Author's Note: Hello, hello, hello! Contrary to popular belief, I am not dead, so... Well, it's finally here, the sequel to "The Power to Kill"! Actually, it's not quite finished...still got a few bugs to work out and a final chapter to finish, but we're nearing the home stretch. So, nearly a year after the first one came out, here's the second installment "After the Rain."
But first, a few brief words of thanks and some needed acknowledgements:
First, to my little brother, the only person in the real world to read the first one, who actually surprised me with genuine praise. He IS a profound critic, however, and won't hesitate to remind me how much of an idiot I am. Thanks, "Scorch" (that's his Star Wars name ...shrug)!
Also, extreme gratitude to DiamondTopaz (author of a brilliant rendition of The SpongeBob Christmas Carol), for tirelessly proofreading all my chapters so far, and for offering helpful suggestions whenever I got stuck. Without her wisdom and unwavering support, this story would not be what it is today. Also, thanks for letting me use her characters: the Stingray 5000 band! You're the best!
To the reviewers: who seem to think PTK was, like, the best thing ever, even though it could have been so much better...you flatter me too much. Here's hoping you like ATR as much as the first story.
Oh! And to Dennis, for agreeing to let me write the story, and for not utterly killing me when I ruined his tough guy image. XD (Corny, no?)
Oh, by the way, we have a very special treat for you this time! Chapter titles! W00! Go me! Okay...So this story starts right where the other one left off. 'Kay? Also, if you've never read PTK, I encourage you to do so. Just go to my user profile. (shameless advertising over)
And now, after a ridiculously long introduction, here's the sequel to "The Power to Kill":
After the Rain
Disclaimer: As you know, I don't own any of the characters created by Steven Hillenburg, but I do own mine, so don't steal them...and don't sue... I mean, you have to pretty self-absorbed to go around waiting for a chance to do something like, you know?
Part Uno: A New HopeThe door burst open. Dennis closed his eyes, his mind barely grasping the sound. Silent tears welled in his eyes, although he wasn't sure who he was crying for anymore…
Kalid appeared inside the room. Dennis looked up through bloodshot eyes, his fingers still gripping the gun. Kalid looked alarmed, then held his hands out in a pleading gesture.
"Dennis, whatever you're doing, stop! I came to say…"
"What?" he growled, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Mindy's alive!" Kalid burst, his thin chest rising up and down. Dennis said nothing.
"I saw her die…" he finally choked. Determinedly, he clutched the gun, tightly fingering the trigger.
"No! Don't you understand? She's still alive! The paramedics…they came…and she's breathing…" Kalid was babbling now, barely able to keep his words from tumbling out over one another. "MINDY ISN'T DEAD!"
Dennis's mouth opened and closed. He stared at Kalid, whose face was lit up and he was beaming wildly. And for the first time in what seemed like years, Dennis's face broke into a smile.
"What?" he repeated, unable to mask his elation.
"You heard me! She's alive! Come quick!"
"She's alive?" He stood up, the gun dropping back onto the bed. "She's alive! Of course! She's alive!" He grabbed Kalid by the shoulders, lifting him off the ground. Kalid looked around nervously, remembering the last time he'd encountered Dennis. But Dennis was fairly aglow with glee. In a burst of joy, he kissed the squire on the forehead. Kalid frowned and slapped him smartly across the face.
"What are you doing, man? Your lady needs you! Go to her!"
"Right, right…" Dennis said, dropping Kalid. As a last thought, he turned and patted the servant on the head, then ran out the door, shouting Mindy's name.
His heart leaped in his chest, sending foreign tremors throughout his body. The smile on his face grew until his cheeks ached. But what if it was all false hope? What if—after that he thought nothing, only to continue running, not even to hope…
He arrived upon a throng of people, milling about. He was too far away to read their faces…he didn't dare try, not until he was there, pushing his way through the crowd.
Dennis stared down at the ground now, at a blood-colored stain on the yellow dividers of the road. The coppery stench hit him, making his stomach heave. Where was she? He looked up, tears and sweat running down his face. He saw the ambulance, along with a group of paramedics hoisting a stretcher into the air. Mindy…
He worked his way closer, a lump gathering in his throat. He shoved several bystanders out of his way, ignoring their cries of protest. He just had to see her…
"Sir?" one of the medics said as Dennis climbed into the ambulance. Dennis froze, staring at first the blinking monitor and then at the broken figure on the cot. He knelt down beside her, taking her hand in his, crying. It was warm. He could feel her pulse in her wrist, weak, faint, but there. She was alive.
"D-Dennis?" she spoke suddenly. The words were barely discernable, slurred by her dry lips. "Are you alright?" she gasped, her red eyes laced with concern. He hugged her fiercely, tears wavering his voice.
"Yes," he murmured, "I am now."
The ambulance roared toward the hospital. Dennis's heart weighed heavy in his chest. One of the medics stood against the steel walls, gripping the edge of Mindy's stretcher, knuckles white. The grim expression on his face told Dennis that the danger was far from over.
His chest squeezed tightly, threatening to choke him. So he talked. He held Mindy's limp hand and said whatever came to his mind, trying to soothe her and ease the dread seeping into his bones.
Mindy choked on phlegm and blood and the medic quickly rushed over and let her drink from a packet of water. When she was done she looked at Dennis with dull eyes.
"There was a priest here…a while ago…" Tears flowed from her eyes. "He…he came to give me Last Rites…in case I…I died."
"Oh, Mindy…" he whispered. There was a sadness about her face, deeper than any he had ever seen.
Then they came to the hospital and they rushed her inside.
"How bad?" he said distantly.
The medic with white knuckles looked at him with the same dull, sad, frantic eyes—all those emotions at once—and said nothing. Dennis set his mouth in a firm line and walked into the building.
"Where?" he demanded. A nurse was wringing her hands nervously. She looked up and pointed shakily down a long white corridor. He hurried down it, telling himself the same thing over and over, "She'll be fine…she'll be fine."
The corridor led to a whitewashed waiting room with cold leather chairs and metal arms. The floor marched across the room with red, white, green tiles, a pattern continuing past two oak double doors on the other side of the room. A doctor came out, rubbing the back of his neck. Dennis rushed over.
"You have to stay out here," the doctor said firmly, giving him a stern gaze.
"I have to be with her," he said, his voice shaking. His knees trembled, threatening to give way.
"The best thing you can do is wait…wait and pray," the doctor said. He patted Dennis on the shoulder and walked away, staring at a clipboard.
Dennis sank into a chair, unable to keep from shaking. Suddenly everything that had happened in the past few hours caught up with him. He leaped out of his seat and vomited. His eyes were sunken, hollow; his throat burned. He slumped dizzily into the chair, his insides swimming.
He had almost killed himself. If Kalid hadn't—If Mindy didn't pull through…what if—Too many unfinished sentences, too many ifs. He swallowed, fighting the sick feeling in his stomach. He clasped his hands together. The fluorescent lights hummed and flickered overhead…
And then he thought of something else. He had thrown his life away at the beginning, all those years ago, pushing all thought of conscience and rectitude behind him. He had never really thought…never even thought. Life. He had taken it away from innocent (and not so innocent) people…too many times. Without even wondering why. But if he had asked that question—why?—what would the answer be? Because it paid. Because he couldn't have gone back. Because he didn't want to think. Thinking made him remember the lost, made him recollect all those people who had mattered to him, gone now…Mom, Mark, even Chad…
And what he was going through now, and what he had gone through—thinking that Mindy was dead—how many families had been put through that? How many mothers and children worried when their fathers did not return? His eyes lolled back in his head, he felt faint…if he had only thought…only stopped to think…
Who knows how long he sat there, regretting everything he'd ever done, and feeling helpless against the will of fate? The only thing that stirred him from his worry was the arrival of Kalid.
The squire was just as jittery as always, his excitement from before quelled slightly. He sat down across from Dennis, his short legs not even touching the floor. He looked at Dennis quietly, regarding him. Dennis was unstable, he knew. He recalled an image, of Dennis, his hair awry, sweat pouring down his face, a gun trembling in his hand. Kalid shuddered, wondering just what would have happened.
But, he thought romantically, anyone who would care that much for someone…was well worth it.
"What are you looking at?" Dennis snapped. Kalid started. Dennis sighed. He could see the worry in the servant's eyes.
"Why isn't the king here yet?" Dennis finally asked. Kalid shook his head.
"He'll be here soon. He was in an important meeting."
Dennis clutched the metal rests of the chair tightly. "More important than his daughter's life?" he said grimly.
"Well…it might have something to do with the guy that was driving the car…I don't know, they didn't tell me anything," Kalid said. Dennis sat up straighter, his mind working. His knuckles clenched together, relishing the thought of the driver getting his just reward…even his merciful side wouldn't let him forget Mindy's broken form, those blood-stained tears running down her face…
Suddenly someone burst into the room. A tubby starfish threw himself onto Dennis, his face wet with tears.
"Is she okay, Mr. Dennis? Please tell me she's okay!" Patrick Star wailed, burying his face in Dennis's pant leg. Dennis tried futilely to pry him off.
"Patrick, don't," SpongeBob SquarePants said tiredly, trudging in. "He's just as worried as you are."
"Say?" Patrick said, lifting his head up, not hearing SpongeBob. "Is she…Is Mindy okay?"
Dennis sighed. "I don't know."
Kalid bit back a snicker. Dennis glared at him.
"C'mon, Patrick," SpongeBob said angrily. He grabbed Patrick's feet and yanked him off Dennis' leg. "Sorry about this," SpongeBob said nervously. He never felt comfortable around Dennis. Too many bad memories.
Dennis shifted his glare to the two FOOLS. What on earth were they doing here? Then he remembered. Patrick, the dumb one, had a crush on Mindy. He smiled tightly. It was actually funny. But the despair in Patrick's eyes—that wasn't funny.
SpongeBob and Patrick took a seat beside Kalid. Dennis looked at the clock on the wall. It had been hours. It was nearly midnight.
What if she didn't pull through? He clasped his hands together, staring at a spot on the wall. Tears stung his eyes unwillingly.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the double doors opened. Four pairs of hopeful eyes shifted to the nurse standing there. She clutched a notebook to her chest, staring at it over her glasses. She looked up blankly and, very slowly, a smile spread across her face.
"Surgery was a success. Princess Mindalia should recover—"
Whatever else she said was lost in a chorus of raucous cheers.