The God Complex: The Book Of Alan, Destroyer Of Worlds

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The stench of stale beer and sweat impregnated everything as Gabe pushed through the heaving crowd towards the band - he knew this venue; the smell, the heat, but it was bigger, a lot bigger than he remembered. He blinked through the Strobe lighting, desperately trying to see beyond the wall of black t-shirts and wet hair. A disarming sensation of being out of his depth crept over him like a rising tide, every which way he looked he was surrounded by a faceless stranger a foot taller and a couple stone heavier than him - he felt like a kid, lost and alone. He pushed and strained against the natural flow of the crowd, he could hear the band at the far end of the venue and could see glimpses of the stage, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't get any further.

Then someone caught his eye, someone familiar - it was only for a fraction of a second, nothing more but every fibre of his being told him that's who he was looking for. He pushed his head down between the crowd and squeezed through, following the disappearing figure. As he neared, he caught glimpses of the back of a battered leather jacket. He knew that jacket, it was his jacket, it was Nate's jacket. Gabe became frantic, pushing harder through the crowd, only to hit an even denser pocket of bodies, until he burst through and hit the bar.

Only then did he realise where he was - what night this was. Gabe rested his head against the bar, fighting against the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.

'Hey man, what'll it be?'

Gabe looked up to see the unmistakable figure of Levi, the lead singer of The Voice of Reason staring back at him, illuminated in full seedy, music-video lighting with an accompanying smoke machine.

'Shouldn't you be on stage?'

Levi picked up a glass, wiped it clean with a cloth and poured himself a drink, as the noise of the bar grew louder. 'It's your dream, kid - you tell me.'

Then he stopped abruptly, as if digitally paused, before leaning forward with the sort of smile that comes before violence and beckoned Gabe closer. As he leaned in, Levi cupped his hand by Gabe's ear and whispered: 'you shouldn't be here. Not today, Kid - at least not this today, ' then he knocked his drink back in one go and winked knowingly.

Gabe felt the overwhelming urge to run but the bar was too crowded. He stepped back and put all his weight into pushing his way out, but there were just too many people behind him, so he twisted and pushed until he found a gap and squeezed - squeezed until the crowd split and he rushed head first into a group of skinheads, spilling their beer and plunging the bar into a deathly silence as the sound of glass smashed against the cold stone floor.

Gabe, staring up at their cold expressions, immediately apologised. Every single pair of eyes were now on him, every bitter accusation towered over him as they gradually moved closer in silent menace; gathering until there was no more room, no more light, no more air to breathe and still they gathered - squeezing the air out of his lungs.

The mounting pressure squeezed a broken cry from his mouth as the last remaining light disappeared into an ocean of darkness.

The last thing he heard were his ribs crack as the blood rushed to his face.

Gasping, he awoke bolt upright. His top drenched with sweat. Holding tightly to his knees in the dim neon light of his bunk, he filled his lungs with cold air until, gradually, his breathing returned to normal. This had to stop.

Shivering in cold sweat, he threw off his blanket and staggered to the shower cubicle, he rested his head against the tiles, allowing the warm water to cleanse him. Praying for any rest bite from the dumpster fire of his own mind.

He joined Jaibles and Monkey some time later in the bridge, with a large bourbon and a strong coffee. Neither of them looked like they had seen much sleep either.