Chapter Text
Lilliput Steps.
That’s what they call it.
Here in this small secluded woodland grove, a couple of non-Lilliputian steps out of the mine. How quaint.
The grass is green, the sky is blue, and my head pounds like a bitch. Facts of life. Urgh. What is it with these “natural” formations and feet anyway? In Onett, they had a fixation with a rotund five toed mark embedded in the turf, and here, it’s a trail of itsy-bitsy footsteps. Did God sprinkle a pinch of his forbidden fetish on the sixth day?
Anyway, yeah. It might be a nice day smack down in the middle of June, and I’d rejoice at the good weather, but I can’t lie to myself, man. I ran, I haven’t eaten, and I saw the crumbled remains of the local fauna’s creepiest copycat. Right after being jailed and getting involved in the schemes of the angry blue Amish. Never thought I’d see the day where I’d say something like this.
I need a break. I need to hear the sweet embrace that is Claire’s voice. I need to go home.
Once I’m done here, nothing will be holding me back. After a short rest I’m sure I’m entitled to, it’s going to be a direct course to Fourside, to my shower, to a glass of red wine, and then to my bed. The end. Hey, didn’t I make these sorts of plans when I woke up next to the meteor? Look where it’s gotten me, hahaha!
A slight push in my back encourages me to approach the little imprints.
“Well, c’mon now, shy boy! Do your thing,” Jade says. Impatient now, are we?
Regardless, I comply. Because this is what I do. I get bossed around and I follow orders without second-guessing them.
A few steps in and... “Can you guys, uh, turn around, or something? This is awkward.”
I just poured my heart into the worst anecdote of my life; I’d like to hold onto the scraps of dignity that have the guts to stick by my side.
“That a necessity for it to work?” she wonders, not without hints of mockery.
To which I actually let out a small huff. “You’re asking me? You’re the one who’s ‘well-read’ on the matter,” I say, my head slightly turned toward where she’s standing.
I see her pointing at herself, seemingly offended. “Oi, I’m the bookworm, you’re the go getter! I don’t know jack about how this whole Your Sanctuary process is supposed to, like, unfold. Haven’t you done it already in Giant Step, big hero guy? You’re the bumblin’ prophecy barer, not me!”
“Yeah, that’s a load of horse crap.”
Jade and I abandon our pointless argument and face Dave. He taps in the middle of his palm a little box with a printed camel on it, and bites into the stick that probed out the furthest. Don’t ask how we got him out of his cliff back in the cave. Let’s just say it involved ropes, and unfruitful attempts.
“Damn, two naysayers in a team of three, that’s a pretty crappy ratio.” Jade then tsk’s.
“Look,” starts Dave, flicking the package closed, exchanging it for a Zippo, “I don’t understand the details myself, and you two seem to have a pretty good idea of what you’re supposed to do, but...” He sucks on the cigarette, making sure it lights up good. “... I dunno, is this whole thing a mandatory thing for Mark? Twice now I’ve heard about prophecies and shit. We’re still humans last I checked, right? Aren’t we supposed to be fighters for free will? Like, does he have to go through this whole shit deal? Hasn’t he had enough?” He throws his hands open. “What is he even trying to do, here?”
I rub the back of my head before Jade can smack my friend. “Ehh, I mean. I don’t know any better, dude. But all around me, people seem to do know better. So it’s not really my place to start asking questions. So far, I’ve been running with the ‘can’t hurt to try’ mentality and it’s been working... good? I dunno man, no harm done yet, right?”
He laughs, then allows his lungs to be invaded by poisonous fumes. “You’re telling that to the man who nearly got assassinated by a gigantic fucking mole.” The fumes get chimneyed out of two nostrils. “And really, Mark? I dunno how you can say ‘no harm’ when...”
He looks up from his cig to two dumbfounded looks. Behind his glasses, an eyebrow rises.
“All I’m saying is, isn’t it a bit too early to celebrate?”
We wait in silence for him to clarify.
“I mean, there are, uh, many ways he- we could still be fucked down the line, right?” he now starts fumbling.
Jade approaches him, tapping a finger on her chin. “Any particular reason you’re opposed to us trying to save the damn planet, or...?”
“Whoa, putting words in my mouth! Look, there, Miss Strawman, I... I’m just trying to keep a pessimistic outlook. Gotta be one of us to do this, right? You’re the optimist, Jade, and Mark’s the realist. That leaves me to pick up the slack. Fuck me for not wanting my bud to self-destruct his future with ‘prophecy this’ and ‘prophecy that,’ right?”
“Don’t mean to be blunt,” I now butt in, “but you didn’t seem particularly opposed to the idea back when we left the Happy Happy prison. Why voice your concerns just now? When the prize’s within reach? What made you change your mind on the matter?”
“Okay, whatever. Fuck you, you two.”
A marine blue bicep held up and a slap near the elbow: That’s a beautifully executed “up yours” signal. Jade retaliates by blowing him a raspberry. And just like that, we flunked all the way back to second grade. Amazing. Simply amazing.
This exchange tired me. It’s just now dawning on me how damn exhausted I am. PSI Paralysis must’ve taken a good chunk out of my atrophied energy. I don’t know why this keeps happening, but it sure keeps happening. Meanwhile, Jade hasn’t lost an ounce of her sugar rush of an attitude, and yet she spat fire, like, ten times over. How is she doing it? The night before, on our way to scold Mr. Carpainter, she said she has had plenty of practice with the unknown martial art of PSI, maybe years worth of it. Could it be that she can retain her vigor with more ease? Is this why she endorsed the idea of me training this space science? So that I don’t turn into a sleepwalking lemming every time my brain farts a little too much counterfeit magic?
... Ugh. We’ll see, Jade. We’ll see. I edge toward the “fuck it” side of things, but ah, after being face-to-face with that killer mole? Well, it makes you rethink, doesn’t it?
That mole, it really did come supremely close to paint the cavern walls with Dave. The only reason we cheated our way out of this battle was because of the sudden usage of the thing I detest most. Were it not for that, and I would’ve needed to schedule a funeral for a very good man. A very good man who, against all odds, still voices concerns about my wellbeing (albeit abrasively) despite everything he had to endure.
That’s Dave Tyler.
The best fishing buddy one could ever ask for. I think I mentioned before I had a knack for fishing, yeah? Well, “knack.” That’s an exaggeration, of course. I used to be so bad at it that I wasn’t too far off the stereotype of the woobie who only reels up worn out boots or empty soup cans out of the water. The young version of myself kindly reminded me of my non-existent skills back when I had that bizarro flashback at Frank’s. But over time, I improved, and the activity took another level of appreciation in my mind.
Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point I’m actually trying to make is, Dave and I, well, we used to be fanatics when it came to fishing. Always had the best time. Over the boring adult years, it became hard to find a matching gap in our respective schedules to enjoy the great outdoors, which is a damn shame, really. Dave has a small motorboat we used to attach behind his pickup, and take it wherever we may have roamed. Come to think of it, I don’t know if he still owns the Waterboarding (that’s the stupid name we gave it – too much Peach Schnapps was had that night). He normally keeps it in this small storage warehouse by the Twoson/Threed highway, but of course, this came with all too friendly fees. Nothing’s ever free in today’s times. I haven’t heard of the Waterboarding in eons, and I have the growing suspicion that he may have sold it. He needed cash; the boat had declining usage: I’m just putting one and one together here.
Waterboarding aside, what can’t be sold is the delightful memories of week-ends spent with a fishing rod in one hand, and a cold brew in the other. Add to the mix a small portable radio and a rock channel that somehow reached far into the forest, and you had the perfect ingredients for an evening filled with jokes, sunburn, gossip, horsefly bites, and sometimes cringey philosophical debates. Oh, don’t act like you don’t become Socrates himself when the seventh bottle joins your corner of the beer cemetery!
Crazy how all it took was a couple of bucketed rainbow trout for us to talk about things that needed to be talked about. We used to bounce to each other insecurities life of the twenty first century forced us to endure. How his monetary situation was shit enough to give him insomnia. How my mother’s worsening condition made me very afraid of the future. How his loneliness and his strive for a romantic companionship drove him to fill the void by investing more into his work life, much to the detriment of his nerves. How my stagnant life made me feel unable to be the best I could be for Claire.
You know, all that garbage. The stupid, uncomfortable, unnecessary kind. The realest kind of garbage.
These years were good years. I could hold onto something steady, and so could he. Two dudes, a motorboat, baits at the end of hooks, and some Budweisers to tie it all together. The kind of plan that makes one look forward for the next Saturday.
I swear, when this whole thing blows over, him and I will go for another fishing trip. We are way beyond overdue in any case. Heck, we might as well invite Jade too, see if she has it in her. We’ll go to one of the classic spots - might even road trip to Saint-Érable; they’ve got good stuff over there. Whatever we end up doing, it’s going to be a great deal better than... whatever the heck’s going on right now. Meeting my half dead friend with a red and white rubbery monster fused to his head as I’m just about done clobbering his ex-teacher is NOT the proper way for us to meet after more than two months of silence. I didn’t even have the time to ask him “hey, what’s up! How you doin’? How’s life treating ya?” We jumped straight into it without buttering things out as two humans should, didn’t we?
We will rectify that, buddy.
...
We’ll definitely rectify that.
Hey, is it just me, or is this place a million times prettier than it was ten minutes ago? The lush evenly-colored evergreen, the perfectly trimmed scrubs, the bushy tuffs of grass... they’re all so evenly spaced. All rooted in perfection on the small wavy rolling hills that define Lilliput Steps. As if this was a picture Bob Ross himself painted. It’s too flawless; nature cannot be this orderly. Gosh, even the flowers all have the same number of petals, and are as vibrant as they would be if a child filled them with felt pens. And the mini steppy-steps before me, I swear. If you took a measuring tape and calculated the distance between each of them, you’d find that they are all evenly spaced, to the nearest mil. I’m at the point where I’m finding even the surrounding cliffs to be carved with mathematical precision. Michelangelo would quit his sculpting career out of pure jealousy at the sight of them.
Whoa nelly, since when have I become so sensitive? Am I really that sleep deprived?
A question that can only be answered by none other than my Sound Stone. It vibrates in my toolbelt, frees itself from its polyvinyl confine, and hovers before me. Even though I’ve seen that kind of behavior exhibited by Buzz Buzz’s gift back at Giant Step, it still catches me somewhat by surprise.
Appeasement immediately fills every muscle, every bone, every nerve that makes up who I am, down to the last atom, as nine successful notes reverb from within. I hear them loud and clear, and once again, I could swear that they were transmitted directly to my brain. Almost as if it wanted the ambient air not to perturb the perfect reverberance of the melody.
The phenomenon ends just as it had started: With pure silence. The Sound Stone becomes lifeless once more. I just stand there, taking it in, as if someone squeezed pure concentrated happiness into my bloodstream. Whatever’s making me feel like this, I tell you, it couldn’t be anymore benign.
“... Is he high?” I hear the close but weirdly distant voice of Dave.
“Maybe, dunno. Ya think that rock had was imbibed with some kind of space pheromones?” adds a faraway Jade.
“You saw it float too, right? I blame it on magnets.”
I try to come to my senses somewhat. “Did... d-did you hear it...? T-the music...? Did you...” I drowsily blurt.
A pair of glassed eyes meet a pair of green ones.
“Yup, he’s high as shit,” says whoever.
After I regained my senses (with an extra side of teasing), we journeyed backward. It was a trip down memory lane, and highlighted just how insane this expedition had turned out to be. From Lilliput Steps, to the abandoned mine, through Woodalcove and into Peaceful Rest Valley. We went past where once resided a gigantic pencil, crossed the broken fence, marched through Twoson, all the way to Dave’s private palace of Versailles. All in all, we spent a few good hours doing all that, and our legs, especially mine, are begging for a moment’s rest. On the plus side, by the week-end, my calves will be chiseled as hell.
After the turn of a key, Dave allowed us to enter his residence, but he didn’t follow us. With yet another cigarette in between his lips, he instead hopped onto his rented bike (they rent bikes in Twoson, apparently), to pedal all the way to a hardware store for a new car battery. Your guess is as good as mine as to what he’s plotting.
It’s strange. I could almost swear he was relieved to be away from me. Like he needed a lone timeout. Considering how out-of-character he acted back at Lilliput Steps, I feel like there’s something foreboding at play. He better not pull a Matt on me. Whose ass will I kick at Tetris if my bank of friends turns null?
Anyway, this is what I did after he waved goodbye and we got in.
First, I stripped out of my boots, gloves, and hat, making my body breathe a little more. Then, I took inventory of what I currently had on me. A bunch of creased folded maps, my purposeless car keys (hi, Alf keychain), a pristine wallet furbished with dwindling economies plus an uncashed water heater paycheck, a mysterious lightning deflecting Franklin Badge, and my Sound Stone, cursed be that thing. After my little inspection, I segued into cooking myself something, anything. I’m sure Dave wouldn’t have minded, right? I’m not one to raid supplies, but my tummy could hardly hold its displeasure anymore. I scrounged for a can of Chef Boyardee’s finest, and after plating my heated precooked raviolis and my toasted bread, I couldn’t help but laugh at my subpar culinary skills. I added a dash of oregano to the squared pasta, and just like that, I was worth three Michelin stars.
Once I finally felt full, I finished my checklist by doing what I should’ve done first: I rang Doyle, Winters. No dice, still. Seems like my crossed fingers did nothing to alleviate my bad mojo. T’was a dead line, as it had been back at Ness’s mom’s. The hotel brought even worse news, as the clerk certified that Claire hadn’t been seen since I last called. Her room key had just been gathering dust. After telling the polite lady that this had officially became a crisis situation, she agreed to contact the local authorities about it. I hung up, stuck in suspension, not staring at anything in particular.
And now, cut back to me still seated at the dinner table. I’ve been mentally on hold, pausing for a solid ten minutes. I think I caught sight of Jade disappearing upstairs a moment ago, leaving me alone. Finally alone. Hearing the water flowing in the pipes of the house, I take an educated guess and conclude that she tossed herself into a shower. One I should take after she’s done, of course. After yet another trip through mud and dust, I too need to purify my gross body.
Ufff...
I exhale built-in tension I didn’t even realize I had in me. “This has by long and far been the most insane week of my entire goddamn life,” I say to absolutely no one. “And I’ve had some bad weeks before.”
My hand, free of its sweaty glove, dances in between tufts of my hair. Then, it turns into a fist, using the knuckles to sweep a layer of grime that had accumulated to my forehead. Meanwhile, the other hand fidgets on my leg, tapping to an unknown beat. I gotta do something with my hands, guys. Part of the reason why I delved into manual labor to earn my bread.
I guess this is me trying to energize out the stress, or something? That’s what a therapist would love for me to admit, I’m sure of it.
There’s been this constant injection of adrenaline that has driven my body like a corpse on auto pilot for several days now. I’m not hard shelled enough to properly deal with the long-term consequences of it. I have a severe hormone imbalance, and I’d like to have an ear to talk to.
And yet, as I think these words, it just brings me back to Matt. The need to exteriorize your feelings and all, I kind of instinctively want to bury that desire, especially after what he had said about my complaints back at his apartment. Congrats, vile man, you’ve successfully planted the seed of toxic habits in my heart. Too bad for you, though, I still know of one person I’d open up to without missing a beat.
I need to vent to my better half. To my rock, to my beacon of sanity. I need to open up to Claire.
... Jesus Christ, Claire.
What is happening to you, love?
The Titanic Ant, it said...
And then, Matt.
“Say hi to Claire from me, Mark. If you ever get the chance. I’m sure you will soon enough.”
The hell was that supposed to mean?
It’ll be okay, right?
It’ll be okay!
I’m still a nobody, a bystander, a figurant, a shadow, a statistic, a Mark like all Marks in Eagleland. An indistinguishable splosh among the mass. I watch Fox News, I like blueberry pie, I enjoy listening to Peter Gabriel, and my favorite color is yellow. I’m not the kind of actor targeted by tragedy, or drama, or whatever. I just- I just exist. That’s it. Existence. What I spat out to Mr. Carpainter about the utopia of a modern man on the job living his simple life? I meant every word of it. And why? Because punch clock workers are not the kind of audience intended for big plot twists, for big reveals. We are not special. We simply do what we do, padding the way for more important stuff. If you just carry on with all the normalcy in the world, you remain unsuspicious enough for the unforgiving whip of danger and tragedy to bypass you and strike the heroes instead. Safety in routine. When you see a background character in a cartoon show, you don’t think about them much, right? They’re just there to add color to the scene. No, rather, you eagerly wonder what’s going to happen to the protagonist in the foreground – and so too does the plot. Well gray would be my color, with a splatter of orange around my hand.
Nothing happened to Claire, and nothing will happen to me. At worst, I lost my car, and, you know, boo-hoo and all; it’s still a fixable offense in the end – I can see that now. That there was the pinnacle of my problems. Unassuming citizens such as myself do not have to mangle with anything worse than that. We deal with our issues with a form and a pen, not with a sword and a shield. Heroics in bureaucracy.
People of no interest, Mark Morins all across the world, they don’t lose childhood friends to madness. They don’t take an active stance against criminal organizations, let alone two of them. And they especially don’t mourn the loss of their beloved partner.
Oh my God, is she- could she really be...?
Hey whoa now!
Shut the fuck up, me!
Hahaha, almost lost it there, buddy! You just posited for 10 goddamn minutes that random bums such as yourself couldn’t have it bad, so uh, how about you listen to your own advice, melodramatic dork?
...
Ah, crud.
I picked at my thumb nail so much that I didn’t even realize I ripped a good chunk of it off. A really, really botched manicure. I suck on the redness like a baby would with a pacifier, the taste of iron leaving a displeasing mark on my tongue.
And what a perfect image for Jade to come galloping downstairs to, being done with the bathroom. She raises a curious eyebrow at my sucky sucky thumby, which I rapidly uncork out of my mouth.
So, um, by the way, just throwing that out there, but, uh, why is she wearing nothing but a bath towel around her torso? It sure puts my mind elsewhere than the dark places it tried to explore just then. And now, she pulls a chair next to me, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I raise a finger, about to question her modest choice of clothes, but Jade unfasten her speech quicker than I can.
“Ungh, no moisturizer, no loofah, no shower puffs, no shower gel. He doesn’t even have a straightening iron! There were CURLED HAIRS on the soap, Mark!” she grimaces. “Ya’d think there’s never been a lady in this house!”
“That’s because Dave is single,” I give in to the conversation.
“Sh’yeah, no kiddin’. He’d have better luck beddin’ a buncha chicks if he dressed better, man.”
“Speaking of dressing up, why are you...?” And I point at her barely covered body.
“Hmmm?” she says, feigning innocence.
“Your clothes, Jade.”
“Oh! Hehe, in the washing machine, dummy. Them clothes haven’t been washed proper for over a week. And I ain’t walkin’ full o’ stains in the streets no more, bleargh. What d’y’think I am, some kind of grotty mongrel?”
Well, say what you will about Jade, she certainly is no prude. Or elegant. Or decent. Or...
“’Sides, what’s gotten you so flustered? Ya’ve seen me wearing less.” She pokes my collarbone. “Perv.”
I smirk a bit. “Interesting topic you’re bringing up, Jade.”
“What-e-ver do you mean Mark,” she matter-of-factly replies.
“Oh don’t play coy.” I tilt my head. “Our shared dreams? What happened to them? Did I miss a memo or something? Why did they simply stop?”
“Hehehe, whaaaaaaat?” She blushes. “Do you miss ‘em?~”
I do not move a muscle. It’s time to get to the bottom of this. My response that never come makes her bite her lower lip. Her look wanders somewhere, then back to me.
“Yeah uh, well, it’s a mystery, ain’t it?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Try again.”
She attacks her lip once more, looking ajar. “Eeeerrrr... I dunno, Mark. It’s weird. Can’t really explain’ it. It just sorta went away, y’know?”
I squint a bit, unconvinced.
“Poof?” she shyly squeaks out.
“Really? You have no idea? No idea at all?” I approach her slightly. “That strikes me as odd. So far, you’ve been on top of your game, aware of everything and then some. Being a walking encyclopedia of just about every intricacy interlaced with PSI stuff. You knew about my abilities, you knew about Giygas in our dreams, you knew about Giant Step, about Lilliput Steps, about the Mondo Mole... But this, this has gotten you stumped!? Why, if I wasn’t so stupid, I’d say that you’re cherry picking what you want to share with me!”
Our noses aren’t too far to make contact. Jade remains silent, wide-eyed, blinking a few times. Big green irises shining under the afternoon sun pouring into the house. Staring straight into mine, refusing to break contact. I can even see my green-tinted reflection. That’s right, the mask’s about to fall! You’ve been found, lady! Feel the intimidation, and expose your lies! Reform your ‘need to know’ basis!
“And I suppose that Giygas cancelling my night terror sessions on the same cue is likewise a lucky coincidence, huh? Huh!?” My forehead to hers. “What’re you hiding!?”
Her response?
She simply pulls away a bit and fans the air in front of her with the back of her hand.
“Pe-ew! Dude, you reek.”
Uh, ok. Wow, I’m awfully close to her, am I not? The hell is wrong with me. I back away, a bit shy about my brash approach, and promptly smell an armpit.
I grimace. Then, I point two fingers to my eyes, then to hers.
“This conversation isn’t over, lady!”
I exit the steamy bathroom, washed and clean. Shaved and dry. Perfumed and proud. Mark Morin has been reborn! My face lashes are making a steady recovery, too. They don’t even hurt anymore, which is a nice bonus. I no longer look like the victim of abuse, a thought that gives me great appease. I now sport nothing but a logo-less white t-shirt and slack thermal pants (with socks and boxers if you want to be anal about it). Hey, did you seriously think I went naked under my jumpsuit? Think of the chafing! Said jumpsuit is now soaking in Dave’s bathtub, filled with detergents and other stuff. Don’t worry, I was pragmatic about it; I didn’t just mix a bunch of random products. I know how to read labels, thank you very much. Last thing we need in these unprecedented times is for a random dumbass to accidentally concoct mustard gas. Constable Fierce has enough problems to deal with. Anyway, point is, if the bubbly alkaline solution isn’t dissolving the blue paint, nothing will. That cross needs to buzz off.
A passing thought of Jade and I abusing the privileges of Dave’s house tickled me kindly, but I dismissed it. My oddly neurotic friend will just have to accept our mannerisms. He should probably buy a new toothbrush too, heh.
Down the stairs I go. On the work desk by the kitchen, seated in front of a large blocky monitor displaying the contents of a Windows 95, a still toweled Jade clicks a few times on the mouse, an unreadable expression painting her face. Her left hand is diving into a box of chocolate chip cookies. I just observe her for a moment eating them like they’re actual chips. Six cookies, ha ha ha! ... SEVEN cookies, ha ha ha! How this woman manages to remain as thin as a toothpick will forever elude me.
She finally notices my presence, and when she does, she wipes the crumbs away from her face. She’s like a child, isn’t she?
“Heya! T’was quick up there. Took you more for the half-hour shower kind of dude.”
“Nah. Waste of time. And water. Still a plumber at heart, remember?”
She nods. Crazy how casual we are, considering everything that has brought us here. And the conversation from earlier, too. Toss in my never-ending anxiety as well, shit, why not. Erf, best not to dwell on it.
“So, um. What are you doing at Dave’s home computer? It wasn’t password locked?” I ask her, jumpstarting small talk.
“Nah. So it just begged to be intruded, really. I happily obliged!” she says, almost too proud.
I frown a bit. “Jade, don’t mess with Dave’s files. He seems to have a lot on his mind lately.”
“Accusing me of such things? Moi?” She brings a hand to her chest. I try to remain indifferent at her sarcasm... “Mark, you hurt me so!” ... but fail with a sigh I couldn’t hold. “Naw, relax, I’m just checkin’ my e-mails, dude. I’m still a worker, right? Or, I guess I was, heh.”
What.
“What?”
“Yeah, computer says I got kind of fired coupla days ago. Apparently, my boss’ bosses don’t like employees who nick off for an entire week and say squat about it. What a bunch of corporate losers,” she says, oddly not too crushed by the news.
“Oh. Um... my condolences, Jade. That decision of theirs seems a little... I dunno, drastic?”
“D’awww, it’s so sweet of you to worry for poor ol’ me, but don’t worry, Mark. S’not like I didn’t get plenty of warnings before. And I kinda hated the vibe over there, truth be told.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Weeeell, remember in our last nightly meeting when I told ya I sorta didn’t make many, if any, pals ever since I moved to Eagleland?”
“Wait wait wait, pause. You weren’t born here?”
“Yes yes, but that’s ‘side the point. Look, I didn’t make many cool BFFs Nickelodeon oh so desperately want us to believe in, but t’wasn’t for lack of trying. My workplace? Cold and impersonal as hell. Tried to throw many parties and gossip with my crew of coworkers, but none were interested. S’like they never heard of the concept of happy hours! No, rather, they simply refused talkin’ about anything but preparing budget forecasts or computing taxes. Even during our few mandatory office parties, they were all untalkable asocial messes. Bo. Ring.”
“Almost makes me wonder what a girl of your caliber was doing working in that sector in the first place.”
“Ach, was only doin’ that, ‘cuz that was the path my parents put me onto. They wanted me to rake in the greens for my own good, to live the life no-one in my strugglin’ family could, but at what cost, Mark, at what cost?” she says not so seriously. “Kinda not what I wished to do with my skin past my twenties, y’know? Realized that when I was surrounded by nothing but restin’ bitch faces.”
“And being a veterinarian is your true vocation, then?”
“Mmmh-hmmm. See, when I was a lil’ lass, growing up on my family’s plantation, we had oxen, chickens, capybaras and- urk,” she recoils, “why am I tellin’ you this? That there is one lame-ass story, ewww.”
“Hey no, don’t say that! For once you’re talking about something I can chip in: Passion about work! And also, what do you mean by a ‘plantation?’ Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Ya should dig for it in due time, then! I’m not gonna open up completely yet; gotta make you play the wait game a bit more. Don’t wish to spoil a sexy admirer of mine too quickly!”
“Really? You’re going to go down that route?”
“Fight me, bro.”
Yeah no, I don’t give her the pleasure. I keep being silent for a while, gazing at her. What has brought such a strange woman into my life? She is the furthest thing from the kind of friend I’d make - that is, if I was still fishing for friendship at my age. I work solo, I have no coworkers, I have little to no relatives, I’m not an outgoing person, I’m not part of any clubs, and I don’t have old school pals I could ring to rebuild ties. Is she the best I have to settle with, then? That’s depressing, and scarily telling.
“You know, Jade, when I first spotted you in that sphere of anti-Giygas-ness, I thought you were some kind of angelical figure. Someone sent from heaven to tell me ‘hey, don’t worry, you are protected and no longer alone.’ Now? I realize you’re just...” She bats her eyes. “... obnoxious as hell.”
She holds a hand in front of her grinning teeth. “Hey, thanks man! That’s the style I’m going with!” She elbows my tummy. “No refunds!”
“Speaking purely as a customer, color me unsatisfied.”
It’s at this point that we heard the door knob rattle. And not a moment too soon; our private talk show couldn’t lack anymore substance if it tried. The door in the entryway proudly swings open, and in comes a tubby man hiding behind a wide grin. A grin with a missing tooth – the one I knocked out two days ago.
The one and only, the one-of-a-kind, Mr. Everdred, has made his grand entry.
“Knock knock!” he says, kicking his cowboy boots out of his feet.
“Why do you say ‘knock knock’ when you’re already in?” I wonder out of nowhere.
“Good gravy Morin, you sure are a bag of fun, ha ha harr!”
Everdred stops in his tracks somewhat. Observing the scene before him, he lifts his glasses, and for the first time, sandwiched between two crow’s feet, I see his eyes. Eyes that bare all the wisdom a teacher turned carjacker can hold. I don’t know why he exhibits such a behavior. Are we doing something wrong here, or...?
Oh.
Jade’s practically nude. And I’m dressed like a Saturday dad scratching his crotch while watching a rerun of The Price is Right. Us two, side-by-side, sharing pleasantries. That would explain why he’s scanning her and I back and forth with amusement. My oh my, I wonder if this sort of scene is fertile ground for jokey-jokes?
“Ha harr, am I interrupting something?” He winks, then puts back his shades to their default position.
Bingo. Ten points for Mark.
“Naw, we were just about to hold hands post coitus,” Jade hugs me.
“Please stop that.”
Them two laugh in unison, as I free myself. Time to skillfully summon what I like to call “a change of subject.”
“So, what can we do you for, big guy?” I raise my fists and punch the air all combat-like. “Did you come for round two?” I nark.
“Careful, double M. Don’t wanna end in jail twice in one week!” he narks right back.
“You two roughed and tumbled?” says the only girl around.
“Should’ve seen it,” I tend to her enquiry. “Nearly made him eat the carpet.”
“Kinky,” she says with all the neutrality one could find.
This draws a poorly held snicker from Everdred. “Well what canna say! No better way to meet people than stampin’ yer fingerprints all over their face.”
Not able to hold it any longer, he does his best impression of Aloysius Minch. A bit drawn out by the collective roast, I just let it drop. Noticing I’m not adding anything on, Everdred coughs into his fist in an attempt to return to his senses. He approaches the two of us, and just like that, three chairs are pulled. This pseudo conference table, where sits a self-proclaimed master thief, hatted by the most ridiculous half sphere one could ever find in a thrift store, a plumber in a loose t-shirt smelling of lavender and Lacoste, and a dark-skinned ex-accountant thinly wrapped in white silk. Around an oval Cherrywood table with a glass center, atop which sits a vase furbished with fake roses of all shades of pink. Gentlemen, the council of morons has officially begun. I don’t know what’s more otherworldly: The manner in which this alien invasion is unfolding, full of mutants and special powers and what not; or our lack of collective care in regards to our clown uniforms as we address each other all serious-like.
“Madam,” he politely tips his hat to Jade, as a formal sort of greeting. He doesn’t seem to mind the towel. Good, that makes one of us.
“So, not to sound like a broken record, but something you needed to talk about?” I ask Everdred.
Elbows on the table, fingers linked together, he hunches forward. “Arrr, I believe I do, Morin. I’ve got some more news about the case of- Wait wait, where’s my boy Tyler? That’s still his house last I heard, yes?”
“Went shoppin’ for a battery, bikin’ for it and all that,” Jade answers. “On a personal quest to bring his ride back to life, or something.”
“Well would you look at that.” His already big smile widens. “Proactive little Tyler. That’s a mighty dang fine acolyte I found myself, bwa ha ha!”
Yes yes, and in the meantime, we’re busying ourselves overstaying our welcome. Business as usual.
“Truth be told, I kind of had no idea if you lot were done with your side biz, what with the Your Sanctuary deal and yaddi yadda. Was sort of out of my league there,” he says, scratching the back of his salt and pepper hair. “I kind of just expected to park my buttocks near Tyler’s scotch cabinet ‘til you three musketeers returned home. Or file a call to my pupil if he lingered past sundown,” he adds, his fist next to his ear, with the pinkie and the thumb erected.
“Sorry we had to cut your private lounge moment short.”
“It’s just as well, Morin. Gotta cut the ol’ liver some slack every once in a while.” He pulls his chair closer, ready to divulgate the reason of his visit. “Anyway,” he coughs two times, “reason I came is to shine a little bit more light on the whereabouts of your friend Ness.”
“Oh!” I oh’d.
“What for though?” Jade ponders. “Didna tell ya the boy was better left on the sidelines now, Mark? You took his spot proper, why do we care ‘bout what he does anymore?”
“It matters to me with how he chooses how to spend my cash!” Everdred bangs his fist onto the table, drawing the shadow of a jolt from her and I.
“Oh boy,” I just sigh, fearing – KNOWING the worst. I doubt that at the end of your primary school years, you have the foresight to put your economies into a money market mutual fund. You’d rather just acquire as many collector Pogs as you can afford until your wallet screams ‘no more!’
“’Parently, he thought the best way to spend ten big ones was to bail out a band of musicians that were indebted to the Chaos Theater. At least, that’s what Joey gathered when he was on the lookout after we came back from Woodalcove. Can you believe this!?”
I muse for a second or two. “Musicians... in debt... What, you don’t mean the Runaway Fives, do you?”
He snaps his fingers, enlightened. “Yessir! That’s them alright. Broke lads, the six of ‘em.”
“Six band members? Then why are they named-”
“Don’t ask, Jade. It’s hipster artistic stuff,” I cut her off.
While she busies herself rolling her eyes, lips pursed, I overhear Everdred grumble, arms crossed onto that ballooned belly of his.
“So, I’m guessing you’re beginning to think giving several thousand dollars to a teenager was not your crowning moment of awesomeness?” I slightly tease the big lad.
“Arrr, I never regret my investments, Morin! I made it pretty clear I relinquished my sum not without greasy interests. That’s part of my generous loan plan, see. If the boy fails to pay, well! Mr. Crowbar says he’ll never walk again!”
“Ehhhh, I’d be careful if I were you.”
“Why’s that?”
“He’s a chosen one, yeah? That probably means he’s leagues above us in the beautiful art of ass kicking. Plus, he’s hanging around Paula, and she’s a PSI user. She talked with him in dreams, as far as I can tell, so odds are, he too has some proficiency in the domain. I should know, miss over there...” she raises her hand and says ‘present!’ “... has had a pretty similar experience thus far.”
“Yuppers. Lil’ Paula is chockful of PSI; it pretty much stank of it when I got close to her back in prison. I was ‘bout her age I figured that stuff out too!”
Huh? Oh. Well, interesting little piece of trivia there, Jade. Anyway, back to Everdred.
“Bah. You PSI users are like little uncontrollable cockroaches, what with your oolàlà powers. We oughta do to you what we did to the witches at Salem!” he pouts. “Y’all are still nutjobs from where I stand.”
“I think he mad,” Jade says close to my ear. That got a decent giggle out of me.
Minutes passed as we further discussed everything and nothing. We took stock of the situation and reinforced certain ideas we already talked about before. Everdred got over his lament about the poorly used borrowed money, which surprised everyone involved. He indeed managed to abandon his crybaby tendencies and turned it into something more positive. He said Ness was last seen by Joey when he was lifted by the band I love so much into their tour van. They went directly toward the Threed tunnel, which is surprising, to say the least. I wonder if they met Dave on the way. As for if they managed to cross the tunnel itself without being ghosted out of their mind, well, I can’t really give you an answer. I’d like to think that they did, big damn heroes like Ness seldom fail at their task.
Over time, we landed onto a topic that caters particularly to me.
“How’s my mom?”
“Oh, Mrs. Lewis?” answers Everdred, his nails rubbing a mustache itch. “Morin, lemme tell ye. If you have a tenth of your mother’s determination, then I’d say we’re in good hands.”
He laughs. Jade smiles.
“Seriously though. Kat wanted to start the construction work over her house right away. Something about repairing our misdeeds. You know how she is.”
“I can picture it, yeah.”
“Well, Mrs. Lewis wanted to help. Poor ol’ lady can barely walk as it is! Took us all of our combined efforts to make her admit she was in dire need of a nap. After all she’s been through, I think she more than deserved it.”
“D’awww,” Jade chimes in.
“Mmmh,” ponders Everdred. “Morin, I don’t mean to probe, but I gotta ask. What is uh... your mother, she has... is she ill, or recovering, mayhaps?”
Was wondering when someone’d ask. It’s not happy happy joy joy stuff. It’s just a grim reminder of hospital trips and time off school and homework. A second life outside what is expected out of an unprepared teen.
“If I were to say ‘chronic leukemia,’ would it be enough to leave it at that? Sorry, I’m just- I don’t really like talking about that stuff. That kind of life obstacle gave my high school years a run for its money.”
Jade’s eyes go big. “Whoa dang, really? Leukemia? That’s like, blood cancer n’ stuff, right?”
“In layman’s terms, sort of, yeah,” I answer.
“Aw crap, I’m sorry about that, Mark.” Jade lowers her head slightly. “I didn’t know your madre had it this rough. But if it’s any consolidation, I think your ma is a pretty strong lady. Whatever will happen, she’ll overcome it like pssshhh nuthin’,” she waves a dismissing hand. “Maybe I’m fine-tuned to detect whiffs of PSI usage among random peeps, but I’m also pretty skilled at spotting those with a strong resolve. Your ma’s definitely one of the latter,” she winks.
Out-of-character Jade is best Jade. I can’t believe I’m letting myself being enthralled by her words. It just makes me more vulnerable for the upcoming punchline. Still, comforting words are, well, comforting at their core. So what if I let myself being touched by them? It’s fine. We all need to be patted on the back every once in a while. So, guards down, Mark.
“Hum, yeah, thanks. It’s stuff in the past. She definitely has the five-year survivor checkmark. I no longer fear for her safety. Besides, Dave’s there to tend to her needs a couple of days a week. I’ve got nothing to worry about,” I try a smile.
“Cancer...” lowly says Everdred out of nowhere.
Jade and I both turn to him.
“Mr. Carpainter brought a cancer survivor into Peaceful Rest Valley, jailed her in a cruddy environment... just to get at you?” he says to me.
“Uh, yeah. That he did.”
He stands up brusquely from his chair.
“I’m going back to Woodalcove to kill him.”
“Whoa dude, chill!” Jade says.
“Yeah, chill man. Mr. Carpainter has been reformed. He wasn’t entirely himself when he ordered his goons to abduct my mother. He is trying to put back his town together now, and he even pledged to go to the local authorities to get his case evaluated after. I don’t think launching a petty vendetta will make anything better at this point.”
Overexcited Everdred slumps back to his chair, arms crossed, grumbling.
“But...” I slowly think, “I might take you on that ‘going to Woodalcove’ offer, if you were serious about it.”
That piques his curiosity. Under his hat, he lifts his chin, concentrated on what I’m about to lay out.
“There is... a dangerous artifact in the church of Woodalcove. A very, VERY dangerous artifact! Something that I’m not even sure trained professionals from the FBI should approach.”
“Oh, you’re talking about, hmmm... what’s his face, again?” thinks Jade. Then, she snaps her fingers. “Mani Mani, was it? Yeah, big-ass yellow statue that gave you the creepiest panic attack I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”
Eesh, I do not like thinking about what that thing did to my mind. Dark thoughts and such...
“Yeah, Mani Mani. It was unearthed in Onett by your good ol’ billboard making friend, Everdred. Lier X. Agerate sold it to Mr. Carpainter last Sunday. Now, normally, I’d be a bit superstitious about the ‘malevolence’ radiating from that six-foot tall hunk of gold, but things have been so outlandishly fucked up lately that I’m inclined to believe for it to be a completely, completely evil entity.”
“Arrr, I get it. Ye want me to smash it to bits, don’tcha?”
I smile. “Precisely. Though, it’s probably not made out of gold, but something more solid. I couldn't even do so much as to scrap its paintjob. I think you’d have an easier time just dumping it in a lake, or something. We left it where we found it: In Mr. Carpainter’s office.”
“Done and done. I’ll get Kat to help me load it on her rented truck, bwa hahaha!” grins Everdred.
I do wonder how they’re going to bring their vehicle through Peaceful Rest Valley. It was not built to accommodate cars for sure. Maybe there was another road leading to Woodalcove that wasn’t pencil blocked? Map said there were country roads linking to it. Ah well, that’s a battle for a different team. Me? I’m done with this place.
“Just don’t go and try to sell it, or something,” I can’t help but squint.
“Ah psssshh! Have some faith, Morin! What d’ye think I am, a greedy thief or somethin’?”
Jade and I both give him that look.
“Ah come on!” he just whines.
“I’m serious though. I’m grateful for the help, but do handle that thing with the utmost care. It’s dangerous as hell as far as I can tell. Pretty positive that’s what brainwashed Mr. Carpainter and Matt.”
Matt. I shake my head, trying to scramble thoughts into place. When Mr. Carpainter ceased his operations and dehypnotised his followers, did that apply to Matt Keller? Did he snap back into his regular self? I would certainly hope so. Though, the fact that I haven’t stumbled upon him at all today worries me a bit. I hope he didn't turn into a sneaky defector yet again. I would love to dedicate more time toward his rescue, but fact of the matter is, he could be anywhere. Same as when I lost touch with him back in Onett. He had left town back then; searching for him would’ve been fruitless. Matt sure likes to play the mysterious wanderer when we have no time to spare.
“Maybe one more thing, Everdred,” I finally say to him. “Once you’ll be in Woodalcove, relocating the statue to its resting site, if you could ask the locals if they’ve seen or heard about a certain Matt Keller, that’d do me a massive solid.”
“Tche. That asshole,” mumbles Jade. I turn to her with a scowl.
“Oh, your bud that borrowed from the Sharks, right? Alrighty then, I can ask about him,” agrees Everdred without protesting.
I then proceed to tell him what he now sports, describing his new clothes to the best of my abilities. Everdred is to ring Dave’s phone if he hears any news about the whereabouts of rogue Matt.
With that being said, we are slowly wrapping up our conference. We are back in the game, now ready and organized. This is a good thing. It’s as if we made some kind of save file, heh. I like when things go smooth. No misunderstandings, no diverging from the plan, no twiddling our thumbs, no waiting to be bypassed by our enemies. This time, we’ve got the ball rolling. I like that.
“Well, that settles it,” I declare. “Thank you for dropping by, Everdred. And, uh, thank you so much for the quick repair works for at my mother’s house. She didn’t deserve to suffer collateral damage because of my involvement in this crazy story.”
“Ain’t no thing,” Everdred waves away. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Tyler would elbow drop me if I didn’t help yer mom proper. After I effectively destroyed you and her kitchen, bwahahaha!”
I just huff out in humor, swaying my head slightly.
“There aren’t two like you on this planet, eh?”
“No sire, there are not!”
He manages to get a decent laugh out of me. Well, I find it easier to find why Dave got magnetized to that lad’s personality in his early twenties. They both have an affinity for being quippy Mc. Gees, don’t they?
Without anything else to add, really, I chaperone him out of the house, whilst Jade stays behind a bit – she didn’t have much to add over the course of the conversation anyway. Seeing as the impromptu guest is about to tail off, I rub the back of my head a bit, again plagued by the fact that I just dumped yet another burden of mine in his camp. He came to my rescue back in Woodalcove, he’s supervising the reconstruction of my mother’s bungalow, and now he’s about to relocate a chunk of cursed metal on my behalf? I’m pushing the envelope a little too far for my taste.
“Listen, Everdred, uh, you know, once again... thanks. I know we’re from two separate worlds you and I, but you know, it’s still great that we managed to find common ground and cooperate. Despite the years of me avoiding you, and despite your tendencies to scuffle with the law. We still managed to get past that and tag teamed to fight a greater evil, right? Even after you and I exchanged a few... physical notes. Fire-forged friendship, and all that,” I roll my hand, waving away a bit this week’s ‘moral of the story.’
“Dire times brings surprising sides outta everyone, eh? Gotta do what we can, Morin,” he shrugs with that trademark grin of his.
“Yeah, you can say that again.” My eyes roll up in resignment. “Twoson really needed some pest control – and I shudder to think what the rest of Eagleland, let alone the world, looks like. Why bitch at each other over spoiled milk when that aggressivity can be better directed toward assholes who purposely ruin everything?”
“Amen.”
We share a good laugh.
And with a tip of his oddly-shaped hat, he departs. “See ya when I see ya, Morin. And say hi to the missus for me,” he declares, his rounded form descending the driveway.
Whether that ‘hi’ was aimed at Jade or Claire, I’m not sure, and somehow, that tickles me wrong. Ah well, let’s not act like a prick now; I’ve had it with my time-of-the-month mood swings. I’m a professional still, yes? Professionals have standards.
Lost in thoughts, a head with two green circles in the middle pops from the doorway.
“S’past five, or, in common language, it be supper time. Wanna go out and grab some grub, dude?” She points her thumb backward. “Your butt buddy has shite food. I feel for something greasy and godawful for my health.” Oh you mean like pretty much anything you vacuumed into that trash compactor mouth of yours since I first met you?
“Didn’t you just destroy the entire population of cookieland?”
“T’was a real massacre. There were no survivors,” she wipes an invisible tear.
“How can you possibly still be hungry?”
“By believin’ diabetes type 2 is only a myth propagated by the FDA. Anyway, shall we?”
“Pass. I just had a good portion of Stivalia-in-a-can. Not hungry right now.”
With one finger behind my back, she stretches the back of the elastic wrap of my thermals around my waist and let it snap back onto my coccis with a TWACK that makes me wince juuuuust a little bit.
“T’was a rhetorical offer. You’re comin’ with. Last thing I want is to see you sulk all alone, ô sweet manchild o’ mine.”
I grumble behind my breath. “At least promise me you’re going to put some damn clothes on before we go.”
“... you drive a hard bargain,” she chuckles.