Cynic's Odyssey

Half an hour passed and throughout the drive, Mathew's mother wore a panicked expression, constantly glancing at her mirrors. One would think that she had committed a heinous crime if they saw her in such a state. Well, from what he had seen and heard in the house, she had. Probably.

But that wasn't the reason for her caution. It would take days for the authorities to find the body in her room. So what could warrant such worry?

Looking for an answer to that very question, Mathew glanced towards her and asked in a demanding tone.

"Mom, I'm not settling for silence this time. What's going on? And where are we going?"

A quiet moment in the car passed and Mathew's gaze was locked on his mother waiting for her reply.

Then another. Then another. Then another. Mathew was loosing patience.

'Why won't she just answer me? What the hell is she hiding?'

A reluctant sigh escaped her lips. Finally, after nearly an hour of silence, she was ready to speak. But the question she answered wasn't the one he wanted to hear the most, but it was an answer nonetheless.

"We're going far away, son."

Mathew frowned, dissatisfied with her answer he then asked.

"Where exactly is 'far away'?"

With a reluctant tone, his mother responded.

"As far as we can!"

At this point, things were getting ridiculous. What the hell did she mean by as far away as we can?

She is a frail woman who barely scrapes by to put food on the table, and now in the space of an hour she has committed murder and is fleeing with nothing but the clothes on her back and a few extras stuffed in a small bag.? It might sound repetitive that Mathew keeps asking this question, but it is the only thing he can feasibly ask in this ridiculous situation.

"Mom, what's going on?"

He asked the question, but yet again was faced with silence as a response.

Mathew's brows furrowed in frustration, and with a groan, he folded his arms and sighed. Then leaned back in the seat and said.

"Okay fine. Be that way. Not like I care."

He tilted his head to the side, resting it against the car's door. Crossing his hands and glaring out the window as his thoughts raged.

'Why did I even expect an answer? Not like she has ever answered any of my questions before.'

His frustrations only grew as they traveled further in silence.

But despite his irritation, fatigue began weighing on him. The rhythm of the car bouncing on the road and the hum of its engine eventually lulled him. Though a scowl lingered faintly across his face, before long his thoughts had dulled.

His eyelids grew increasingly heavier and the tension in his body eased. His eyes shut close and the cynic found himself slipping into a restless slumber.

***

A time later, it was the same engine hum that had lulled him to sleep that stirred him awake. His eyes fluttered open. He turned his head to the small, digital clock on the dashboard, an hour quickly flashed by, and the time read three twenty-two.

In the corner of his vision he saw something, focusing on it he saw that it was a timer. And the timer was counting down to something. Was he going crazy?

No. Not possible he dismissed the thought as another figment of his imagination resulting from a lack of sleep. Usually, by this time, the cynical young man would be comfortably lying on his small, creaky bed in his cramped mess of a room but due to this unforeseen circumstance, he found himself going on what he thought of as an impromptu road trip.

At least that way at least he could make some semblance of sense of the situation.

The roads were relatively empty as normal people didn't travel on the highway at this time of day and would be lying cozily asleep. But even at that, something was off, the roads weren't supposed to be this empty.

The street lights were all fully erect and functioning. He didn't know anywhere in the city sector that had such good lighting.

Looking out the window at an upcoming sign, he was utterly shocked by its contents. It read District fifty, Route One. A glaring reminder of where they as well as all those who lived behind that point stood in society.

As nothing but its dregs.

But it wasn't always like this. There used to be less of a divide between the people of this world, but all that changed about two hundred years ago. After the great cataclysm. During this horrific period in history, most of humanity's lands were lost to powerful monsters known as the Voidborn.

Due to the emergence of super-powered humans known as Heralds chosen by a messenger of the gods called the codex they were able to protect a portion of what was left. On those lands, massive cities were built. In each city, there were sectors, numbered from zero, at the center of to the other fifty-nine which surrounded it.

The affluent and influential reside in the lower-numbered districts districts while the poor while those struggling to make ends meet live in the higher numbered districts. As members of the latter, Mathew and his mother lived in those higher districts. And right now we're on the fastest path to the higher districts.

To confirm his suspicions, he looked to his mother and asked.

"Wait a minute. Is ths headed to where I think we're headed?" his tone was laced with a hint of worry. The words felt heavy on his tongue, and he hesitated. Unfortunately for the young cynic that moment of hesitation wold cost him. Before he could finish his question the sharp glare of headlights flooded the car and shone across his face, reflected off the car's side mirrors.

"What the hell!"

He flinched, reflexively throwing up a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh light. Squinting towards the rearview mirror, he spat.

"Are they crazy? That's too damn bright!"

But soon his eyes adjusted to the light and the silhouette of the car became clearer with each second that ticked by. And as they did, his spark of irritation quickly faded and gave way to unease.

The car seemed to be getting closer--and fast.

"I know you want to keep up this tough, mysterious mom act up right now. But could you at least spare me a second to explain who those lunatics are? Or is this just how you make friends now by any chance?"

She furrowed her brow then looked into the rearview mirror and asked in a defensive tone.

"Who do you think you're talking..." she froze mid-sentence upon locking eyes with the onrushing car. Mathew could feel it. The tension that instantly settled on his mother's shoulders, and the way she looked back at the road.

Whatever it was they were fleeing from had finally caught up to them.

Mathew looked back once more to see that the single car had now multiplied. Two, then three, soon a line of six cars raced behind them and were gaining ground fast.

"Buckle your seatbelt Mat, and hold on tight."

Mathew barely had time to snap the belt into place before she floored the accelerator. The car surged forward as its engine roared. The sheer force of speed snapped his head onto to the seat.

Racing down the empty road, with the pursuers slowly gaining on them, the young cynics heart practically jumped out of his chest.

"Mom who the hell's following us?"

"Don't look back, Mathew... Just keep your head down."

Her knuckles whitened as her grip on the steering wheel tightened. As the car accelerated, getting faster with each passing second, Mathew's worries only intensified. If they didn't get into a accident, only the gods knew what those people chasing them would do.

Mathew's gaze flickered between the speedometer as continued to steadily climb higher, to the rearview mirror reflecting the increasingly blinding lights of their pursuers, then to his mother's pale face.

Just as the tension reached a breaking point, they suddenly came upon a roadblock that read, 'Fissure ahead.' Mathew gestured towards the barricade and asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Just checking if we're on the same page here Mom. You see that right?"

But she didn't reply, hesitate, or slow down. heading straight for the barricade at full speed. Mathew's heart leaped into his throat.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!"

Waiting until the last possible moment, before she yanked the steering wheel, forcing them to veer sharply. The car's tires screeched as they careened onto the exit ramp with Mathew slamming into the door, his seat belt the only thing straining to keep him in place.

Settling back in his seat, the sound of metal clumping and glass shattering erupted behind them. Mathew didn't need to look back because anyone could tell what had happened based on those sounds.

The young cynic's eyes widened slightly, before narrowing again as he processed what had just transpired. Mathew's mind raced his mother continued down the ramp, sliding onto the narrow, occupied streets below. Weaving through oncoming traffic and going in excess of a hundred miles an hour.

Finally getting a grip on his emotions, he clenched the arm rest and took a deep breath. He glanced into the car's side mirror and furrowed his brows. Five were still in pursuit, but suddenly two broke off for reasons he couldn't be bothered to care for. As long as they were gone he was fine.

Not that it mattered though. Three of them were still on their tails, practically breathing down their necks, which was already more than enough of a problem.

'Great! Now we're only being chased by three maniacs. Real improvement.'

Things were getting dangerous. If they continued this, it didn't matter that they were in the fifty-ninth district. Even those lazy enforcers would show themselves.

Just then, he caught sight of a man crawling out the sunroof of the lead car in his side mirror. Kaleb watched in disbelief as the man raised his hand, and in it, a spear of jagged ice formed.

"Oh no!" he thought.

And oh no indeed. Their pursuers weren't just lunatics who had probably chased them down all the way from their home but were also heralds.

Why did it have to be heralds.