Free Burnt Black Suns: A Collection of Weird Tales by Simon Strantzas Page A

just wasn’t sure rock climbing was the answer.
    “I don’t know if I’m up to this, Rex. It’s not what I was expecting.”
    “Bullshit. You can do it. I have faith in you, bro.”
    It was the latest of Rex’s activities, one he had taken up after their mother’s death, but one to which he was particularly drawn. He went through this every few years, discovering a new sport or hobby to occupy his time. For a while it was diving, then hang gliding. He even knit for a few months the year before. But rock climbing was the strangest, at least to Garrison. It had always seemed the sort of activity one does when there’s nothing left to do. Why else scale the side of a rock? Because it’s there? Still, when Rex asked, Garrison acquiesced. Not at first, but soon enough. Somehow, Rex always knew what to say.
    The trip to Markham only took a few hours, and it felt as though they had left one reality and entered another. Garrison was not used to the size of things, neither the expanse of forests nor the confined and labyrinthine layout of the town. Both conspired to rob him of a quick method of escape, and their lack of familiarity only heightened his anxiety.
    “I think I’m claustrophobic,” he said to Rex as they passed through the small town. They saw few locals, and those they did stared as the two drove by, eyes wide and disconcerting. Rex didn’t seem to notice.
    “I think you’re an idiot who’s spent too much time inside the house. You’re not claustrophobic.”
    “How do you know?” Garrison asked, feeling for his pulse in case somehow he would be able to diagnose himself. “Or maybe agoraphobic?”
    Rex let out a sigh and then tried to change the subject.
    “You’ll be fine once we get into Downe Park and start our climb. You’ll be amazed at how good it makes you feel. It always recharges. Look, above those trees. You can just see the edge of the rocks peeking through.”
    Garrison could see them, but he could feel them as well, feel them glaring at him through the branches. He swallowed, his head woozy. It had been the same when their mother died; he could see what was coming and knew it brought nothing but pain. His fingers icy, his jaw slack, he stared at the rock formation and wondered what it might want from him. Then he stopped and shook his head. They were rocks; they couldn’t want anything. Surely not to see him plummet to his death.
    If the rocks did want Garrison, they did not tip their hand when the brothers arrived. Instead, the sun was beaming in a deep cloudless sky, lighting the walls of red rock until they no longer looked real. Garrison felt so far removed from his normal life he could no longer remember it, and though he knew the idea should be exhilarating, he found it the opposite. He was terrified by what was laid out before him.
    “Perfect weather,” Rex said, and then inhaled deep and released the breath with something more akin to a satisfied call-to-arms than to an exhale. It only further jangled Garrison’s nerves. “I’ll pop the trunk, bro, so we can get the gear out.”
    They laid everything on the ground at the foot of a rocky face. While Rex worked to check they had all they would need, Garrison looked at the sun, the light cascading down as though the red rocks were seeping blood. Garrison knew it was no more than a forty-foot climb, but from where he stood those forty feet seemed to stretch upward forever.
    “So . . . all this equipment. It’s supposed to hold us, right? Has it ever broken on you? Maybe when you were halfway up or something? I saw this movie once—”
    “I told you not to worry, Gar. I’ll be going first. All you need to do is put your hands and feet where I put mine and follow my lead. I’ll tell you when it’s time to move or not. The day is absolutely gorgeous and perfect for this. I couldn’t have asked for it to be better to take you up your first time. If you trust me, we’ll be fine. You do trust me, right?”
    Did he? Did he