Self Destructing Messenger

#14 - Death of the Family

When they returned to the apartment, Azalea excused herself to Pyro's room to change clothes. She moved slowly, drew everything out as long as possible. Unfortunately it didn't take hours to tug on shorts and a t-shirt.

She stared across the room at Pyro's bed where she had tossed the boy's jacket, lower lip captured firmly in her teeth. The heap of fabric evoked so much. Did he look like her? A little but he didn't really have to she guessed. After all he would have a father too. A father. His name was Casey. Lord.

Dwelling on the unknown was only freaking her out more. She moved to the bedroom door and pushed it open just enough to wedge her torso in the space. From the narrow corridor she could see the TV in the living room airing the news. On the screen, aeriel footage showed the fairgrounds. A bright light, presumably from the helicopter, flooded the area they had occupied only minutes ago. A blue tarp was clearly visible. Instead of the thump of chopper blades, a female newscaster's voice narrated distinctly.

"-another very public idol attack in what appears to be an ever increasing threat as of late. It was only a few months ago when an idol rampaged in Broken Hill. Suspects from that incident are still wanted for questioning. While the woman from the blurry security footage has not yet been identified, the male, was confirmed to be Casey Cayce, a resident of the community. His family released this video. Do we have that? Yes?"

Azalea swallowed hard but the sick feeling stuck with her.

The live feed cut off and the station began broadcasting an older press conference. The scene was sunny, the world beyond the podium green and vibrant. At the microphone was an older woman. She was dressed neatly but style was clearly not her major life concern. Next to her was a similarly aged man, very blue collar with a steely gaze. Off to the side was a pretty girl. Her presence screamed cheerleader captain. A sister maybe? Azalea couldn't imagine Cayce dating someone so preppy but then again he was friends with her.

"My son is gone," the woman began. Her hands constantly twisted upon themselves as she spoke. "The police think he's involved in all this idol nonsense. They want me to beg for him to turn himself in." She paused and when she spoke again there was strength to the sound. "But he is still my son. So Casey, if you are listening, run. Run and never stop! You're smarter than these pigs! Don't look back and don't worry about any of us!"

Her, I like her, Azalea thought.

At the woman's side, the man shifted, clearly agitated by her outburst but also very aware the damage was done. The reporters on scene all began shouting questions then the feed returned to the newsroom.

Azalea smiled but the expression was gone as quickly as she formed it, dissolved with guilt. She didn't really think too much about Cayce's ties to Broken Hill or what he'd had to give up. He didn't talk about it and she didn't ask. It was a reality check seeing his mother on TV. It was more that she didn't feel like confronting. If she could only stall a few more seconds then she'd be ready. Sure.

The jacket.

She turned back into the room and walked to the edge of the bed to retrieve the jacket. It was well worn, a little dirty and faintly smelled of smoke. Apparently fashion hadn't really changed in, what, fifteen years or so? But no detergent in the future. Unfortunate.

There was a light knock on the door frame. "Hey uh do you think we could talk?" The preteen stood at the entrance to the room, waiting.

The inevitable had forced itself.

"I think we should," Azalea replied, casting her eyes in any direction but towards the kid.

He kicked at the floor as he walked over to her. "Do you think we could do it somewhere else?"