Chapter 2: If tomorrow comes
--
Something had told him to get the hell out of there. What is was that told him he couldn't remember, it was just an undeniable feeling.
Rushing on unsteady legs he hurried into the patient belongings section. He eyed the shelves quickly and stopped at an unmarked one.
He could recall that these were his clothes and nothing beyond that point. The journal he had stolen with him might give him some clues
later, but right now the important thing was to escape before the personnel came.
Opening a cardboard box, he excavated a pair of boots, tight jeans and a tank top that fit him eerily well.
He looked all over the box, but there was no label with anything else than his patient number on it.
Then he noticed that black leather coat that hung on a metal hook in the shelf... He slowly took it and checked the name tag by the neck.
"M- Matt?" He uttered. Was it his name? It felt familiar to him. A small shock caused him to get slightly nauseous and grab the shelf for support.
But somehow, he now remembered the name.
"Mattheus.. Griffin..." He mumbled. "Matt..." Suddenly he heard the voices coming from down the hall. Not caring whose name it was,
he decided to take it for the time being. There's no room for standing around when you're followed, his instincts told him.
Matt's instincts kicked in and he ran towards an open window, threw himself through it and spread his wings.
For some reason, they hurt like hell as he stretched them. He dropped several feet before regaining aerial balance and slowly hovering
away onto a rooftop.
He turned to look at his wings but realized he shouldn't have when he saw the scars from healed bones that had been broken everywhere
except their proper direction.
Matt breathed heavily, trying to calm down. But they looked so horrible, what could've-
He realized he wouldn't remember anyway and raised his stolen journal to get his mind on other things.
"Male Bat, approx. 25-30 years of age. Comatose state very deep, suggesting long absence. No current injuries, scars and x-ray show
signs of aged gunshot wounds and several previous fractures all over the body..." He read out loud.
"Wings have suffered from skeletal disorder and muscle death in numerous places... Well, that explains that." He grimaced and kept reading.
"Patient found near waste disposal factory in a state of coma."
"No way of identification except labeled coat found beside patient."
"Blood tests confirm that the patient is otherwise healthy, though no DNA match has been found."
Matt read everything over and over, trying to find a clue. To what? To anything. He had no idea of where he was, when he was, who he was or
WHY he was. The last question seemed to be sensitive, as he began feeling a headache by thinking about it.
"Also, traces of sublimal machinery waste found in blood tap. Cause and origin unknown."
He put the journal down. Now he began feeling really sick. He stowed the relevant papers away in his coat pocket and eased himself onto the ground.
He sat idle and stared into the horizon, over the rooftops and buildings, waiting for his brain to adjust. The world still seemed to spin slightly,
although it had slowed down considerably since getting fresh air.
Speaking of air, he felt the need of something. Something between his lips. Something hazardous and stupid.
He remembered smoking clearly, which gave him a wave of hope. At least he remembered something.
His hands reached for the inside pocket of his coat and found a pack. He excavated one and balanced it on his lip.
Picking out the lighter, he ignited the stick.
And with a small "schwuff" sound the entire thing turned to ash. Wow, that one was really dry. Probably old too-
Wait. If it was old, then maybe he could find out how long he had been in the coma...
Matt pulled out the pack again and looked for the date stamp. He found it and memorized it.
"Great. Now I just gotta find out what date it is today." He began looking around the rooftop in search of something with a more recent date.
He found a soda can which seemed fairly new. Looking at the bottom he made a cruel discovery.
"This can't be right..." He compared the two stamps one more time. "... Five years!?"
With a wave of pity for himself, he collapsed onto the ground.
"Five whole years... Have I been away that long...?" He mumbled. "No, It's probably just an old pack. Yeah, that's-"
Suddenly, a door clicked open behind him. He instinctively shot to his feet and turned around.
"Whoa, hold your horses, man." The ox said. He was equally tall with Matt, but probably a little stronger, so hand-to-hand was out of the question.
Matt needed to find a weapon, but he couldn't-
"Why are you looking at me like you're gonna try and kill me?" The unknown asked, smiling friendlishly.
"Sorry." Matt apologized. "I'm just a little jumpy, I guess."
"You the guy who ran away from the hospital?" He asked.
"Might be. How come?"
"Well, they came 'round and knocked on my door, askin' if I've seen a tall bat just now."
"I presume you hadn't?" Matt said, walking a few steps closer.
"No, I hadn't. I have now though." He said. "Maybe I should call them..."
"Maybe you won't." Matt suggested.
"Really?" The ox asked, still smiling. "What'cha gonna do about it, cripples?"
"I might kick your ass." Matt said flatly, realizing he had no idea what he was saying. He discarded the feeling.
"Oh... Well then. That settles it. I won't call." The ox replied ironically.
"Great. Then let's go inside, it's getting cold out here." Matt walked past him into the apartment behind.
The ox stopped for a while, staring into nowhere before saying;
"Sure, come on inside."
--
"This looks cozy." Matt said, studying the small flat the ox lived in.
"That's just the covers. It's a real mess underneath."
"I figured as much." Matt said, opening a closet. "Where's the contraband?"
"What?" The ox looked at him dumbfoundedly, frowning slightly at the sight of a stranger causing havoc amongst his things.
"Well, since you won't call the cops on me, there's gotta be something illegal in here."
"I may just be doing you a favor, you know."
"Whatever, I won't tell on you. Now where's your dirty lil' secret?" Matt said, opening a cupboard.
"Dude, stop rummaging my pad. It's in the basement."
"What's in the basement?" Matt asked.
"Why should I tell you? We just met." The ox stated, smiling for no apparent reason.
"Yeah, but we're friends, right... ?" Matt snickered at him.
"K. Call me K."
"O Kay." Matt just had to say.
"Yes, yes. Very witty." They both chuckled.
"You know, I think you and I are gonna get along just fine." Matt snickered again, finding a box full of small firearms.
"Think that's good? Wait 'til you see the real thing." K smiled. "But for now, how about some coffee?"
--
After having been questioned to death by the staff, Felicia felt drained. This had been a weird day.
She followed the sings to the entry, where the rest of the class had gathered, including Princess.
"There you are! Where did you go?" She asked giddily, as if not noticing how tired Felicia was.
"Trust me, I'll tell you later." Felicia said, yawning. "It's a long story."
The ugly yellow bus came around and the youngsters got on.
Felicia placed herself as far back as she could and fell asleep almost immediately.
--
"Uh, Hi Mom! I just wanna tell you that I'm bringing a friend over today and... well, I hope you and dad are all right. See ya!"
She felt a little better.
"Come on, let's hurry home." She said, and they both chased each other.
As they got closer the uneasy feeling kept growing, both when a red car drove by them like it was fueled by liquid lightning and
when she saw the door to her house wide open, she turned pale and ran towards it. She knew her father had been doing things
he thought she didn't know about but they couldn't be that serious-
Her thoughts were cut short when she was stopped in the doorway by her neighbor, a cat named Andrew. His eyes were filled with
horror and his hands had sinister red stains on them.
"Felicia, call an ambulance!" He ordered her. She picked up her phone and dialed the number that she had learned was only used
when there was an emergency. She told the operator everything he asked for; name, address, what happened, don't hang up, we're on our way etc.
"...Dewie?" She ran up to her neighbor and tugged his bloody sleeve. In the corner of her eye she could see Tilda frozen with fear.
Felicia beckoned for her to come over.
"Felicia, I..." Andrew began crying. "I couldn't... There was nothing I could do..."
He knelt down and held them both as they all cried. They embraced like that until the ambulance and police car came, then Andrew
explained that he had to talk to the policemen, and that they should go and wait in his house.
The two children were both pale like winter when they kicked their shoes off in his hall. They walked two steps in before Felicia broke down.
"My parents are dead!" She screamed as loud as her lungs allowed. "Why, dad? Why!?" Somehow, she just knew that it had somethin
to do with her fathers' shady business.
"How can you know that?" Tilda asked through tears.
"I just do!"
"Felicia, wake up."
Wait, that doesn't belong here...
"Wakey wakey!"
Huh?
"You wanna miss your stop?!
--
Felicia blinked the dream from her eyes and tried to focus on Princess.
"Ugh... Sorry. Must've fallen asleep..."
"No shit? You slept like a log the entire way home."
Felicia picked up her bag, said goodbye to Princess and slowly walked the stairs up to Dewie's apartment.
Another dream about her parents. Hmph. She could never remember them, no matter how much she tried. Something appeared
to have blocked off those exact memories... All she knew was that she'd been living with Dewie for the last years.
Life was rolling it's way, with or without he memories.
She found her stop, inserted the key into the lock an turned it. It clicked back and she opened the door.
Dewie had left a note on the counter again. She picked it up.
"Sorry, Felicia, but I gotta work overtime... Again, yeah I know. Hope the trip was fun. Call me if there's any problem. Thanks! "
She smiled at the note.
After a short stumble up the stairs, she threw away her things as well as her clothes and squeezed her way beneath the sheets.
Before she fell asleep, she decided to do something she hadn't done for years.
She picked up her phone and sent a short message to Dewie, just to let him know she was OK.
However, she didn't remember if she managed to send it before falling asleep...
--
His phone beeped. This was unusual, he thought as he picked it up.
"1 New message: Felicia cell" It read. He clicked a button and chuckled at the small screen.
"Hey ddwie. Jst wnna ray im aliue. Byd"
"Anything you want to share with the rest of us, 105?" The boss asked.
"No, sir. Sorry sir." Dewie replied and refocused his attention at the meeting.
He did feel lucky for not getting yelled at more though. Standard rule of the GUN policy are no cell phones during meetings.
--
NOTES
Hey hey!
How do you like the story so far? I personally think that this could end up about as good as it's predecessor.
Lots of new characters, by the way. Or at least evolution of older ones.
If anything seems awkward, just let me know and I'll try to fix it up.
See ya!
/MattiTheWizard