Jolt Jinx's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Jolt reached the windmill's roof after dark. The rope burned her palms, but she kept climbing. She had come here at dawn once to claim the wall. Now she came back with a full belt and a plan. Three chaos jars knocked at her hip. The paint bulb rode in a sling across her back, too fat for her slingshot, meant for throwing by hand. Below her, the highway ran black to the horizon. She could see the first green mile her friend had laid down at marker one, a small bright stripe in the moonlight. Jolt turned her back on it and faced the blank stone. She pulled charcoal from her jacket and started sketching. Not letters. Faces. Three of them, big as doors. She drew the one who had shared her bedroll first, because her hand knew that jaw without asking. Then the second. Then the third. She wrote each name under each face in block letters a car could read at speed. She did not sign her own name. This piece was not about her. She uncorked the heart-shaped jar and dipped a rag. The pink liquid stained the stone violet and pulled the charcoal lines deeper, the way old bruises show through skin. She used it to shade the hollows under the eyes. Then she opened the green jar, the one thick with brine and tiny metal charms. She smeared it along the borders. The charms caught the moonlight and stuck to the wet paint like rivets. From the highway, the three faces would flash whenever headlights hit them. She climbed higher for the last stroke. She braced her boots on a sail, unwrapped the paint bulb, and threw it hard against the crown of the wall. The glass core cracked inside the cloth. Thick red paint burst in a wide arc above the three faces and ran down in slow streaks. It read like a warning, which was what she wanted. She wiped her hands on her thighs and looked at the whole thing. It held. She took the narrow dark jar off her belt last. The little bell chimed once as she lifted it. She had never told anyone what was inside. She pulled the wax seal with her teeth and yanked the cork. A sound came out that was not quite a scream and not quite a word, thin and long, aimed down the highway. It carried. Somewhere past the second bend, a dog started barking, then another, then a whole chain of them. Lights came on in windows she could not see. The city was awake, and it was looking up. Jolt sat on the roof and watched the first cars slow at the bend. Faces pressed to windows. Someone stopped on the shoulder and got out. The mural held its ground. Whatever had taken her people would hear about this wall by morning, and it would know where to find her.