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8: Revival 10:35 PM, Thursday Flea leaned over his legs, straining with every shallow breath he took. Knelt by his bandmate’s side, Chad watched the colour drain from Flea’s face. Myra put an arm around the fallen. Gazing into Chad’s eyes, she asked, "Is he allergic to anything?" Chad shook his head, his sights trained on his friend. Flea’s eyes rolled back into his head, and his eyelids closed. Across the room, John screamed. Chad glanced from one friend to the other, thoughts spiraling through his head. Flea panted beside him. John continued to scream. Myra looked upon him with such desperation. Fear wracked through Chad’s body, John’s cries through the drummer’s mind. Swallowing hard, he reached for Flea’s hand. He took it into his own and gave it a squeeze. Flea’s fingers pressed into the side of Chad’s pinkie finger. Flea gasped, taking in a full breath of oxygen. The muscles in his face relaxed as he sat back and opened his eyes. John fell silent. Chad looked at John, still swaying forward and back, hands covering his face. Then he looked to Flea. The bass player furrowed his eyebrows, holding his hands to his temples. Rosy hues seeped back into his cheeks. "What the hell just happened?" Chad questioned. He passed a water bottle to his friend, who accepted it. Flea just shook his head. CLICK! WHOOSH! Myra, Chad, and Flea turned to the steps as Lloyd descended them. Gun in hand. "Okay, we’re going!" he growled. "Myra, go find something to do!" "Anthony’s out of the trunk," Flea murmured. His eyes lit up, and he said, "You just got him out of the trunk, and you resuscitated him." Lloyd scowled. "Now how the hell did you... look, I don’t care! Just get moving!" Flea and Chad got to their feet and looked at John. "Hey!" Lloyd yelled at the Chili Pepper. "Get off your lazy f***ing ass!" John’s shudder was his only response. Lloyd marched over to him, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him to his feet. "NOW, you little sh**!" Lloyd waved Flea and Chad ahead of him, then proceeded to drag John up the steps. Pitch and chirping crickets greeted the Chili Peppers at the top of the staircase. Just beyond the door stood Josh, gun in hand. He led the group to a dark blue SUV and opened the passenger’s side rear door. "Get in!" he hollered. Out of the corner of his eye, Chad caught a streak of forest green. He turned and watched as Myra ran toward them, to Josh’s side. Wrapping her hands around his arm, Myra cried, "Please let them go!" "Myra, baby," Josh spoke quietly to her. "You stay out of this, okay?" Her eyes squinted and welled up. Gazing at Josh, she said, "But honey..." "You don’t understand, sweetheart. We need to." Josh gestured toward the door with his gun. He turned to Flea and Chad and said, "Get in!" Flea climbed into the car first. He slid across the seats and settled behind the driver’s side. As Chad stepped into the car, he heard Myra’s whisper to Josh. "If you would only tell them why! You don’t need to threaten them." Chad turned and watched their exchange. Josh sighed. Putting his free arm over Myra’s shoulder, he drew her close to himself. She lowered her head as he spoke. "I’ll see you tomorrow night, baby. Okay?" No response. Josh sighed. "Hey! Look at me?" Myra raised her head. "I love you." Furrowing her eyebrows, Myra replied, "I love you too. Be careful though, for yourself and for them." A smile played across Josh’s lips. "What about Lloyd?" "That bastard can go to hell," Myra huffed. "Hey!" Lloyd exclaimed as he approached, John’s collar in hand. "I hear that, b****!" He shoved John into the car and slammed the door. Myra put her hands on her hips and retorted to Lloyd, her voice merely a hum to those within the car. Chad shifted his attention from the outsiders to the shivering individual beside him. Head tilted down, eyes staring blankly ahead, John quivered behind the passenger’s seat. His fingers wrapped around his clay flannel biceps, gripping with knuckle-whitening force, whitening even though caked with mud. "Hey guys." The ragged, familiar voice came from behind them. The three looked over their shoulders. Draped across the hatchback, sporting bruises and weary eyes, was Anthony. He shot them a droopy smile. Flea’s eyes lit up, and Chad smiled. "Swan!" John exclaimed. In one fluid motion, he leapt over the seat and slid into the hatchback beside his friend. John flung his arms around his bandmate. "Hey, careful there," Anthony winced, then smiled. "I’m a little sore." Sitting back on his heels, John lowered his head. "Sorry, man." Anthony shook his head. "Nah, it’s all right. I appreciated the hug. Really needed it, brother." He glanced from Chad to Flea; both were beaming at him. "You boys okay?" "Are we..." Flea trailed off. He wagged his head. "F***! We weren’t the ones crammed in a trunk! YOU okay?" "What you see is what you get," Anthony replied with a smirk. "Hey, could have been a lot worse." "No sh**!" Chad mumbled. WHOOSH! Lloyd stood by the now open hatchback, scowling at John. "What the hell are you doing back here?" he growled, pointing his gun at him. "You get your ass back where it belongs!" John scampered over the seat. Shifting his attention to Anthony, Lloyd spoke in a low, even tone. "Now I know you can escape, but you even think about it...," He paused, narrowing his eyes and waving his gun toward John, "and I swear, I’m gonna kill that one." Lloyd shook his head. As he lowered the hatchback, he muttered, "That kid’s a real pain in the ass anyway." Heavy footsteps fell along Flea’s side of the car and stopped when the driver’s door opened. Lloyd climbed in and slammed the door behind him. The SUV set off into the night. |