Free Beyond Carousel by Brendan Ritchie Page B

Carousel.’
    â€˜Not writing much?’ she asked.
    I shrugged. I hadn’t been writing at all.
    â€˜I finished uni and was just working. Not going out much,’ I replied.
    â€˜Because of that Heather girl?’ she asked.
    â€˜Maybe. I haven’t really thought about it.’
    Taylor rolled her eyes.
    â€˜What?’ I asked.
    â€˜Come on. We were stuck in a mall with nothing to do for like forever. Don’t tell me you didn’t rehash every single tiny event in your life a thousand times over,’ said Taylor.
    â€˜Nope. That must just be you I guess,’ I replied.
    â€˜Fuck off, Nox.’
    We both smiled and Taylor was finally ready to deal the cards.
    â€˜What about you and this painter girl?’ I asked, without thinking.
    Taylor looked at me carefully.
    â€˜Do you think we might run into her somewhere out here?’ I backtracked.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ replied Taylor, casually. ‘Tommy said the more time that passes, the less people he sees,’ said Taylor.
    â€˜What do you think is happening to everyone?’ I asked, slightly alarmed.
    Taylor shrugged.
    â€˜It took us so long to get out of Carousel,’ said Taylor. ‘For a while people were probably looking around, trying to figure out what the hell happened. But eventually people start to accept things. They settle down and find a place in the world. Whatever the hell it looks like.’
    I looked at her. Taylor was a realist and right on the mark with most things. Probably this, too.
    â€˜Do you think we’ll have to do that one day?’ I asked.
    â€˜Probably,’ she sighed.
    â€˜Where would you want to live?’ I asked.
    Taylor looked through her cards and thought about it. ‘The beaches here are pretty awesome, yeah?’ she asked.
    â€˜I guess,’ I said.
    â€˜So we’ll find a house right out front of the best one. Wire up some solar panels. Grow a garden. Teach ourselves how to surf,’ said Taylor.
    I felt like crying and had no idea why. Taylor looked at me curiously.
    â€˜Yeah?’ she asked.
    â€˜Yeah. Totally,’ I replied.
    We finished the game and Taylor left for bed.
    I had willed myself awake and wrote steadily for an hour or two about some of the things we had seen. The real Stuart hovered at my shoulder with a steady critique of every line. Was he even a writer? I hoped he was a weirdo puppeteer or something as opposed to someworld-famous novelist that I had cheated out of his place on the ark.
    At some point I had stopped writing and fallen asleep. I woke to Chess nuzzling his wet nose in at the base of my neck.
    â€˜Chess!’ whispered Lizzy harshly.
    I opened my eyes to find her huddled by the glass door to the balcony. Lightning licked across the hills in the distance. Chess dipped his head and padded back over to join her.
    I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The room was pitch-dark. Lizzy and Chess were silhouetted by a weird purple glow somewhere to the east. It could have been the rising sun, but it felt too early for that. I pulled on a hoodie and joined them on the floor. Lizzy gave me a brief smile and turned back to catch the flickers of lightning. The thunder was soft, but constant. Storms seemed to run the entire length of the hills.
    It was hard not to think of Rocky. He and Lizzy used to love watching lightning. A storm in the hills had been the last thing he saw in Carousel. Now that we were out in the world we had discovered that there was a name for people like me and Rocky. Patrons. Sheltered not by intention, but by fate. The old world had been cruel to Rocky, and the new one not much better. I felt an anger rising that for once I didn’t feel like swallowing.
    â€˜Rocky would have loved this one,’ whispered Lizzy.
    Lightning pulsed across her delicate, elven face.
    â€˜I fucking hate the Curator,’ I replied.
    Lizzy looked at me, surprised.
    â€˜Don’t you?’ I asked.
    Lizzy