Schizophrenia was seen as a death sentence, the end to a normal life for Jace. The once-popular, athletic eye candy was isolated and kept at an arm's distance away. Dax never truly understood what he felt until now.

  “Wait, what do you mean? Stop playing games Mateo! We are in some serious shit right now.” Dax slowly pushed himself up, the throbbing migraine persisting. With the random bombardment of static noise and Mateo’s nonsense, he had briefly forgotten about the direness of the situation. Jace was dead, gone forever. They were in a city that was completely flattened by a nuclear or chemical weapon. To top it off, Dax was covered head to toe in crimson dust that could kill him instantly.

  “Man listen fool, I’m telling you I ain’t playing games, that’s why I can't move! Why else would I know what you’re looking at?”

  “This is clearly a schizophrenic episode” Dax muttered, “You are just some voice in my head.”

  “Oh yeah Dax? Did Jace ever have an episode where they shared a conversation about graffiti art?” He leaned against the wall and let out a shaky breath.

  “All I need is Geodon and a good therapist.” He muttered, continuing to avoid the voice in his head that for some reason took on the persona of Mateo. “Just need to get back to the shelter.” Mateo or the voice in his head sighed.

  “Look man, this is clearly a lot to take in but avoiding me won’t do the trick. I can literally see, feel, and smell everything you do, fool. This ain’t schizophrenia, it's some reaction from whatever the hell was dropped on the city.”

  “That’s fucking impossible Mateo!” Dax ran both hands through his hair and gripped hard, “What would be the point of dropping a bomb that messes people up this bad? We were talking about nukes, complete devastation. This is inhumane, this is chaos.” Mateo scoffed.

  “Yeah, you are right, what kind of government would do something so inhumane to a group of innocent civilians. Does a man with a funny mustache come to mind, cabron? Hell, you remember what Fisk did in the Middle East. He turned most of that region into a mass grave. This is just karma.” Dax shook his head and started walking back down the alley into the street, a wave of questions flowed and crashed through his head. He was white water rafting through his thoughts and he didn’t have a paddle. Dax stopped for a second and smiled. His hand moved towards his jacket pocket and out of his line of sight.

  “If you are a part of me, then how many fingers am I holding-”

  “Three you dumb puta.” Dax pulled out his hand, his mouth ajar staring at the three fingers he had concealed in his jacket. “And while we are at it, what’s the cold thing in your jacket?” Mateo questioned.

  “Wait, you didn’t even see my hand because I wasn’t looking at it so explain that!” Dax accused while he continued to stare at his open hand, his eyebrows casted low over his eyes.

  “I don’t know how to say this again without making you feel like a dumbass, but we are a lot closer than you think.” Mateo explained in a quiet but patient voice, “I can literally feel and see the same things you do, now answer my question!” Dax leaned against the wall, his dirty and bloodied hand staining the white washed brick on the building, his eyes focused on the not so far charcoaled outline of Jace. He nodded towards his remains.

  “It’s Elijah’s gun, you know the one that would have killed Jace before the bombs did the trick.” Mateo was silent. He was guilty, he knew it and the silence snapped something in Dax. He hit the wall, hard. His arm stung with the impact but a small release came with it so he hit it again, and again. Each impact was harder than the last until his bones screamed in agony. Only then, did he stop followed by a scream that quickly turned into a sob. He didn’t know what to do next. Before, he accepted the end, was ready to walk off into the middle of nowhere and fade into nothing. Now, he was responsible for two. Even with Jace gone, he couldn’t give up and let Mateo suffer with him. Though, if he was being honest, the thought of making Mateo suffer like Jace had was appealing.

  Dax stared at Jace’s remains for a long while but eventually his eyes moved down the sidewalk, away from Jace. Another similar black stain covered the ground. Arthur and Devon’s burn mark was a grotesque shadow of protruding limbs. It was familiar but something was different from Jace’s outline. Dax furrowed his eyebrows and scanned the patch of concrete where Mateo and him had fallen. Only one ashen silhouette existed, a clear form of Mateo, his arms sprawled sideways and legs parallel to the sidewalk. He inhaled a shaky breath and tried to smother the flicker of hope that began to bubble in his chest.

  “You alright Dax? What’s going on, what do you see?” Dax was unable to respond, his gaze rested on Jace’s outline one more time. He walked forward, slowly searching. Dax was nearly upon the image when the flicker turned into a flame.

  “There’s only one body here.” The figure’s profile was relaxed, docile. The arms were crossed behind his head and the legs appeared crossed. It was cocky and infuriating, a sun tanning session at the end of the world. Definitely Elijah, but no Jace. Mateo was silent for a beat, analyzing and piecing together Dax’s realization.

  “Ok? Where are you going with this? We saw Jace get swallowed up, man. What are the chances he made it out?”

  “We did.” Dax rebutted, pointing towards the other members of The Wannabes, “Look at Devon and Arthur, look at what's left.” Mateo let out a long sigh.

  “Yeah I see them bro. If this is a guilt trip, it's working.” It wasn’t the point but Dax could admit that he was glad Mateo was feeling some reaction to the shit storm the Wannabes called upon them. They wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for Mateo. Dax shook the thought from his head and continued.

  “Elijah was nearly atop Jace or close enough to be a blended outline like Devon and Arthur. There is only one figure, Mateo, not two.” Dax continued to stroll between each set of shadows, studying the differences. He was right. Only one distinct outline existed in Jace’s stead, only one body. “If I-if we survived, maybe Jace did too!” Before Mateo could comment, Dax was running in the direction of the shelter, a blur of buildings whizzing past while he ran. All sound and sight was blocked by the one thought that Jace was somehow still alive. “Jace is alive Mateo! He has to be!” Dax shouted, the shelter's main door coming into view.

  “Cabron!” Dax slowed down the high frequency of Mateo’s outburst crashing around in his head.

  “What! Mateo, I need to check to see if Jace is hiding, just come on and shut up!” Dax yelled, his feet gliding across the overgrown asphalt street that led to the shelter. The emptiness that paralyzed him was forgotten. Jace was out there, he knew it. He had to be.

  “Dax, the shelter’s door is wide open!” He stopped in his tracks and looked at the bunker’s entrance. “Something ain’t right Dax, the doors should be locked for the next couple of years. If Jace is alive, we have to tread carefully.” Mateo warned. He had a point. The bunker was an older run down model but it still had basic shelter security protocols. The shelter doors were supposed to be locked when the sirens went off and could not be opened for a set amount of time. Instead, it was wide open and flashing red lights from alarms illuminated the dark entryway. Dax cautiously hid behind a tree and gazed at the entrance.

  He looked back at the city towards where the bomb had originally detonated. The city landscape had been altered. Skyscrapers leaned against one another, some completely destroyed. Others looked unscathed. “The bomb’s impact radius was smaller than they initially thought, towers are still standing. If it was stronger, the door would be off its hinges.” Dax said aloud, his eyes fixated on the door. “Mateo, I’m going to get closer, the residents may be ok and Jace could be hurt.” His feet slowly moved towards the door, brown grass crunching beneath his feet.

  “Don’t just charge in!” Mateo whispered harshly, “Have you ever seen any apocalypse movies? Mexicans don’t survive bro, you are now half Mexican. I don’t think I need to do the math.” He shook his head and pulled out the pistol from his pocket.

  “Did they have this in the apocalypse movies?” Dax whispered back, waving the gun around.

  “That's a stupid ass question. Hell yes, they did. Man even on this side of New York they would have guns because of all you white washed psychos. Now put that shit away before you shoot your eye out.” Dax rolled his eyes and crouched towards the shelter. Though the shelter was a sign of doom and destruction, it was quite a beautiful structure. As he approached, he could see the two concrete slabs running diagonal from one another with the occasional chalk drawing and graffiti tag marking the entryway. He approached slowly, touched the familiar large bronze six-prong wheel, his hand gliding over one of the handles that was a light green hue. His fingers danced across the smooth cold surface and froze.

  “What’s wrong Dax? What do you see?” A cold sweat slicked his back and he moved his face closer to the handle.

  “You know how each bunker has its own traditions or rituals? Like a prayer for leaving the bunker and returning safely? Dax asked, observing the prong.

  “Not really, Arthur, Devon and I never even entered the bunks. We were stationed at bunk #1.” Mateo let out a humorless laugh, “Thing was basically a straw house. No way anyone would have survived a blast in that shithole.” Dax nodded in understanding.

  “All #2 residents touched this prong before leaving.” Dax explained rubbing his hand down the handle where fresh grooves outlined the usually smooth cylinder. “I have felt this a million different times and there were never indents. These are new.”

  “Do you think they are from the blast?” Dax shook his head and lined his fingers along the grooves. A perfect fit. At that moment, Dax was not certain if the fear that pulsed through his body was Mateo's or his own. His swallow was audible and Mateo swore silently. Dax’s eyes shifted to the hinges of the vault door. They were nearly ripped out of the concrete slab, 2 screws hanging loosely to the wall.

  “Ayy bro maybe we should get moving and find Jace ASAP.” Dax nodded.

  “Yeah, good idea” he said, lifting the gun a little higher.. He walked further into the bunker, ignoring the primal instinct telling him to flee and get as far the hell away from the pit as possible.

  Dax’s feet hit cold hard concrete that softened the sound of his footsteps. Inside, concrete lined every inch of the space. The bunker was one of the smallest and poorest in New York, while most bunkers could house 500,000 people, bunker #2 was crammed with nearly 2,000 families in a two story setting that spanned half a mile horizontally. It was shallow compared to most and the occasional low flying emergency helicopter could be heard within the deepest part of the bunker. The residence was a false sense of security and is why so many people disregarded its comfort and explored the outside. Regardless, everyone had shared backgrounds and a sense of community in #2. Everyone knew what it was like to be discarded. Dax walked down the stairs that lead from the main entrance, his light steps devastatingly loud on the wrought iron staircase.

  “Why are you so damn heavy on your feet? The whole bunker can hear us!” Mateo whispered in frustration. Fear lingered in Dax.

  “Don’t worry, most of the residents probably weren’t even in this place when the bombs dropped.” Dax said walking down the stairs “and if I’m heavy on my feet it's because I have some extra weight.”. He could practically see Mateo’s eyes roll at the joke. Dax got to the bottom of the stairs where there were two doors leading to adjacent hallways and rooms. Small rectangular doorways were carved into the concrete walls and small rooms were stacked on top of one another. He took a left and passed room after room, glancing in each one for his brother.

  Each room was uniquely decorated and had their own story, their own life. The room’s did not have much space and limited the amount of items that adorned the cell-like structures. They were small with bunk beds, a sink and latrine. All of them had the same design excluding the personal touches from each resident. One room was filled with children's sketches of residents, the portraits crudely taped to a wall with painters tape. Another was filled with plants from floor to ceiling, a cascading blend of greenery that lit up the room.

  Dax and Jace had seen the inhabitants but never took it upon themselves to get to know who they were. It was always the brothers against the world, no time for anyone else. Now, as he walked through the collage of homes, he wished he had taken the time to get to know them more, to honor their memory. Dax shook off the thought and hurried towards the end of the hallway where their room had been, the farthest from the entrance tucked into a corner at the end of the row.

  Their room was always of interest to many wandering bunker residents. Thanks to Jace, their room was turned into a National Geographic editor’s room. Photos and magazine clippings of national parks were taped everywhere. The bunk bed where the two slept, had every inch of the wall covered with the yellow bordered pages of the magazine. Jace was obsessed but frankly, the photos were much easier to look at than the Fisk articles that once existed.

  “Your brother was obsessed.” Mateo said with a hint of fascination and admiration. It was Mateo’s first time in the bunker, their friendship had faded long before the relocation. Dax scanned the room, no sign of Jace or fragment of him visiting.

  “It was his dream.” Dax sighed, “Let's hope it can still be a reality.” He walked towards the desk that was in the corner of the room and started opening up drawers. “Jace may have been here Mateo, be my second pair of eyes and let me know if you see anything out of the ordinary” Dax knelt down underneath the bed and grabbed a small leather messenger bag. Mateo chuckled.

  “That’ll be easy enough.” Dax opened the second drawer of the desk and sifted through the magazines and pictures that laid astray in the desk. Jace was always the messy one and it was apparent with his drawer. Moving aside a cut up magazine a white pill bottle rattled to the front of the drawer. Geodon, Jace’s antipsychotic medication.

  “If only we had this before.” Dax whispered aloud, clenching the bottle. “Where the hell are you, Jace?”

  “Hey, we haven't found that big bastard’s body yet. Don’t give up.” Mateo encouraged. Dax pressed his thumbs into his eyes and shook off a creeping feel of unease.

  “Yeah, sorry Mateo, Let's keep looking”. Dax placed the bottle in his bag and continued to sift through the drawers grabbing an assortment of items. “Fortunately for us, Jace spent his paychecks buying some basic camping items for the Yellowstone trip” Dax explained, running his finger over a collapsed Swiss army knife that he pocketed. “Some items he bought were more of a waste than practical” he said with a chuckle, finding the koozie cooler Jace had bought. It was a drink koozie that had a flashlight and could keep a drink cold for hours. He was adamant that the item was a must have for the trip, even if it was $65. Dax made Jace march back to the camping store and return it that very same day. He must have schmoozed the clerk because not only did he get the money back but the koozie came with him.

  After searching the room and finding sunflower seeds, the knife, a water bottle, rope, and a blanket from his bed, he carefully tucked them all into a running pack that wrapped around his chest. Satisfied with the supplies, Dax headed towards the bunker door. “Grab some clothes, you grease ball, you stink.” Mateo commented. Dax paused and looked up and down his body. His pants, a pair of cheap gray sweatpants, had a large tear near his knee. The sweatshirt he had wrapped around his face was now enveloped in crimson dust along with every other item of clothing. Dax went to his drawer and picked out a plain white t-shirt, Calvin Klein navy jeans, and a new jacket he had picked up with Jace for the camping trip. It was a breathable black rain jacket with a wasp pasted to the jacket and the words “Aww Jackets” pasted below. He had found it at a Salvation Army with its original tags and though it was cheesy, it sparked some childish joy that made him chuckle. Satisfied with his choice, he threw his clothes on the bed.

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  “Man no wonder you never were good with the ladies, who taught you how to dress? A frat boy?” Dax smiled, taking off his makeshift mask.

  “Hey we can’t all be fashionistas like you Mateo.” He started with a smile thinking about the boys' always flawless gelled hair and perfectly matched outfits. Dax never really cared about outer appearances and wore what was comfortable but Mateo dressed like he had a runway that afternoon. Dax looked down at his bare torso. He was covered in scratches and bruises from the explosion. His body was a canvas of purple with Jackson Pollock inspired red blood tracking. Considering he was hit by an explosion’s aftershock, he appeared to be in pretty great shape. He put on his new shirt and swiped deodorant for good measure. Dax started to take off his sweatpants and stopped.

  “Hey Mateo, could you like, close your eyes for a bit?” Mateo barked out a laugh.

  “What eyes puta? Don’t worry I won’t be looking at your baby carrot.” Mateo’s laughter burst around his head. Dax’s face flushed and he quickly changed out of his soiled clothes. He stood up and looked around the room for anything else he missed.

  “Did you see any sign or note Jace left behind?” He already knew the answer but was clinging to any hint he had been here.

  Mateo hesitated, “I didn’t see anything, sorry Dax. Maybe he did get out, I mean we did.” Dax sighed and sat on the bed holding his head an overwhelming amount of dread that turned his stomach leaden.

  “What if he’s gone, Mateo?” Dax took a deep breath, his eyes stinging. “I don’t know if I can do this without him.” Twins had an inseparable bond, Dax and Jace were not the exception. Jace always joked that they were soulmates but he was not too far off. Without the other, they would be an empty shell. A fragment of their former self. Dax could feel the void in his chest expand, the grip he had on the sliver of hope loosening.

  “Man get the hell up!” Mateo yelled, his voice jarring and abrupt. “There’s two of us now you can’t just give up, at least not for my damn sake. Jace isn’t here but New York is a metropolis, let's go look around fool.” Mateo sighed. “If this room is anything, it should be a hint. He is probably hugging a tree somewhere crying for his older brother.” Dax smiled at the thought.

  “Thanks Mateo. You’re right, let's get out of here.” Dax said walking towards the doorway back to the hallway. “Oh yeah, before I forget.” Dax quickly turned on his heels and walked towards the Yellowstone wall on the bottom bunk that was littered with photos of geysers and varying shades of green forest canopies. “I can’t forget that map.” He murmured, running his eyes up and down the wall looking for the black bordered map with the logo of the National Park Service in the top left corner. The bold white font read, “Yellowstone National Park” on the cover. Out of all the random pictures and flyers Jace had collected, Dax had never seen him get more excited than when he saw this map in his high school teacher’s science room.

  “Wait Mr. Schanck, you’re telling me you were able to go to Yellowstone this summer? Tell me all about it!” Jace was 16 at the time, and still working through his diagnosis. He was soft spoken and the only teacher he talked to was Mr. Schanck. Plus, Schanck shared their passion for the natural world, especially the national parks. He was a kind man with glasses and a beard that replaced the lack of hair he had on his head. Mr. Schanck was always cracking jokes and making class enjoyable for everyone, and with a name that is pronounced skank, he did quite well curbing frequent class hecklers.

  “My name is Mr. Schanck, yes you heard that correctly.” He would smile at the light laughter that came from first time students and go with the joke. “My first name is Ben, and no my middle name is not Dover.” It was Ben’s opening for every new class he met. They said it took ten seconds to capture an audience’s attention. Mr. Schanck did it in five.

  That day at lunch, Mr. Schanck smiled and walked over to some markers on a neighboring desk. “Geysers were brighter than these markers.” he said earnestly, holding out a blue, red, and orange marker. Jace threw his hands through his hair and sat down in, his mouth ajar Dax was sitting in the front row eating an orange, a wide grin plastered to his face.

  “I’ve been trying to shut him up for years, that's quite a skill Mr. Schanck.” Dax commented, popping another orange slice in his mouth. Mr. Schanck let out a bellowing laugh. His laugh was jolly and warm. It was unique like Dax’s but lacked any audible anomalies.

  “Well with how often you two come and eat lunch with me, I better learn a trick or two.” he said, winking at the boy. “That reminds me, I got something for you Jace.” Mr. Schanck said quietly rummaging through his beaten up duffle bag. An eager Jace peered over his desk trying to locate the surprise. Mr. Schanck pulled out the black rectangular pamphlet that had Yellowstone in bold white letters. The background was of Old Faithful, a geyser that shot up 106-184 feet into the air twenty times a day.

  “Now I know it isn’t much, but it was free from the gate and the officer was kind enough to give me a second one.” Mr. Schanck smiled, “I also lied and told him I had a son who was a fanatic when it came to parks so that helped incentivize him a bit.” Jace remained quiet, Dax studied his back which began to shake. Dax stood up and walked towards Jace, the boy's tears silently falling to the floor.

  “You ok Ja-” before Dax could finish, Jace had wrapped up Mr. Schanck in a bear hug, tears streaming down his face. Mr. Schanck let out another famously loud chuckle.

  “I’m guessing you like it then, huh?” he said smiling. Jace separated himself from the teacher, wiping his eyes quickly to try to erase the red blotches that covered his face. He smiled at Mr. Schanck. “I love it Ben, thank you.”

  Dax smiled in the background. Jace didn’t love just the map, the fact that he subtly acknowledged him as his son was what really had Jace crying. Jace had looked up to Ben, seen him as a father figure more than an educator. He had done a lot for Jace. Packed extra lunches, let him eat in his classroom instead of the lunchroom and now this. Very few people lived as selflessly as Schanck.

  Ever since, Jace kept the national park memorabilia tucked away, treated with the utmost care. It didn’t matter that it was a free pamphlet, the gesture was enough to give it value. There was no way Dax was willing to leave that behind, it was the only thing in Jace’s life that had any meaning. Searching the wall, Dax's eyes landed on a bare space. Dax hummed.

  “What’s up man?”

  “I was looking for a map Schanck gave Jace but it's gone. You didn’t see a Yellowstone map on the desk did you?” Dax asked, touching the blank spot on the wall, the silver sliver of hope turning into a rope.

  “Out of all the junk in your desk? Yeah, let me just comb through my memory of all the shit I saw.” Dax lowered to the floor and looked under the bunk. No pamphlet. The map was treasured by Jace, he wouldn’t have left it behind. He stared at the blank space on the wall one more time and laughed.

  “Jace is alive!” Dax exclaimed in celebration. He looked around the room once more for good measure but the map was gone.

  “You think he is alive because a piece of paper is missing in this shithole?” Mateo asked, clearly skeptical. Dax only nodded in earnest. Mateo continued, “If he is awake and alive, why didn’t he wake you up when you were on the ground?” Mateo questioned, “That isn’t Jace’s way and where would he have even gone?” Dax looked at the magazine clippings, his eyes falling on the multicolored caldera that first captured Jace’s heart.

  “Yellowstone, he would head to Yellowstone.” Before he could think about it more, Dax walked out of the room. Mateo groaned.

  “Not this national park crap again, that’s what got us here in the fir-.” Mateo was cut off, Dax stopped dead in his tracks. At the end of the hallway below one of the emergency alarm lights was an elderly woman who wore a loose fit nightgown and was staring at Dax. Goosebumps lifted the hair on the back of his neck, the earlier primal instincts clicked back into place, begging him to run. “Creepy ass white lady alert!” Mateo whispered harshly. Dax shook off his comment and started walking towards the woman, pushing away his reaction to run.

  “Ar-are you alright? Are you hurt?” Dax stammered. He slowly approached the woman. She remained silent, her head slightly falling to the right, her feet twisted inwards. Despite the eeriness of the situation, Dax continued his approach.

  “Dude, remember what I said? Mexicans do not survive the apocalypse, ever” Dax shook him off again. “Red flag Dax, she looks like the girl from The Shining all grown up.”

  “Mateo shut up, she’s like 5 '2 and 80 years old, she can’t do anything to us.” Dax whispered, afraid that if she heard him talking to himself, she’d be more scared than he was. “Mam, are you ok?” Dax called out again. The woman was now only a couple feet away and he could start making out more details of her appearance. Wispy white hair sat curled on top of her head. Her nightgown had remnants of the maroon dust from outside and her eyes were sunken in her head. Her eyes were fogged and she stared absentmindedly in their direction. “Mrs. Flannigan? Where’s Janet?” Dax questioned recognizing the lady who had lived in the room a couple doors down with her granddaughter Janet. Their room was the one littered with etchings from the little brown eyed girl. Mrs. Flannigan’s head twitched again and she started muttering.

  “Hell no, we need to bounce now.” Mateo said another chill quickly relayed down Dax's back. Once again, he ignored the boy's warning and got closer, reaching out to grab Mrs. Flannagans shoulder.

  “Are you hurt? Is Janet hurt?” Dax questioned, bending down to her eye level. They were almost completely black, the pupil completely dilated, she stared at the ground murmuring.

  “Janet...help” she muttered.

  “Yes, I can help where is Janet?” He looked into the room to the right expecting the little girl to be doodling on her sketch pad. “Is she hidden? Is she safe?” When his gaze turned back around, Dax was met with an intense stare, the eyes that were once dilated, were now a murky brown, tears running down her face.

  “Help my grandma please. She's scared and is crying a whole lot.” It was a quiet voice, desperation laced in her words. It was a plea that would come from a child, not an elderly woman. She continued to stare at Dax helplessly.

  “What do you mean? I don’t understand Mrs. Flannigan.” Dax looked at the older woman. “Who can I help? Who needs help?”

  “My grandma…grandma needs help please” the older woman said through choked sobs.

  “There’s more of us?” Mateo whispered in shocked disbelief. Dax did not dare to respond, he couldn’t. It felt as though cement had been poured directly into his gut. Dax got down on one knee holding Janet’s hands.

  “Don’t worry Janet, we’ll get you help, just come with us ok?” Dax said, looking at the girl who had stopped crying. She picked up her hands and wiped her eyes.

  “Thank-” her words were cut off. Panic lit up her expression. “The mean man is coming back! Please help-”, her eyes dilated once again and her head went limp. Her eyes were open but they looked beyond Dax, through him. Her gaze no longer focused and the murky brown eyes were now hazel.

  “Janet?” Dax questioned, shaking the girl lightly, “Talk to me Janet, what’s happening?” Dax shook her a little more urgently. Then the screaming started. Janet fell to the ground, her scream reverberating off the bunker’s dormant walls. She was clawing at her face, blood trickled down from her temple where her nails dug into flesh. Dax grabbed both of her hands and tried to separate them. “Janet, let go of your face.” He pleaded. His hands shook alongside Janet’s, fear of the unknown, of how to help her hitting home. Her screams blocked out his words “Janet! Come back to me!” Dax screamed louder in hopes of breaking through the siren’s scream that exploded out of the elderly woman’s frail body.

  “Dax shut her up man!”

  “Just shut the fuck up Mateo! Janet, listen to me you can beat this out! Distract yourself, try to keep the voices drained out!” Dax yelled. He shook her again, “Focus on my voice Janet, keep your mind distracted.” As if on cue, the girl’s screams suddenly stopped and her hands fell limp to her sides once again. Her iris flickered, a slideshow of colors quickly pulsing in and out. Brown, hazel, and blue flipped through her eyes before they settled on hazel once again. Dax let go of Janet and flashed her a small smile. “There you go Janet, you did a good jo-”. Dax was cut short, his throat locked in a vice grip by bony white hands littered with veins. He stumbled backwards and instinctively tried to pry the fingers away from him. She followed Dax and threw herself on top of the boy. Her hand slammed into Dax’s chest and head, while the other continued to grip his throat. Janet’s face started twitching and convulsing as a slew of random words spilled out of her.

  “Stop it!”

  “I am going to fucking kill him!”

  “Save me! Save Janet!”

  “Where’s grandma!”

  “Shut it you old bat or I’ll kill the girl!”

  Dax’s shaking became a convulsion. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, completely caught off guard by the sudden switch in demeanor and flurry of blows.

  “Get this old bitch off you! She’s trying to kill us!” Mateo yelled, snapping Dax out of his shocked state. He desperately grabbed both of her arms and tried to push away. It was no use, her grip was a vice squeezing the oxygen out of his body. Dax held on to her hands and put his feet under him. In one swift movement, Dax thrusted his left hip sideways, throwing Janet off balance She fell on her side, loosening her grip to brace from hitting the ground. Dax swung his arm with the force of a mace. It connected with her elbow and the grip relaxed. Desperately, Dax crawled over Janet, wrapping his elbow around her neck and tightened.

  “Don’t kill her man, she's 100 years old!”

  “Mateo be quiet for a damn minute! Janet, can you hear me? It's Dax! Come on fight it!” Dax begged while Janet pushed and squirmed on the ground a scream escaping her pursed lips. She flailed and her feet kicked out wildly, desperate to break the grip. Fortunately, this was not the first time Dax had to disarm someone not in control of their mind or body and the boy he normally had to do it to was much stronger. “Come on Janet pull through!” he yelled. Janet’s body started to relax, and each thrash became weaker and weaker until she stopped moving, her eyes fluttering closed. Dax removed his arm from her throat and collapsed.

  “You just killed an old lady.” Mateo stated matter-of-factly. Dax sighed, running an unsteady hand through his hair.

  “It's going to be a long couple of months isn’t it?” Dax complained. “She isn’t dead, just unconscious.” Mateo chuckled.

  “Don’t be mad because you almost got your butt kicked by a senior citizen.” Dax let out a shaky breath and stood on unstable feet, dusting off his jeans and readjusting the pistol that had jostled around during the skirmish.

  “In my defense this woman looks 100 but she is easily the strongest senior- '' Dax suddenly fell to the ground, his legs knocked out from beneath him. Before he could move, Janet was on top of him landing a barrage of punches on Dax's chest and face. He tried to shield his head but each hit weakened his defense and her blows felt stronger than a sledgehammer.

  “Attack back! No time to sit there!” Mateo screamed. Dax tried thrusting his hips right and left to offset her balance again but she quickly adjusted and the attacks continued. Her screams got louder with each attack and Dax was deafened by the onslaught. He attempted to throw a right jab that was avoided and met with a right fist to the cheekbone. The crack was felt through his entire body and Dax's vision blurred. He shook it off and put his hands back to his face. “Use the gun Dax! Shoot it to scare her off!” Mateo was right, but the thunder strikes of punches were too much and another hit to the head would knock him unconscious, she was strong and he was in a compromised position.

  “Lend me a hand Mateo! Think of something!” Dax yelled. When Jace had episodes, Dax was always quick enough to get behind him and calm him down. He was a bigger and slower opponent, Janet was quick and small. 100 pounds lighter and 8 inches shorter. An easier target to move. At that sudden realization, a plan sprung forth. Laying on his back, Dax slowed his panic and focused on the pattern of the punches. A left, a right, another left and both hands together. Janet when she would get tired from the screaming and barrage of punches would try to hit with both hands together. It was a small opening and pause that could allow him to make a counter.

  “Dax! Please tell me you have a plan, you know I can feel these punches too right?” Mateo was worried and he had every right to, his arms felt close to shattering. His right forearm was broken or nearly so from the attack but also from when he hit the alley in frustration. The dull pain from the blast was nothing compared to the sharp stab in his bones that intensified with each strike. Dax ignored the pain and waited for Janet to take a breath from screaming to launch both hands towards his face.

  A left and a right fell onto Dax’s forearms. Another left slammed down again. Janet’s screaming stopped for a breath. He dropped his hands and watched her swing both fists towards his face. Before they could make contact, he moved his head left and thrust his hip up propelling her forward with the momentum of the strike. Her hands braced on the concrete floor above him. Before she could right herself, Dax's legs flipped backwards, his heels crossing around her head. With all his strength, he slammed his legs down towards the ground. Janet’s head bounced off the concrete with a resounding crack. He didn’t wait to see if she was conscious, Dax pushed away and sprinted towards the exit.

  “Nice one bro! Let’s get the hell out of dodge!” Mateo screamed victoriously while Dax bounded up the stairs. In the background, Janet’s voice was a whimper that echoed off the concrete prison.

  “Help me! Please!” He kept running, trying to block out the heartache that pulsed through him.

  “You can’t save everyone, Dax.” He nodded silently and passed the bank door, taking one last look at the green handle, the broken symbol of hope.

  “Not here, this is hell on Earth.”