Paper Flowers

It wasn’t all that far to the city Fringes where the Inferno could be found. But Rafael was growing weaker by the minute, and it took the two men a couple of hours to walk the distance. Styx ended up carrying his friend the last few blocks, distress turning his gut into a twisted ball every time Rafael was overcome by another attack.

By the time they reached their destination, it was dark. Fog swirled and gathered close to the ground, and made cloudy the pools of hard yellow light cast by street lamps. From every dark alley and ruined building, eyes watched them. Fringe dwellers waiting for the cold to claim another pair of victims, waiting for the chance to plunder the corpses and tear flesh from bone before it froze.

Occasionally one or two of the creatures -- for they could no longer really be classified as human -- became bold and ventured a little nearer than Styx was comfortable with, and he sent them scurrying with a vicious snarl. No one challenged him. Generally the Fringe dwellers were scavengers and carrion eaters. Weak and cowardly, they rarely attacked anything still strong enough to fight back. They preferred to shadow their prey, waiting until it was already practically dead before moving in and making the kill. Sometimes they would attack in groups and overwhelm their target with sheer numbers, but a display of strength usually kept them at bay. Styx had declared himself a predator, so apart from the ever watchful eyes, he and Rafael were left in peace.



The Inferno was one of the few buildings in this part of the city that was still completely whole. It stood three stories high, meaning that it towered over most of the surrounding buildings. The majority of the windows were either boarded up, or set with iron bars like a prison cell. Stone walls were lost under years of accumulated dirt, refuse and graffiti. A blinking neon sign displayed the establishment’s name in garish magenta for all to see.



Now that they were here, Styx wasn’t as certain this was a good idea. Standing in the bare yard in front of the building, he considered turning around and going back. But back to where? Back to find a good place to bury his friend? Because that’s what he’d be doing if he didn’t get Rafael out of the cold.

Styx drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Inhale. Exhale. Resist the urge to glance back over his shoulder. If he looked back, that would be it. He’d lose his nerve. Instead, he looked down at Rafael, barely conscious in his arms. He was so pale, his breathing ragged and laboured.



“You’ll be all right soon. Just hold on a little while longer.”



Rafael didn’t answer. His eyelids fluttered and he moaned weakly, turning his face away from the wind and pressing it against Styx’s chest.



“Just hold on ...” No more time for doubts. Styx raised his head, prepared himself for the worst, and entered the Inferno.



It was dark inside. The lobby -- if that’s what one would call the large, sparsely furnished room -- was lit by a naked light globe that seemed to make the shadows in the room so much darker for its presence. The globe flickered erratically, as though it might go out at any moment. Bare floorboards creaked under foot, and a thick layer of dust had captured countless footprints and scuff marks.

Two old, dusty armchairs and a three seater couch were arranged in a half circle off to one side of the room, where five or six hollow eyed, underfed looking teenagers huddled around a small gas heater. Boys and girls both, though it was hard to tell the difference with their under developed bodies and over sized, shapeless clothes.

On the other side of the room, nearer to the door, a dark haired boy watched them from behind a desk. Styx guessed him to be around seventeen or eighteen, though again it was hard to tell.



“Can I help you?” The boy’s voice was lifeless, his eyes dull as Styx approached the desk.



“Um, yeah ... I want to, that is, I need to --” Fuck. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t say it. Prostitution was hardly uncommon in Daichosa, but so far Styx had managed to get by without having to resort to that. In his mind, selling one’s own body was the final low, the last level of degradation. There wasn’t much worse you could do in order to survive. Styx had done a lot of things in his time, many of which he wasn’t proud of. But he felt he still had some measure of dignity. After tonight, he’d have nothing.



The boy seemed to understand, because he offered a shy, tired smile and nodded.

“You looking for work?”



“Yeah.” There were shadows in the boy’s eyes. Shadows enough to choke on. “I need money. My friend ...”



“You’ll need to talk to the Master.” The boy stood up and called out to one of the kids sitting around the heater. “Damian! Keep an eye on the desk for a few minutes, will you? I have to take this man to the Master.” He turned back to Styx then and offered another fleeting smile. “C’mon. I’ll show you the way.”



Styx followed the boy through a door in the back of the room and out into a dim, narrow hallway. There was only just enough room for them to walk side by side. They walked in silence for a time, then the boy spoke shyly;



“What’s wrong with your friend?”



“He’s got the Lung Chill.”



“Oh, I’m sorry.” A moment’s pause, then; “You must care about him a lot, to come here.”



“I do.” Styx said flatly, and a strained silence closed in around them. It was bad enough having to be here. He sure as Hell didn’t need some kid feeling sorry for him. A boy whose youth was lost in the shadows in his eyes. A boy who had seen too much, done too much. A boy who would probably die alone, unmourned, thrown to the scavengers and forgotten. No one would ever know he had been here. No one would ever know he was gone.



Saddened by the death of a stranger who hadn’t died yet, Styx spoke into the silence;

“What’s your name?”



The boy blinked large, dark eyes, apparently startled by the question.

“Um. People call me Jay.”



“It’s good to meet you Jay.” Styx said quietly. “My name’s Styx.”



The silence that followed was different. Companionable.

When they reached a door at the end of the hall, Jay hesitated a moment before knocking.



“Listen, um ... Before you go in, you should be sure you want to do this. I mean, even if you get medical treatment, your friend might still die, right?” He stared at the floor, scuffing the floorboards with the toe of his shoe. “Is he worth it? I mean really worth it? ‘Cause once you do this, you can’t undo it.”



Styx frowned and tried very hard to ignore the little voice at the back of his head that screamed at him to listen to Jay’s advice and get the Hell out of here. Yes, there was a very real chance that Rafael might still die, even if he got him to a hospital. But he had to try. He had to try.



“He’s worth it. And besides, I’ll only be here one night.” Somehow, Styx managed to make the words sound more confident than he felt. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”



“It’s never just one night ...” Jay whispered, but before Styx could answer he raised his hand and knocked on the door.



There was a short pause, then a deep voice called out from the room behind the door;

“Enter.”



“I hope your friend survives.” Jay looked up at Styx, a weary, haunted expression in his eyes. Then he turned away, pushed the door open, and there was no more time to talk.