Author: Servo Blue
AUTHOR'S NOTE: ============= True, this isn't as long as most of the later editions, but this was the perfect spot to stop this chapter, and I feared I was making any readers I still have wait far too long. Hope you like it.
--Servo Blue
DISCLAIMER: ========== Mine. Read. Levitate.
The Out-Crowd ===========
Part 18: Set Into Motion
When I woke up the next day, everything was wonderful; The sun was just starting to color the sky outside the window, Jeremy was laying with his back against my chest, still asleep, and I didn't have the slightest inclination -- or immediate need -- to get up.
I was in a sorta sitting/leaning position on his bed with my back on a pillow and my head against the wall. He was sitting between my legs, but when he fell asleep he kinda snuggled into a laying formation. I sat there and could do nothing but marvel at what I had in my lap. Even though nothing was at all official, at least to my knowledge, I knew I didn't want to leave him for anybody. And, if there was something official, I really wouldn't mind. With extreme caution, I ran my fingers through his hair. He didn't move, not one iota. I could've stayed like that forever. Unfortunately, there was a bit of bad news headed my way.
After the innitial shock set in, we thanked his mother for getting us up to see the news and took off straight for home. We grabbed Shelby (And Lor, but we won't touch that one) and shot straight to Milo's house. He wasn't there, and neither was Steiny, but as we pulled up, Mikro came swiftly out of Milo's front door, telling us of the absence of old people and that he'd meet us at the alley. Once there, we came to a sudden halt, Mikro's car screeching in right beside Jer's just seconds later. In a wave, the five of us moved up to Milo and Steiny, but not a word was uttered, not a whisper emitted, as we all gazed in the wonderful cliche of silent horror at the smoldering spectacle that lay in ashes before us.
"You'll all need to find new jobs," said Milo, not turning his head. "Give us a few months, and we'll call you. If you don't wanna leave your new positions, fine, no hard feelin's, we love you kids no matter what. But, come reopening time, your old jobs will be available."
There was a slight pause, as none of the three of us former employees knew exactly how to respond to that.
"That sounds a little rehearsed," Mikro stated, shifting his gaze only momentarilly to Milo's back.
"Killer and Juke were here about ten minutes ago. We finally got them to leave, but Killer wouldn't go home, so Juke took him to some restaraunt where they could...sort things out." said Milo.
"What kinda things?" asked Mikro, inquisitively.
"Aaah, the foolish boy," said Steiny, waving a hand sharply through the air, "He was here when it happened, yadda yadda, so he tinks it's his fault. Puh-lease! Killer may be clumsy, but this? This was no accident."
"Where'd they go?" I asked, with sudden sympathy for Killer. I didn't know the kid too well, but he was a nice enough guy when he talked to me.
"Aye, some Italian place, I dunno," said Steiny.
"Armeni's?" asked Jeremy, piping up from behind everybody.
"That's the one!" said Steiny, a bit too confident, and pointing his finger directly at Jeremy.
"Sure it's not Roselli's?" asked Mikro.
"Even better! Try there," said Steiny, tilting his head with the idea.
"What about Ianozone's?" asked Lor.
"Ehh, yeah, it coulda started with a vowell..." Steiny muttered.
"What ab--" started Jeremy with an enourmous smile brought in by the newfound game, but Steiny cut him off with a big ol' "I dunno, it was Italian! How many god blessed Italian restaraunts can there be in one rinkydink town?!"
"Seventeen," mumbled Milo, and with that, we said our goodbyes and made our way to the cars.
"fuckn mthr bstard fggt..." Micheal mumbled into his pillow, his head buried under the gigantic light blue comforter of his double bed. "wht th fick time izzit?" he grumbled, poking his head out from under the blanket to look at the digital clock on the night stand beside the bed. It read "6:49 am" in bright red numbers.
"Ten till fucking seven?!" he shreiked, his eyes widening as much as they could first thing in the morning, and his head rising from the pillow. "This better fucking be good," he declared with a voice of disbeleif and mild authority, as he kicked off the comforter, pulled on a pair of sweat pants that layed on the floor beside his bed, and thundered down the stairs.
The doorbell rang for, at least in Micheal's mind, the four thousandth fucking time, and as he reached the bottom of the red-covered stairs, he ran a hand through his jet black hair, making a half-conscious hope that he looked somewhat in order, though shoeless, shirtless and alertless. He reached the door at four thousand and fucking one, grabbed the doorknob, and pulled the door wide open, with an impatient "Yes??" Of course, the sight that he beheld was enough to shut his mouth and wake him up enturely.
There, on his doorstep, in a black button-up shirt, black jeans, black boots (with chains wrapped around them), a black trenchcoat and a silvery necklace, stood nothing more -- or less -- than a Zombie.
"Uh...hi," said Micheal, both awakened but confused on SO many levels.
"Hi," came the reply. After a moment, Micheal said:
"You DO know what ti--" but Zombie cut him off.
"I'm taking you up on your offer," he said. "You get to be my friend for one day. Depending on what I feel your motive is at the end of our adventurous journey, I will decide either to keep you...or drop you."
"Uh-huh." said Micheal, still out of it.
"Well, go get dressed," said Zombie.
"Wha--you mean NOW?" asked Micheal, in disbeleif.
"Well, unless it's an American thing to run around naked in the mornings, yes; now."
Armeni's diner came into veiw, and an odd feeling came into the car as both Juke's and Killer's cars were spotted right away in the parking lot. We pulled in and walked right through the doors, those stupid bells telling any occupants that we'd arrived. Killer looked up from his spot in the booth and saw us, causing Juke to turn and look as well.
"Hi, guys," he said, without really looking at any of us, but scooted over to allow more room. Juke gave a little wave and did the same. Shelby and Lor sat across from each other, while Jer, Mikro and I sat at the four seat table not three feet awy from the booth.
"You O.K.?" asked Shelby, placing a hand on Killer's shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm cool," he said, again not looking up, just running his fingers up and down the sides of his coffee cup. Shelby looked over at Juke, who looked back at him with wide eyes and shaking his head. For lack of anywhere else to go, I asked everybody what they would do now, occupationally speaking.
"I'll be goin' back to work with my dad," said Mikro. Juke tapped the center of his chest twice and followed that with a peace sign. In actuallity, he was saying "Me, too", but Juke has a nasty habbit of mixing actual sign language with Juke-bullshit sign language, so even today I only understand him 2/3 of the time. Hey, look, I'm off track again.
"What's he do?" I asked.
"He's a contractor," was the reply. "He mostly does roofs, but he's been known to build porches, patch up parking lots, stuff like that."
"Groovy," I said, in sincerity.
"I'll probably stay there," said Shelby, which, as you may have imagined, got quite an odd stare from everyone. "Well, it's my grandpa's place, right? If he's gonna stick around and rebuild it, I'll probably stick with him. That's kinda what family's for, isn't it?"
"If you help 'em out, I am too," said Killer, rather intently.
"Whoa," started Shelby, but Killer interrupted him.
"Regardless of what those two may think, it was very much my fault. I have never ever," and right there, he slammed his fist on the table hard enough to make the salt shaker...uh...shake, "been taken like that. It shouldn't have happened, and I don't know how it did. I have to make this up to them, and you, and myself, so I don't want to hear anybody tell me I'm wrong for redeeming it."
After a pause, Shelby ran his hand through his hair, rested it on the back of his head, and let out a heavy sigh. "I'll see what I can do," he said, and Killer nodded.
We hung around Armeini's for quite some time, and eventually Killer, Juke, Shelby and Lor decided to take Killer's car back to his house, and the four of them would meet me, Jeremy, and Mikro at the park. After they'd left, and the three of us were just about to, those damn bells rang again and in walked Micheal and the single most unholy figure I'd ever seen.
"Guys!" he yelled, as he made his way over, the monster walking behind him. "Guys, I've got someone I'd like you to meet: this...is Vlad Gregarian."
I was closest, so I stood up and stuck out my hand.
"Hi," I said. "I'm Casey. This is Jeremy and that's another Mike, but we call him 'Mikro', 'cause he's just weird like that."
"It's nice to meet you all," he said, in his very Romanian/Transylvanian somewhere near Austrian accent. "I am Vlad, but I am called 'Zombie'. I guess I'm just scarey."
"Zombie's gonna hang around with us today," said Micheal.
"Alright," I said, and the other too nodded their consent. "We were just on our way to the park, to meet Shelby. That O.K.?"
"Will their be fun?" asked Zombie.
"Galore!" answered Jeremy, with a stupid over-excited look on his face. Zombie kinda smirked at him and said, "Then by all means; to the park."
We left the diner and headed out into the parking lot. I made a mental note that Micheal and Zombie had walked all the way into town, as Micheal's black brittmobile was nowhere to be seen. We made our way over to Jeremy's car, and he took the keys from his pocket.
"You are driving a moss green Oldsmobile?" asked Zombie in awe.
"It was my mother's." said Jeremy.
"Of course," said Zombie. We climbed in and in minutes we were in veiw of the park. Once there, and in a parking space, Jeremy and Micheal had to run across the fairly extensive yardage to the little boys' room. Zombie and I took a seat on a park bench and were enjoying the scenery, when all of the sudden, he spoke.
"Do you know why they call me Zombie?" he asked, looking at me only when he'd finished his question.
"I would suppose it has something to do with your name being Vlad," I said, without much thought before hand.
"Well, I admit, that in itself is an inconvenient addition, but I beleive it is because I look like I am dead." He shuffled a bit on the bench, then, while staring ahead at the nothingness of the park, he continued. "You see, friend Casey, I have been awake for 14 weeks. For specifics, today at 8am was my one hundredth and second day of conciousness, so give or take a fraction of a week. In fact, come Tuesday, it'll be 15 weeks."
"Is that safe?" I asked, kinda worried about him now.
"Aah, well, I get around an hour, maybe two a night where I'm mostly asleep, and I do lay in bed and rest during the night. It really doesn't hurt me much, and I've actually grown quite accustommed to it. The name, too. My only complaint is that there are people who think I'm on drugs."
This little switcheroo caught me.
"How's that?" I asked.
"I hear them talking about me until I'm within a few feet, I see them point out of the corner of my eye. I'm not a fool, Casey. Some, like that Miller boy, have even mocked me too my face, which, oddly enough, I prefer. But these accusations of drugs, just because I'm dead white and quiet.... That I just do not like. It's like they're trying to tell me I'm something I'm not."
At this, my brain exploded back to one of my most recent dreams:
"Leave me to my daunted slumber, and take away the trouble!"
Upon remembering that phrase, everything smashed into my brain all at once. That's when everything from that dream came rushing back; the Undertaker warning me of a disaster and a "zombie", the zombie's plea for "daunted slumber", the fall, and then the terrifying roar at the end. I must've been shaking, because I distinctly remember a muffled, echoy Vlad asking if I was alright, and then the sound of me falling off the bench as I passed out.
....To Be Continued....
Any Comments or Criticism go to me at Inverse@mindless.com
Aw, hell, I've put it off for so long, I'll just continue it here and call this Part 19: More Confusion.
I woke up staring at the ceiling of my room, hearing only the sizzling sound of the downpouring rain outside. At first, I was kinda lost. I lifted my head and looked around, taking in the sights of my room. Well, there was one difference; Jeremy, sitting in the chair at my desk. He looked kinda tired, like he'd been there a while. I looked out the window and saw it was dark. He noticed me moving around.
"Hey," he said, almost a whisper, but a small smile on his face. "You're up."
"I know," I sead, propping myself up on my elbows. It was at this point that I realized I didn't have a shirt on, and since my nervous system just kicked in, I discovered that I'd been completely undressed save for the boxers. I looked at my chest then at him. "You do this?" I asked. He just smiled wider.
"Not that lucky, especially in your own house." he said.
"Mmm," I agreed. "What happened?" I asked, rubbing my head.
"That's a very good question," he responded. "One minute you're fine, the next you just black out. You were totally gone, and when Micheal and I got back, you had Zombie pretty spooked. Heh--that's kinda funny. Anyway, we couldn't wake you up, so we brought you home. Your mom was here, and she's the one who did the honors."
After a moment, he got this really serious un-Jeremy-like expression on his face.
"What did happen there?" he asked.
I sighed. How do I explain this? I never could. I hated this part. After about ten minutes of trying to find a good way of saying something this foolish, and finding that there was none, I just started talking.
"Sometimes...I have these dreams," I started. "And every once in a while, it ends up...uh..."
"What, coming true?" he asked, in a confused voice.
"No, not...really." I said. I really hated this. "Certain things behind or around what I dreamt about with pop up and present themselves, but nothing that actually has to do with the dream has to do with life itself."
Yeah, that did it.
I took in the blank-minded, almost battle-strewn look on Jeremy's face as he tried to peice togteher the borken puzzle of a statement that I'd just given him. I sat up and rubbed the back of my head, thinking of the best way to put it. But I couldn't.
"Jer," I said, and he changed the look on his face entirely, ready to listen and evaluate anything I mike verbally vomit at him. "This is a very hard thing for me to talk about, partly because I know how fucking stupid it sounds, and partly because I never HAVE talked about it, not with anybody. For all I know, my parents don't know about it. They've never seemed to notice anything before. But hell, I've never had anything that scarey, that big, happen before." I sighed. "I want to explain this as well as humanly possible, Jer, I do, but it's just that right now I don't know how. Can you gimme some time to try to put something together?"
A first, he nodded, then said, rather quietly, "Sure, bud."
"Where's everybody at?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Well, let's see," he said, looking up to the ceiling and pointing to another finger at each name, "Shelby took Lor home, but he's back now and, last I knew, was watching TV in your living room with your mother."
"'K," I said.
"Mikro went back over to Milo's place, but that's because Killer, who, by the way, is a certified hottie, would not stop griping about the whole "destruction of the bowling alley" thing, and Mute Boy couldn't take him 'cause he had to go home and help his mom move some furniture or something, and Mikro was the only other person who knew Milo well enough to get there."
"Uh-huh."
"Vald--" he started, but something just hit me.
"Whoa--did you just refer to Juke as "Mute Boy"?" I asked, almost unbelieving.
"Uh...yeah." he said, plainly. "That's my new name for him," he said with a smile. "I kept asking him why they call him 'Juke' if his name is 'Jules', because it's not like 'Jules' is any longer or any harder to say, and 'Juke', as in the box, more indicates the opposite of his particular idiom. He kinda got fed-up, I think, or he just doesn't like the subject, which I guess is also understandable, and he flailed something at me and Killer said that he said to just call him Mute Boy."
I hate my boyfriend.
"Uh--"I started, but all I could do was rub my forehead and brush it off. He must not've had anybody to talk to all day. "O.K. Continue."
"Cool. Vlad left with Micheal once everything was settled with you here, and they're out gallavanting all over who knows where. I think they went and got Kate, but I'm not sure. Wally has yet to check in with anybody today, and your dog is outside. Did I miss anybody?"
"Mmm...No," I said, running through the list in my mind. "I think that's everybody."
"Good," he said. "Well, get up. Your mother wants to make sure her baby's O.K.," he said, and went for the door.
"You're not gonna stay here for a few minutes?" I asked, a small smile on my face.
"What?" he asked, over his shoulder, pausing in the doorway. "Dude, you have pie downstairs. You...pie. You...pie. Hmm. See ya there." And with that, I got up, put on a pair of sweats and a gray T-shirt, and met the folks downstairs.
I walked into the living room and saw my mom sitting on the couch with Shelby, and Jeremy sitting in the recliner. A banana cream pie, with a few missing pieces, sat on the coffee table in the middle of the room. Jeremy had a small plate in his hand and was damn near melting in pleasure from savoring the bite currently in his mouth.
"Hey, bud," said Shelby, when I'd hit the bottom step. "How ya doin'?"
"I'm alright," I said, and before my mom could even think about it, I snuck in my explanation. "I just haven't been sleeping too well, not even at Jer's house last night, and I guess with all the activity, what with the fire and all, I just...passed out." I made my way over and sat on the floor, legs folded Indian style, and my hands on the floor behind me, propping my body up. "Did me good, though."
"Well, you look O.K.," said my mom, standing up. "You boys finish off the desert," she said, snagging one last piece for herself. "I'm going up to my room to watch my show, then I'm going to bed. Don't be up all night, especially in lue of recent events."
We all nodded, thanked her, and said our goodnights.
We all watched her as she topped the stairs and disappeared through the doorway to the hall. Then, without wasting any time, Jeremy started explaining everything I missed.
"My dad's home," he said, like it wasn't important.
"Really?" I asked, coaxing him further.
"Yeah," he said, not making eye contact and taking another bite of his pie. There was a moment's pause as I looked at Shelby and he looked at me over his sunglasses. Yes...his sunglasses. At night. In the house. You can't tell, but I just shrugged and rolled my eyes.
"Well?" I asked. He looked at me and then Shelby and then me again with the most lost expression on his face.
"What?" he asked. Shelby threw a pillow at him, and he almost lost his pie, both from dodging the pillow and laughing so hard.
"What do you think, dumbass?" I asked through a smile. "How's he been? What's even like? Info!"
After settling down a bit, Jeremy conceded. "Lemme see now...my dad.... Well, his name is Bill, he's a Virgo, he enjoys puppies, sunsets, and long walks on the beach."
At this, I almost dropped the pie I was putting on a plate for myself and Shelby just fell back on the couch.
"I don't know!" yelped Jer. "I don't know how to talk about people, especially the ones that I like. You guys'll just have to come meet him."
"Fine," I said, but before I could finish, there was a loud three-strike knock on the door. This was surprising to all in the room, as it was near, if not after eleven thirty. I got up and answered the door, and received a very alarming sight. As the door was opened, a flash of lightning lit up around a kid wearing dark jeans and shoes, a leather jacket and a navy blue fedora with a silver and black band.
"This is yours, is it not?" he asked in a dry, irritated voice. I looked to his side and saw him holding part of the chain that was connected to Wallop's collar. Lotsa stuff ran through my head right then.
"uh...Yeah," I said, not really understanding yet.
"I thought so," he said. "I almost hit the damn thing. It was right in the middle of the road, waitin' for a cat person in a bad mood to come along in a speeding car."
I really didn't know what to say.
"You wanna take it?" he asked, in response to my few seconds of dumb silence.
"Uh, y-yeah. Thanks," I said. I'm a real conversationalist.
"You might wanna take a look at that chain. Somebody was hoping for that cat person."
And with that remark, Fedora turned on his heel and walked off my porch steps and back to the car on the street.
"What was that?" asked Shelby, taken aback.
"I really don't know," I said, shutting the door and turning around. "I guess he kinda saved Wallop's life...potentially."
"Well, I gathered that," said Shelby, as I went to get a towell from the bathroom adjacent to the kitchen. "I just never thought I'd see that happen."
When I'd gotten back, Wallop had already done that stupid shake and rained on the furniture, but he was also laying comfortably on the couch beside Shelby, who was doing his best to command the dog down.
I sighed, and while Shelby wasn't about to touch a sopping wet dog, I wrapped the towell around Wallop and wrestled him to the floor. After I did my best at drying the dog, and he did his best at fighting me off, which, by the way, gave Shelby and Jeremy something more to laugh at, I took his chain off his collar and noticed that something similar to bolt cutters must've been used on it, by the way the last link was smashed. It took us little time to jump to conclusions on who could've done such a snidely thing.
I can't really say I remember too much about what happened after that conversation that night, or what it lead to, or what the last thing was that happened before Jer and I realised that Shelby had fallen asleep on the couch. I do, however, recall pointing out the fact that he was out of it, and sliding in the recliner behind Jeremy, wrapping myself around him, and going back to sleep. The next day, though? Ugh. You don't wanna know.
O.K., we'll cut it there this time. I know I'm getting horrible at my timing, but I'm now working 7-8 hour days with a contractor and I have little to no NRG left at the time of day that I can write. I'm very sorry. Please continue reading. --Servo Blue.