Chapter 37 Chapter 37 Flame Juice

For the next minute or so, Thomas' facial features were extremely fuzzy. Thomas was stunned by the welcome, but before he could respond, the long-haired man almost pushed him and Brenda inside and led them through the close-knit dancing crowd.These people whirled, jumped, embraced, and turned.The music was deafening, with every drumbeat hitting Thomas's skull like a hammer.There were flashlights hanging from the ceiling; people bumped into them, and it dangled, and the beam naturally dangled. The group struggled through the dancing crowd, the long-haired man leaning forward to talk to Thomas.Even though the man was shouting, Thomas could barely hear what he was saying.

"Thank God for the batteries, life sucks without them." "How did you know my name?" Thomas called back. "Why are you waiting for me?" The man smiled. "We watched you all night! Then this morning we saw your reaction to the sign through the window - we figured you must be the famous Thomas!" Brenda put her arms around Thomas' waist, probably the only way they wouldn't be separated.Maybe.But when she heard those words, she hugged even tighter. Thomas looked back to see the blond man and two others following him. The gun was put away, but it would probably be out again, Thomas knew.

The music was loud.The heavy bass hit the whole room, making a crackling sound.People danced and leaped around them, and lights like swords slashed across the dark air.Crazy people sweated profusely, looked flexible and luminous, and their body heat made the room sweltering and uncomfortable. Right in the middle of the room, the long-haired man stopped and turned to face them, shaking his odd white mane. "We'd love for you to join us!" he yelled. "There must be something about you. We'll protect you from those bad lunatics." Thomas was happy because there was only so much they knew.Maybe, it wouldn't be so bad after all.Play along with them, pretend you're a special kind of dementia patient, and maybe he and Brenda can hang around long enough to sneak out at the right time without being noticed.

"I'll get you a drink!" the long-haired man yelled, "Have fun!" and he scurried off, disappearing into the writhing, huddled crowd. Thomas looked back at the blond man and his two friends, still there, not dancing—just looking, and he noticed the ponytailed woman waving at him. "Better dance!" she cried, but she didn't do it herself. Thomas twisted until he was fully face to face with Brenda, they needed to talk. She seemed to be able to read his mind, and she raised her arms, hugged his neck, and pulled him close to her until her mouth was close to his ear.He was covered in sweat, and her hot breath stung him.

"How did we get into this mess?" she asked. Thomas didn't know what to do but wrapped his arms around her back and waist.He could feel her heartbeat through her wet clothes.Something surged up in his heart, mixed with his guilt and longing for Teresa. "I never would have thought of this an hour ago." Finally, he spoke, his voice through her hair, and it was all he could think of. The song played has changed and is now a dark, disturbing song.The tempo has softened and the drums have grown harder.Thomas couldn't understand a line of the lyrics—the voice seemed mournful, high, and mournful, as if the singer was mourning some terrible tragedy.

"Maybe we should hang out with these people for a while," Brenda said.Thomas noticed that the two of them were already dancing to the music, without any meaning or thought.As the music slowly rotated, their bodies leaned closer together and hugged each other. "What are you talking about?" he asked in surprise. "Have you given up yet?" "No, just tired, maybe we're safer here." He wanted to trust her, felt like he could, but it made him a little worried—did she bring him here on purpose?This seems like a stretch. "Brenda, don't give up. The only option we have now is to get to a safe haven. There are medicines for this."

Brenda shook her head slightly. "It's just really hard to believe it's true, hard to hope for it." "Don't say that." He didn't want to think about it, and he didn't want to hear about it. "If there is a drug, why are they sending these crazy people here? It really doesn't make sense." Thomas watched her, worried about this sudden change of attitude, her eyes were wet with tears. "You're talking crazy," he said, pausing again.Of course, he had his doubts, but he didn't want to hit her. "The drug is real. We have to..." He paused again, looking at the blond, who was staring at him.That guy probably can't hear it, but it's better to be careful.

Thomas leaned into Brenda's ear and said, "We have to get out of here. Do you want to be with someone with a gun and a screwdriver pointed at you?" Before Brenda could answer, the long-haired man returned with a glass of wine in both hands.The people dancing around kept bumping into him, and the brown liquid in the glass kept shaking. "Drink up!" he yelled. Thomas seemed to wake up inside, and taking drinks from these strangers seemed like a very, very bad idea.Everything about this place and this situation has become impossibly more uncomfortable. Brenda, however, had already reached for one of the drinks.

"No!" Thomas blurted out, and then hastened to cover his mistake again, "I mean, no, I don't think we should be drinking this stuff. We haven't had water in a long time—we should have some water first. We, uh, just wanted to dance a little longer." He was trying to be casual, but internally he was crying, and he knew he sounded like an idiot—especially when Brenda gave him that weird look. There was something small, but hard, pressing against him, and he didn't have to look back to know what it was - the blond man's pistol. "I brought you a drink," the long-haired man said, this time with no kindness on his tattooed face, "it would be very rude to refuse a request like that." He held up his glass again.

Thomas was horrified, now convinced—there was something wrong with the drink. The blond man pressed the gun against him even harder. "I counted to one," the man said directly into his ear, "There is only one number." Thomas didn't have to think about it.He reached out, poured the liquid into his mouth, and swallowed it all at once.As he swallowed, the liquid burned like fire, searing his throat and chest, and Thomas coughed suddenly and violently. "Now, it's your turn." The long-haired man handed the cup to Brenda. She looked at Thomas, then took the glass and drank it down.This didn't seem to bother her at all, except that her eyes closed tightly as she swallowed.

The long-haired man returned with an empty glass, with a sly smile on his face: "Very good! Keep dancing." Thomas already felt something interesting, a soothing warmth, a sense of peace spreading through him.He pulled Brenda into his arms and held her tight, rocking to the music. "What's that?" he asked.He felt his muffled voice, not heard it. "Something bad," she said, and he could barely hear her, "something that was drugged and made my body have a funny reaction." Yes, Thomas thought, interesting thing.The room began to spin, much faster than they could.When people laugh, their faces seem to stretch, and their mouths are like gaping black holes.The music became soft and indistinct, but the singing voice became louder and more prominent. Brenda lifted her head and cupped his face in her hands.She looked at him, though her eyes began to blur.She looked so beautiful, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen, and everything around them disappeared into darkness.His mind was starting to fail, and he knew it. "Maybe it's better this way," she said, her words and mouth out of synch, her face wobbling as if separated from her neck, "maybe we can be with them. Maybe once we get past the runaway stage Happy." She laughed, sickeningly disturbing, "and then you can kill me." "No, Brenda," he said, but his voice sounded like it was ten thousand miles away, like it came from an endless tunnel, "don't…" "Kiss me," she said, "Tom, kiss me." Her hands cupped his face tightly, and she began to pull him toward her. "No." He declined. She stopped, a hurt look on her face. "Why?" she asked. He has been almost engulfed in darkness. "You're not...her." His voice, so far away, was just an echo, "You can never be her." Then she collapsed and he was unconscious.