On the Brightside - 1. Chapter 1

The lights flickered in the dimly lit halls. The buzzing of moths and the scratching of vermin could faintly be heard all around. Then a pale white-haired youth stumbled down the dark tunnels falling to the floor. Behind him stood three others all of them just as pale as him, but all were bigger as well.

The biggest of the group, a great bull of a man, smirked as he kicked the submissive form. “That’s for getting the way, Rosh.”

The boy coughed and spit blood into the dirt, wiping his mouth with a slim hand. He looked up at the group that terrorized him, “Shu… shut up Skav.”

The big boy’s eyes flashed in anger and he began kicking at Rosh, again. Then grabbed the skinny boy by his shirt, dragging him to his feet and threw him against the stone wall. He punched him, “I am not a skav!” He yelled before throwing the skinny boy down to the ground again.

Another guy grabbed the bigger boy’s arm, “Garl… it’s enough! If the CP finds us…”

Garl growled shaking the other boy’s hand from his arm, then looked down at Rosh. “I guess you’re the skav here, dirt eater.” He put his foot down on Rosh’s white hair and pressed the boy’s head into the dirt before turning and stalking off.

Rosh lay there in pain his eyes closed for what felt like several minutes after the other boys retreated into the darkened halls. Then he pushed himself up and turned over leaning against the wall. He looked up at the moths buzzing against the flickering lights, his grey eyes not seeing them.

He held his slim hand between his face and the light, holding his fingers apart experimentally. Then in a quick, pained movement, he pushed away from the wall and lifted himself up. He stumbled down the corridor, breathing shallowly. He held his hand up to his ribs, wanting to peel off the jumpsuit, and examine himself, but he had to keep going.

He moved along the hall following the other group of boys until he came into a huge hewn cavern. Galleries of rock and metal grating hung over tunnels cut into the face of the cavern. In the center sat a long dried fountain. However, the fountain had come to other uses as a bonfire burned within its basin.

Next to the fountain sat a skinny stick of a woman, long gray hair flowing around her wrinkled face as she looked at the young children sitting around her in rapt attention.

Her voice carried a strength that denied the wrinkles on her face as she spoke. “Long ago, before the time of my grandmother’s grandmother, men were as gods upon this world, and they ruled with an iron fist. They built great pillar cities, rode in carts of metal, and flitted like bats in the air. Above all else, they lived on the Brightside, under the great disks of gold and silver. But in their hubris and in their power, they saw no one to challenge, none but themselves. And so our ancestors made war upon each other, Russar and Chinlar against Usar, Indar upon Pakiir, and Islar upon all. Indar and Pakiir killed each other in a duel to the death. Chinlar died by his own hand, unready for the war he set out to find. Then the brothers Usar and Russar tired of death and war turned upon Islar in his cruelty and malice and consumed him. But their strength burned the land and set fire to the skies and poisoned the waters, so that it was unclean to drink and unsafe to touch, and so neither the two giants were ready for when their servants rebelled. The ancient ones, they were creatures of elemental fury, Solar, the great flame, and Gaia, the stone queen. Solar beat upon them with his whips of flame, and Gaia quaked mightily. Together they killed the remaining lords in fire and in death, shamed us all and drove us beneath the ground. It is where we remain to this day, surrounded by the works of our ancestors.”

The woman narrowed her eyes unperceivably, “A cautionary tale perhaps…” She looked up to the back of the crowd and saw Rosh standing awkwardly. Her eyes noted the developing bruises and his posture, as she slowly pulled herself up with her cane. “On next Light-Breath we will speak of Kryle the Deep Digger. Now children this old lady needs her rest.” She nodded to Rosh, “Rosh, my boy, will you help an old woman.”

Rosh moved forward slowly, nursing his arm to his shoulder as he did, then bent down and smiled whispering to her, “You’re not old Grandmother Leshna.”

Leshna took hold of his nursing arm and squeezed it hard, “What have you been up to now, Rosh?”

Rosh grimaced and tried to pull away, “No… nothing.”

The woman frowned and pulled her hand away, “I wish you wouldn’t lie to me. No one gets those kind of bruises by doing nothing. Picking fights again?”

He took and rubbed his forearm with his other hand. “They were torturing a young one.”

Leshna frowned waving her hand dismissively. “Then get one of the Corridor Patrol to deal with it, it’s not your job to intervene. Do you think yourself a hero? Do you think that child will thank or even remember you in the dark?”

Rosh frowned, “I just…”

Leshna frowned, “You just got what you deserved, Rosh. Don’t lower yourself to their level. Garl and his squad of delinquents won’t become more than tunnelers. You, boy, have a mind, you could become anything.”

Rosh shrugged, “But…”

Leshna frowned, “You still wanting to go on the Brightside? There is nothing up there boy, just a burning wasteland. What is not here that cannot provide for you? Our food, the liquids we drink, even the clothes we wear have all been provided in these caverns.”

Rosh sighed, about to say more but thought better of it.

The old woman smiled, “I am sorry this place seems so crowded and small to you, Rosh. Maybe you can be part of the new hive when they finish it next year.” She reached up and patted his cheek, “and I am old, young man, I knew your grandfather when he was a boy, but thank you, and thank you for listening to an old lady telling stories.”

The boy sighed and let her go. “It is something I do gladly grandmother Leshna.”

She smiled, “Well off with you, I have to tend to tea.”

Rosh watched her move away, then turned and walked stiffly to his own quarters. Once there he hooked his hand on the hole and slid the door open along a stiff track. Entering his darkened two-room space, he lit a candle and walked over to his bed.

He unbuttoned the straps on his greenish-grey jumpsuit, opening up his chest, and slid it down away from his shoulders. He winced some at the pain looking at his bruised arm; then winced at seeing his bruised ribs. “Awe, skav droppings.” He touched his skin there, ran his fingers down his flat stomach running his fingers along a trail to his groin, moving his jumpsuit down he looked at the flat of his back to his sides. He traced his fingers along his pale skin to check for any other damage. He slid out of his suit and walked out of the room and into the next.

Rosh stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the water, shivering from the assault of cold that hit his body. He quickly scrubbed his body with a piece of Nytris soap, whimpering as the rough soap touched his bruises. The young man washed as quickly as possible, rinsing dirt from his white hair.

He returned from the shower and walked back into the main room and sat against his bed then shifted over until he was lying down, and pulled the blanket over himself stiffly.

He closed his eyes in exhaustion and next thing he knew, he was surrounded by dark grey. He looked around the room silently. The only light came from beyond the door hole, but it was more than enough for him to see around the room, his eyes traced around the room slowly wondering what woke him. Then he heard a tapping sound alerting his ears his eyes moved to the corner, seeing someone leaning against his bathing room door.

He frowned, sitting up the blanket drifted down to his midsection, “You’re not supposed to be here, Jazz.” Looking over at the short boy, he realized the dull-redhead had his jumpsuit half off, Rosh’s eyes were mesmerized by the curvature of his body for several seconds.

The white-headed boy turned away quickly, “Go away.”

Jazz’s face gave a hurt look, “You really want me to go?”

“Why would I want you to stay?”

“Look… I… I am sorry Garl hurt you.” He moved silently to Rosh’s bed, bending down to kneel in front of him “Please, Let me stay.”

Rosh turned his eyes away from the kneeling figure, “Not sorry enough to stick around when I needed you.” He could feel light touches against his stomach, he moved his hand down so he could take hold of Jazz’s wrist. “Stop that, I lied to grandmother for you, do you understand?” He shook his head miserably, and smiled tightly. “Fine, stay.”

Jazz’s face brightened and he pushed down his suit, climbing into the bed next to Rosh who wrapped the blanket around both of them.

Rosh growled and closed his eyes “I better not wake up to surprises though.”

Jazz slid himself around in the bed until he was nestled tightly against Rosh’s naked form, “Don’t worry, you won’t,” soon they both drifted to sleep.

Hours later, Rosh awoke with a slight pain on his chest, feeling something heavy on top of him, he looked down, seeing Jazz sprawled over the top of him.

Jazz’s eyes were closed, but his mouth was against the taller boy’s left nipple sucking on it as cooing sounds came from his lips.

Rosh shook his head in annoyance and sighed, thinking, “At least it wasn’t like the other surprise.” Rosh really didn’t like doing laundry down at the lake.

He laid his hand on the pale-orange hair, just as a long echoing tone woke Jazz from his slumber.

The other boy whimpered, mumbling, “I hate that thing.”

Rosh frowned, “I don’t care, get up.”

Jazz looked up his sleepy green eyes narrowing a little, “Fine.” He slid off of Rosh and the bed taking hold of one of the uniforms and slid himself into it.

Rosh smirked as he watched Jazz bend over. Then he stood up, and took hold of Jazz around the waist, hugged him and pulled him close, and gave the other boy a noogy, “Don’t be so grumpy when you wake up.”

With that he danced out of reach of Jazz’s offended hand and took hold of another jumpsuit and slipped it onto his lanky frame. “You ready to continue what we were doing last week?”

Jazz frowned, “Searching the high tunnels?”

Rosh nodded with a sly smile.

Jazz shrugged, “Sure, there’s some good game up there, big skavs. Although why you want to try to get into the Brightside, I don’t know.”

Rosh didn’t reply but just took hold of a lantern, his sling, and coiled rope; he slid the door open and walked out.

Jazz was quick to gather his stuff and follow Rosh out, closing the door behind him.

The two teens walked up onto a gallery and around the great central square to an ancient staircase. The tunnels were at first filled with people but then began to dwindle to the sounds of moths, until at last they came to a dark passageway where the only light was behind them. Their eyes adjusted to the pale light easily as Rosh knelt down.

The white headed teenager flicked his striker and lit up the lamp, shielding his eyes at first against its glow. He held it aloft and smiled, then looked around him and walked forward. The two didn’t take long to get to a dead end holding only an empty shaft, a cool breeze blowing down from it causing a rope to wiggle like a snake out of the darkness.

Rosh spoke with a smile, “We explored 2 levels up last time, didn’t we?”

Jazz nodded solemnly, “Yeah, I think there is only one more to go.” He began to climb, knowing he’d need a head start to keep ahead of Rosh’s longer limbs.

Jazz reached the second floor up, and slid over hopping onto floor, he took the coil of rope that was attached to an old steel strut and untied it, the light growing dimmer as Rosh passed him by. He coiled it around himself then moved back into the shaft just in time to see Rosh tip himself onto the third floor.

Jazz chose his footing carefully, slowly joining his friend on the third floor, and with a careful jump he was next his friend. He set the rope on the floor and tied the end to a strut tossing it back down into the black.

Rosh untied his lantern and began to move forward with Jazz close behind. Around them water dripped off of rusted metal rods and flakes-stone littered the floors in piles. Fungi grew out of cracks and corners, some giving off a dull green glow. The boys could hear the buzzing of dark-moths, and the skittering of larger creatures in the distance.

The two boys walked through the corridors, and came to a large room. Between the flickers caused by the thumb-sized dark-moths, the boys could see a herd of Rotund black and grey skinned creatures rooted around the room.

Jazz smirked, “Wild nitris,” He pulled his sling from his belt, and made ready to hit one.

Just then there was a screech followed by several others. Then a pack of furless grey animals with long spindly tails followed their wake as they jumped on the nearest nitris.

The nitris herd panicked, stampeding towards the shimmering light that the boy’s held.

Jazz dived to the side and pushed Rosh in the opposing direction.

Rosh toppled sideways and slid along the floor, tumbled down a fungus-slickened corridor into another room. He slid to a stop with his face pointing to the room he entered. He looked up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkened room. Lamp-fungus bloomed all over the walls and ceilings. There was a bulb in front of his face the size of a small child’s head. As he slowly looked upwards at its ovoid shape, he recognized it, to his horror, as a Burst Poppy.

Burst poppies were a cruel species of fungus growing into large spore pods that only took a little touching to burst into a thousand seeds that were death to breathe in. He looked around the room as he slowly moved his body away from the poppy when he realized the room was full of them.

Rosh lift himself up and slowly crawled backwards. Then, as he turned, his foot caught on a previously unseen bulb.

The bulb exploded sending dozens of tiny green seeds into the air; this was followed by dozens of other bulbs similarly exploding.

Rosh jumped up and ran back, but it was too late, the buzzing of wings filled the room as thousands of insects began attacking the seeds, premediating his coughing fits as he ran then slid back, and ran again to get back into the previous room. Every time he got near the next room he’d lose traction and slip back into the previous room, several times falling as he did so.

His vision was going dark, then there was a shimmer in the room beyond.

Rosh fell again and began to slide backwards away from the shimmering light. But then a hand reached out and took his, pulling him up. As darkness took him, he could barely hear a voice calling out to him...

…

He heard whispered voices; his muddled brain had some trouble identifying them at first.

An Elderly woman’s voice was sharp as she spoke, “What were you doing up there, Jazz?”

The voice he recognized as Jazz responded in annoyance, “Exploring…”

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and the first voice, which he quickly recognized as Leshna, spoke again. “Foolishness, there is nothing there.”

Jazz growled, “What do you know, hag?!”

Leshna sounded sad as she responded, “I know, I know.”

A third voice sighed, “Well that is the last of the leeches.”

Rosh heard the concern in Jazz’s voice as he spoke. “And… doctor? What’s the dig?”

There was a grunt, and displeasure in the voice of the doctor. “He’s not good; if you hadn’t found him when you did he’d already be dead… As it is… He’s dying.”

Jazz yelled, “No! He can’t die!”

Rosh opened his eyes as he was roughly splattered in the face with a sticky fluid.

The doctor held up a fat yellow segmented creature as he raised his voice, “This thing is yellow for a reason… His blood is tainted with the blasted spores.”

Leshna frowned and whispered, harshly, “Keep your voices down.” She looked down at Rosh’s face then gasped then nodded. She looked over to Rosh, “I assure you everyone dies, now leave us.”

Jazz glared and sat forcefully against Rosh’s stomach, “No.”

Leshna sighed, “As you wish, child.” Her last words spit out like a weapon, “We will take my leave, come Joziah.”

The doctor looked as if he desired to say something but closed his mouth as Leshna took his hand and led him out of the room.

Rosh looked up at Jazz and could see the anguish playing out on his face.

The white haired boy slid out from beneath the bedding, revealing his naked form. Angry red bite marks marred his chest where the leeches did their work.

Jazz began whimpering, his body shaking. Then suddenly his legs gave out from under him.

Rosh bent down and wrapped his arms around Jazz rocking him back and forth. “It’s ok, Jazz. It’s Ok.”

The crème-haired boy let out a scream and clutched at Rosh’s arm. “Don’t Die!”

The tears were hot on Rosh’s skin, as he continued rocking Jazz in an attempt to sooth him.

The boy let out several more screams before his voice died down into whimpers.

Rosh spoke gently, giving him a smile and a kiss on the back of his head, “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be the strong one? I’m the one dying here.”

Jazz sniffed, and let out a giggle, “Screw you.”

Rosh smiled, “You wish.”

Jazz hit him in the shoulder, “Hey!”

Rosh pushed Jaz away with a laugh, and the boys began to wrestle back and forth for several minutes. Jazz was shorter than Rosh but stronger, and it turned into tumbling around on the floor until Jaz was sitting on Rosh’s crotch holding the tall boy’s arm down. That was when the laughter died.

Jazz’s face turned serious and longing then he leaned down, planted a kiss on Rosh’s lips, and whispered shyly. “I love you.”

Rosh frowned and his pale-blue eyes turned away from Jazz.

Jazz’s face turned worried, “Well, say something?” He sighed, then stood up, and made for the door. “I... I’ll leave now.”

Rosh climbed off the floor grabbed Jazz’s arm, “D… Don’t go.” He let go of the boy, running his fingers along Jazz’s arm and cupped his cheek. “Don’t go.” He smiled to Jazz, and leaned in and kissed him tenderly, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy.

Jazz returned the kiss fiercely, his hands groping Rosh’s naked form.

Rosh’s hands moved and unzipped the jumpsuit, his fingers awkwardly touching Jazz’s skin. Sliding the jumpsuit from the boy’s shoulders, he bent down and kissed the other boy’s chest. His hands moved down as if of a will of their own, touching Jazz’s flesh, and wrapped around his bum.

Jazz gripped Rosh’s flesh fiercely in return, as he kissed the tall boy passionately.

Time seemed to slow down, but at the same time it wasn’t long enough. The next thing that Rosh knew the two of them were naked with Jazz lying on top of him. The pale red-head rested his head against Rosh’s chest, his eyes closed, both of the boys drenched in sweat. For a few moments before Rosh drifted off to sleep, he was truly happy.

Days and weeks passed, Jazz became inseparable from Rosh, never far from his side. And when they were alone, Jazz was insatiable for his touch. Even so, Rosh was becoming sicker; he developed a cough filled with blood. His chest hurt, and it was at times hard to breathe, he felt himself growing weaker. Each day that passed his eyes moved more towards the forgotten passages, and his yearning became direr. In his heart, he didn’t want Jazz or grandma Leshna to baby him, as they had begun to do so. Nor did he want to linger there. So he made a plan.

Early one morning he sat up in his bed gently pulling his form away from Jazz. As quietly as he could, he gathered his things and made for the abandoned tunnels. He lit a lantern and buckled it too his belt, and began to climb.

The climb seemed to take forever for him, and by the time he reached the second level he could barely pull himself up to it to rest. When he got onto it, he entered a coughing fit, and nearly blacked out. He lay on the edge of darkness breathing heavily for an hour and a half before he took up the rope again. He climbed again slowly upwards in the black, reaching the third floor. Once there he again rested before he made his way through the tunnels his lantern and the faint glow of fungi lighting his way to the great room where it all happened.

With his pale eyes, he could see the struggle again in the shadows flitting around the room, and how quickly he fell into the dark; even Jazz’s struggle to bring him back was marked over the fungal growths. He saw it then, another large doorway.

He slowly made his way through the room until he reached the upwards sloping passage. Metal stalactites flowed downwards toward him, the fungi seemed to dissipate as he made his way down the hall until he entered a wide room.

Beyond was darkness, deeper than black, but there was something strange, the world was turning gray before his eyes. An array of colors rippled across the sky, a hundred colors he didn’t even have words for. They were so beautiful it hurt.

A voice called from behind him, “Rosh! Finally!” Hands grasped around his waist, and Rosh knew it was Jazz.

Jazz gave out a gasping breath, “Oh gosh! So beautiful!” They stood there for an hour as they watched the day approach for the first time.

Though they could not yet see it the sun had risen and shone brightly. There was no roof beyond their world, and vibrant greenery thrust up among rust, dirt and rocks.

Rosh could not contain his excitement, and rushed into the dawn light.

“No wait!” Jazz tried to grasp at Rosh to slow him down.

Rosh stood in the light in wonder holding his hands out. Then he whimpered; his exposed skin turned red and blistered, and he let out a screaming that ended in a coughing fit.

Jazz attempted to reach out but his own hand blistered painfully as he pulled it back into the shadows.

Rosh collapsed to the ground coughing, his eyes unseeing as he reached out his hand.

Jazz grimaced in pain as he reached out to grasp that hand, their fingers barely touching.

Rosh tried to push himself closer to Jazz as darkness took him, blinded by the sunlight. He felt himself dying, his ears taking in Jazz’s sobs along with the sounds of insects buzzing, tears of his own formed from his eyes. His throat raw as he spoke, “Go back, I love you.”

A serene smile formed on his face, as the pain was dulled by memories crowding his mind, images of Jazz, and as his mind faded he remembered Jazz lying against him. He was happy one last time, on the bright side.