Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon or The Blair Witch Project, but I do own excuses for why it takes me so long to update. Does anyone really want to hear them, though? :(
This chapter is loooonnng, but you guys are certainly owed it. Happy Halloween!
SOON BEGINS BEWITCHING
by Spruceton Spook
Chapter 9
"Pick Up Every Stitch"
This is absolutely crazy, James thought for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. He released a sharp sigh through his nose as he tried to calm his overwrought nerves.
He'd long stopped assisting Jessie. Though she'd solicited his help earlier with what she had next in mind, it was quickly apparent she was just as happy and capable of preparing it herself. In fact, James wondered occasionally if Jessie even realized he was still in the room. Her legs curled tightly beneath her and her head bent in acute concentration, his partner was fully absorbed in her project. Every once in a while, her eyes would glimmer with excitement as visions of her scheme seemingly filled her otherwise occupied mind.
James didn't even know what the next stage entailed, but he did know it was obviously based off that movie he never saw, it obviously was going to be implemented with the continued purpose of taunting the twerps, and it obviously was something she was going to do, regardless of what anyone had to say about it.
What was also obvious to him was the fact that what she was doing was not only completely unnecessary, but dare he say stupid.
At least he had Meowth on his side. That was the only consolation, knowing that he wasn't alone in questioning Jessie's logic. Not that it mattered. Even their majority rule wasn't going to deter Jessie from carrying out this venture the way she saw fit. Her dismissal of their input, a flat-out rejection of common sense, had James writhing in frustration. Since when had he been demoted from equal cohort in their mission to an overruled pawn to her reckless ideas?
He didn't have the guts to say that directly to her face. But he wasn't going to stand down and grant her sovereign control of the affair, either. What he needed to do was rely on what he was comfortable and good at doing: carefully voicing his opinion, trying to get through to her with steady reason.
However, "Would you stop worrying, James!" was what she had snapped the last time he'd suggested making a move to exit Pallet. She hadn't even lifted her head to acknowledge him, her focus uninterrupted from fiddling with the small object she was constructing in her lap. "I told you, everything is going to be fine!"
But James couldn't accept that easily for one second. History was on his side, wasn't it? Were they not playing with the hottest of fires, taking irresponsible advantage of the first big break they had in forever? Were they seriously not underestimating the adversary who had a glaringly perfect record against them? Wasn't said adversary out searching for them at that very moment?
He and Meowth could have performed a musical number proclaiming these particulars, but Jessie was equipped with an arm-full of allegorical rotten tomatoes, ready to rebuff anything that disputed her plan. She was obsessed, more so that James had ever seen. It was dumbfounding, not to mention maddening. So hell-bent on throwing salt on the fresh wounds of the twerp, she was being rendered blind to the very, very real repercussions this could result in. It was becoming jarringly unlike her, quite frankly. Never before, in James' opinion, had Jessie shown such blatant foolishness.
And that, scarily enough, was just the half of it. There was also the issue of their captive of honor himself, Pikachu.
As Jessie continued to twist and tie and knot together whatever the heck it was she was making (James had asked earlier when she had first started, but all he got in response was a happily crafty "You'll see!"), he chanced a glimpse at the caged mouse. And his anxiety promptly skyrocketed.
Pikachu did not look well. It didn't take an expert to make that observation. He was in quite a state from the moment they had captured him: shivering, huddled into a ball against the side of the crate, pitiful and weak. But in the last twenty-four hours, he'd gotten progressively worse. In just that short time, the strong, capable creature they knew was an ailing shell of his former self. Coat dull, eyes glassy, ears drooped, Pikachu was not just a sight for sore eyes, his condition was downright chilling. Wretchedly lethargic, he hadn't made an attempt to rise since the night before, lying prostrate though rarely asleep. Whenever James locked eyes with the mouse's, a shiver ran up his spine. A few alarming times, he wondered if he was looking into the soul of a dying pokémon.
That was nonsense, though, he scolded himself. It was only a day! Surely Pikachu wasn't that bad. No healthy pokémon could deteriorate that rapidly. He was depressed and feeble—that was it. He wasn't eating, after all. All the food they had offered him sat untouched and the water in his bowl was replaced frequently, not from being drunk but to clear it of the dust and yellow fur that gathered and floated stagnant atop it. Meowth had done his part in trying to persuade Pikachu to eat, but to no avail. Pikachu obviously had lost his appetite, not to mention his will to do much of anything...well, of which he could do in detention.
But despite putting that dreadful notion out of his mind, James knew that they needed to get Pikachu out of there and into the competent hands of team members who'd know how to care for him—veterinarians, skilled handlers, people who could hopefully restore Pikachu to his former glory before the boss saw what the recent course of events had done to him. Maybe Pikachu was hanging in there for now, but he wouldn't last forever if he continued to deprive himself...and if Jessie continued to delay.
It was no longer just an issue of getting Pikachu to the boss before the twerps found them; it was also an issue of getting Pikachu to the boss while the mouse was still in halfway decent shape.
James turned his attention back to Jessie. She was still hard at work, in her own world. Had she even seen Pikachu since they had gotten back from their morning prank?
He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Jess?"
"Hmm?"
His tongue poised once more to strongly recommend making their escape, he held back, deciding to adjust his strategy.
"When, uh, were you planning on executing Plan B?"
"Tonight," she replied. "Same time we did it last night, perhaps earlier."
James' heart accelerated in panic. The same time as last night? He didn't really know what the current time was, but it couldn't have been noon yet. Did she really expect them to hide away in the house, with the twerps vigilantly on the hunt, for the next twelve plus hours?
Throwing another glimpse at the sickly Pikachu, he then looked to Meowth, who was perched on the rotting windowsill keeping a lookout for any sign of the kids. The cat's eyes widened dramatically, signaling to James that his concern was still very much there. The confidence boost from Meowth's backing adding to his unease over Pikachu's state, James knew at that instant he needed to break from his comfort zone and, once again, face up to his partner.
"You really...think that's a good idea?" His nose wrinkled in a cringe, preparing for the inevitable backlash.
Sure enough, Jessie's fingers went still and her head shot up. She glared at James, and he did all he could to keep from physically recoiling.
"Oh, and what's a better idea?" she retorted. "Packing up Pikachu right now and heading out in the broad daylight while the brats are out looking for us?"
"W-well..." James stammered.
"Because I think that would be a really smart alternative," she remarked scathingly. Her point put across, she went back to crafting...that thing. The sight of it partnered with Jessie's retaliation made James bristle. What the hell was that, anyway? He didn't even know what they were waiting around for!
He had been patient and acquiescent long enough. Although he felt they should have taken off as soon as the weather cleared up, he allowed Jessie to influence him to have a little fun and place the rock piles on the Ketchums' front lawn. He'd been nervous, but he hadn't seen any real harm. But Jessie's plan was transforming into something completely different now, something that worried him fiercely, something she was making outright mysterious—to them, her friends. Not being privy to what she was plotting next fueled his nerve. What gave her the right to hide that from him when his future was at stake from this mission just as much as hers was?
"What is plan B?" he managed the courage to demand. "At least keep Meowth and me in the loop!"
"Yeah, you've been workin' constantly on dat ting since we got back!" Meowth spoke up, annoyed. "And how long do I gotta stay in dis window lookin' for 'em?! I'm gettin' bored here!"
Bored? James never considered boredom one of his present afflictions. It was too nerve-wracking to get bored.
"Well, you're just going to have to stay in that window a little while longer, Meowth," Jessie smirked, offering no sympathy. "Since you two are so worried they're going to find us here."
"You know they could!" James' voice peaked with resolve.
She snorted. "And up to the attic we'd go," she sang. When they returned to the house knowing the twerps were lurking, they made sure there was a place they could hide in the unlikely (Jessie deemed) event they raided the property. Ordinary closets weren't dependable, but, according to her, there was no way they'd think to pull down the ratty old cord in the hallway that presented the stairs to the musky crawlspace. They weren't that bright.
Maybe she was right about that, but regardless, Jessie was still failing to recognize the most pressing factor in James' drive to get going. She thought she had this all planned to perfection, but James couldn't believe that she was completely unperturbed by the sight of Pikachu. Jessie had to know that delivering one of the boss' most sought-after prizes in such deplorable shape would reflect poorly on them. And they really could not afford any more black marks.
James didn't even want to envision what could happen if they did wait too long, if it got to a point where Pikachu was too far gone...
As that horrifying thought unwillingly seized his mind, James was on his feet in a flash. "But what about Pikachu?!"
Jessie flinched, startled by James' abruptness. He thrust a shaky finger in the direction of Pikachu's cage.
"Look at Pikachu!" he cried in his high voice. "Can't you see he's not okay? We have to get him out of here, Jessie! He's getting sick!"
James could have sworn he saw a flicker of concern cross Jessie's features as she threw a quick look at Pikachu's crate, but when her eyes angled back on James, she could not have looked any more blasé.
"Pikachu's fine," she said.
James was taken aback, not just by her response, but by the untroubled way it was delivered. He struggled for a second before exclaiming, "But he doesn't look fine!"
"He is fine. You're worrying too much again," Jessie said, slightly condescendingly.
"But—but he hasn't eaten! He hasn't gotten up! He doesn't look good!" James gestured frantically at Pikachu. He just didn't get it—what was she seeing? Or not seeing, rather? "He—he..."
He looks like he's dying, he almost said, but somehow, he just couldn't bear to disclose that. Maybe because it still seemed so absurd, even to him.
"He's fine," Jessie leaned forward to emphasize again. "He's not sick, James. Don't you see? He's purposely not eating or getting up. He thinks he's so damn smart, but he'll snap out of it. When he gets hungry enough, he'll suck it up and eat."
She sounded so certain, so secure in her interpretation. James wanted to trust her, at least to subdue his nagging fears, but another reluctant check on Pikachu, and he knew his worries were not unfounded, and not going away anytime soon. Even if she was accurate and Pikachu was doing a credible job of making himself look as sorry as possible, it still didn't eliminate the other factors threatening everything they had achieved thus far. They were simply not in the position to be so confident.
How in the world was he going to convince her of this, though? Without her taking his head off in the process?
"Jess, I hate to break it to ya, but I'm with Jimmy on dis one!"
Despite his alliance, James was surprised by Meowth's sudden declaration. The cat made an agile leap from the windowsill to the table holding Pikachu's crate. Disturbed by the unexpected approach, Pikachu's head jolted up, but he lowered it barely a second later, sapped and indifferent that he was being dragged into the center of yet another clash.
"I've been waitin' long enough, sittin' around in this crummy old house!" he groused, tiny arms outstretched. "You got to have your fun! Now it's time ta shove off!"
Jessie nearly rolled her eyes. "We aren't going anywhere right now."
"Oh yeah?! Who died and made you boss?!"
"Nobody needed to die. Now how 'bout instead of flapping your gums, you make yourself useful and try to get Pikachu to eat something?"
"I got a better idea! How's about you quit messin' around with that buncha sticks so we can get outta here and finally get credit for capturing Pikachu?!"
"How about you cram a sock in it?!" seethed Jessie, slamming her fist into the floor. James flinched. Jessie never took well to people challenging her, but this time it was almost as if opposing her mischievous plan was hitting a very sensitive nerve in her. She was getting defensive, viciously so.
Suddenly, she was off the floor, probably realizing that fighting her two partners while they were towering over her head was not giving her the advantage she required.
"Look, I know you two think I'm just fooling around and wasting time and giving the twerps every opportunity to find us," she said crossly. "But don't you understand we can't go anywhere right now? We can't leave here, with them searching all over for us! Who knows where they are right now? We could start making our way to headquarters and run right smack into them! Any direction we'd go in, they could be there! And what would we do then? Try to fight them off with our pokémon and lose just like we always do?!"
James couldn't deny that regrettable truth. He attempted to agree, if only to calm her down, but Jessie wasn't done.
"I know what we're doing right now," she maintained assertively. "In fact, I almost wish the twerps would come here and search the house! We could hide up in the attic and they'd see Pikachu isn't here and leave and never know! We'd be able to spend the rest of the day somewhat in peace!
"We can't leave yet, though," she added rapidly. "Not in the daytime we can't. Even if we didn't run into them, I'm sure the brat's got tons of people and pokémon helping him out there. We probably have a bigger bulls-eye on us than you think. Our best option at this point is to leave at night. I've realized that, why can't you?!"
"We do realize that," James intersected, almost pleadingly, because he really did. "It's—it's just this whole 'scary movie' thing..."
"That's just for fun," Jessie upheld quickly, narrowing her eyes. "That's not what's keeping us here."
"But it did last night!"
"It was mostly the weather that kept us here," she argued, jabbing a finger at him. "The rocks were supposed to be distraction. Well...and a parting gift." She couldn't fight the fiendish grin away.
"A parting gift that you needed to poisonaly watch dem open!" Meowth pointed out hotly.
The smile fell instantly from Jessie's face as she faltered at that detail. "...Okay, fine, so maybe we should have left after leaving the rocks," she owned up. "I gave into my craving to see the twerps' reaction, I admit it. But that's not what's going to happen this time. We are leaving tonight; I promise."
James found he wasn't in a position to oppose. Though hardly ideal, what Jessie was saying was true. Leaving right then wasn't a wise move. For all they knew, the boy could have had all of his Pallet cronies on the lookout, not to mention the authorities. The alert could have extended outside of Pallet, as well. Leaving at night was simply their only option. In the meantime, he'd just have to find a way to settle his nerves, convince himself everything would be all right. They would make it through the rest of the day—they would.
"After we leave this in their yard, of course!" Jessie then proclaimed. She held out the object she'd been working on at arm's length and gazed at it proudly while James and Meowth nearly fell over.
"Are you crazy?!" the cat cried incredulously.
"Jessie, you just said we weren't going to leave anything else in the yard!" blared James, eyes wide. There went keeping calm and confident!
"I did not!" Jessie countered irately. "I just said we weren't going to stick around to see their reaction! I still want them to get it! You think I sat around for an hour making this for nothing?!"
"Who cares!" spat Meowth. "If we gotta stay here all day, den we're laying low! Dat means no more props!"
"Jessie, I agree with you that we shouldn't leave until nighttime," James gave her frantically. "But you can't be serious about going back to the house and leaving that on their front yard!"
"Why not?!"
Because it's not smart! James somehow caught himself before this came out. He didn't even know why he was stopping himself. Jessie was acting so preposterous now that she deserved to be told straight-up.
"Because I can't see how that would possibly help us!" he alternated. He panted, winded by his panic.
Jessie's mouth opened to retaliate, but the words seemed arrested on her tongue. She grasped her precious object in a tight fist, bringing it in close to her heart almost protectively. James hoped she was finally coming to her senses, realizing the serious danger behind what she was doing through his latest effort.
But instead, her face gradually darkened, and James was on the receiving end of one contemptibly defiant stare.
"Okay," she said, ominously calm. "You don't want me to put this out tonight? Fine." She began to casually stroll toward the hallway. "I'll put it out now then."
James reeled. "Now?!" he shrieked.
"Wow, you've really flipped your lid, haven't ya?" Meowth gasped.
"Jessie, no, stop!" James implored when she was practically out the door, leaping over to her and grasping her arm. "You can't!"
Violently, Jessie wrenched herself from his grip and rounded on him. "Yes, I can! Watch me!"
"Please!" he begged. "You know this isn't a smart thing to do!" There, he said it. "Why are you trying to lose this mission for us?!"
Jessie's jaw dropped. "I'm not trying to do any such thing, and I'm offended you even said that!" she spewed. "What is wrong with you?! We've had the upper hand this entire time, James. Those brats are not going to win! For once, we've put together a plan that's going to work. And not only is it going to work, but it's going to be damn satisfying, too!"
She thrust the object in his face. Significant to her, for James, it was nothing more than a mess of twigs and material. If it weren't for her overpowering presence, he would've had half a mind to grab the clump and toss it out the window. The insatiable, livid urge made his every muscle convulse.
"This will help us," Jessie continued firmly. "We've been watching them too carefully these last few days for you to doubt that. You know the girl is terrified of the witch. You know they're gullible and liable to fall for anything that has to do with that movie. When they see this, it's going to scare the shit out of them. They're not going to want to leave the house. It won't be like the rocks. I know it. This is different. This is going to give us a better chance to finally escape."
She backed out of James' space, her expression daring him to object. James wanted to, badly—wanted to scream a completely fair and justified "How do you know that?!", but refrained. It wouldn't change her mind. So long as he stopped her from marching out of the house, that was all that was presently important. He prayed she wasn't serious about that just then. It was obviously a ploy to get him to stop testing her. And for a moment, he was sure it worked.
Except then, it appeared as though a light bulb illuminated in Jessie's brain. The look that suddenly took over her face, an elevated expression of ah-ha!, dove its way to the pit of James' stomach. Trembling, he could only dread what had suddenly seized her so excitedly.
"What...?" he asked distrustfully.
Tilting her head at her partner, Jessie's smile broadened, the rage she displayed toward him not a second ago gone. "Sometimes I'm just amazed at the fabulous ideas that pop into my head!"
Meowth evidently shared James' hesitation. "What are you tinkin' this time?"
Jessie held up the stick construction. "Wouldn't it be great if we could leave this for the twerps now?"
James paled. "...You're joking."
To his relief, her enthusiasm seemed to promptly dissolve, and Jessie shrugged. "I suppose I am," she replied resignedly. "But think—if we only could somehow leave this for them before they got back...that would really do it! They'd never expect it! They'd be so terrified they wouldn't think twice about daring to leave again! We wouldn't have to wait till dark to put this out! We could be on our way to headquarters as soon as the sun went down!"
As her voice rose hungrily with each word, James could only gawp at her like an aghast slowpoke. This was a bad, bad, wacky dream, wasn't it? This wasn't Jessie; this wasn't his partner whose ideas always impressed him, whose dedication to their mission inspired him. This was someone who had lost it, someone whose quest for retribution had triumphed over her rational. James felt so powerless and hopeless in that instant. If only he had someone who could rectify this, rescue him, reclaim the task...
"You want dat stupid ting on the twoips' lawn now? I'll do it!"
And just like that, the dream got wackier.
"What?!" James gasped, spinning to watch as Meowth hopped to the floor and strode over to Jessie. "Meowth!"
Jessie seemed just as stunned, but the sparkle of excitement returned to her eyes. "Meowth?"
The pokémon jumped up and snatched the object from her hand. "I'll do it," he reiterated, though angrily. "Anyting to get us outta here fasta tonight!"
"But Meowth, you can't!" James cried, alarm awash in his voice. His heart pounded in his ears. "They'll see you!"
"No dey won't; I'll be careful," the cat promised. A proud smirk crept to his face and his chin cocked upward. "Don't forget, part of what we meowth do best is slink true the bushes and keep outta sight! I'm da poifect one for dis job."
Jessie clapped her hands gleefully. "Meowth, I don't know what to say! You're really going to do this?"
James wanted to repeat the same question, but in exactly the opposite tone.
"Yeah, but don't tink I'm doin' it for fun!" Meowth replied. Judging by the fierceness in his eyes, it didn't look like he was lying. "I'm doin' it for security! I still tink this is a crazy idea, but if you ain't gonna stop insistin' on it, den I'm not gonna let anyone handle it but me! If we did it your way, we'd be dere again till the sun rose, waitin' to see dem discover it!"
No offense taken from Jessie from these remarks. Probably because she knew they were true. "You're going to go now?"
"Yeah." It came out so begrudgingly, but that did nothing to satisfy James, still confused and wounded over Meowth's change of heart.
"Meowth, please don't!" he objected.
"It's okay," Meowth assured him. He eyed the object in his paws. "Dis'll be a piece of cake. I know just how to get to da twoips' house without being anywhere in da open. I couldn't say da same for Jessie."
He suddenly turned on the girl, fixing her a glare. "Dis is it, though!" he warned sternly. "I'll do dis, but as soon as it gets dark tonight, we're leavin'!"
Nodding her head once in agreement, Jessie beamed. "It's a deal!"
James stood numbly watching this transaction play out. He was speechless. So much for Meowth's allegiance. Truth be told, though, if Jessie had to get her way, this was the best method in which it could happen. While definitely not foolproof, James had more confidence that Meowth could achieve this task much more effectively than he or Jessie ever could.
But while shocked by the turn of events, there was something a bit more unexpected cropping up. Lifting, oddly, was his anxiety—slowly away like a light fog in the hot morning sun. Confusing though it was, all he felt left with now was apathy. It was most likely his helplessness in the situation that was driving this new sentiment, the overwhelming feeling of defeat. Becoming more so, however, was weariness. James didn't want to stress anymore. Suddenly, he realized he didn't want to care.
If Jessie wanted to throw away this operation, the most successful one they'd ever had, then so be it. Add another loss to the long and embarrassing list they'd already assembled. Just another day in the life.
They still could get away with it; it could still work out marvelously in their favor, but James wasn't going to burden himself any longer with the suspense of the outcome.
As Meowth exited the room, on his way to carry out the insane mission that Jessie had plotted, James took one more look at Pikachu. The mouse's eyes were closed now; by all hope, he was just sleeping. James didn't have the nerve to rush over there to check. Sadness weighed down his heart. He felt sorry for himself, but at that moment he felt even sorrier for Pikachu. It wasn't fair what Jessie was doing to her teammates, but it was doubly unfair of what she was doing to Pikachu. It was bad enough being snatched from your owner and your home, but to be so mistreated was something entirely merciless.
A tiny part of him itched to release the pokémon. Abort the plan altogether, in spite of Jessie, try another day. But he knew Jessie wouldn't allow that to happen. She'd fight James for everything she was worth, and she would win. A blow to his self-worth, it pained him indignantly to know that his partner had such an upper hand on their doings. Unless he abandoned her and Meowth, he was trapped in a situation he had very little control over.
Feeling as if he could cry, James did his best to ignore Jessie by keeping his gaze sadly on the imprisoned mouse. Hang in there, Pikachu, he bid him spiritually. It'll be better soon—however it happens.
The weather was turning out to be more than just cooperative—it was absolutely perfect. There was still a distinct crispness to the air, but the sun was strong and warm, quickly soaking up the remaining moisture from the prior day's storms and allowing the breeze to take fallen leaves skittering down front walks and dancing across lawns. Color abounded, the foliage not far from peak. Up above, dozens of swellow streaked across the sky, swooping in play and calling loudly to each other. The scent of autumn was unrepentantly present.
Jay was spending time with his son. One could have even gone so far as to call it "quality" time.
On any other occasion, it would have been an idyllic outing.
Alas, it was hard to classify it as such with a dire matter tainting the mood. Touring the peaceful neighborhood on such a beautiful late morning (on a workday, no less) with just his kid was something Jay would consider awesome, if only for the fact that it seldom had the opportunity to happen. Ironically, the last time they most likely did something like this was on a Halloween, many, many years ago when the only thing Ash was in search of was his favorite candy, not his most cherished pokémon.
Jay was searching for the right chance and the right way to break it to Ash that what they were doing was not going to result in finding Pikachu.
Although his son had calmed down considerably, Jay was well aware that Ash was a smoldering volcano of emotions. He hated to acknowledge that he was afraid of fracturing that shaky foundation yet again, seeing as how Jay felt it was his duty to man up and deliver Ash the reality check, but nonetheless he gave in to the weakness...for now.
And after an hour of watching his son go from door to door, hope deflated and then renewed as the next house presented a fresh possibility, he truly struggled to believe that Ash wasn't getting clued in himself.
Why didn't I just let Misty and Brock do this? he bemoaned. They had been so ready and motivated to reveal their hunch to Ash, and yet Jay had insisted on doing it himself. Well, some decision that had been. Instead of steering Ash in the right direction, no matter how rough it would have been, Jay was busy taking note of how his house stacked up against this part of the community's, who got into the Halloween spirit the most, the number of people who had crazy pokémon go into a fit the minute the doorbell rang.
It was easy to fall into distraction. It was convenient. But even though Jay realized this and it bothered him, any time he went to say something, tell Ash he was on the wrong course, he couldn't find the heart to do so.
You gotta do it, he warned himself. You're letting them down. You're letting him down. You're not doing this the right way. You have to say something!
However, when Ash approached a front door, his expression equal parts apprehension and resolve, Jay could only pause and watch. At times, he was awestruck at his son's demeanor. For a kid who had a meltdown on average every twelve hours in the past two days, and not to mention had a fuse that of a firecracker, Jay couldn't get over how mannerly Ash conducted himself when conversing with the Pallet folk. Well-spoken, polite, and collected, it was quite the change from the hysterical Ash he'd been dealing with. As Ash inquired if they had seen a loose pikachu recently, elaborated on the situation when asked, and sadly but maturely accepted the answer he wasn't seeking, Jay was floored with pride. He never said a word unless he was addressed, leaving all the work to Ash, who was doing a tremendous job with it all by himself.
It was also quite humbling to realize just how well-known Ash was. It shouldn't have come as any surprise, bearing in mind how successful his son was in a town with no great claim to fame for churning out abundant talent. A hint of appreciation would grace Ash's face when a homeowner not only recognized him but knew of Pikachu as well, and showered the boy with praise at his accomplishments while also letting him down as lightly as possible. No one had Pikachu. No one had seen Pikachu. But, oh, how they hoped Ash found him! He was his greatest and most exciting asset!
Like Ash needed to be reminded of that. The pain was so evident on the boy's face as he tried desperately to mask it with a brave and modest smile. He thanked the resident, oftentimes with a sir or ma'am (sir or ma'am! This was his kid?!), and, sometimes with a heavy pause, made his way to the next house wordlessly.
C'mon, Ash, Jay encouraged mentally, again wondering why not out-loud. You know Pikachu isn't here. You know it, kid.
Whether Ash knew or not, he seemed intent on making sure he asked every single one of the small town's residents. Personally. And he wasn't even getting off to that fantastic of a start. Half of the doorbells he rang yielded no answer. Jay could tell Ash was aggravated by this, and when the boy's face grew tight and flushed enough, Jay would gently chime in.
"They're probably at work, you know," he'd say. "It is Tuesday."
Ash would stare at the door or at the ground for a moment, then slowly nod his head. Every once in a while, he would take a deep, deep breath that sort of unsettled Jay. What was that for? Too keep from crying? Screaming? Collapsing? The concerned father only observed. His boy was not in good shape, and in that Jay found true purpose in his chaperoning. Ash didn't need help in his inquiries, but he did need someone there to take care of him.
It was only a matter of time before Jay pulled the plug on this operation. Only a matter of time.
After speaking with a woman who seemed awfully irked at being disturbed and wasn't quite as sympathetic (Jay had trouble holding his tongue this time, fighting the urge to give her a sizzling piece of his mind when he saw the reaction it triggered in Ash), Jay hoped if this was where his son would finally throw in the towel. But as soon as Ash promptly started for the next house, leaving his father in his dust, Jay realized how stupid a thought that was. If anything, the woman's sour attitude probably encouraged his boy's stubbornness all the more.
Ash was halfway up the front walk of the adjoining residence when he suddenly slowed to a crawl. Jay arched a puzzled eye; this was the first time his son had hesitated before any doorstep. Curiously, he watched as Ash stood deathly still, arms drooped at his sides, his sad eyes roaming the exterior of the house.
"What?" Jay finally ventured.
"I like their decorations," Ash answered, his voice perking slightly but still dragging a sober tone.
Taken aback by his surprising remark, Jay blinked and took a gander at what Ash was referring to. Indeed, this house truly emanated the holiday spirit. The bushes were done up meticulously in spider web. A pretty realistic-looking set of gravestones was arranged haphazardly but believably across the front lawn, with a few skeletal hands protruding from the bases. Decorations hung liberally in the two large bay windows on either side of the front door, a red-eyed, sinister crobat in one and a devilishly grinning ghoul in the other. This was not tame décor. It was probably the most impressive display they'd seen all morning.
Jay gave an applauding nod but kept it somewhat subdued. His insides, meanwhile, were clamoring with relief that Ash had spoken about something other than Pikachu. It was the first time this has really happened since he'd gone missing. Jay didn't exactly want Ash to start becoming apathetic to the situation, of course, but it was a comfort to see that his kid was still reachable enough to be moved by the less weighty things surrounding him.
"Yeah, they're pretty good," Jay said. "Sure blow ours away, huh? We could do this, though—I could see it."
"Mmhmm," replied Ash absently.
"Maybe we'll one-up them for Thanksgiving," Jay joked. He was disappointed but not surprised when Ash's face hardly twitched in response.
Decoration ogling was apparently over, and Ash continued up to the home's stoop and pushed the doorbell. Jay scuffed his foot along the gravel by the side of the road while they waited in silence. He hoped the resident here was at least nice. How could they not be, though, with this spooky exhibit? Surely they were going to be receptive to dozens of trick-or-treaters in a couple days.
No one was coming to the door, though. Like he'd done needlessly other times, Ash rang the doorbell a second time. Jay disliked that, but didn't say a thing; it was human instinct to try again. His attention drifted to the driveway, where a car was parked. It looked like someone was home. Maybe they didn't hear the bell at first...
Half a minute later, there was still no response. Ash was starting to get impatient, his head craning to sneak a peak in the windows...which, unfortunately, didn't heed much as they were obstructed by the hanging props. Jay sighed and ambled closer.
"Ash," he started, about to coax him away from the house...maybe from the neighborhood, maybe from this futile approach.
His son spun around, visibly disgruntled. "Why aren't they answering? They're home!"
Jay drooped. "Not necessarily..."
"Yes, they are! The car is here!"
"That doesn't mean they're home, son," Jay replied with a pacifying voice. "They could be out for a walk, or...or they could've gotten picked up by someone..."
"Or they could just not be answering the door!"
It was possible, though Jay did want to give these people the benefit of the doubt. He wouldn't blame them, either, if they were wary of opening the door. How often was there a teenage boy on the front stoop and a man standing in the road on a random weekday morning, sans a clipboard or an armful of sellable goods? Not answering could prove a less awkward situation.
As if he could clarify that for Ash...or wanted to. Jay absolutely dreaded the thought of setting him off. It seemed imminent, though, and with none of the other kids there to help tamper Ash's mood, Jay could only prep himself for the undertaking this could be. He wasn't exactly looking forward to dragging Ash kicking and screaming away from the house or...well, anywhere for that matter.
This has gotta end.
Ash didn't share the same thought, sadly. All of a sudden, he began banging on the glass storm door, the noisy clatter piercing the calm morning air. Jay cringed, horrified.
"Hey, hey, hey!" he shouted frantically, scrambling over to halt his son from the unexpected and uncalled-for act. "Ash! What are you doing?! Stop it!"
"No!" he barked. "They're home and they're not answering the door!" He started beating on the pane again, but it was harder to get in as many knocks this time as his father went to grab a hold of his flying fist to impede him.
"Ash, stop it! C'mon!" Jay growled as he quickly found himself failing to restrain the boy's drastic wrath. Each time his fingers tried to clasp his wrist, Ash tore himself away or used his other fist to get another loud, clumsy slam in. Jay was freaking with panic and mortification. How did the kid go from the courteous young man he'd been so proud of to this?
"He's not in his right mind right now," he heard his wife's voice echo in his head. Well, holy Moltres, that was for sure, but Jay wasn't about to let that reasoning lead to the cops being called!
"Ash! C'MON!" At the risk of having Ash's fist connect with his face rather than the door, Jay threw himself in front of the boy and seized both of his forearms, forcing him off and away from the stoop. Suffice to say, Ash was not pleased with this hindrance, and instantly fought back, squirming and pushing aggressively against his father to get back to the door.
"Dad! No! Let me go!" he snarled. As he thrashed about, Jay's grip tightened. He couldn't believe it. For such a small kid, the power behind his resistance was astonishing, and Jay found himself under the pressure of keeping Ash's fit at bay while being conscious enough not to hurt him in the process.
"Hey, come on! Knock it off! What's gotten into you?!" he demanded, more of a concerned plea than a rebuke.
"They gotta open the door!" Ash cried. "I have to get in there!"
He was twisting himself in the most ungodly ways, pulling and yanking against Jay's clutch so violently that Jay was petrified the kid was going to break his own arms. His panic surging at the thought, Jay released his arms but quickly latched on to his shoulders, detaining him more firmly in place. He could just imagine the bruises the poor guy could get from all of this, but what else could Jay do. There was no way in hell he was going to let Ash go to wreak whatever damage he was capable of with such uninhibited rage, both to the property and himself.
"ASH!" he shouted, giving him a rough shake. "Calm down, NOW! You're going crazy!"
"I have to get in there!" Ash insisted again.
"No, you don't! Now stop it!"
"No, I have to!" he sobbed, shaking his head fiercely. His struggles were weakening, though, Jay's solid hold effectively preventing him from doing nothing but exhausting himself. Ash must have realized this, because his face was starting to contort in even more despair. "I have to! LEMME GO!"
"I'm not letting you go till you stop!" Jay yelled, shaking him again. Ash was really frightening him now. He needed to settle him down before the entire neighborhood was out of their houses to witness the scene—or worse, get involved.
"But they have him!" Ash professed. Jay's eyes widened. "They have Pikachu!"
Jay's heart was hammering. Where in the world did Ash get that idea? It was at that moment he realized his son had lost it—he was deranged with grief, fabricating scenarios in his head and believing them, no matter how speculative they were. The impulsive, fretful reaction burst from Jay's mouth with hardly a moment of forethought.
"No, they don't!" he thundered. "They don't have Pikachu! Pikachu is not in there!"
That certainly got his son's attention. At once, Ash froze, his round, shaken eyes blazing into his father's hard ones.
"He's not in any of these houses!" Jay reiterated desperately. His fingers dug into at Ash's shoulders. "He's not here, Ash! He's not here! Now stop it!"
The boy didn't say a thing, didn't move a muscle. He just gaped at his father, mouth hanging open, face lit with shock.
Oh, shit. Jay's blood was racing, realizing what he had just been provoked to say to wrench Ash from his delirium. He'd reined his son in, which needed to be done, but he most likely did so by shattering his trust in the process. His mind in disarray, Jay scrambled for the very crucial and sensitive follow-up he knew he'd have to deliver, and fast.
Before he could utter a word, though, Jay noticed that Ash suddenly wasn't looking so good. He was going pale—sickly pale. His eyes dropped to the ground, as though he was becoming lost in a daze, and his breathing turned heavy and laborious. His entire body was rising and falling noticeably beneath Jay's hands.
Distressed by his son's swift transformation, Jay released his shoulders and stepped back, giving him space. "What's the matter?" he asked worriedly. Ash didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at the ground and breathed.
"Ash...?"
Ash turned to the side and proceeded to release the contents of his stomach in ferocious fashion on the lawn.
"Aggh! Oh, no!" Jay groaned, wincing. "Aww, Ash..."
Though he'd gotten rid of what little was in him rather quickly, Ash continued to cough and heave. Jay stood by, brow knit in sympathy. That was so unanticipated, but at the same time, it really wasn't. He felt so sorry for his boy, but even more, he felt uneasy. Was this his fault? Had he been too rough with Ash? He hadn't meant to shake him as hard as he did, but he had to snap Ash out of his frenzy somehow. He hadn't meant to make the kid sick!
As it often did, Jay let his guilt prompt the call for a joke. "You know, usually when people don't open the door at Halloween, kids throw eggs. Or put a flaming bag of pokémon crap on the stoop. You, uh...you just had to take it one step further, didn't ya?"
Ash was still hunched over, done vomiting but looking pretty miserable. He spit a couple of times, trying to rid his mouth of the wretched taste. "Ewww," he whimpered.
Jay frowned caringly and placed a much gentler hand on Ash's shoulder. "You alright there, bud? What happened?"
Righting himself haggardly, Ash reached up to swipe at his wet eyes. The color had returned to his face through brightly blushing cheeks, but he appeared wan and depleted, as though the slightest breeze would topple him right over. Jay was compelled to hoist the boy into his arms and bring him home immediately, but he wasn't quite sure yet if that would just result in another tussle. Ash certainly couldn't withstand one right now, and emotionally, Jay couldn't, either.
"Got upset," Ash mumbled in reply. He took a deep breath. "'m fine."
Jay pursed his lips. He highly doubted that, but he kept quiet. It was nice, at the moment, just to find relief in the dramatic change in Ash's behavior. Although it felt mean to admit it, Jay was somewhat glad the kid had thrown up. It was a sedative, if nothing else. Perhaps, he thought with aching hope, it was going to make his job easier in the next few minutes when he had to elaborate on—albeit more gingerly—the bad news he'd so brusquely broken.
"HEYYY!"
Unless, of course, there was another distraction! The two Ketchums' heads jolted up as a high-pitched voice suddenly rang out from down the street. Jay recognized it instantly with a sense of dismay, and his stomach clenched the moment he saw Misty and Brock jogging their way over to them. Gee, this was swell, wasn't it? A little too late, but also a little too soon.
Ash didn't seem fazed much by his friends' arrival. He just stood, wallowing in his zone of fatigue and unhappiness. His state appeared to draw Misty quicker, as she all of a sudden distanced herself from Brock with ease.
"Ash!" she cried restlessly. "Did you just throw up?!" She skid to a halt before them, and with one look answered her own question. "Omigod, you threw up!"
"I'm okay," Ash drawled, though his gravelly voice didn't do much to validate that.
"Yeah, we just got a little worked up here," Jay sang, reaching out to knead Ash's shoulder. "Everything's alright."
"Where have you guys been?" Brock inquired. "We ate breakfast and waited. We thought you were coming right home, but you didn't."
"Dad's been helping me ask if people've seen Pikachu," Ash revealed. Jay's breath seized painfully in his lungs, and he did everything he could from face-palming. Oh, Ashton. What the hell?! Wasn't the kid feeling sick? Why was he so ambitious to talk? And throw his father under the damn bus so offhandedly?
He couldn't blame Ash, of course. He was innocent, unaware of Jay's earlier conversation with Misty and Brock. It still didn't take away from the fact that he'd just done a brilliant job of putting him on the defensive. Jay could feel Misty and Brock's eyes on him in an instant, the mood promptly shifting to one commanding explanation. Misty's gawk in particular, when Jay dared to make eye-contact with the girl, was a piercing laser of shock and disapproval that actually sent a chill through him.
God, that'll melt steel, he cringed internally. Poor Ash...
"Well, we're coming home now," he swiftly said, praying it would appease the older kids for the time being. He felt a bit callous for switching sides so forwardly, but he knew he was doing the right thing for everyone involved, Ash especially.
Oddly, though, his son seemed to be in the most agreement...almost decisively so. "Yeah, good," he endorsed. His voice had regained a bit of its strength. "I gotta get my stuff."
Jay's eyes squinted suspiciously. "What stuff?"
Ash looked up at him matter-of-factly. "My stuff," he repeated. "My bag—everything. I...I gotta go look for Pikachu. You said...you said he isn't here. So I'm gonna go."
Okay. Jay had to be honest: He had anticipated anger from his son—refutation, another clash, outright inflexible refusal. Not...bizarrely straightforward accord. Yet here Ash was, voicing a solemn and composed declaration, just as out of the blue as his conniption not ten minutes before.
Had Ash thrown up his operation along with his breakfast?
"...I really thought he'd be here," Ash went on softly, shakily. He glanced down and away, his already afflicted eyes starting to shine with tears. Jay realized he'd forgotten a very legitimate consequence of this epiphany: sorrow. Ash bit his lip in a vain attempt to curtail the unwelcome emotion. "But...he isn't, I guess. I know he isn't. Someone here would've brought 'im back. They would've brought 'im back to me." His gaze zeroed in on his friends imploringly. "...Wouldn't they've?"
"...Ash..." Misty, frowning consolably, stepped forward.
"He didn't run away," Ash added in avowal, an edge suddenly to his voice. "He'd never run away; I know that. Which means someone has him. A-and if they aren't here...then—then I gotta go. I gotta go find him."
"But Ash," Misty tried again. She hesitated warily, fumbling to relay what to say next. "...You're sick."
Ash scowled, goaded by her remark. "I told you, I'm okay, Misty! I'm not sick—I just got upset, that's all! I'm fine now."
"I dunno, Ash..." Jay was reluctant, but pressed to concur. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."
This time, Jay drew the defiance he'd foreseen. "I'm okay!" Ash attested angrily. "You just said I was!"
"Yeah, I know I did, but I didn't...I didn't think you were going to just leave," reasoned Jay honestly. Come to think of it, though, what had he expected? Telling Ash that Pikachu wasn't in Pallet Town wasn't exactly the formula to get the kid to lie low for the next few days, much less hours. But Misty's worry was now in the forefront of his mind; regardless of how Ash thought he felt, he clearly wasn't in prime health to be departing on an unmapped search mission.
Ash was glaring at him objectionably, making Jay flustered. "I have to leave, Dad! You said he's not here! So I have to find him!"
"I understand, but Misty's right, son," Jay entreated. "You're not well. Just come home for a while and rest—"
"Yeah, Ash," Brock cut in ardently. "I really don't know if you're ready to go out looking for Team Rocket and—"
Ash turned on his friend so dizzyingly fast Jay balked. "What?!" he exclaimed.
Brock, quickly realizing what he'd just done, clamped his mouth shut and visibly braced. Everyone, in fact, was rendered still, a suffocating suspense permeating in the air from the perfunctory slip.
Ayyy...nice going, Brock, Jay grimaced. As if he had the right to be critical, though. He hadn't exactly done such a good job of being judicious with Ash himself. Then again, Ash did have a way of inciting the most impetuous eye-openers, didn't he? While it wasn't exactly the smoothest way to break this news to Ash, he did empathize with Brock. Really, at his point, what other choice did they have in proceeding?
"Brock!" Ash snapped, intolerant of his friend's reticence. "What do you mean Team Rocket has him? How do you know that?!" His voice cracked with disparaging appeal.
Brock must have shared Jay's sense of resignation, for he recovered with gritty gumption. "Ash," he said low and pointedly, "who else would have him?"
By the way Ash was panting, Jay feared the kid was about to vomit again—or haul off and belt Brock one. He would've have been surprised with either. To say Ash was besieged by all these bombshells was an understatement—though Jay still believed that, beneath all the denial and hope, none of this was that earth-shattering to Ash. How could it be?
Shockingly (in the last half-hour, what wasn't?), Ash had nothing more to ascertain from Brock, and whirled to face his father. "Dad, take me home. Right now, please," he beseeched urgently.
"We are going home," Jay stammered, "but..." He sighed loudly. "You really, really shouldn't just run out of here—"
"I'm not waiting around!" Ash screamed.
Jay threw his arms out wide. "Ash, even if I told you okay, there's no way your mother is going to let you go anywhere after you got sick!"
Ash gave him a revolted look. "Why does Mom have to know I got sick?!"
"Are you kidding?" Jay huffed, almost humorously. "You think Mom's not going to find out?"
"She won't find out if no one tells her!"
Not knowing how to respond to that without adding fuel to the inferno, Jay just rubbed at his temple distractedly. Was it too much to ask to be put in a position that wasn't difficult? Of course Delia was going to find out what happened to Ash—and it had to come from him. It was unavoidable. If he didn't tell her and she found out, her anger would be ten times that of her son's.
Lose-lose situations were his absolute favorite.
"Just—fine. Let's just go home," Jay said exasperatedly. It satisfied Ash, thank goodness. Looking like he felt his warning was effectively made, he took off in the direction of the car. Misty and Brock threw Jay one more fruitless look and followed. For a moment, Jay stayed rooted in place, trying to reinstate calm in his overwrought body and raging mind. God, did he ever want all of this to be over. He didn't know how much more he could take.
If they did find Team Rocket, and they were responsible for this, he was going to kill them. The frightening desire was so strong Jay quickly took a deep breath to suppress it. He knew he needed to keep it together, and that certainly meant not harboring irrational thoughts. They all needed him to be strong and composed—Ash, especially. He was fairly certain he was not going to be his son's preferred person in the near future, but it was a sacrifice Jay was willing to make in the face of the larger picture: the child's ultimate well-being.
Oh, how the next half-hour was ever going to be a blast!
Jay took one more glance at the unfortunate mess Ash left behind. They really could've used the rain today, he mused sardonically.
Trick-or-treat! Jay smirked to himself as he hastened to catch up to the kids.
Like the last time, Ash was the first to spot it. It was no coincidence, though; he hardly gave anyone else a fighting chance to make the initial discovery as he was out of the car before his father barely had it in park. But even in a frenzy over what had developed in the last half-hour, his mind a cyclone of panic and determination, there was no way Ash could fail to spot the object awaiting the unsuspecting returnees.
As if his distressed body could handle it, Ash's stomach lurched as he gawped in incredulous dismay at the compactly-wrapped article before him. Much like the rocks, whoever—or whatever—had placed it there obviously did so with the intention of being noticed. It was smack in the center of the front walk, conspicuous and, again, identifiable. Frighteningly identifiable.
He didn't utter a word, but his friends knew something was wrong. Why else would he halt in his tracks so drastically when he'd made it strikingly clear nothing was going to delay the next phase of his mission?
The moment Misty and Brock saw what Ash did, the thought Pikachu or Team Rocket effectively left everyone's minds.
Misty gasped loudly, her hands flying straight to her dropped jaw.
Brock's face wrinkled in confusion. "What is that?"
Jay was beside them in a beat. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me," he moaned.
For what seemed like an eternity, the flabbergasted four stared at the bundle on the walk, a petite assortment of sticks and twigs wrapped almost daintily in a yellow paisley material. For anyone who hadn't seen The Blair Witch Project, it might have even appeared cute.
To Misty, the only thing more horrifying than what she was seeing was the grisly thought of what could be wrapped up inside it.
"Where did that come from?" Jay followed dreadfully.
Brock shook his head. "I don't know, but that wasn't here when we left," he testified. Realizing it to be true, Misty started shaking her head, too. "That was not here. A-and we only left like fifteen minutes ago!"
Having heard the car pull up, Delia was quick to appear at the door. The sight of her family suspended at the end of the walkway threw her off, but it only took an instant for her to track their dumbfounded gazes. She frowned as her eyes landed on the mystery object.
"What's that?" No one answered, on account of the fact no one knew. Aside from, of course, the awareness of what it was supposed to be...what it could be, what it could contain...
"Ash?" Jay bid, his hands scrubbing at his face. "Tell me. Can you think of anyone who'd be doing this?"
His eyes not leaving the bundle, Ash just shook his head numbly.
"Think. Please. Do you have any friends here—anyone you can think of—who might be...doing this?"
"Ummm..."
"Gary? What about Gary?"
Certain of the first thing in a long while, Ash shook his head swiftly. "No. No, Gary's away. He's on his journey."
"Tracey? What about him?"
Ash huffed. "I'd think Professor Oak did this before I'd think Tracey."
"Tracey wouldn't do this," Misty agreed, voice wobbly but secure with conviction. "He—he knows what's going on. He wouldn't!"
"He wouldn't do it regardless," Brock vouched.
"Did you happen to see anything?" Jay turned to Delia. "They swear this wasn't here when they left."
Folding her arms around her waist, Delia shook her head. "No. I was in the kitchen—I—I didn't see anything out here."
"Great," Jay grumbled.
All of a sudden, Delia left the entryway and was marching over to the object.
"No, no, don't touch it!" Jay exclaimed.
Startled, Delia stopped in her tracks and threw him a baffled look. "What? Why not?"
"I—I dunno," her husband faltered, grimacing. "Just...I wouldn't touch it just yet."
"Why? Is it something dangerous?!"
"No. At least...I don't think so. Just..." Jay held out his hands and made a slight pushing gesture, as if to persuade Delia to back away. "...There could be something in it. I—I don't want you touching it."
"What's in it?!"
"I don't want to know what's in it!" Misty vehemently declared, her palms still planted over her mouth.
Delia became more visibly anxious at Misty's fearful outburst. "What is this?!" she pressed, pointing at the object. "Jay, is this something from that stupid movie again?!"
"It's...well, yeah, it's supposed to be," he acknowledged. "I think. I mean...yeah..."
"And there's something inside of it? What?" Jay's discombobulated, tentative speech—as well as the children's caginess—was only serving to stir up Delia's panic-stricken demands.
Jay snapped out of his stupor, knowing he had to quickly quell his wife's mounting consternation. "Look, I'm sure there's nothing inside of it. Okay? I mean..." He released a short, uneasy laugh. "I'm sure that what was inside of it in the movie is not inside of that."
"Oh, God!" Misty whimpered. At that, she took off for the house in long, anxious strides, whisking past Delia and disappearing through the door without another word.
That did it. Perturbed by the girl's overt terror, Delia spun to face her husband again.
"Jay, get rid of this thing," she ordered.
Still, Jay looked hesitant to comply. "Ah...okay, but...I don't know yet if we should..."
"Why?!"
"Well...what if we want someone to see this?" he shrugged.
Delia fixed him a look. "Who? What do you want to do, call the police? An investigator? This isn't a crime scene, Jay! It's just a pile of sticks—someone playing a prank on us!"
"I know, I know," Jay replied, though misgiving was still discernible in his tone.
"What would we even say? It's not like anyone damaged our property! You really can't report pranks to the police unless they're harming someone or something."
"Yeah...I know."
Picking up on his continued reluctance, Delia threw her hands up in the air. "Look, I don't care if you don't get rid of it, but it doesn't need to be on my front walk! Okay? So please move it!" she insisted.
"Okay, okay! I will, alright?!"
As his parents lobbied over the disturbing discovery, Ash's barely unblinking gaze never strayed from the twig bale. It looked so real, so authentic—like a prop straight out of the movie. It only made it that much easier for his imagination to thrive and his fear to soar. His father hadn't put out the rocks—none of them had. And none of them was responsible for this, either. It literally had come out of nowhere, just as strange and unsolicited as the supernatural package delivered in the woods of Burkitsville. And worse, no matter how hard he tried, he could not dispel the ghastly image of what was contained within that package. It was one of those scenes that had burned itself into his memory, long before any of these occurrences began happening, before any of it started becoming an actuality for them.
Was there something inside of this bundle, something none of them could possibly comprehend, something he couldn't bear thinking about, much less behold?
Misty obviously thought so—her intolerance of even being in its presence had been uneasily felt. It had been hard to identify with her fright back when Ash had perceived all of this as fantasy, spooky fun...when it was all just a joke. When living out the events of the movie was nothing more than play. When there were instant reveals, laughing gotcha's! When fear hadn't started surfacing in his parents' voices. When he wasn't making unthinkable correlations between Pikachu's vanishing and these bizarre, chilling, and untimely incidents.
He was feeling that fright now—it had become his own, in ways his brain deemed implausible but his senses argued tangible.
He was beginning to wonder if none of this was a coincidence.
Pikachu was missing. The creepiest, most menacing components of the movie were materializing right under their noses. And everyone around him—those he was relying on to help and guide and support him through this traumatic ordeal—was unraveling before his very eyes.
This wasn't a movie—this was real life.
Suddenly, he didn't feel so well again.
As if reality hadn't posed enough of a betrayal, his stomach decided to join in the fray once again.
TO BE CONTINUED...
This chapter is dedicated to my lovely and wonderful and dedicated beta, Danielle! She just celebrated her birthday last week. If it wasn't for her, there would've been even more of a delay in getting this chapter out. She really pushes and encourages me, and I am so reliant and grateful for that. And she is always a dependable second pair of eyes. I owe her a venti pumpkin spice latte!
If you aren't familiar with what was in the bundle in The Blair Witch Project...well, you can look it up and find out. Suffice to say, it's not pleasant. :)
I hope you all enjoyed this installment! Thanks so much for reading! This chapter was quite a task, let me tell you. But I'm so happy and relieved I was able to get it out before Halloween. I have a lot happening in the upcoming weeks. In 38 days, I will be a married woman. :) It's hard to believe! I'm very excited, but it is the culmination to a very stressful time of preparation. Hopefully I will have a much clearer, calmer head in the near future so chapter 10 can arrive in a timelier manner. Poor Pikachu's been missing, for what, how long? Over a year? ;P
Reviews are greatly appreciated! Thanks again. Have a great Halloween!