Chapter 6: Echoes

Rasheed didn’t sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the crimson lightning.

The machine.

The voice.

The strange world of endless darkness.

By sunrise, he’d given up trying.

His school uniform hung neatly on the wardrobe door, but his attention stayed fixed on the faint red sparks dancing between his fingertips.

They came and went like they had a mind of their own.

Whenever he focused on them, they disappeared.

Whenever he stopped thinking about them, they returned.

“…What are you?”

A knock at the bedroom door startled him.

“Rasheed?”

His mother’s voice.

“You’ve been awake all night again.”

He quickly pulled on his hoodie, hiding his hands.

“I’m coming.”

Mrs. Adewale stood in the hallway, still wearing her hospital uniform. Dark circles rested beneath her eyes, but she smiled the moment she saw her son.

“I made breakfast.”

“You just got back from work.”

“And you’re still my son.”

He smiled faintly.

“You should sleep.”

“I will.”

She reached out and straightened his collar like she always did before school.

“You’ve been spending too much time alone.”

“I’m okay.”

She looked into his eyes for a long moment.

Ever since his father disappeared, Rasheed had become harder to read.

He still smiled.

Sometimes.

He still laughed.

Rarely.

But there was always something behind his eyes…

Something heavy.

“If anything’s bothering you…”

“I know.”

“You can tell me.”

“I know.”

She kissed his forehead before walking toward her room.

Neither of them noticed the kitchen clock.

For just one second…

Its hands spun backwards.

⸻

School felt unusually loud.

Everyone was still talking about the race.

“There he is!”

“The Flash!”

“No, he’s definitely cheating.”

“Ask him how he did it!”

Rasheed ignored the whispers as he made his way through the corridor.

He wasn’t in the mood for attention.

Unfortunately…

Attention found him.

Omar stepped directly into his path.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been walking to class.”

“Same thing.”

Rasheed sighed.

“What?”

Omar folded his arms.

“We’re running again.”

“The qualifiers were cancelled.”

“I’m not talking about school.”

Rasheed frowned.

“This evening.”

“The old athletics stadium.”

“Just us.”

Rasheed immediately understood.

Omar wanted answers.

Unfortunately…

So did he.

“I’ll think about it.”

Omar smirked.

“You’ll come.”

Then he walked away.

⸻

“He’s impossible.”

Adesewa dropped into the empty seat beside Rasheed during lunch.

“I heard.”

“He challenged you again?”

Rasheed nodded.

“I don’t think he knows any other way to communicate.”

She laughed.

“I’ve known Omar since primary school.”

“So have I.”

“He wasn’t always like this.”

Rasheed looked at her.

“What changed?”

She shrugged.

“I think…”

She hesitated.

“…he’s scared of being ordinary.”

The words lingered in Rasheed’s mind.

Scared of being ordinary.

Maybe everyone was.

⸻

Classes dragged on.

Equations blurred together.

History lessons became background noise.

Every ticking classroom clock made Rasheed’s head ache.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

By the final period…

He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Something was calling him.

Not a voice.

A feeling.

Like an invisible thread pulling him somewhere.

The abandoned laboratory.

Again.

⸻

That evening…

Rasheed stood outside the old athletics stadium.

The place had been abandoned for years after a newer complex was built.

Grass pushed through cracked lanes.

Rust covered the goalposts.

The wind whistled through empty bleachers.

Omar was already there.

“You came.”

“You knew I would.”

Omar tossed him a water bottle.

Rasheed caught it.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

Omar rolled his eyes.

“You’ve changed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You used to struggle to keep up with me.”

Rasheed stayed silent.

“Now…” Omar continued, “…it’s like you’re holding back.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

The word echoed across the empty stadium.

Omar stepped onto the running track.

“One lap.”

“No teachers.”

“No timers.”

“No excuses.”

Rasheed looked down at the faded white lines.

His heartbeat quickened.

He didn’t want to race.

Not anymore.

Because deep down…

He was terrified of what might happen if he did.

Still…

He stepped onto the track.

The evening breeze fell silent.

Somewhere beneath the city…

Something ancient stirred.

And far away, inside a forgotten clocktower, a pair of crimson eyes slowly opened.

“They’ve begun.”

The whisper carried through empty air.

“And this time…”

“…the timeline won’t survive.”

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