went blank.
“Of course it is! That’s not what I mean.” He said, “Where on Earth is this? What city?”
“This is Toronto.” She said, “We’re about five kilometers from the University.” She said. The boy’s face softened and he directed his stare down at the bloodstained sheets.
“I’m here. I’m really here.” He muttered to himself.
“Are you alright?” Rosette asked, “How did you get hurt?” he shot her an angry glare.
“You did this to me.
“I didn’t do anything! I found you like this!” she exclaimed.
“You and your guns. You people still use such dangerous weapons.” He muttered to himself.
“Who would do this to you?” she cried, “Maybe I should take you to the hospital!”
“What’s a hospital?” he asked.
“A place where people go to get treated for injuries and sicknesses.” She said, “Where are you from?”
“I don’t have a home.” He said, relaxing a bit. Still he kept to his corner, but he didn’t move when Rosette took a seat on the bed.
“What about your parents?” she asked.
“They died a long time ago.” He said, “They were slain.”
“Your parents were murdered?” she gasped, “How awful.”
“That was a long time ago.” He said.
“So who’s taking care of you now? Is there anyone I should contact? Anyone who would be worried about you?” she asked. The boy shook his head.
“No. There’s no one. Not anymore.”
“Well you can stay here if you want.” She said, “I can help you get better.” The boy looked up into her caring eyes.
“Why would you do that for me?” he asked, “You don’t know who I am.”
“I’m different from those who shot you. I want to be your friend.” She said with a smile.
“You wouldn’t want to be my friend if you only knew my secret.” He said. There was a pause as the smile on her face faded.
“I know you’re different, that was apparent when I tried to treat you.” She said, “But I won’t ask. I just hope you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
“Maybe I was wrong….” He muttered.
“Wrong about what?”
“Maybe….” He muttered as he crawled under the covers again, “I was wrong about you humans…..”
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