Chapter 3 – The White Rabbit and the Bitter Reunion
These are the things we lost in the fire...
For a few fleeting moments, I was entranced by the sensation of total weightlessness. It's difficult to explain - despite the trauma and terror I had just faced, I was left without any recollection of those resulting emotions. Totally numb. I was no longer living, merely existing. Just being in the moment. No sight, no sound, no feeling, no smell. It had all dissipated into the black abyss that I now resided inside.
My eyes remained closed, exhaustion forcing them to conceal my surroundings. Fear took hold, its death grip like a vise on my fragile state of mind. Panic overwhelmed me, heart beating to the rhythm of a hummingbird's flight.
Burning. I could feel my flesh begin to dissolve under the intensity of a flame. A sharp, piercing noise hammered into my eardrums, sinking deeper into my skull. A dull ache formed at the base of my cranium, ascending from the top portion of my neck and toward the crown. I shrieked, calling for help but to no avail.
The connection was successful.
Photographic images bounced in and out of vision, bright lights engulfing them, dissolving them as the others followed behind like a parade of strobe-like flashes. Their speed increased until I could no longer distinguish one from the other. Fire. Something burning. Children. Something golden like rays of summer sunshine. Silver. Darkness. The pounding headache returned with added force.
I couldn't take it. I begged for release. The pain was excruciating; surely, death would claim me soon. Burning flesh - my own - filled my senses, the smell like poison. Bile rose in my throat, scalding the tender lining of my esophagus.
And, once again, every sensation and emotion returned to a stable, almost nonexistent level.
"It's time to wake up, Ali," a combination of a deep male's and a young boy's voices coaxed with low tones. I could feel each of their breaths as they spoke in unison lightly brush my ear lobes as if they stood on each side of me.
My eyes fluttered open, a heavy cough racking through my body. There was smoke encircling me. A sharp pain on my left arm jolted my numbed mind awake, alerting me to the fact that I was resting in a small flame. Hissing a curse, I retracted the limb and held it protectively against my chest.
Despite the intensity of the sting, it was quite mild in comparison to what it could have been. Blisters would form in a small patch along my forearm, however this could easily be attended to later.
Recalling the incident before, I searched for any sign of my companions. Unfortunately, I was now alone inside the ambulance, its frame a mere pile of crushed metal from the impact of the fall.
How...How did I survive? I wondered in astonishment.
Where is everyone?
Still hacking away, I rolled to my side, landing in tall, fall-dried grass. Once in safety, I stumbled onto my feet, cerebellum not yet steadied. The world was a whir of colors as it spun around me in a dizzying display. With unsure steps, I walked away from the site. My eyes once again closed; suddenly, I found myself falling to my knees with a loud groan.
The moment that I returned to stability, I rose to my full height; I no longer felt like I was riding a twisted merry-go-round. "Hello?" I spouted mid-cough.
The silence that greeted me left me irate. With a huff, I spun around in search of any sign of my current location. Trees engulfed the secluded section, darkening my surroundings. The patches of flames from the crash flickered, giving me my only source of illumination. With each step I took, grass and gravel crunched under my feet. Death permeated throughout the area, spawning from the carcasses of various dead animals; as a result, I covered my nose in disgust. Crickets and other insects chirped, alerting me that they survived the apocalyptic catastrophe unscathed – much to my dismay.
In a blind stumble, I journeyed forward, not eager to remain in the wreckage. With a sigh of relief, I found a clearing. For a moment I was optimistic, hopeful that the others had gotten away safely. A light in the distance further added to my brighter outlook.
In a dash, I stepped over boulders and hopped around broken crates and barrels. However my enthusiasm got the best of me; to my chagrin, I fell, rolling down the side of a steep hill and landing on my back at the bottom. "Crap," I muttered indignantly. Despite the solitude, I felt a wave of embarrassment overcome me; a stark red hue painted my pale, freckled cheeks. With a groan, I rose to a sitting position and rubbed my sore muscles. I was always somewhat of a klutz.
A smile of relief formed at my lips as I saw the flame, however, with no person in sight my hopes fell. A lean-to rested near the fire, garbage and splinters of broken crates strewn about. But, the most disconcerting sight was the pair of legs sticking out from behind the protection of the fabric. Even from a distance, I could see that they were soaked with blood. Whoever they belonged to was either mortally wounded, or more than likely, already dead.
I've dealt with dead bodies before, though on an extremely rare basis. Working at a mental hospital normally gives one the pleasure of not having to deal with death – in fact, we try to prevent that, if at all possible. But seeing one so mutilated was disturbing, to say the least.
As I approached, hesitation attempting to deter me from moving, I let out a shriek. It was the officer from the ambulance, now deceased from a bullet to the brain. His face had morphed into that of the monster that I had seen in the vehicle, snarling mouth frozen in time; blood stained his teeth. Shaking, I took a step backwards.
With a cry of horror, I fled the scene, searching in desperation for any source of help.
Beyond the cover of the forest, I spotted a lone person. Panting from the run, my chest pounded with the beat of my heart rate. Before making contact, a breather was necessary; I placed my hands on the back of my head, allowing oxygen to return to my lungs. To my right, I spotted a metallic object in the ditch gleaming in the light of the moon. Curiosity won me over as I inspected it. To my relief, it was a hand scythe; though covered with rust, it would provide some sort of protection if necessary. I held the weapon in my right hand, lowered so as to not frighten the person ahead. With timid steps, I made my way forward. "S-sir?" I stuttered.
I discovered it was a rather hefty man, middle aged and quite tall in comparison to my five-foot-six stature. The man doubled over, clutching at his skull with a tightened grip; he muttered incoherent words while his whole body seemed to writhe in agony. In an instant, his struggling ceased as he lowered his hands from his head. With an alarming growl, he turned to face my direction, revealing his gashed head; white, beady eyes glared with murderous rage.
The dead creature charged, hands ready to slice at my throat. I let out a squeak as I dodged its blow, hacking at its abdomen. It let out an irritated squeal, attempting to scratch at me again, this time with minor success. A scream escaped my lips as I felt its claws sink into the flesh of my shoulder. With bared teeth, it lowered its head to devour the skin of my neck. Before it could accomplish the job, I yanked the scythe from its stomach and whacked at its skull, various bodily fluids and tissues dispersed in all areas. The lights of its eyes dimmed before going completely dark; it collapsed to the earth.
I spit out what had gotten into my mouth, emptying my stomach in the process. In a sense of panic, I clutched at my heart, tears brimming along my eyes' waterlines. Hyperventilation consumed me as I almost crumpled into a shattering heap. All I could do was shake as I stared at the corpse of what was once a man.
A soft, timid muttering near where I stood woke me from my state. Green eyes searched for the source, scythe held in a tightened grip in expectance of another undead creature. To my relief, I found a familiar white tuft of hair amidst the darkness of the cover of the trees. Bent into a fetal-like position, he rocked on his heels while he repeated a phrase too quiet to hear.
"Leslie?" I called to him as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
His hands were gripped at his head, eyes wide. In a ginger, quick movement, he gazed in my direction, seeming to wake from his fear-induced stupor. Once he realized my identity, he returned to his self soothing.
To keep me from becoming the blubbering mess that I wanted to, I focused all of my energy on Leslie. The figurative nurse's hat (as well as literal) was once again donned as I approached him. He ignored my presence as I kneeled beside him. "Inside me…inside me…inside me," he whispered, a fearful look in his sky-colored eyes.
"Hello, Leslie," I greeted with an attempt at a reassuring smile. "It's nurse Alice."
He whimpered, but seemed to calm at the sound of my voice. Blue eyes shifted toward me, watching with apprehension. His uneasiness was understandable; I looked horrible. Disheveled, my auburn hair was plastered to my sweat-dropped skin. Blood was sprinkled upon my white, nurse's uniform, the customary hat I wore was crumpled and torn in places. A vivid, red mark clung to my left forearm where I had been burned in the ambulance.
"Hey, everything is gonna be alright," I added, placing a hand on his boney shoulder. "I'll protect you. Okay?" The comforting grin grew upon my lips.
He faced me now, raising his head to peer at me under white eyelashes. Dark circles of sleep deprivation hung under his pale eyes, starkly contrasting his alabaster complexion. He slowed his breathing, lips parting to reveal chipped teeth. "You'll protect Leslie?"
My smile became genuine at the sound of his small voice. "Of course I will, honey," I assured. It was always hard to remember that he was an adult with such an innocent, child-like mind. I offered a hand to him, trying my hardest to stifle the quivering that seemed to plague me. "You want to hold my hand?"
With hesitation, he accepted, allowing me to pull him up to his feet. Hand-in-hand, we walked together. He stood at my left, while the scythe was held in my right; needless to say, we looked like quite the odd pair. Leslie shuffled along, freehand picking at his tearing cuticles while he continued to whimper. I soothingly shushed him, squeezing his hand in comfort. My eyes watched our surroundings with wariness, preparing for any danger.
We passed through the remnants of a ghost town, its residents long deceased. Every building along the path was abandoned, rotting from lack of care. Blood coated the walls, various weapons jabbed into doors as if an attacker was in desperation to get inside. Dead animals lay in piles of their own filth, carcasses torn apart as the flesh was ripped from bone. Every sight further added to my ever-growing anxiety; it was like we were in the midst of a horror movie.
"Can't go back...Can't go back…Can't go back," Leslie whispered to himself, unable to keep from fidgeting.
Boom
The door of one of the shacks flew open at our passing, causing me and the white-haired patient to jump. Another haunted revealed itself, snarling with decaying teeth. A white bandage covered its eyes. Barbed wire protruded from its rotting flesh, a knife gripped in its mangled hand. Without a single thought, it charged.
With this, Leslie released my hand and gripped his skull, rocking back and forth. His shaking form waddled around, dodging the haunted that attacked. "She's come home…She's come home…She's come home," he uttered, an ominous edge to his frightened tone.
I dodged the creature's swipe, ducking in just the right amount of time. It continued to swing, aiming for my neck and abdomen. With an oomph, I fell to the dirt, rocks jabbing at my exposed calves.
"Help! He's here! He's here! He's here!" Leslie cried as he bolted into the unknown, leaving me to defend myself. His white form disappeared into the darkness.
"Leslie!" I called after him, fear palpable in my raw tone.
Taking advantage of the moment, the haunted picked up its foot to squash my skull. I rolled, missing its blow. Without warning, the creature dropped its weapon, white eyes rolling backwards before its head blew to pieces. My eyes widened, mouth agape at its sudden explosion of brain matter. I searched, expecting to find my savior standing near me with a gun but to no avail. Shaking, I scrambled to my feet, running through the covering of the trees to find Leslie.
Much to my chagrin, I hit a dead end. A horde of the decaying creatures blocked my path up ahead, too involved in their own bloodlust-filled affairs to notice my sudden appearance. With no way around in sight, I creeped over to a nearby shack. The scythe held before me, I reached a shivering hand toward the knob to open it. Hoping to catch whatever dwelled inside by surprise, I pushed, allowing the door to creak open. To my relief, there was nothing but a farmer's supply of tools and equipment inside. I let out a sigh, rushing to hide for only a moment before I figured out a plan of attack.
Wasting no time, I searched through the set of shelves, hoping that maybe there might be an equally (if not more so) effective weapon at my disposal. Fortunately, I discovered a handgun upon a workbench, placed almost as if it were waiting for me to find. I grabbed it, loading it with the bullets resting beside it.
"Thank God," I sighed, smiling in relief to myself. Despite the fact that it had been years since using a gun, and that I hoped I would never have to use one again, it was a welcome sight in the chaos.
After loading the weapon, I heard electronic feedback, yet again. With bated breath, I gulped, fear striking me. The fragile hairs on the back of my neck rose, a cold chill sweeping through my body. Gazing back at the former resting place of the handgun, I found a withered sunflower; I raised a brow, not remembering the flower being there before.
With the image of piercing, gray eyes flashing in my memory, I spun around, aiming the gun at the one who stood behind me. Sure enough, I was correct in my assumption. Without even lifting a finger, the gun was ripped from my hands, landing on the other side of the room.
"W-who are you? W-what do you want from me?" I barked, failing to keep my voice from wavering. I was determined that I could not show the fear that was so prevalent inside, but my efforts would prove futile. I pressed myself even farther back into the wall for support and clung to it in a desperate attempt to stop myself from shaking. My ears pounded with the sound of my heavy heartbeat.
He stalked close enough for me to feel his breath lightly sweep my face with each exhale. The burned ends of his white, tattered robe gently tickled my knee with the slight breeze. I forced myself to continue looking into those pale, glowing, gray eyes that never seemed to cease haunting me. A brief flicker of some strange emotion escaped him before returning to his normal, hardened manner. What struck me was that, despite his close proximity, I felt no body heat that would radiate from a normal individual. In fact, I could swear that he felt cold, almost like that of a corpse.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten me, Ali." His voice was calm as he emphasized the pet name given to me at the age of six.
My mind instantly flashed back to a huge field of sunflowers. A young boy, tall for his age, and about two years older than I with sad grey eyes and board straight, platinum blonde hair. A teenaged girl – hauntingly beautiful with porcelain face and long black hair that flowed down to her waist. Playing hide and seek in an old wooden barn filled with hay. Playing tag. Laughing together. Things I hadn't quite forgotten, but hadn't thought about in many years.
The young boy was someone I would sneak out of the house to play with when my parents didn't need help on the farm; my refuge when things became too hard for me to handle. I happened across him while exploring the pasture that used to belong to us. As a child, it didn't matter to me that the Victoriano family had bought out the land and that my family didn't own it anymore. In fact, my adventurous curiosity bade me to discover who these people were.
He was strange, slightly disturbed even, but I liked him and enjoyed his company. He confided in me about his gruesome experiments on animals and the discoveries he made. Though I thought they were absolutely disgusting, it was fun to watch his sad, hollow eyes suddenly sparkle with excitement as he spoke. I feigned interest just for this reason; it was worth it if it made him happy.
He also spoke of his parents reproach of the hobby, and the sometimes abusive nature his father displayed toward him. He was a rather stern man, and held strongly to his belief in the corrupted church the family was a part of; as a result, these beliefs caused him to feel some disdain towards Ruben. I was aware of he and his father's strained relationship, but at times it seemed that he was embarrassed to even have him as a son.
And, yes, he was the weird, rich boy who lived a whole pasture away from me; but I loved him. He was my best friend, and I knew he at least enjoyed my company.
We bonded in that we didn't quite belong amongst the others. We were the 'strange children' – the ones who kept to themselves unless around a select few. Laura, for example; she was the only one he could ever truly be himself with. We were also close to the same age, which was something that neither of us had ever quite experienced before, let alone having a friendship outside of family. And in my mind, I was determined that he and I would stay together forever.
I remember the day, probably not even a month after I met them, that I announced in my childish innocence that I was going to marry him, which I was adamant about even until his supposed death two years later. Ruben's pale face had turned a deep crimson hue. His eyes narrowed in a glare as he spouted a rebuttal out of embarrassment. Laura's reaction was expected; she tried to stifle her fit of giggles at my declaration and Ruben's response. (Despite his claims at that time, he agreed to the arrangement a year later. He conceded, "As long as you don't try to interrupt me while I'm doing my experiments and Laura can live with us.")
So, as I stared deeply into the sterling eyes that bored into mine, I couldn't help but gasp. They had aged over twenty-five years. Had grown darker. Harsher. Full of bitter anger and hatred, like someone who had seen more than his fare share of pain in his lifetime. But they were his eyes, nonetheless.
"R-Ruben?" I whispered, voice quivering.
With this, he backed away; almost as if he were taken back by the name. His white-gray eyes grew larger, betraying his sudden hesitation. "No. Not anymore," he replied darkly.
I raised my hands to silence him. "Wait," I demanded, tone wavering. "This can't be right. Ruben died with Laura in the fire when I was eight –" I paused, eyes traveling across his marred form. It was brutal, grotesque; he looked like a walking cadaver. But he still retained those distinctive features, albeit sharper from age and scarring. He was once Ruben – now morbidly deformed.
My eyes widened. "Oh God." A shaking hand ascended towards my mouth as I stood with mouth agape. "Oh, Ruben…," I whispered as I continued to study him; I couldn't even finish. My stunned mind was unable to find the words. Blinking the tears away, my heart dropped, pensive sadness overwhelming me.
"Aren't you happy to see me, Ali?" he almost snarled. His eyes, however, betrayed his inner emotions. Despite his tone, he was not pleased by my reaction. The corner of his lip twitched in a frown. It was subtle, but said more than words ever could. What his expectations had been, I don't know; but, though I knew of his true identity, I continued to cower in fear.
I shook, tears cascading down my face in tiny waterfalls. A sigh escaped my lips, quivering as I tried to fight back the urge to break down in front of him. That was the last thing that either of us needed, especially him. I wanted to reach out, but hesitation held me in my place. Fear was still prevalent, not made any easier by the expectation in his silver eyes. That boy that I loved so much as a child was alive, and had been all these years. I blinked, hoping simultaneously that it was a dream and that it was reality; these two conflicting desires froze me in place.
He turned his head to the side, taking a step closer. Darkened eyes narrowed as he took in my state. "Say something," he commanded, no longer stoic but expressing his disgruntlement at my reaction.
"I-I thought you were dead," I sobbed, no longer able to hold back. I folded, wrapping my arms around myself. Every emotion that I had repressed over the years and every emotion I felt since waking to this nightmare came flooding in a single moment. There was no possible way to gain control. "They said you were dead," I whispered.
His rigid stance seemed to reach his limit as he visibly tensed. His mouth became a thin line, eyes narrowed. "You're afraid of me," he stated, the smallest hint of disappointment laced within his tone.
I sniffed, returning my eyes to his. He stared back with a twinge of betrayal. I wiped away the tears, putting on the best smile that I could muster. "I am happy to see you, Ruben," I replied. Despite the more cheerful attitude I attempted to display, he knew my inner turmoil at seeing him. He remained distant, but I could see the longing in his glowing eyes. In that moment, I was the closest thing he could get to his sister, but an ominous feeling kept me from allowing the joyful reunion I assumed that he had hoped for.
I cleared my throat as my gaze shifted toward the door. "Why?" I whispered meekly as the tears continued to fall. "Why did they say you were dead? Where were you all this time?"
"Father," he spat, the memory adding to the tension he already displayed. "He trapped me down in the basement for years like a caged animal – that's what he always wanted. To hide me away because he was ashamed of his own son." His fists tightened at his sides as he paced around me. His white hood cast a shadow upon his face, making his eyes look like two white lights in a sea of darkness. "And then he had the audacity to lie to me; he told me that Laura had died in the fire." With his back turned to me, he stopped; cloaked shoulders hunched with a deep emotion. I blinked, waiting for his next move. To my relief, he turned on heels to face me yet again. "She was unconscious, lying in a hospital bed the entire time," he replied, returning to calmer demeanor.
"Ruben,…," I started as I took a step toward him, only to find the words escape me. A deep inhale rang throughout my chest, releasing into a heavy sigh. Though I tried to think of something to say, there were no words. I was utterly speechless.
He gazed back with a slightly softened expression; comparative to his normal, heated one, at least. Taking small, calculated steps in my direction, he stood inches away. Though too close for comfort, I found myself captivated by his argent irises. The contrast of light amongst his dark aura was fascinating.
"You've hardly changed at all. Same red hair, green eyes, freckles. I always thought they suited you well," he confessed softly, eyes dancing around at each feature mentioned.
My eyes practically bulged from their sockets. Lips parting, I seemed to forget how to breathe.
He tensed at my lack of response. "I created this world, therefore I will keep you here if I choose. The others, however," he drawled, voice deep and contained, "will not remain. I suggest that you don't follow them."
"What do you mean?" I squeaked. So, he was the mastermind behind this crazed world, the architect of its design. His words brought confusion, resulting in the the return of the disturbing sensation. I shook from his proximity as chills zapped down my spine, heart pounding.
He…he doesn't mean to kill them, does he?
His demeanor shifted, exchanging his stoic behavior for one filled with triumphant pleasure. I was his prize, his Ali. I had come home to him, to be by his side forever though I did not yet know it.
"Now, you're mine again," he stated in dark contentment, a faint smile forming at his scarred, cracked lips. Within an instant his mouth returned to the expressionless line that it was before. He was once again rigid as he contemplated those who threatened to separate us, jaw tightening in stab of avaricious anger. "And I won't lose you too," he almost growled with a flash of mad possession in his sterling eyes.
With that, he vanished. I was left alone to decipher the meaning of his words, dread filling me upon consideration. Without even wincing, I dropped to my knees upon solid concrete.
My God…What have you become?
A/N: Revised. The song lyrics I used are, of course, from Bastille's "Things We Lost In The Fire." Anything to do with Ruvik wouldn't be complete without this song. 3