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Punk’s Not Dead

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Remington had already been feeling strange that day. He was tired and felt a little sick and that didn’t go unnoticed by his brothers and band mates. He insisted that he was fine and that he would be fine to play the show that night.

He took a couple deep breaths before walking out on stage and smiling widely at all the cheering people in the audience. Of course there were a few party poopers who stood with their arms crossed, determined not to have a good time. But all in all, they seemed like a great crowd and that alone brought up Remingtons mood.

They were about six songs into their set when Remingtons illness was coming back to bite him in the ass. It started with the audience, they were getting blurry. And then he started to notice the audience change. In the beginning they were Palayes usual audience of modern teens and young adults, fashion straight out of Hot Topic or the bands own wardrobe. But sometimes, when the lights weren’t directly in his eyes he’d see them differently, a crowd of people with mohawks of various sizes and colors. Outfits that would have been considered “vintage punk” clothes if they weren’t in such good condition. Well, as good of conditions as punk clothes could be.

Remington was beginning to freak out, everything seemed blurry now. He was stumbling and looking around wildly. He stopped singing, they weren’t the right lyrics. It wasn’t the right song. Why was he singing so much? Where was his bass?

Remington felt himself collapse to the ground and he heard the whole crowd gasp. His bandmates raced to his side but he didn’t recognize them. Sebastian held his head and made Remington look at him. “Remington? Remington, can you hear me?”

“Johnny?” He whispered weakly before completely losing consciousness.

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Remington woke up on a couch in the green room of the venue. He tried to sit up but felt nauseous and dropped down again. Austin rushed over to the couch and dropped down next to Remington. “Holy shit, you’re up. Thank god, we were so worry. We still are, what the fuck happened?” Austin rambled off anxiously.

Remington winced and held his head. “Jesus Austin, slow the fuck down. I don’t even know what happened.” He took a second to compose himself and look around the room. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They went out to meet the fans and try to calm them down.” Austin explained. Remington groaned and covered his face with his hands. He felt immediately guilty about ending the show so early and worrying people. “Ah come on Rem, don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault.” Austin helped him slowly sit up and got him some water.

Just than the other three walked into the green room. Once they saw Remington was awake they raced over to the couch and bombarded him with questions. He swatted them away but smiled brightly. “Jeez, jeez! I can’t believe I have so many moms!” Everyone chuckled and it relieved some of the tension in the room.

Sebastian and Emerson sat on either side of Remington. “So...” Sebastian started. “What happened over there? Do we need to go to a doctor or something?”

Remington shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’m just sick,” He explained. “While I was on stage, I got really dizzy and I think I started hallucinating.” That got Emerson’s attention, to no ones surprise.

“Look, we have two days off, take a break, stay in bed. We’ll see how you feel and if we can continue the tour, great. If we need to stop, that’s okay too. You’re health comes first.” Daniel said and everyone nodded.

Remington sighed. “Ok, that sounds good. I’ll do my best to recover.”

“Maybe Luis can make you some chicken noodle soup.” Emerson chuckled.

They all packed up their equipment into the bus and Sebastian and Emerson helped Remington get to his bunk. They brought him some food and water and sternly directed that he stay in bed. Remington had no objection, he was tired and his head was full.

While the others went to the front lounge, Emerson stayed behind to talk to Remington. “I’m sure this isn’t a surprise,” Emerson said, “but can you tell me about your hallucinations? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

Remington nodded and sat a bit. “It was weird... the audience wasn’t our audience. They were... punks. From the late seventies if I had to guess. And the music we were playing just felt wrong. Like it wasn’t my music. I was so confused. I don’t think I even recognized you guys. The last thing I remember was falling to the ground.”

Emerson nodded, taking a moment to process everything. “That is strange.” He said, he didn’t know what else he could say. “Take it easy Rem, get some sleep.” Remington nodded and rolled onto his stomach, exhausted.

Emerson walked out of the bunk area. Everyone was sitting on the couches watching some movie or scrolling on their phones. Emerson poked Sebastian. “Come here, I’ve got to tell you something completely insane.”