Page 18 of Echoes of a Muted Song

Rivers of blood and oceans of death

Perfume the night where we lay

In slashes of red shadow from the Hunter’s moon

Collision course with insanity imminent

The gods abandoned this realm too soon

Too soon to see the dirt roads stained with broken dreams

To soon to see the dust damp with tears

There was something mystical

About the way the fear lit up your eyes

Glowing when they met mine

I was yours and that’s the way the universe made it

So who are you to unmake the cosmos?

This can’t be the end, the last goodbye

We’ve never said goodbye before

Even in parting we knew the minutes

The hours before we’d see each other again

Now I’m left here watching dust as you roar on up the road

And I can hear the music blaring as you go

Racing toward the sunset, carrying my love with you as you run

Can’t you see we were never meant to drive this road alone?

“This isn’t goodbye,” I said as I leaned in to rub noses with him. “Not even close. We were always meant to get together. If I didn’t believe that I wouldn’t have kept trying to get your attention. Now I have it, and I’m not ever gonna let you go. We will race toward the sunset again, even if we have to do it with our walkers. Just know that you will always carry my love with youwherever you go, even if I can’t physically be with you. That PO box of yours is gonna be stuffed with letters every time you check it, so I hope you have plans to upgrade to the biggest size, ‘cause I’m gonna pack that bitch. You will never be rid of me, Draven. That’s my promise and my curse upon you. You’re stuck with my crazy ass and all my antics, even if I have to draw them out as cartoons and send them with the letters. There will be fuckery, debauchery and shit that will make you spit your kombucha all over your computer screen. I will be a menace from three thousand miles away and I promise you’ll love every minute of it, the same as I love you. This isn’t goodbye, Draven. It’s not even a pause. It’s just another leg of the journey.”

Chapter 12

(Draven)

The only way to deal with Johnny being gone was to throw myself wholeheartedly into putting together the tour. That meant countless hours on the phone in between emails, digitally signing contracts, and scouting potential locations. Through it all, I’d found myself with an assistant I’d never expected to have, though I couldn’t be sure if it was a newly cultivated interest in the business side of things that led Mickey to help or the weird vibe I kept picking up between him and Sully. The three of us had taken to occupying the communal spaces while the rest of the guys were out exploring and trying to keep themselves distracted so they wouldn’t dwell over what was going on with Johnny.

He still hadn’t texted me.

“All right, enough for right now,” Sully said, slamming his notebook shut with enough force that it echoed through the room. “You look atthat phone anymore and you’re gonna glare the glass protector right off the screen.”

“Been hoping for a text,” I typed.

“No shit,” Sully replied. “But none of us have left this room for almost forty-eight hours and I’m starting to hate this whole seafoam green motif. Let’s get some real fuckin’ coffee and a fat, juicy steak. Maybe you two can help me with a little problem I’ve been having while we stuff our faces.”

“Problem?” Mickey piped up, propping his chin on his elbow as he stared across the table. “I thought everything was running smoothly.”

Was it just my imagination, or did Sully chuckle more when he was talking to Mickey than when he spoke to the rest of us?

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