Free Apocalypse Now Now by Charlie Human Page B

exclamation mark hung behind the image of two ancient space gods having a turf war over Earth. I sit on my bike unable to move, his words painting a vivid picture in the dank air.
    ‘The Mantis went first and birthed the Watu Makule – the oldesttribe – consisting of the little men, the shining ones, the pointed ears, the horned horses and all the wondrous creatures. The Octopus, looking upon the magnificent Watu Makule, knew he could not beat his brother. The Mantis took pity on him and offered a compromise. They would share the Earth and together they would create a new species, humans, to live together with them. They called them the Strange Ones because of their dual natures.
    ‘But the Mantis was tired after his works of creation and fell asleep. He slept for millennia and while he slept the Octopus conspired against him. He was still jealous of the Watu Makule and so alone he created the Feared Ones, black of feather and black of heart, born with the sole purpose of hunting the Watu Makule and killing them. And while the Mantis slept the Watu Makule were hunted, slaughtered, until they were forced to hide in the shadows. And they became known as the Hidden Ones, forever cowering in fear.
    ‘When the Mantis awoke he was so enraged at the genocide inflicted upon his creations that he attacked his brother and for millenia the gods fought so fiercely that their fighting began to threaten the very Earth they so coveted. To save themselves the Watu Makule and the Strange Ones united to trap their own Creators in living cages to stop them destroying the Earth.
    ‘But the Feared Ones missed their Creator, and so the story continues, with the Feared Ones forever hunting down the Watu Makule and seeking a way to release their Creator.
’
    Abruptly he stops playing. ‘One day the gods will fight again and the world will be destroyed,’ he whispers. ‘You know this, because the eye remembers.’
    The mention of the eye hits my nervous system like a well-aimed bullet. Abject fear opens the adrenalin gates and before I know what’s happening I’ve pushed off from the kerb and am pedalling hard away from the canal. I’m breathing raggedly and my forehead is throbbing with a now familiar pulse. The eye. I pull hard on the brakes and skid on a patch of gravel, the bikesliding out from under me. I hit the ground hard and feel the sharp fiery pain of my hands sliding across the ground.
    I get up and cycle back to the canal. This half-blind asshole is going to tell me what’s going on. ‘Hey!’ I shout into the canal. I stop my bike and throw it down onto the grass. ‘I’ve had enough, OK?’ I peer down in the darkness of the canal. There is no one there. No blind singer. No guitar. Just an empty paint can. I look up and down the canal. ‘What the fuck is going on?’ I say to the night, and at that moment I realise that my life is stretched like a rope tight across a gaping chasm and I can see the fibres beginning to fray and snap. I need help and I need it soon.

    Dr Basson’s office is a twenty-minute ride from my house. I cycle through the morning traffic, through the taxi rank and up onto the main road, pumping the pedals of my bike ruthlessly. Sweat pours down my face and into my eyes and my forehead is throbbing. I’m on the verge of a migraine but I keep on pedalling. Skipping school and leaving the gangs to their own devices is bad for the Spider. But I have to. For the first time I feel like I’m starting to lose my handle on things.
    I pull up outside the office block – all steel, glass and red face-brick. I chain my bike to a lamp post and enter through the glass sliding doors. The security guard, sinewy with a mullet and bad skin, looks me up and down as I comb my sweaty hair to one side and wipe my glasses with my sleeve.
    ‘Sign in,’ the guard grunts. I sign the book and take the lift up to the third floor. I walk quickly down until I find the door – an opaque glass door with ‘Dr Kobus Basson