Strangetown: Chapter Nineteen - part one
Warnings: language, drug use (the aftereffects thereof)
Chapter Nineteen
Part One
Ripp Grunt was up with the birds. It was quite a rare occurrence, but he had his reasons.
He was cooking omelettes for breakfast, as a peace offering for his best friend, Johnny Smith.
Or, more accurately, he was trying to make omelettes.
He had never even attempted to make them before, and he really didn't know the first thing about cooking. He wasn't even aware of half the things that he was doing wrong. He had eggs, some vegetables to put in it, and a frying pan, so he figured that was about all there was to it.
It was just cooking, he figured. How hard could it possibly be? Ripp was sure that he could do it, if he gave it his best effort.
The results were, alas, very predictable.
"Oh shit - oh fuck..."
"Fuuuuhhhhkkkk..."
He fanned the smoke in a desperate attempt to keep the smoke alarm from going off. He didn't want to wake the whole house up. If Johnny woke up to that, it wouldn't be pleasant at all.
Ripp sighed. Johnny was right about him. He was completely hopeless. He'd never be able to survive on his own.
"What is that terrible smell?"
Johnny's acute sense of smell had alerted him to the smoke in the kitchen from upstairs, and he had come down from Ophelia's room to make sure the kitchen wasn't on fire.
Once he saw that it was Ripp, Johnny said nothing more. He'd been giving Ripp the silent treatment ever since the dinner at his parent's house, much to Ripp's dismay. Ripp looked at him, sheepishly. Johnny just glared back at him, and Ripp's heart sank.
There was nothing more unnatural and upsetting to Ripp than a silent Johnny Smith.
Finally, after surveying the damage, Johnny couldn't help but open his mouth. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"I... made you breakfast."
"This is supposed to be edible?" He looked at the tragic mess in disgust.
"It's an omelette. It's supposed to be an omelette."
"Ripp, I don't even like eggs. You're always confusing me with yourself! How many times do I have to tell you? I can't eat them! I hate them - really, really hate them - and my body can't even digest them!" Johnny didn't expect Ripp to pick up on, or even care about, the finer details of vegetarian cooking, but he might have noticed that much by now. Was he really that stupid?
Ripp took the fact that he had spoken at all as a good sign, and pressed forward. "Johnny, about the other night..."
Johnny said nothing, and just walked away.
"Johnny..."
"Johnny, I'm sorry! Please speak to me."
Johnny went into his room and slammed the door.
Crestfallen, Ripp figured that he may as well attempt to eat the massacred omelettes.
They were completely disgusting, and somehow simultaneously raw and burnt. If that was even possible.
"Is someone burning garbage in here?" Ophelia asked, as she entered the room. Ripp watched her nimbly descend the staircase. Her footsteps didn't even make a sound as she moved. So different from him and Johnny. When she noticed him sitting there, she gave him a pitying smile.
"Oh, Ripp. You probably shouldn't eat that."
"Is Johnny ever going to forgive me, Phi?" he asked, with a sigh.
"You know he will, Ripp. He just needs some time."
Ripp knew that, but time was his enemy. It was at a standstill. The thought of having to endure Johnny's silent treatment much longer was unbearable.
"And you have to admit that it was a pretty bad idea, Ripp." Ophelia said.
"A bad idea?!" He cried. "It wasn't a fucking IDEA, Phi! I didn't plan it out like that. I didn't go in there planning to fucking maul Jill Smith on the balcony!"
He really hadn't planned it. That didn't mean that he hadn't jumped at the chance. How could he help himself?
Jill was a beautiful girl, and a really clever and feisty girl too, and she had obviously wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him. She adored him. How could he say no to that?
And she had all but melted right there in his arms.
Ripp knew that he wasn't going to save himself with any of that logic. He had to plead guilty and hope that Johnny would pardon him. But was he really sorry, or just sorry that he had been caught?
Maybe it was for the best that Johnny had put an end to it when he did. What Jill had said about always wanting him, and waiting for that day to come, had frightened him. He didn't want that. He couldn't give her that. It's not like he wanted to break her heart, as he surely would eventually. Jill didn't understand that.
How could she understand?
"God, I'm such a fucking idiot!" He moaned. "I'm the biggest fucking moron on the face of the planet."
"Well, what's done is done, Ripp." She shrugged. "It was a pretty shitty thing to do, but I'm sure Johnny will get over it eventually."
"Eventually?! I can't wait for eventually!" He cried. "It's only been one day and I'm already a fucking wreck. I can't live like this!"
Ophelia sighed.
Ripp wandered over to his guitar and picked it up.
"Ripp, do you really think it's a good idea to play that right now?" Ophelia asked.
"I have to get some practice in, Phi! What the fuck am I supposed to do?! If I don't figure out a solo for this new song, Jaxy is going to have my nuts cooked up in a fucking casserole!"
Ophelia sighed. Did Ripp ever think about anything besides his nuts? And would she ever have a conversation with him that didn't involve them in some way?
"Well, you know how much Johnny loves listening to the same sequence of chords over and over again, Ripp. Especially when you use the distortion pedal..."
"Yeah, I know. And this one is really fucking bad too. Well, good, I mean, really, but not for Johnny... Fuck!"
Ripp contemplated which of his enraged friends would be easier to deal with. Obviously, Jaxy would kick his ass, but she was generally over it after a minute or two. Johnny could stew in his own anger for days. He had to be on his best behaviour, so no guitar.
"Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck-fuck..."
"Maybe try swearing a bit more too, Ripp..." Phi laughed.
"Am I swearing? I didn't fucking notice."
Ophelia gave him a look that just said everything. That he'd better behave himself, that he knew exactly what he should and shouldn't do around Johnny, that he was an idiot, but she loved him anyway. For some incomprehensible reason.
"I need to go, then, I guess." He said, though he made no move to go get dressed. "I really am seriously fucked if I'm not ready for that gig on the weekend."
"Is that the one over at the sorority house?" She asked. Ripp had mentioned it before.
"Yeah..." He said. "We're playing at the bar before then too, but Jax doesn't give a shit about that, just the party. And Jaxy wants to really fucking rock their socks off, and maybe a few other articles of clothing too. She will murder me if we don't totally fucking impress those 'dumb sorority sluts'." He was quick to add, "Her words, not mine."
Ophelia would have assumed that anyway. Ripp didn't exactly view the general sluttiness of the girls in the sorority as a bad thing.
"Jax is making it sound like some kind of fucking mission to bring cool to the clueless masses, but really it's because her ex-girlfriend is in the sorority."
"I thought she hadn't really dated anyone seriously before Zoe."
"No... aparently you're not a real lesbian unless you have at least one ex-girlfriend to haunt you for the rest of your fucking life." He sighed and shrugged dramatically for added effect. "Girls, right? Jaxy says she doesn't care, but I can see through it." He plopped himself down next to Ophelia.
"So who's the lucky girl?" She asked, with a chuckle. "Not that I'd know her, but well, I know some of the sorority girls to see them, anyway."
"D.J. Verse." He said. "You'd know her, right? She spins records in clubs all over the city." He said it as if Ophelia actually spent some time at nightclubs.
"Oooh. Another musician, too?"
"Well, Jaxy doesn't consider that real music. Dance music doesn't even fucking exist in her universe. God, I hope I don't have to try to break up a cat fight at this gig." Ripp was talking out of his ass, since he would be afraid that he'd get beaten up if he did that.
"I shouldn't even say cat fight, because that totally fucking downplays how much of a bloodbath it would be. Jaxy doesn't do the typical girl fighting where they just pull each other's hair and rip each other's shirts off. That's more like her idea of foreplay. I'd hate to see her in a real fight." Ripp chuckled a little bit.
"And that's not even factoring in all the other sorority girls. Between all four of us, I think that we've probably fucking messed around with every single one of them, one way or another. Well, except that nice little home-schooled girl who's been engaged to the same guy since she hit puberty. Nobody sleeps with her."
Ophelia looked at Ripp. She was willing to bet that he had at least tried.
"So, why even play the sorority, then? Besides the ex-girlfriend thing?"
"Well, mostly it's for exposure. It's going to be a huge party. They always do a big one every year. Also, it directs Gunnar's attention towards dragging someone off and away from drinking... he's less likely to get so fucked up that he gets sloppy... though somehow that man can still rock a kit better than most, even when he's completely hammered. If he wasn't such an excellent drummer, I'm sure that Jax would have given him the fucking boot ages ago. And Jax wanted to play the sorority because Zoe's been on a bit of an open relationship kick lately... and she's way more into the idea of bringing a guy into the mix, so Jaxy's obviously trying to avoid that."
"Does she really think that that's a good idea?"
"Well, Jax thinks it's a fucking terrible idea. She's a lot more monogamous than Zoe is, and she thinks that they have a pretty fucking good thing going, but Zoe isn't ready to be settled down that much yet... understandably. She does prefer Jaxy, I think, but she still wants to see other people. That would be enough of an issue, but Jaxy is really fucking unimpressed that most of these other people tend to be men."
"That just sounds like trouble waiting to happen." Ripp looked at Ophelia with wonder. How was it that she could be so calm and always right?
"You're probably right. This is why I have absolutely no fucking interest in dating anyone. It seems like just one awful mess after another."
"It's not so bad." Ophelia said. "You always have someone there for you when you need them."
"I already have that." He said. "They're called friends."
"Yes, that's true." She smiled. "You do always have us. But it's nice when you have someone that can be both, like Johnny is for me." Ripp seemed to be thinking that concept over, and Ophelia continued.
"Now be quiet for a minute, so I can hear the weather report, okay?" She smiled. As interesting as all the outrageous band gossip was, she was hoping to find out if they would be getting that torrential downpour that had been predicted all week, but had yet to arrive.
"I won't say another word, Phi."
They heard Johnny's bedroom door open and he wandered into the room. "Talking about me?" He asked.
"Only good things, Johnny." Ophelia smiled. "Don't worry."
He smiled back at her, ignoring the fact that Ripp was staring at him like an obsequent puppy. "Did you still want to go to the library with me later today, Phi?"
"Yeah, I think so, Johnny. After I get ready and do a few things around here first."
"Okay, good. I did have some work to do before I'll be ready to leave too." Johnny didn't look over, but he could tell that Ripp was still staring at him, hopefully. He sighed. Had he tortured him enough yet?
"And Ripp.." He added, after a pause. "We have a scene study to prepare for Monday, remember? Are you free to work on it later today?"
Ripp nearly jumped out of his skin and onto Johnny.
"You're talking to me! You forgive me?!"
"I wouldn't go that far, Ripp. I'm still pretty mad at you."
"But you forgive me..."
Johnny sighed. "I don't know."
"I said I was sorry, John." Ripp pleaded. "Look, you know I'm an idiot..."
"I know it was a stupid thing to do, and I'm really sorry. I just wasn't thinking clearly, John. I wasn't thinking at all. I'm just stupid like that... you know me. A big ol' idiot, right?"
"Yeah..."
If Johnny didn't know what Ripp was like, he probably didn't know anyone all that well.
"Yeah... see? It was just me being a dumb fuck up! I didn't mean for anything bad to happen - you know that - and I'm sorry."
"You can forgive me, right, Johnny? I know you can."
"Well, Ripp..."
"What do you want me to do? I can make it up to you..."
"Come on, Johnny."
"See? You're not mad at me anymore, are you?"
"Okay, yes, I forgive you. Of course I do. I just wanted you to realize how serious this was."
"I learned my lesson, Johnny. And really, if there is anything I can do -"
"Just clean the kitchen, please!" He roared. "It looks like you went out of your way to rub food all over every surface in there. We'll probably all be at risk of dying from salmonella poisoning if we touch anything. Did you even wash your hands?! I'll bet you didn't... just clean up that disaster, okay, Ripp? Then we'll be even."
"Consider it done, Mr. Smith." Ripp punched Johnny playfully in the arm.
"Yeah... done in two hours time, and only half done at that. Half done, and done badly." He punched him back.
"Hey! I can clean it as well as you can." Ripp protested.
"Like hell you can." Johnny laughed. "Your idea of cleaning dishes is just running them under hot water and leaving them to dry on an old damp dish towel. I've told you a million times - use dish detergent! And a dish cloth! Rub the dirt off - with your actual hand, Ripp! And use the drying rack! How hard can it be?!"
"I do that! I fucking do that all the time!"
"Yeah, right!" Johnny nailed Ripp in the arm with all of his strength.
"Owww, Johnny! Fuck! Not so hard!"
"Oh, you can dish it out, but you can't take it."
"I was just fucking around. You're actually hitting me!"
"Big macho Grunt man, my ass. When you fell out of the pansy tree, you hit every branch on the way down, Ripp."
"Guys!" Ophelia scolded. "Listen! I'm trying to hear the news." She was happy to see that they were speaking to each other again, but the silence had been a welcome novelty in many ways.
"Oh my god..."
Ophelia's attention was suddenly grabbed by a news report about Strangetown.
"The tragedy occurred at 1 Tesla Court, at around 10:00 pm..."
"What is it?" Johnny asked.
"There was a fire at the Beaker mansion last night." Ophelia exclaimed.
"That's just up the road from my house." Ripp said. He wondered if maybe him and his brothers had decided to torch their home the other night, afterall. Would the fire have burned that long?
"The fire took the life of local scientist, Loki Beaker."
"Loki Beaker is dead?!" Johnny asked in disbelief. "Wow. That's crazy!"
"Well, it's not like it's such a big loss, is it? The Beakers were a bunch of fucking creeps."
"Well, yeah, Ripp. They were nasty - I'm pretty sure that Loki wanted my uncle Pascal dead, but still... that's so random."
"It's a pretty simple case of a kitchen fire." Said the police officer on the screen. "Your viewers at home should take this as a lesson."
"Well, clearly, I've been fucking told." Ripp said. "I was obviously putting our lives at risk over a bunch of fucking useless omelettes."
Ophelia felt a familiar creeping sensation pass over her body, as she recognized something familiar in one of the shots. That material. On the ground. She had been having a bad feeling, but that solidified it. Whatever had happened at the Beaker mansion had involved her Aunt Olive.
"Oh dear god..." Lola said. "That can't be real."
The program that they had been watched had been interrupted by a special news report.
"Fire consumed a Strangetown home last night, located at 1 Tesla Court."
"What the -"
"I can't believe it."
"That place..." Kristen said. "It's that place where I was attacked."
"Yes, Kristen. It is."
"I hope that nobody else was hurt."
"Looks like the Beakers got what was coming to them, afterall." Chloe said. "After all the trouble they've caused -"
"What's all the commotion? I'm trying to take a nap in here!" Erin stormed into the room.
"Erin..." Chloe began.
"Erin! It's nothing - just go back to your nap!" Lola tried to direct her attention away from the screen, but it was too late.
"What's THAT?!"
"It's nothing - nothing!"
"That's my home!"
"The fire took the life of Strangetown scientist, Loki Beaker, and..."
Erin didn't hear the rest.
"The lone survivor is Circe Beaker, beloved wife of the late scientist...'
Lola finally clued into a missing piece of the puzzle.
There was no mention of Nervous Subject at all in this news report. Not one trace.
"They didn't mention the boy."
"No, they didn't. What does that mean?"
"Well, what if -"
"Oh my god, Chloe!" Lola cried.
"Pascal!"
"Uncle Vidcund!" Mint yelled. "What's wrong with DADDY?!"
Vidcund had rushed into the room to see what the commotion was all about and found Pascal breaking down in front of the television.
"There's something WRONG with him!" She wailed. "Why is he crying?! Daddies don't CRY! Do something, Uncle Viddy!" Mint broke into tears herself. The realization that her father could cry was too much for her. If he could cry, then how could he keep her from crying?
Vidcund rushed to her side. In the background he could hear the details of the news report, and quickly realized what had happened.
"They... they didn't say..." Pascal stuttered through tears.
"It's okay, Mint. It's okay." Vidcund comforted the crying child.
"They didn't even mention his NAME! It's like he never even existed!" He wailed. "He's gone! He's... he's dead!"
Pascal choked and sobbed and was unable to say anything more.
Vidcund knew that his brother could only be talking about Nervous Subject. There was no doubt about that.
"Dead?!" Mint cried. "Who's dead? How can anyone be DEAD?"
"Mint, it's okay. Nobody is dead." Nobody that she would know, anyway, he thought, and that was the same thing to a child.
"But Daddy said..."
"It's okay. He's just upset. He didn't mean it."
"Is he going to stop being upset?"
"Yes, he'll stop. He's okay. He'll stop crying when he feels better, just like you will..."
"I want him to stop NOW!"
"Mint, It's okay." Vidcund continued. "Daddy will be okay -" Vidcund had noticed that his brother had, in fact, stopped crying. Very suddenly.
"Oh dear god."
"DADDY!" Mint wailed.
"It's okay - it's okay! He's okay, Mint! He's okay!" Vidcund pulled Pascal out from under the desk where he had collapsed.
He'd be okay. Vidcund thought it over. Yes, Pascal would be okay. Eventually. But for now...
This was bad. Vidcund knew how much Pascal had invested into his mission to rescue Nervous Subject, only to have this happen. Pascal never lost it like this. He was a calm and rational man. Vidcund could count the number of times that he had seen his brother cry on one hand, and they were all when he was still a child. He had been trying to convince Mint that everything was okay, when really, he didn't believe that at all. This was bad. Very, very bad.
Also, he was almost embarrassed to even think it, but he was extremely relieved to hear that Circe had survived the fire. What a pathetic thing to feel. As if the woman that had survived the fire and the girl that he had once known were even the same person anymore. But he had loved that girl, and he mourned her loss to that very day.
But the Circe that he had known had already gone up in flames years ago.
Circe stood in her empty parlour, rubbing her aching back.
"Well, that takes care of that." General Leong said, as he entered Circe's hallway. "They've bought the story, and have agreed to let us do any further investigation into the matter. There were some suspicions, but we were able to convince them that it is a matter for us to deal with.
"Once we pointed out the wreck in the crater over there, it was easy."
"Yes, it has been useful in a number of ways, hasn't it?"
"By the way, congratulations on your recent promotion, General Leong." Circe purred.
"Thank you, Ms. Beaker. We've been progressing very well with our project, in no small part to your help."
"That's good to hear." She knew that Loki would have been happy to hear that, and this brought her some comfort.
"And we're going to make sure that this is all covered up nicely. We've already found a suitable place for your relocation. You will be moving, I assume."
"Yes, I'm going to let someone else inherit this place." And everything in it, she thought.
"We will speak again, Ms. Beaker, once we have completed the prototype of our new weapon. You'll be useful for testing it... with your connections."
"Yes. And that won't be a problem at all. I'll take great pleasure in doing my part to help you."
After he left, Circe began to contemplate her next move. There was the physical move to consider before anything else. She couldn't stay there. Not now. Every inch of every surface reminded her of Loki, and she wouldn't be able to bear it.
There were also those creatures to consider. She couldn't look at them for another minute. They unnerved her. They frightened her.
They were too much like him. Too much like Nervous. That awful, terrifying boy.
The military had lined up a new home for her, and she was eager to move on, but there was still the matter of finding a new caretaker for the mansion. And the current residents of the mansion too. Circe needed someone guilible enough to sign themselves over to secrecy. Someone willing to inherit the mansion and all the trouble that came with it.
She had just the person.
Erin Beaker's lifelong wish to inherit the Beaker fortune was about to come true.
In the house that they shared, Tank Grunt was working on an assignment, while Frances J. Worthington III was playing piano in the background.
It was a soothing sound, and Tank quite liked it, even though he had no idea what Frances was playing. It was familiar to him now through the repetition of it. He briefly considered that he should ask Frances what it was called, but then decided against it.
Frances didn't even seem to be thinking about the piano as he played. He often closed his eyes anyway, and let his fingers dance across the keys on their own. Tank couldn't imagine having the kind of fine motor skills required to do that, though he supposed he did use his own hands to do military operations that required detail, but that was hardly the same.
His hands could never be that nimble or graceful.
The assignment was going nowhere. Tank had no motivation to finish it. It was how he felt about everything those days, and he couldn't shake it. What could he do?
He thought he might just toss it aside again and then maybe head over to the campus gym and beat a punching bag for a while. He could pretend that it was Johnny Smith. That might help. Punching that stupid green asshole in the face a few times would solve all of his problems, or at least allow him to forget them for a minute.
Tank stood up from the table.
"I'm sorry, Tank. Am I bothering you?" Frances also rose from the piano.
"No, it's okay, Worthington. I just can't get into it. It's not your fault."
"Tough assignment?"
"Well... no. Not really."
Frances looked at Tank, but ventured no further. He just looked at him with that face. That expression. Waiting. He was always just waiting.
Tank took a deep breath.
"It's just..." Frances looked on, expectantly, but didn't dare to breathe.
"It's just that none of this seems to matter anymore."
There it was. Tank had admitted something to Frances. He had opened up, even if just a tiny bit.
"Do you still want to do that program? I've been considering a change of major, myself..."
"No, it's not that."
"I just... I used to have a reason to do this. Or, at least, something more concrete than I do now. I was doing it for someone else, you know."
"Yes, I understand."
"With Dad... gone... I'm just doing it for myself." He paused. "I don't feel comfortable about that." Frances said nothing, and eventually Tank continued.
"It's just that... with all of Dad's expectations, I had a definite goal in life, and someone to let me know that I was succeeding at it. Without Dad there to see it, what purpose is there to doing any of this?"
"Is it really what you want to do, Tank?"
Frances looked directly into his eyes. He had the palest, saddest eyes that Tank had ever seen. They made him seem like he was about to cry, even when he was smiling. They were the same grey colour that his father's eyes had been. You didn't see it very often.
He considered Frances' question. He'd asked himself that very thing numerous times since his father had disappeared. Did he really want to do this anymore? It was hard. He couldn't help but be painfully reminded of his father every step of the way, but in many ways, it helped him feel close to him, even now.
"Yes, I think so. I've never had to really think about it before, but I do. I'm good at it, you know? It's what I was born to do, I suppose..." He sighed. "I just feel strange having to do it only for myself now."
Frances reached over and placed his hand on Tank's arm. Tank flinched momentarily at this unexpected touch.
"It's okay, Tank. There's nothing wrong with living for yourself."
"You don't have to feel guilty about it." He said.
"Plenty of people live their lives with nothing but their own interests in mind, and I'm sure that you're much better than that. You think about your family, and you think about the right thing to do. It's not selfish at all. Sometimes we have no choice but to live life for ourselves... if we don't have anyone else to support our decisions."
He said the last part as much to himself as to Tank. Did he have the nerve to take his own advice? He really wasn't sure. If he did live life for himself, really truly for himself, he would be doing so without any support at all. Especially not financial support.
"Thank you, Frances." Tank said. "That makes me feel a bit better."
"You shouldn't worry so much, Tank. The world won't end if that assignment doesn't get passed in." Again, Frances gave advice that he'd have trouble taking himself, but it seemed to help. Then he left the room and went upstairs, leaving Tank standing there to consider the situation.
He had been right. Tank hadn't wanted to believe it, but Frances had been right all along. It had helped Tank to talk about how he felt with him.
That didn't begin to solve his problem with motivation, but he didn't feel quite as frustrated anymore. The rage had died down too, and he no longer even thought about Johnny and how much he wanted kick the crap out of him. It's not like he could, anyway, now that he had started building bridges with Ripp. It would be so easy to fuck that up again. Tank needed to shift the focus away from a "Tank vs. us" mindset.
Would it be so impossible for them to be his friends? Why did he always manage to do the wrong thing? Johnny and Ophelia had good reason to hate him for what he did to Ripp. Anyone who cared about someone at all would go on the attack over something like that. And they obviously cared about Ripp much more than was even typical of most friends. Tank couldn't understand it. What was Ripp's secret? What did Ripp have to offer in return for such loyalty, anyway?
Tank had always thought that he should be the one with friends, being the one who had his shit together. Ripp just stumbled his way through life with no direction. Johnny and Ophelia probably had to do nearly everything for him. What did they get out of it, exactly? Well, Tank was tired of wondering about it. He would have to go out of his way to find out, or else stop trying to figure it out altogether. Maybe he had never made a real effort to understand Ripp. Or even Buck, for that matter. He just wrote them off as lost causes, just like his father had.
He wasn't going to do that anymore.
"Now I'm older, I'm getting so much bolder, with my head up high..."
"Ripp, can I have a hand with this?" Ophelia was trying to make her bed. "Seeing as how you're here anyway..."
He danced his way over to her, singing as he went.
"You know, they says the answer was to become a dancer. Hold your head high, boy."
"How's this?" He danced up to her until she was all but forced to join in. She laughed, which only encouraged him more. "It's helping, I can tell..." He grinned. "It's totally fucking helping."
"No, really, Ripp... help me make this bed, please."
"Ugh. Really?" He whined. "Okay... I guess..." He thought it was bad enough that he had to make his own bed on occasion. Very infrequent occasions.
"It's a lot easier with two people, Ripp. Now grab the sheets on that side." He dragged his feet to the other side of the bed.
"See, it wasn't that hard, was it?"
"No, I guess not..." He looked up and noticed an odd look on her face. Odd, yet familiar. It was a look that he would have liked to be able to erase from her facial vocabulary altogether.
"What's wrong, Phi?" He asked.
"It's that news report about the fire..." She said, quietly.
"Yeah, what about it?"
"I think this might have had something to do with Olive, Ripp."
"Really?"
"Yes, I think so. I have a really bad feeling about it."
"A bad feeling about what?" Johnny had entered the room.
"I think that Olive might have had something to do with the fire at the Beaker place, Johnny."
"Really?!" He sounded doubtful, but he quickly accepted her word. "Do you think that she was somehow responsible for it?"
"Well, maybe. I'm not sure, but she has to be connected to it somehow. I recognized something in one of the shots on the news."
"It was a material. Some type of plant matter. Wood chips or petals or something..." She looked over at Ripp. "Ripp knows. He saw that stuff at our place too. Didn't you, Ripp?"
"Yeah. There were a lot of really fucking weird things around that place. I'm sure you remember it too, Johnny."
"Yeah. I do remember. But what, then?" Johnny asked. "What's the point in worrying about it now?"
"I want to go over there to check things out."
"What?!" Johnny and Ripp said it at almost the same time. This was the woman that Ophelia had suspected of trying to kill her, as she had told them both. Neither of them was eager for Ophelia to be back in that environment. Or in any sort of danger. "That's way too dangerous, Phi." Johnny said.
"I know it will be dangerous." She said. "But I have to go. Something tells me that it's important."
"Well, you won't be alone." Johnny said.
"You want to come with me?" She asked. "You don't have to -"
"It's not a question." Johnny exclaimed. "We're not about to let you go there alone, Phi!"
"Fuckin' right, we're not!" Ripp was quick to add.
Ophelia smiled and looked at them both.
Her boys. How wonderful they were. They would sign up to go into the depths of hell with her, if she had some reason to be going there. It didn't even have to be a very good reason, she was sure. She knew that she would never find two people that could care for her more than they did, not even if she searched for ten lifetimes.
"Thank you." She said, softly. Johnny's lips were stretched thin in a tight green smile.
"I'll call a cab." Ripp said. "Johnny, you go get your ass-kicking shoes on."
Nervous Subject was lying on the ground outside of the Specter estate.
He had slept for a good portion of the day, and had then woken to find himself shaking and sweating.
His attempts to remedy the situation had failed him, and he now found himself lying on the ground, having numerous visions.
They were the same visions that he always had at night, except now they were all replaying, and interacting with each other, in broad daylight.
They were walking among him.
( Continue to Chapter 19 (part 2)...)
Notes: Again, this had to be broken into two parts, due to length. Since it all takes place in one day, and does tie together, I kept it as one chapter. I really wanted to post this yesterday, but it wasn't ready. Sometimes you just need a little time to let it sit before you can send it out into the world.
Since it isn't mentioned anywhere, the song that Ripp is dancing to is another Velvet Underground song, Head Held High. Great song. I'm on a bit of a Velvet Underground and Lou Reed kick here, I know, but I can't help it. You'll notice they usually come in a certain context. Perhaps Ophelia has a lot of their albums, or something.