Parallel Universes
Title: Parallel Universes
Characters: Eli, Leslie (original female character)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Phonetic spellings used to convey a hick accent
Word Count: 650
Summary: Eli never thinks about where the spirits that inhabit his clones come from. He probably should.
Notes: Inspired by the heroes_contest drabble challenge #35, “Spirit”.
“Oh, Ee-lye! Honey, baby, what you doin' gettin' up so early for?”
The man in question continued rolling out of bed, determinedly avoiding Leslie's snaring hands. “Ah got to,” he replied, walking off through the camper trailer to the tiny shower unit at the rear. “Got that weddin' to go to, 'member? It's at noon. Ah got to get ready.”
“Shit,” she muttered, then called out loudly, “You know I ain't goin'!”
“I know, I know,” Eli said quietly as he finished stripping off t-shirt and hole-ridden underwear. He showered fast - no hot water available - and worked hard at making himself presentable. He'd showered the night before, too, because it was tough to get completely clean when you worked concrete. The stuff got everywhere - there was dust in his clothes, grit between his teeth, and little pasty bits that hardened around the hairs on his shins or forearms like a bizarre attempt at growing a second skin.
Sometimes he thought about what it would be like to have some special power like that. He'd be 'Concrete Man, superhero!' Bashing down the bad guys from behind his suit of elemental concrete armor. It was a fun idea. Eh, well, he had to occupy his mind somehow while out on the work crew.
He adjusted his tie, thinking he looked pretty dashing if he did say so himself. Leslie was still lying abed, not that he minded terrible much. It might be nice to be social without her tagging along, especially now that they'd gone from screwing now and then to screwing regular. She was gettin' a mite possessive of him and he didn't know how he felt about that yet.
“What time's the reception start?” she asked.
“Eh … two Ah think. Mebbe four.”
“Two uh-clock? Who wants to get drunk at two uh-clock in the daytime? That's a stupid time to have a reception! That idiot cousin uh yours has some damn goofy ideas of how to plan a weddin'.”
Eli shrugged, grimaced and nodded. “Yeah. Well, Mark hired her. Not me.”
“That's cuz he and her used ta be a thing back in the day. If you ask me, him hiring her to do his weddin' when he waz gettin' hitched to summun else? That's jus' beggin' for trouble.”
Eli walked over and stooped to give her a brief kiss. “Yeah, but they ain't had no trouble of it. So let's just hope it stays that way.”
“Mm,” she hummed appreciatively. “You smell nice!”
He smiled his thanks and headed out. Behind him, Leslie called out, “I might come by at four, ya hear?”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya,” he said off-handedly as he strode out to his battered, blue pickup. He climbed in, lost in thought about the directions to the church.
“Eli! Eli!” A few moments later, Leslie came hurrying out of the trailer holding Eli's suit jacket in front of her to protect her questionable modesty and cover the bits her short, frilly nightgown didn't conceal. When he didn't answer and she didn't see him right away, she questioned, “Eli?”
She looked in the truck. It was the obvious place, as she'd heard the door shut, but the engine hadn't started. Eli was within, slumped over in the seat, stone cold dead. “ELI! Oh my God!”
XXX
Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, Noah and Lauren scuttled into Noah's bathroom for temporary cover as they went for additional guns. In the living room, Eli paid no attention to the empty space that had previously harbored one of his clones, now deceased. They were meaningless and expendable. He had no idea where the animating spirits for them came from, or if they even possessed a true life force. Sometimes when they died, he felt a little something twinge inside of himself, but he didn't pay it any mind.