Volume
One: The Road Out
Chapter Two
Verse Five: All Threads Make a Quilt
Marion sat on the couch in Harley's
basement for two hours staring at a blank spot on the wall before
Harley came home and found his best friend. Harley seemed to consider
saying something, but then decided otherwise and simply sat beside
Marion on the couch and turned on the television to an old John
Carradine rendition of Dracula in black and white. They watched in
silence Dracula and the Wolf-man tried to to find cures for their
conditions, although Dracula was using the search for a cure as a
pretext for darker motives.
The movie finished and Marion remained
sitting quietly.
"Did you want to get pizza?"
Harley asked, "I don't really feel like trying to cook."
"I don't have the money. Charity
provided me with lunch today. I literally h ave negative money. If
money was gravity, I would be a small but inescapable black hole."
Marion said without looking away from the television set which had
begun playing the werewolf classic 'The Howling'. Harley suspected
that the channel was doing a John Carradine marathon.
"You're not paying. We're going to
order pepperoni pizza, and we're going to break out your birthday
gift to me and get ourselves properly intoxicated. We haven't touched
that limited run Barley Wine you bought me. What's it called
'Harbinger of Doom'? I still have all six bottles. The stuff is
twelve percent."
"Are you suggesting I attempt to
drink away this depression? On a weeknight? That doesn't sound like a
very responsible solution."
"I am ordering food. I am
mandating equal water and beer intake. We are getting properly
intoxicated. I am not drinking to the point of hangover and you can
sleep in. I am being entirely responsible. But you need something to
cheer you up and you assured me that this barley wine will help me
find religion. So it's settled.”
The pizza arrived quickly. The Barley
Wine had just finished chilling wrapped in wet towels in the freezer
when the pizza delivery guy arrived with the food. Harley carried in
the pizza and flipped the top back before placing the alcohol beside
it.
"Give thanks for this feast."
Harley said with mock solemnity.
Marion smiled a little and picked up a
bottle and raised it in toast, “Many Microbes died to bring us
this inebriation.”
They were well and truly drunk when
Marion's phone beeped to indicate that he had a text.
"Who's that?" Harley asked.
Marion checked his phone and saw that
it was a text from Amy.
<<Are you still at my house
freak?>>
"It's your girlfriend. Here, you
take it." Marion said and handed his friend the phone. Harley
took the phone and read the text. Then he typed out an answer.
<<He's still here.>>
Almost immediately a text came back.
<<Is this Harley?>>
<<Yes. Why did you text him?>>
<<Because I'm not talking to you.
Call me when the loonies is out. But make it soon. You can't have me
and him.>>
Harley handed the phone back to Marion
wordlessly. Marion read the texts and shook his head.
"I still Have a sleeping bag. I
can go."
Harley picked up another beer and
popped the top with his keychain tag. He tipped the bottle to his
mouth and tilted his head back. Bottle empty, Harley turned to
Marion, "I will not be blackmailed. I am doing the right thing.
How can Amy not see that?"
"You want the truth?" Marion
waited until Harley nodded and then continued, "she doesn't care
about the what's right. She never has. She care about what she wants.
She's been raised on a pile of stereotypes and advertising lies that
tell her that she's got the right to demand whatever she wants from
the world. She wanted a cute devoted boyfriend. But she didn't want
to share him. I've been public enemy number on since Amy met me. I
tried to make Friends with here. But Amy doesn't have friends. Amy
has a checklist of what she wants. And nothing else registers."
Harley shook his head and reached for
another drink. " shouldn't have to choose between my best friend
anecdotal my girlfriend. This is what you do. You help friends out in
their time of need."
"Harley. When has Amy ever
acknowledged the sometimes things go wrong? In Amy's world things
aren't allowed to go wrong. She stomps he cute little feet and
demands that they get better or she'll get so angry.
"It isn't fair. You've been
awesome to her." Harley said, "I just can't believe
anything I'm hearing from her."
"I know. But the only way she's
coming back is if she gets to win. Which means I have time go."
"You know what? If she wants to
believe you're her competition. Fine. Then she can deal with the
consequences. I'll wait for her to get over her issues." Harley
said finishing a glass of water in a single draw and reaching for
another barley wine.
"What if she doesn't?"
"Then I don't want her back."
"Harley you are too drunk to
decide this right now."
"No. I try to be reasonable. I try
to hear people out and come to agreements. I try to be nice. I don't
intend to get walked on."
"She might tell your landlady."
Marion pointed out.
"Fine then I'll fight Mrs.
Critchwood. My friend is seeing visions and getting kicked around by
life. I don't care if it's a tumour or if you're the next Buddha, I'm
walking with you. As long as I'm around, you never have to walk
alone."
"If you keeping talking that
sentimental while we're this drunk, we're going to end the night
sobbing about we love each other. Let's not go there."
"Agreed. Nobody wants to see
that."
The evening seemed very much settled
after that, and the two drank largely in a comfortable silence. Old
Film noir dramas playing from the classic movie channel. Some time
after one in the morning, Harley announced that he had reached his
limit for weeknight drinking and headed off to bed, leaving Marion
alone on the couch.
Feeling guilty relief over what Marion
was fairly confident was the impending explosion dissolution of his
best friend's romantic relationship with Amy, Marion pulled himself
up and set about the kitchen and the living room. He put the pizza
box in the garbage and rinsed out of the empty bottles and set them
as quietly as he could into the recycling bin the kitchen before
crashing on the couch to continue watching whatever would distract
him.
When Marion found himself standing in
the vast chessboard floored expanse, he just shook his head, "This
is getting predictable."
Marion looked around for whatever the
vision wanted to show him this time, and quickly spotted Darius Salt
standing with hands clasped behind his back staring away from Marion.
Behind Darius two soldiers in white tabbards stood holding a battered
Mary Salt upright. Darius did not look back at the three figures.
One of the soldiers spoke, "We
have captured the traitor, Mary Salt, in the name of the Locust King.
What are your orders, sir? She stands accused of treason and
witchcraft."
"Darius don't do this. You have a
choice! Don't do this, don't be what they want you to be! This can be
your story! You don't have to play the villain!"
Darius didn't turn around when he
spoke, "You forced me into this situation. You left me with no
choice."
"Your orders, sir?" The
soldier asked again.
"You make your our choices Darius,
nobody forces you to do anything. You choose who you will be in the
story! Don't choose to be a monster!"
Darius waited until Mary had stopped
speaking and then said, "You are hereby found guilty of the
charges against you, and I and sentence you to die in the name of the
locust king."
Marion looked around, but the seen was
devoid of anyone else. Maia and Fitzroy were noticeably absent.
One soldier stomped on the back of
Mary's knees, dropping her to the ground, as the second soldier drew
his sword. Mary was still trying to reason with Darius when the
soldier brought the blade down and her voice went silent.
"She forced me into this
situation," Darius said, "I didn't kill her, her own
stubbornness killed her." Darius finally turned around, and he
did so, he immediately noticed Marion and his eyes widened, "You
again! This is your fault! I'll make you pay for what you did?"
"Wow, you really are working the
self-delusion angle aren't you?" Marion deadpanned.
"Kill him! Kill the dreamer!"
Darius screamed to the soldiers. The first soldier drew his sword and
the two charged Marion.
Marion summoned up his twin Tomahawks,
and noted to himself that he was getting better at doing so. Part of
Marion was thinking that he should run, but he was also thinking
about what everything meant that he'd been seeing. And it seemed
pretty clear that the visions wanted him to act. On the other hand,
he didn't know how to use the tomahawks and had only helped kill the
wendigo through surprise and luck last time. The soldiers were almost
within striking range now, and Marion's chance to make a break for it
was disappearing with each foot fall. On the other hand, Marion
remembered the first dream, where he had effortlessly known how to
fight the the tomahawks and where these knights had been so much
cannon fodder. Maybe he could do that again.
"That's right isn't it?"
Marion said as he drifted into a ready stance without thinking about
it. "I am the Dreamer. Everyone else seems to know it, even my
subconscious seems to know it. Alright. Fine. If this is a story and
I'm supposed to join the story, then fine. The universe can stop
kicking me, because I'm ready to take my place in the story. And that
means you imperial stormtroopers aren't fighting Marion Day, you're
fighting the Dreamer! Whatever that means."
The soldiers entered combat range and
Marion was ready. He'd never felt so ready, and the feeling was
beautiful. It wasn't a fight, it was a massacre set to ballet. The
Dreamer moved like a dervish and the soldier's sword cut nothing but
breeze Marion left as he moved. In the span of a single breath, both
soldiers lay dead and The Dreamer stood inside a crimson ring now
painted on the black and white floor.
Darius glared at the Dreamer, "You
don't know the fight you're in for now boy. My wife played your part
in the story before you! Look what happened to her! I kill
storytellers. You think awakening to your role as the Dreamer will
save you? I just killed the Dreamer! I can do it again!"
Marion jolted awake on the couch with a
monstrous headache and Darius Salt's threats still ringing in his
ears.
"Well that raised the level of
engagement significantly." Marion muttered.
Harley was standing in the kitchen
mixing smoothies.
"Great. You're up." He said
and turned on the blender. The sound of metal blades grinding ice
jolted the last bit of slumber from Marion's consciousness and forced
him to cover his ears.
"How are you so chipper?"
Marion asked when the blender stopped. Harley poured out the smoothie
into two glasses and handed one to Marion along with several
aspirin.
"One of us drank half his weight
in water last night, the other kept explaining that water would
dilute the intoxication."
"Sounds like me." Marion
muttered.
"Ready for a run?" Harley
asked.
"No really. I don't any running
clothes anymore. Remember?"
"You can borrow mine, we are
different enough sizes my my running gear won't fit you. Come one.
You love to run, it will feel good. Down the shake and take your pain
meds like a man and let's put miles on your shoes."
"You're not going to give on this
are you?"
"Nope. So unless you want me to be
late for work, we'd better get going." Harley grinned.
"That's blackmail."
"Yes, it is."
"Fine, let me get changed."
Harley and Marion had not come from
wealthy family's and sports had been out of the question growing up
unless it was something cheap. Soccer would have been manageable, but
both boys had found that they liked the running better than the
kicking and liked running without being surrounded by other screaming
kids. Running had been meditative for both of them since they were
about ten years old. After about a mile, Marion's headache began to
wane as the rhythm of the run took over.
"I wish I could just run every
day," Harley said as the did there best to float above the
pavement, running lightly and smoothly, "I swear I could hit all
the main states in a year."
"I bet you could. You'd need to
win the lottery."
"That's the only escape from this
life, isn't it? If I won the lottery, I'd go pro and compete as a
professional runner. We could do it together."
"I'd keep running if I won the
lottery. I don't know if I would want to compete. I want to run a
video blog site, do commentary and film review and that sort of
thing. But, yeah, I'd still run."
The ran about eight miles before
calling it quits so they would have time to pick up their lottery
ticket before Marion had to leave for work. The Boys always bought
their lotto tickets at 'Gnu News' a little corner and news stand that
opened early every day. They picked their lotto numbers based on
their times for the run: total time, distance run, fast mile time,
and whatever else they needed to fill the numbers. Harley then pulled
out his lucky keychain with the red shoe key tag that acted as a
bottle opener and rubbed the shoe on the tickets. And then they paid
and left with their tickets.
They'd run a little longer that they
probably had time for, and so Harley had to leap into the shower and
change for work in a hurry. Marion stood back and let him rush,
Marion had no place to hurry off to today. Harley grabbed several
tubes of snack yogurt and a frozen burrito to take as lunch and then
disappeared out the door.
Marion was pretty sure at this point
that he was doomed to unemployment, and so Marion wasn't in a hurry.
The television was still on and displaying the local news as Marion
grabbed some water to finish mitigating his hang over. Then audio
from the television drew his attention and Marion stared in shock as
the News reported on the murder of Mary Salt, wife of local
businessman Darius Salt, and on the kidnapping of their children.
Darius Salt was reported to be offering a huge cash reward for the
return of his children. The news played a brief clip of an interview
with Darius Salt.
The reported asked Darius why he
offered a reward, "I want to remind the kidnappers of the
stakes. It's a lot of money, and anyone who thinks the reward won't
motivate people to look for my children is a dreamer."
Marion froze, his glass of water half
poured.
"Did you want to say anything to
the kidnappers?" The reporter asked.
"What they've done is stupid.
Morality is black and white here. They're dreaming if they think
they'll get away with this."
