I've Always Hated Adventures - Part IV
Part III
“Where are we heading again?”
Greta followed behind Butch with Gabe taking up the rear. They were somewhere in the suburbs, but they left her car in a ditch somewhere about a mile back. Greta left a note with Guild stationary under the windshield wiper with instructions on what to do with the car if it was found. Doreen had informed her to do that when she had first gotten the car and she hoped that it worked. If not, she was going to have some serious words with her if she ever got back.
“A safe house,” said Butch, his boots clicking against the pavement of the road they walked along. This may have been the suburbs, but the further they walked, the more trashed their surroundings got. Greta wondered what time it was, but she figured the sun would be rising soon.
“Don’t feel very safe out here,” said Gabe. Greta would have looked to see what his face looked like, but she hadn’t looked at him much since they ran from Chicago.
“Safer out here than it is back there,” said Butch softly. He held a small ball of light aloft in his hand and kept his eyes forward. “Besides, you can stop your complaining. We’re here.”
Butch stopped in front of a mailbox and Greta looked up. There was a long driveway that lead up to a large dilapidated house. She pursed her lips and looked up at Butch. “This is safe?”
He looked down, smiling. She wasn’t sure if it was the light in his hand, but his eyes seemed to twinkle. “Didn’t your dad ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?”
“Well, yeah,” said Greta, scratching her head. “Except he used a metaphor about not judging a fluid by its viscosity...”
“Same thing,” said Butch, starting his walk up the driveway. “C’mon... let’s get out of the road.”
Greta looked over at Gabe, who reluctantly followed Butch. Greta didn’t have to see his face to tell that he wasn’t big on this, but they both knew Butch was their only hope at this point. Greta ran after the both of them.
The driveway was long and uneven, but not very steep. Greta was at least thankful for that. A bike, a scooter and a car sat at the top, but they looked like they hadn’t been used in a long time. They walked up the porch steps and each one creaked a little bit more under their weight. Greta felt nervous, but she knew that falling through a wooden step was much better than being in the hands of whoever wanted her.
Butch walked over to the door, putting his hand up to it. Several locks clicked open and the door creaked open, revealing a soft light coming from inside. Butch put out the light in his hand and looked back at Gabe and Greta. “C’mon... get in there.”
“That’s what she said,” Gabe muttered under his breath. Greta promptly elbowed him in the ribs. “Owww...”
“You deserve it,” she muttered as she walked in the house. In more ways than one...
Greta stopped in the foyer, looking around in awe as Gabe and Butch walked in. The door slammed and locked shut behind them, but it didn’t break her concentration. This was not a normal house. Every wall in the house was lined with doors. And each door had a location written on it. The ones closest to her were labeled ‘Necropolis’, ‘Timbuktu’ and ‘Rio de Janeiro’. Butch walked ahead of her, but she had to stop him. “What is this place?”
“It’s the Doorway House. Me and a few of my friends set it up years ago. All these doors lead to somewhere else in the world...”
A howl came from the door labeled ‘Necropolis’ that made Greta jump. Butch frowned. “Or to other dimensions. Don’t go through that one.”
“No need to tell me twice,” Gabe said, inching away from the door.
Butch put down his bags and walked along the doors that lined the left wall before stopping and knocking on one labeled ‘NYC’. “V! Are you there? It’s Butch!”
There was a long moment of silence before the door slowly creaked open. Greta couldn’t see who opened the door, but she heard a raspy voice come from the other side. “Butch... it’s five in the morning. What the fuck do you want?”
“Voltaire, I got a situation that I can’t handle alone,” said Butch quietly. “I need you and Amanda. Where is she?”
“Check Boston first. She’s most likely there.”
Butch turned from the door and quickly went up the creaky old stairs. The door to New York opened and the person who came out was dressed in a baggy black shirt, black pants and had hair and a beard that would have been Greta’s first thought when seeing the word ‘necromancer’. He looked over at Gabe and Greta, a mix of sleepiness and boredom on his face. “Friends of his?”
Greta gulped and looked up the stairs. “More or less...”
Butch stopped at the landing and knocked on the door in front of him. “Amanda? You there? Amanda?”
“I heard you the first time!”
The door flew open and Butch took a step back. Greta couldn’t see her, but she could hear a deep female voice from the other side. “Butch, it’s five in the morning here...”
“That’s what I told him,” shouted the one from New York.
“I know, I know,” said Butch calmly. “We need your help though.”
Butch backed up more as the the woman came walking out, looking over the banister. She was wrapped in a kimono and her reddish hair was flying everywhere. Greta could tell she was much smaller than Butch or the other man, but she seemed more imposing. She looked down at Greta and Gabe and Greta suddenly felt frightened. Like this woman could let her live or die with just uttering one word.
The woman backed from the bannister and looked towards Butch. “We’ll meet through your door in a half hour.”
She then turned and walked through the Boston door and Butch looked down at the man from New York. “Wow, that’s the first time you’ve been right about where she is.”
“I know,” he said, fiddling with a piercing on the top of his ear. “It actually kind of scares me.”
Butch looked over at Greta and Gabe, an awkward smile growing across his face. “So... to Atlanta?”
--------------------
Greta sat on the front porch of a house tucked away in the corner of Atlanta, watching the sun rise. Butch handed her a cup of coffee and sat in the seat next to her. “How are you holding up, honey?”
She shrugged. “This time last week, I was telling my dad over breakfast that I was auditioning for a music school while he was trying to tell me about some government funded project he was starting work on and Gabe was annoying the shit out of me. Now my dad’s gone, I’m being chased down by weirdoes who probably want me for a theory I only know a tiny bit about, and I don’t even know if I can trust my bodyguard anymore.”
Butch gave her a weak smile and reached over to pat her hand. “I think Gabe is the least of your worries right now.”
Greta looked over at him with tired eyes. “You think so?”
“Look, from my experience, he’ll pick the side of whoever pays him the most,” Butch admitted. “But he stays loyal to the ones he likes more.”
She smiled gently at him. “Thanks. I don’t know if that makes me feel any better about it, but thanks for trying.”
She started to take a long pull from her cup when Gabe walked out to the porch. “Uhhh...Butch... your friends are here. Just thought you oughta know.”
Butch nodded and stood up to walk inside. Gabe stayed where he was and looked over at Greta. “You still not trusting me right now?”
“No, not really,” said Greta, mostly to the coffee mug. “One of those band uniform wearing crazies knows your name and I want to know why.”
Gabe sighed. “You’ll know everything soon enough. I promise.”
Greta put the mug on the table beside her. “I believe you when you do.”
Gabe moved away from the door and Butch walked out with the man from New York and the woman from Boston following him. Greta stood as the walked out in front of her. Butch cleared his throat. “Amanda, Voltaire, this is Greta Salpeter. Greta, I’d like to properly introduce you to Amanda Palmer and Aurielo Voltaire.”
Greta looked at the both of them and thought they were day and night compared to Butch. Voltaire still left the same impression as before on her, but it seemed stronger now that he was properly dressed in sharp black clothes. Amanda seemed even more imposing in the daylight, even if she was wearing just a t-shirt and jeans. Her hair seemed even more manic and where here eyebrows should have been, there were swirly designs. These were necromancers and Greta knew it right away. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She held out her hand and both Voltaire and Amanda shook it. “That name sounds familiar,” mused Voltaire. “Wasn’t there a cartoon in the 90s about a girl with the same name?”
Greta sighed. She didn’t want to deal with this now. “Yeah. That was me. Kinda.”
Butch looked up at Amanda as he took a seat. “Mr. Man not joining us today?”
She shook her head. “He’s in London right now. Try again next week.” Greta didn’t know who they were referring to, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was some sort of significant other that was missing from their presence.
Amanda then took a seat upon the porch railing as Voltaire pulled another chair from across the porch towards him. “Okay, Butch said we should help you. So spill.”
Greta bit her lip and looked over at Gabe. “Can you go get that gun from Butch’s bag? I’m going to need it to illustrate my point.”
Gabe nodded and turned to go back inside. Greta turned back towards Voltaire and Amanda, then towards Butch. “Do I really have to tell this again?”
“I could walk through your mind,” said Voltaire with a smile that made her feel uneasy. “Might pinch just a bit though.”
Amanda smacked his shoulder. “Don’t or I’ll make your ears bleed again.”
Voltaire flinched and looked up at Amanda like a innocent man wronged. “I was kidding!”
She ignored him though and looked straight at Greta. “I know you don’t want to relive this, but we need to hear your story to see if you’re really in need of all three of us.”
Greta looked back over at Butch. “I thought you said you were friends.”
Butch scratched the back of his head. “Well, we are, but remember the chupacabra incident I told you about?”
“Yeah?”
“He tried to sacrifice me to it,” said Amanda bluntly.
Butch looked back over at her. “It was an accident! How many times do I have to apologize to you?”
Greta wondered how much further this argument would go, but Gabe walked back on the porch and tossed the gun in Greta’s lap. Everyone froze and focused on Greta. If Greta had to rank all the long and awkward pauses in her life, this had to be number two behind her dad giving her ‘The Talk’ while they were going through the mountains of Tibet.
Voltaire finally broke the silence by simply clearing his throat and asking, “Ummm...what is that?”
Greta brandished the gun and leaned on the side of her chair. “This is part of what’s causing my problems. Well, the recent ones at least.”
------------------------
Greta recounted her story like she had never recounted any story before. Every detail that crossed her mind crossed her lips. The audition, the funeral, the diner, the leader, David Bowie, her annoyance and sadness over her father, how much that Parade group frightened her, and even her current distrust of Gabe. She realized that last part wasn’t a good thing to admit, but he knew it already and she just needed to get it out. And it felt good for it to be out in the open.
When she finished, she slammed the gun on the table between her and Butch. “There. That’s everything. Should I stop here or do you want to a story about how I was kidnapped by the Cult of Ra in Egypt when I was thirteen as well?”
Amanda and Voltaire looked towards each other, then back at Greta. She expected some grand words about how they could or could not join. Instead, Amanda just said, “Alright, no need to fucking tell me twice.”
Greta blinked at her for a few seconds before breathing a long sigh of relief. “Oh thank you, sweet baby Jesus...”
Voltaire then poked up his hand. “If I can be honest though, I’m surprised you’re still sane after all these years. I mean, damn... the cartoon really cleaned up your life.”
“You don’t think I know that? I’ve realized how fucked up my life truly is over the past twenty four hours than I have since I started high school,” she said, staring up at the porch overhang. She rolled her head back up and looked around at everyone. “I think I need a nap now.”
“Go sleep in my bed,” offered Amanda. “You need it.”
Greta quickly got up, nodding her thanks to Amanda and left everyone behind on the porch. She had forgotten which door they had come through, so it took her a few tries before she stumbled into the creaky old house in suburban Illinois. At least Atlanta was a few doors down from Boston. She heard a thump from Necropolis, but ignored it. She was tired and had worse things to worry about.
She walked through the Boston door and was surprised. In contrast to Atlanta where they had walked in through a front closet to a decent sized house, Greta found herself walking through the pantry of a small kitchen. She looked out and saw an apartment filled from top to bottom with various things of various natures. She wanted to walk through and explore everything, but she knew that could be a bad idea. Partially from personal experience and partially from remembering the fact that a necromancer lived in her. It really was unfortunate though because the piano that was tucked away in the corner of the room was calling to her. All she wanted to do was stop and play and forget about everything that had happened since her dad died. She wanted the music to magically take everything away.
Instead, she made a crooked beeline for the bedroom and as soon as she saw the bed, she fell backwards onto it. The bed was safe. Maybe the bed could take everything away. Her eyes grew heavy and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep.
------------------------
This has to be a dream...
Greta felt herself walking through smoke, trying to find her father who had been calling out to her. She knew she should have been coughing or choking to death, but she didn’t. This is a dream... this is a dream...
“Greta!”
“Dad, I’m coming!”
She pushed her way through the smoke and soon found herself in his main lab. The room glowed orange from flames, but there were none in sight. “Dad? Where are you?”
All of a sudden, she watched a dark figure move out of the corner of her eye. “Dad?”
“‘Fraid not,” said a voice. It sounded soft, British, male and distant. Like he wasn’t really there.
She turned but the figure jumped again. This really is a dream. “Who are you then? Did you do this?”
“No... I’m just an observer.”
Greta sighed and begun to look through the lab. Either for her dad or where the flames were coming from. Possibly both. “So, you don’t have any answers for me then? Like where my dad is?”
“I don’t think you’ll find him here,” said the voice. “He must be long gone by now if you can’t find him.”
You know you’re dreaming. Wake up. “Then what am I looking for then?”
She saw the figure move and she assumed it was shrugging. “Maybe the answer has been right in front of you the whole time.”
“What does that...?”
Greta stopped talking as soon as she looked up. In front of her, the source container sat upon the table. It was bigger than she imagined and the flames seemed to be erupting from it. She reached out to touch it, but her hand recoiled from the heat.
Wake up!
----------------------
Greta jolted up in the bed and took several deep breaths. She knew it was just a dream, but she still felt shaky from everything that had happened. “What was that?”
She fell back on the bed and reached for her necklace. It was such a bad nervous habit, but she didn’t care. It’s not like it was a drug or anything.
All of a sudden, she stopped and looked down at the necklace. “Maybe the answer has been in front of me the whole time.”
Quickly, she jumped from the bed and ran out of the apartment. Things were starting to make a lot more sense.
--------------------------
“Wait,” said Voltaire, holding up a hand. “I don’t really follow all of this.”
They were all standing around Butch’s kitchen, Greta’s necklace sitting in the middle of the counter. She sighed and frantically tried to explain again. “I had a dream about the lab fire and this British voice said something to me about the answer being in front of me the whole time...”
Voltaire looked over at Amanda, who had a bit of a mischievous grin on her face. “You didn’t tell Neil to walk through her dreams, did you?”
“No,” said Amanda innocently. “I really didn’t. I’d like to know how she became aware that he was there though...”
Greta felt confused. “Uh...are we talking about the same thing?”
Amanda shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Butch rolled his eyes before looking back at Greta. “Go on, Greta. What does this have to do with the necklace?”
“Well, as I told Gabe, the necklace is a model of what the source container would have looked like. In my dream, the source container is where the fire was coming from. I think the dream was telling me that this is why that group is after me.”
“The necklace?” asked Voltaire.
“I think so,” said Greta softly. “Dad gave it to me when I turned sixteen and never told me why. So I have to wonder if it’s not just a model.”
“That’s enough for me,” muttered Gabe.
Everyone looked up at Gabe. He hadn’t really said much since Greta had come back from Boston. Greta raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”
He looked up at all of them and pulled out his phone. “I’m so sorry, you guys. I have no choice.”
Gabe flipped the phone open and pressed a button. A high pitched frequency filled the room and everyone quickly tried to cover their ears. “What are you doing, Gabe?” shouted Greta as she looked up at him.
“You were right not to trust me,” he said solemnly. “I can’t even trust myself.”
Greta fell back onto the floor, staring up at Gabe. Over the ringing sound in her ears, she heard Butch cursing at Gabe as he got closer to the ground, a thud from where Voltaire had been standing and Amanda thrashing at Gabe’s ankles before going silent. Her eyes were growing heavy again and she could barely see anymore. “Gabe...you...fucking...bitch...”
And her world fell silent.
----------------------
Gabe looked over the bodies on the floor as he turned his phone off and took the tissue out of his ears. They weren’t dead. Just knocked out by a high frequency. He didn’t want it to be like this, but he had very little choice in the matter.
He quickly turned his phone back on and hit the first number on speed dial. “Victoria, it’s Gabe. The deed’s been done. You can pick up them up through the door marked Atlanta.”
“Excellent,” said Victoria on the other end. He didn’t have to see her to know that she was smiling. “I knew you hadn’t gone soft on us, Gabe.”
The other end clicked off and Gabe sighed as he stuck the phone back in his hoodie pocket. “I wish I had.”
Part V
“Where are we heading again?”
Greta followed behind Butch with Gabe taking up the rear. They were somewhere in the suburbs, but they left her car in a ditch somewhere about a mile back. Greta left a note with Guild stationary under the windshield wiper with instructions on what to do with the car if it was found. Doreen had informed her to do that when she had first gotten the car and she hoped that it worked. If not, she was going to have some serious words with her if she ever got back.
“A safe house,” said Butch, his boots clicking against the pavement of the road they walked along. This may have been the suburbs, but the further they walked, the more trashed their surroundings got. Greta wondered what time it was, but she figured the sun would be rising soon.
“Don’t feel very safe out here,” said Gabe. Greta would have looked to see what his face looked like, but she hadn’t looked at him much since they ran from Chicago.
“Safer out here than it is back there,” said Butch softly. He held a small ball of light aloft in his hand and kept his eyes forward. “Besides, you can stop your complaining. We’re here.”
Butch stopped in front of a mailbox and Greta looked up. There was a long driveway that lead up to a large dilapidated house. She pursed her lips and looked up at Butch. “This is safe?”
He looked down, smiling. She wasn’t sure if it was the light in his hand, but his eyes seemed to twinkle. “Didn’t your dad ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?”
“Well, yeah,” said Greta, scratching her head. “Except he used a metaphor about not judging a fluid by its viscosity...”
“Same thing,” said Butch, starting his walk up the driveway. “C’mon... let’s get out of the road.”
Greta looked over at Gabe, who reluctantly followed Butch. Greta didn’t have to see his face to tell that he wasn’t big on this, but they both knew Butch was their only hope at this point. Greta ran after the both of them.
The driveway was long and uneven, but not very steep. Greta was at least thankful for that. A bike, a scooter and a car sat at the top, but they looked like they hadn’t been used in a long time. They walked up the porch steps and each one creaked a little bit more under their weight. Greta felt nervous, but she knew that falling through a wooden step was much better than being in the hands of whoever wanted her.
Butch walked over to the door, putting his hand up to it. Several locks clicked open and the door creaked open, revealing a soft light coming from inside. Butch put out the light in his hand and looked back at Gabe and Greta. “C’mon... get in there.”
“That’s what she said,” Gabe muttered under his breath. Greta promptly elbowed him in the ribs. “Owww...”
“You deserve it,” she muttered as she walked in the house. In more ways than one...
Greta stopped in the foyer, looking around in awe as Gabe and Butch walked in. The door slammed and locked shut behind them, but it didn’t break her concentration. This was not a normal house. Every wall in the house was lined with doors. And each door had a location written on it. The ones closest to her were labeled ‘Necropolis’, ‘Timbuktu’ and ‘Rio de Janeiro’. Butch walked ahead of her, but she had to stop him. “What is this place?”
“It’s the Doorway House. Me and a few of my friends set it up years ago. All these doors lead to somewhere else in the world...”
A howl came from the door labeled ‘Necropolis’ that made Greta jump. Butch frowned. “Or to other dimensions. Don’t go through that one.”
“No need to tell me twice,” Gabe said, inching away from the door.
Butch put down his bags and walked along the doors that lined the left wall before stopping and knocking on one labeled ‘NYC’. “V! Are you there? It’s Butch!”
There was a long moment of silence before the door slowly creaked open. Greta couldn’t see who opened the door, but she heard a raspy voice come from the other side. “Butch... it’s five in the morning. What the fuck do you want?”
“Voltaire, I got a situation that I can’t handle alone,” said Butch quietly. “I need you and Amanda. Where is she?”
“Check Boston first. She’s most likely there.”
Butch turned from the door and quickly went up the creaky old stairs. The door to New York opened and the person who came out was dressed in a baggy black shirt, black pants and had hair and a beard that would have been Greta’s first thought when seeing the word ‘necromancer’. He looked over at Gabe and Greta, a mix of sleepiness and boredom on his face. “Friends of his?”
Greta gulped and looked up the stairs. “More or less...”
Butch stopped at the landing and knocked on the door in front of him. “Amanda? You there? Amanda?”
“I heard you the first time!”
The door flew open and Butch took a step back. Greta couldn’t see her, but she could hear a deep female voice from the other side. “Butch, it’s five in the morning here...”
“That’s what I told him,” shouted the one from New York.
“I know, I know,” said Butch calmly. “We need your help though.”
Butch backed up more as the the woman came walking out, looking over the banister. She was wrapped in a kimono and her reddish hair was flying everywhere. Greta could tell she was much smaller than Butch or the other man, but she seemed more imposing. She looked down at Greta and Gabe and Greta suddenly felt frightened. Like this woman could let her live or die with just uttering one word.
The woman backed from the bannister and looked towards Butch. “We’ll meet through your door in a half hour.”
She then turned and walked through the Boston door and Butch looked down at the man from New York. “Wow, that’s the first time you’ve been right about where she is.”
“I know,” he said, fiddling with a piercing on the top of his ear. “It actually kind of scares me.”
Butch looked over at Greta and Gabe, an awkward smile growing across his face. “So... to Atlanta?”
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Greta sat on the front porch of a house tucked away in the corner of Atlanta, watching the sun rise. Butch handed her a cup of coffee and sat in the seat next to her. “How are you holding up, honey?”
She shrugged. “This time last week, I was telling my dad over breakfast that I was auditioning for a music school while he was trying to tell me about some government funded project he was starting work on and Gabe was annoying the shit out of me. Now my dad’s gone, I’m being chased down by weirdoes who probably want me for a theory I only know a tiny bit about, and I don’t even know if I can trust my bodyguard anymore.”
Butch gave her a weak smile and reached over to pat her hand. “I think Gabe is the least of your worries right now.”
Greta looked over at him with tired eyes. “You think so?”
“Look, from my experience, he’ll pick the side of whoever pays him the most,” Butch admitted. “But he stays loyal to the ones he likes more.”
She smiled gently at him. “Thanks. I don’t know if that makes me feel any better about it, but thanks for trying.”
She started to take a long pull from her cup when Gabe walked out to the porch. “Uhhh...Butch... your friends are here. Just thought you oughta know.”
Butch nodded and stood up to walk inside. Gabe stayed where he was and looked over at Greta. “You still not trusting me right now?”
“No, not really,” said Greta, mostly to the coffee mug. “One of those band uniform wearing crazies knows your name and I want to know why.”
Gabe sighed. “You’ll know everything soon enough. I promise.”
Greta put the mug on the table beside her. “I believe you when you do.”
Gabe moved away from the door and Butch walked out with the man from New York and the woman from Boston following him. Greta stood as the walked out in front of her. Butch cleared his throat. “Amanda, Voltaire, this is Greta Salpeter. Greta, I’d like to properly introduce you to Amanda Palmer and Aurielo Voltaire.”
Greta looked at the both of them and thought they were day and night compared to Butch. Voltaire still left the same impression as before on her, but it seemed stronger now that he was properly dressed in sharp black clothes. Amanda seemed even more imposing in the daylight, even if she was wearing just a t-shirt and jeans. Her hair seemed even more manic and where here eyebrows should have been, there were swirly designs. These were necromancers and Greta knew it right away. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She held out her hand and both Voltaire and Amanda shook it. “That name sounds familiar,” mused Voltaire. “Wasn’t there a cartoon in the 90s about a girl with the same name?”
Greta sighed. She didn’t want to deal with this now. “Yeah. That was me. Kinda.”
Butch looked up at Amanda as he took a seat. “Mr. Man not joining us today?”
She shook her head. “He’s in London right now. Try again next week.” Greta didn’t know who they were referring to, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was some sort of significant other that was missing from their presence.
Amanda then took a seat upon the porch railing as Voltaire pulled another chair from across the porch towards him. “Okay, Butch said we should help you. So spill.”
Greta bit her lip and looked over at Gabe. “Can you go get that gun from Butch’s bag? I’m going to need it to illustrate my point.”
Gabe nodded and turned to go back inside. Greta turned back towards Voltaire and Amanda, then towards Butch. “Do I really have to tell this again?”
“I could walk through your mind,” said Voltaire with a smile that made her feel uneasy. “Might pinch just a bit though.”
Amanda smacked his shoulder. “Don’t or I’ll make your ears bleed again.”
Voltaire flinched and looked up at Amanda like a innocent man wronged. “I was kidding!”
She ignored him though and looked straight at Greta. “I know you don’t want to relive this, but we need to hear your story to see if you’re really in need of all three of us.”
Greta looked back over at Butch. “I thought you said you were friends.”
Butch scratched the back of his head. “Well, we are, but remember the chupacabra incident I told you about?”
“Yeah?”
“He tried to sacrifice me to it,” said Amanda bluntly.
Butch looked back over at her. “It was an accident! How many times do I have to apologize to you?”
Greta wondered how much further this argument would go, but Gabe walked back on the porch and tossed the gun in Greta’s lap. Everyone froze and focused on Greta. If Greta had to rank all the long and awkward pauses in her life, this had to be number two behind her dad giving her ‘The Talk’ while they were going through the mountains of Tibet.
Voltaire finally broke the silence by simply clearing his throat and asking, “Ummm...what is that?”
Greta brandished the gun and leaned on the side of her chair. “This is part of what’s causing my problems. Well, the recent ones at least.”
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Greta recounted her story like she had never recounted any story before. Every detail that crossed her mind crossed her lips. The audition, the funeral, the diner, the leader, David Bowie, her annoyance and sadness over her father, how much that Parade group frightened her, and even her current distrust of Gabe. She realized that last part wasn’t a good thing to admit, but he knew it already and she just needed to get it out. And it felt good for it to be out in the open.
When she finished, she slammed the gun on the table between her and Butch. “There. That’s everything. Should I stop here or do you want to a story about how I was kidnapped by the Cult of Ra in Egypt when I was thirteen as well?”
Amanda and Voltaire looked towards each other, then back at Greta. She expected some grand words about how they could or could not join. Instead, Amanda just said, “Alright, no need to fucking tell me twice.”
Greta blinked at her for a few seconds before breathing a long sigh of relief. “Oh thank you, sweet baby Jesus...”
Voltaire then poked up his hand. “If I can be honest though, I’m surprised you’re still sane after all these years. I mean, damn... the cartoon really cleaned up your life.”
“You don’t think I know that? I’ve realized how fucked up my life truly is over the past twenty four hours than I have since I started high school,” she said, staring up at the porch overhang. She rolled her head back up and looked around at everyone. “I think I need a nap now.”
“Go sleep in my bed,” offered Amanda. “You need it.”
Greta quickly got up, nodding her thanks to Amanda and left everyone behind on the porch. She had forgotten which door they had come through, so it took her a few tries before she stumbled into the creaky old house in suburban Illinois. At least Atlanta was a few doors down from Boston. She heard a thump from Necropolis, but ignored it. She was tired and had worse things to worry about.
She walked through the Boston door and was surprised. In contrast to Atlanta where they had walked in through a front closet to a decent sized house, Greta found herself walking through the pantry of a small kitchen. She looked out and saw an apartment filled from top to bottom with various things of various natures. She wanted to walk through and explore everything, but she knew that could be a bad idea. Partially from personal experience and partially from remembering the fact that a necromancer lived in her. It really was unfortunate though because the piano that was tucked away in the corner of the room was calling to her. All she wanted to do was stop and play and forget about everything that had happened since her dad died. She wanted the music to magically take everything away.
Instead, she made a crooked beeline for the bedroom and as soon as she saw the bed, she fell backwards onto it. The bed was safe. Maybe the bed could take everything away. Her eyes grew heavy and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep.
------------------------
This has to be a dream...
Greta felt herself walking through smoke, trying to find her father who had been calling out to her. She knew she should have been coughing or choking to death, but she didn’t. This is a dream... this is a dream...
“Greta!”
“Dad, I’m coming!”
She pushed her way through the smoke and soon found herself in his main lab. The room glowed orange from flames, but there were none in sight. “Dad? Where are you?”
All of a sudden, she watched a dark figure move out of the corner of her eye. “Dad?”
“‘Fraid not,” said a voice. It sounded soft, British, male and distant. Like he wasn’t really there.
She turned but the figure jumped again. This really is a dream. “Who are you then? Did you do this?”
“No... I’m just an observer.”
Greta sighed and begun to look through the lab. Either for her dad or where the flames were coming from. Possibly both. “So, you don’t have any answers for me then? Like where my dad is?”
“I don’t think you’ll find him here,” said the voice. “He must be long gone by now if you can’t find him.”
You know you’re dreaming. Wake up. “Then what am I looking for then?”
She saw the figure move and she assumed it was shrugging. “Maybe the answer has been right in front of you the whole time.”
“What does that...?”
Greta stopped talking as soon as she looked up. In front of her, the source container sat upon the table. It was bigger than she imagined and the flames seemed to be erupting from it. She reached out to touch it, but her hand recoiled from the heat.
Wake up!
----------------------
Greta jolted up in the bed and took several deep breaths. She knew it was just a dream, but she still felt shaky from everything that had happened. “What was that?”
She fell back on the bed and reached for her necklace. It was such a bad nervous habit, but she didn’t care. It’s not like it was a drug or anything.
All of a sudden, she stopped and looked down at the necklace. “Maybe the answer has been in front of me the whole time.”
Quickly, she jumped from the bed and ran out of the apartment. Things were starting to make a lot more sense.
--------------------------
“Wait,” said Voltaire, holding up a hand. “I don’t really follow all of this.”
They were all standing around Butch’s kitchen, Greta’s necklace sitting in the middle of the counter. She sighed and frantically tried to explain again. “I had a dream about the lab fire and this British voice said something to me about the answer being in front of me the whole time...”
Voltaire looked over at Amanda, who had a bit of a mischievous grin on her face. “You didn’t tell Neil to walk through her dreams, did you?”
“No,” said Amanda innocently. “I really didn’t. I’d like to know how she became aware that he was there though...”
Greta felt confused. “Uh...are we talking about the same thing?”
Amanda shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Butch rolled his eyes before looking back at Greta. “Go on, Greta. What does this have to do with the necklace?”
“Well, as I told Gabe, the necklace is a model of what the source container would have looked like. In my dream, the source container is where the fire was coming from. I think the dream was telling me that this is why that group is after me.”
“The necklace?” asked Voltaire.
“I think so,” said Greta softly. “Dad gave it to me when I turned sixteen and never told me why. So I have to wonder if it’s not just a model.”
“That’s enough for me,” muttered Gabe.
Everyone looked up at Gabe. He hadn’t really said much since Greta had come back from Boston. Greta raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”
He looked up at all of them and pulled out his phone. “I’m so sorry, you guys. I have no choice.”
Gabe flipped the phone open and pressed a button. A high pitched frequency filled the room and everyone quickly tried to cover their ears. “What are you doing, Gabe?” shouted Greta as she looked up at him.
“You were right not to trust me,” he said solemnly. “I can’t even trust myself.”
Greta fell back onto the floor, staring up at Gabe. Over the ringing sound in her ears, she heard Butch cursing at Gabe as he got closer to the ground, a thud from where Voltaire had been standing and Amanda thrashing at Gabe’s ankles before going silent. Her eyes were growing heavy again and she could barely see anymore. “Gabe...you...fucking...bitch...”
And her world fell silent.
----------------------
Gabe looked over the bodies on the floor as he turned his phone off and took the tissue out of his ears. They weren’t dead. Just knocked out by a high frequency. He didn’t want it to be like this, but he had very little choice in the matter.
He quickly turned his phone back on and hit the first number on speed dial. “Victoria, it’s Gabe. The deed’s been done. You can pick up them up through the door marked Atlanta.”
“Excellent,” said Victoria on the other end. He didn’t have to see her to know that she was smiling. “I knew you hadn’t gone soft on us, Gabe.”
The other end clicked off and Gabe sighed as he stuck the phone back in his hoodie pocket. “I wish I had.”
Part V