Chapter 11
"Okay. Where am I, this time?"
Pain swirled as Michael woke up. It throbbed and ached as the young man tried to collect his thoughts. His brown eyes scanned his surroundings, top to bottom. It wasn't Hekapoo's retreat, more rustic than non-Euclidean. Not quite. He was back inside the very cabin, the fireplace on and daylight bleeding in the widow. Piece of his memories seemed to swirl, and he realized something wasn't right.
The obvious is the fireplace. It was closed up months ago, brick and mortar in the entrance, and by the skittish young man himself. And it was evening when he left for the county fair as Michael stood up. He left the couch to close the blinds, and that's when it all came to him. Like a bolt of lightning striking a rod, memories returned instantaneously.
Michael was breathing heavily, forehead sweating. He remembered the fairgrounds, the lights, and the games. He and his friends were having fun while their worries disappeared. That's when those government agents came, the fighting erupted, and the bullet was fired, lodging right into the young man….
Abruptly, Michael gripped his waist, wincing. "Wait a minute? Isn't there supposed to be a bullet hole on my side?" he questioned himself as he looked at himself unharmed, looking dumbfounded.
His clothes were thoroughly cleaned. No sign of any injury. No blood and bile in sight either. That raised even more questions circulating in his head.
"If you're wondering what happened to your injuries, they're still on your body back at the fairgrounds," answered a grainy and old voice that made Michael jump.
He turned around and saw an old man on the loveseat. With denim jeans and a plaided shirt, Michael was sure he popped out of some old show from the fifties. His legs were crossed, one over the other. In his hand, he held a bottle of bourbon, unopened. The old man settled in the golden embrace, his attention to the fireplace. His graying eyes then shifted to Michael, who approached, fists bawling. However, as the young man got closer, his guard slowly dropped as the old man's face bore familiarity that brought him a nostalgic smile.
"G-grandpa. Is that you?" Michael asked, voice cracking.
Jeremiah Therman nodded, mustache curling. "It's me, boy. It really is, though I wish the circumstances for a reunion were much better than in death."
"In death? Wait, you're telling me I'm…" Michael began but was cut off; his grandpa interrupted.
"Yes and no," the old man remarked, his grandson flabbergasted. "Your body is still alive, barely, but your soul got knocked out. I'm not sure if there's a term for it, but you're somewhere in between life and death. For now, you're currently in an afterlife antechamber, or Limbo as the Catholics call it. the only thing they ever got right. Well, that and Purgatory."
Jeremiah opened the bottle and poured the bourbon out, its contents filling two highball glasses on the table. He handed one-off, and Michael checked to see if anything was off. Well, more off than usual in his drink. When it looked alright, the pair then raised a glass to each other before drinking deeply. While looking normal, the bourbon tasted almost ambrosia as Michael stopped and arched a brow.
"Yeah, that's the one upside about the afterlife. Everything you once enjoyed in life becomes ten times better, but I doubt you're here to have a William Blake style discussion with me, son or hear some existential soliloquy on the meaning of life like Monty Python," Michael's grandfather mused, sitting his glass down before folding his hands together. "Your friends need you, and you need to get yourself back to Earth before something bad happens to them."
"And that's why you're here? To help?"
"Not quite."
That response wasn't to be expected. Throughout his adolescence, Michael's grandfather always gave him the tools to venture into life. And when he was stuck and couldn't figure a way out, the old man would step in, offering the appropriate guidance. Sadly, this wasn't those times, much to Michael's dismay. The old man huffed and turned to the fireplace, swirling his glass as the young man gave him a hard look, finally sitting down.
"That doesn't mean I won't lend you some pointers," his grandfather clarified, half-shrugged. "When you've been in the afterlife longer than I have, you get to make some interesting friends. I had to pull a few strings to see you, and I'm taking a big risk being in Limbo just to save my grandson's life. Now, it's time for me to be the Thanatos to your Orpheus and guide you back to your Eurydice."
Michael furrowed his brows, confused. "I have no idea what that even means, grandpa."
"Jesus Christ, Michael. What are they teaching you in that college of yours?" groaned the aggrieved old man, pinching the bridge of his nose before waving his glass in emphasis. "I'm telling you that the only way to return to the land of the living is within you. That in order to get back into your body, you need to will yourself back."
"And how do I do that? If it hasn't occurred to you, I was shot straight in the kidney and my body is lying in a pool of my own blood! There isn't really much I can do about that, except follow the light and see St. Peter," Michael snapped back, jumping up as he almost knocked his glass off the coffee table.
Jeremiah's face glared, pointing an index finger. "And that's what will happen to you if you give in. Know this, boy. There is more to you than meets the eye, and it's not just that can of whoop-ass you gave those gestapo agents at the fairgrounds. For God sake's, you think a normal man would survive an injury like the one you have?"
Michael opened his mouth to rebuttal but gave up, his raised hand falling to his side. He knew his grandfather was right when the proof was evident.
Jeremiah smiled and raised his glass once more. "The best you can do is tell yourself to go home and that's all you need. Like me and like your father, you've always been a stubborn, so I doubt you're going to give up so easily."
"Please don't mention my dad again," Michael hissed, looking deadpanned as his head lowered, one arm resting on his lap. "So, I'm supposed to not think I'm dead and that's going to send me back? That's more complicated than clicking my heels three time and saying, 'there's no place like home,' over and over."
Jeremiah grumbled as he reached for his bottle, pouring himself another drink. "Just give it a try, lad. Your young with so much to look forward to, and spending an eternity sharing a drink with your grandad is no fun at all. Hell, if I recall, you have those three firecrackers waiting for you, so don't let them down."
Michael blushed as he combed his fingers through his matted hair, his mind still trying to process. The young man's mind suddenly derailed when a knock erupted from the front door.
Three hard knocks, to be precise.
Slowly, Michael got up to answer it, and after taking three steps, his grandfather quickly interjected. His grandson's hand was already on the knob but then hesitated to move. The old man didn't look back, his weary eyes never leaving his drink, the very texture growing bitter.
"I wouldn't open that door, son," his grandfather warned him, the delight in his tone disappearing. "You don't want to let whatever's out there inside. Trust me when I say it's best to ignore the sound and get out while you can. That boney bitch in the black cloak won't leave until she gets what she wants."
Michael let go of the knob and took a step back. The knocking never stopped as he walked away and back to the living room. The banging at the door grew louder and louder; the young man tried ignoring it. The pain worsened in his head with each thump, teeth-gritting instinctively. When Michael finally tuned it out, he sighed as his body leaned forward behind the couch; the head of the sofa he gripped kept his frame steady.
"Alright, grandpa. You say I got to will myself out of here, right? Convince my body that I want to live? That sounds easy enough to do," humored Michael as the pounding in his head had already subsided.
Gazing back, Jeremiah nodded before downing his second glass of bourbon, the alcohol becoming a much bigger help in calming his ecstatic heartrate—an ironic thing to do, given his already deceased status.
"There's more to that, too, son. You also need an anchor that gives you a reason to keep going on. You see, people give in so easily because they feel there's no purpose in their lives. No raison d'état, regardless of whether that's good or bad to not have."
"Is that so?"
"Do you have an anchor? Something, or someone, that gives you meaning?" His grandfather asked with intense eyes.
Michael shared a glare, nodding, "Yeah, I do. Like you said before, there are three firecrackers waiting for me back home. Sure, they drive me crazy sometimes, but it's that craziness that I needed in my life."
"Then what are you waiting for? Go get 'em, son."
Michael's eyes shot awake, and his body lunged upward. Fresh, chilling air entered his lungs, taking panted breaths while he scanned his surroundings. He was back at the fairgrounds, and relief washed over him. It was as quiet as a cemetery, with no sign of life. The young man turned his head and saw the stalls and rides in ruin, looking like a tornado run through.
He looked around to see no sign of the agents gone from the scene after getting what they came for, the absence of the girls verifying. Heart skipping a beat, panic bit Michael like a venomous snake.
I need to get to the girls before it's too late. He griped.
It wasn't too long ago that they left, he assumed. The evening moon was still in its place, meaning only a few minutes had passed. From the sight of the bulky tire tracks, the agents left in a hurry and had no time to cover them. That was enough of a lead to help the young man.
Intense pain throbbed as Michael staggered back up, blood dripping from his side. The young man gripped his abdomen and felt the bullet still lodged inside. Strangely, the discomfort faded, and he found the strength to keep moving. Even so, with the amount of blood he's lost, Michael would need some medical treatment and fast.
Michael seethed. A bullet shooting straight through a kidney would have killed anyone instantly. Instead, I miraculously survived, and my stubborn will seems to keep me alive, or maybe it's something else. Maybe Grandpa was right, and there is more to me than meets the eye, but I'll have to cross that bridge later. For now, I got to focus on saving my friends.
Making his way to the vacant parking lot, Michael quickly hopped into his Cadillac and turned the key in the ignition. As he drove onto the road, his eyes glanced to the rearview mirror, gazing at his disgruntled state. At how much he looked like hell, hair ruffled and eyes baggy.
Worry about the state of your appearance at your own time, Therman. There are bad guys on the loose, and they have your friends in their possession.
Michael readjusted the gear shift into drive and floored it. He sank back into his seat, head aching. Hands gripping the wheel, he focused on following those tracks while ignoring the pulsating veins rippling at his temples.
His brows furrowed, and he looked to the road with cold, determined eyes. Anne. Luz. Tulip. Don't worry, you guys. I'm coming to save you.
All was quiet on the Blue Ridge Parkway when an armored personnel carrier passed by nonstop. The black coating of its shell blended perfectly with the background as the drivers ensured to avoid any collision. Luckily, no other car was in sight, the road open and free.
The targets had been acquired, and they were heading back to base. The soldiers cheered and celebrated. Well, those who were conscious, that is. With the kind of beatdown they received, a little R&R was much needed. All except three passengers, though, who sulked in the back, chained up for the ride.
"Where do you think they're taking us," Luz asked, whispering as Tulip leaned over.
"From all the movies I've seen, it's probably some undisclosed location. Someplace where we won't see the light of day again. They might be taking us to Area 51, the Bohemian Club, or even worse. Whatever the case, these creeps will perform inhumane experiments on us since we're not from this Earth," Tulip postulated, which made Luz grow more fearful, her attention shifting to the young Thai woman in the middle. "Anne, was it? What do you think?"
Anne didn't respond. During the whole drive, her body slumped forward with her arms prompting her head, staring downward—the young lady's dour expression going unnoticed by the two on her sides.
Luz placed a firm hand on her back, snapping Anne out of her funk. "Anne? Are you okay? You can talk to us if something's bothering you."
"Michael's dead," Anne announced dryly. She lifted her hands forward and clenched them in emphasis. The chains on her wrists rattled. "I can't believe it. I held him close and felt his body grow cold. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't save him, and he died in my arms." Her rambling ended, and tears began streaking her olive cheek as she brought her body close and fell into a depressive slump.
The two girls shared a concerned look before shifting back. Luz and Tulip huddled together and comforted the young woman. The witch-in-training gave her a firm embrace while playing with her hair, and the redheaded tech genius gave her back a gentle rub, smiling warmly.
Luz's hand moved to Anne's cheek, her fingers wiping away her tears. "It's going to be okay, Anne. It hurts. I know it does, but we have to pull through. We can't give these creeps the satisfaction that we lost."
The redhead gave a slight nod in agreement. "The tomboy's got a point. With the situation we're in and whatever our captors plan for us, sitting here and feeling sorry for ourselves isn't getting us out. I know losing Michael was painful. Losing someone close to you is always painful. But if we can find a way out of here, we can regroup and figure out how to get back at these sons of bitches. I didn't know him long enough, but I guess it's what Michael would have wanted."
Anne turned her head, looking at Tulip with a fiery glare, no longer sulking.
"So, what's the plan?" She questioned.
"Well, first, we need to…"
As Tulip began to whisper, trying not to alarm the guards, the scar-faced captain approached the three. He sat in front of the girls, both hands folded into a pyramid as he rested his chin, grinning menacingly. Two of his guards stood by his side, tranquilizer guns at the ready.
"Hello, ladies? Are you feeling comfortable? Actually, don't answer because I don't care," the captain dismissed rudely, the trio shot back irritated and hateful glares as he got down to business. "Since it's going to be a while before we reach HQ, I was thinking we could pass the time with a little chat, particularly ones on the subject of some very interesting tech my boys and I encountered."
Reaching behind, the insidious captain dragged out one of Tulip's drones, the girl in question's freckled face turned pale, frowning. He tossed it to the trio's feet, its already broken white shell cracking in splinters. Regardless of the obvious intimidation tactic, the girls remained unmoved.
The captain's shoulders rose, his body moving forward with hostility to his captives as he continued, "So, start talking and we might make this trip more desirable. Tell us everything you know about this tech, its advancements and properties."
"Will you quit stalling!"
"So, you're saying I'm stalling?"
"Stalling!"
"Stalling?"
The interrogation was going nowhere. The captain and Tulip went back and forth, the redhead feigning ignorance and her captor frothing at the mouth. It was supposed to be simple. All he wanted was intel on how she could develop such tech. A drone almost close to the agency's, advanced and fluid. That's quite valuable to give to his superiors. Fortunately, the redhead wouldn't give it up so easily. Tulip knew it wouldn't matter. They'll have other means to get her to talk. Regardless, anything to help avenge Michael's death, both for her and her newfound friends.
That said, it was too much fun not to get a rise out as the captain couldn't do anything to her, spotting his fingers twitching, hovering over his gun, but then refrained.
Despite getting on their nerves, Anne and Luz knew what the redhead was doing: opportunity knocking. The guards were just as aggravated, slanting against the steel walls while their rifles dangled at the side, body language weary.
Anne slammed her right leg underneath, breaking a kneecap against her heel. One of the guards screamed and tumbled, holding his leg. Before the captain and his colleague reacted, Luz charged as she struck the chains at the guard's face. Tulip leaped and tackled the captain, reaching for the keys. The redhead was so close, but she was met with a pistol whip to the face. Tulip was lying on the steel floor, helpless and bleeding.
Luz and Anne kneeled, reaching Tulip as the trio gingerly got up. Unfortunately, the three stopped midway once they heard the sound of a pistol cocking. Slowly, their trembling eyes shifted as the captain pointed his gun, trigger finger ready to pull. The captain was under direct orders not to hurt the prisoners, but he might make an exception considering his predicament. What's one demerit at the cost of his sanity?
"You should have just talked," the captain remarked, sickeningly smiling as he pressed the barrel to Tulip's head, her face dripping sweat in trepidation. "My superiors don't even need you alive to get whatever information. We have tools that can pick your brain, an expensive process if I'm gonna be honest. I just thought trying to do it the humane way would be less troubling, but you really had to force my hand."
At the same time, the driver kept his composure. While the chaos was happening in the back, he tried his best to ignore it. Unfortunately, that was impossible, the banter from before knowing at him. The driver comedically slammed his head against the wheel, praying for it to stop. Luckily, he got his wish when a Cadillac crashed its hood straight through, pushing the APC off the road and into the trees.
The impact was forceful and rocky, like a landslide. Crawling out of the driver's seat, Michael stumbled towards the armored vehicle. The shock sent him into vertigo, unable to hold his lunch as he puked on the grass, purging out whatever nausea remained. With the stunt he pulled, Michael was in no condition to endure such an impact, and he didn't care. He only had two things on his mind: Saving his friends and kicking that scar-faced son of bitch's ass.
The sickly young man was ready for round two this time, quickly steeling his nerves. He held a 1944 luger tightly in his right hand, which he remembered his grandfather keeping in the glove compartment. When he reached the back, the metal doors opened, and the unconscious guards emerged.
Michael raised his luger, rearing for the worse when a gun was fired, the bullet flying right at the young man. This time, he expected it, his body instinctively lunging to the side, though the lack of strength threw off his equilibrium and made him fall to the dirt. The gun quickly got out of his hand.
Staggering out, the captain sneered as the young man glared back, the pistol aiming a little lower. "I was pretty sure I killed you, you little shit. Straight through your kidneys, if I recall. No matter. Another one will sure do you in," he maliciously cackled as he got ready to pull the trigger.
"What can I say? I'm too stubborn to die!" Michael announced proudly.
Michael swung his leg under, and the captain was knocked on his ass. He fired his pistol. A stray bullet flew in the air. Before the dumbfounded, scarred man could get up, Michael quickly tackled him, his knees pressing his chest. The enraged young man cocked his fists and began landing blow after blow. The young man flew back, choking as the captain quickly shot up, delivering a swift strike to his jugular. He pushed Michael off, seeing he was still too weak from the half-assed punches. And right as the young man tried recomposing himself, the captain slammed a roundhouse kick to his stomach, landing directly at the wound.
Blood started trickling as Michael coughed and wailed, staggering away. The captain pressed forward, a sadistic grin forming ear to ear. He wouldn't let this kid make a fool of him again. He no longer cared for protocol or delivering the package. His only thought was to put him six feet under.
"You should have just stayed dead," the captain hissed, anger venomously hinting at his voice.
Michael shook his head indignantly, sweating and gripping his side, "Sorry, but that's not happening. I'm not giving up until I get my friends back, and kick your sorry ass, you freak!"
The captain huffed, aiming his pistol once more. At the corner of his eye, Michael catches his luger and jumps for it. The young man wasn't faster than a speeding bullet. Even if he was, the injury made sure he wasn't. He still went for it, leaping and grabbing the handle as the captain fired another round.
Anne quickly charged from out of APC, free from her chains and her entire body crashing into the captain, pushing him forward like a wobbly brick wall. She didn't know how Michael was alive, nor did she care. Her only concern now was keeping him safe. The bullet still fired out of the barrel, Michael wincing and holding his gun up in defense. Luckily, the stray shot missed him by an inch, hitting the dirt road before he got up and turned to the furious young Thai.
"Don't you dare lay a hair on him, you sick bastard!" Anne cried as she was about to charge again.
The captain quickly dodged and delivered a backhanded slap to her face, smiling as she fell to her side.
"Pathetic."
The captain scoffed and motioned to Michael, the young man not hesitating to aim and pull the trigger, fury boiling up in his core.
Click!
Nothing happened.
Michael quickly examined the gun, checking every inch. That's when he saw the small, thin metal plate nailed at the bottom. Antique World War II German Luger paperweight, all in bold letters as he fumed.
"Oh, come on!"
The captain laughed as Michael threw the pistol, the scar-faced man smacking the paperweight to the ground. Grabbing Anne by the tuff of her hair, the captain tossed the disoriented Anne next to Michael. The young man dropped his bat and caught her, embracing her tightly. If the captain wanted to kill him, doing it right when his girlfriend was watching would be fitting. A true Shakespearean tragedy, or so he thought.
"So, what was your brilliant plan, kid? Did you really think you could simply ram your car into my carrier, knock us off road, and then rush in to save your girlfriends and play the hero? You think you're Jesus Christ, or Superman, because you came back from the dead?" Michael didn't answer him, simply flashing a death glare while caressing Anne's hair, the girl sharing the same look. The captain ignored the two and continued, checking his magazine before loading it back in. "News flash, kid. We're the real heroes and in this line of work, we make sure parasites like her don't come in and disrupt the status quo. My superiors are very particular about that kind of stuff, and having a renegade variable like you come in and jeopardize all of that? Well, it's not going to help them sleep better and that deeply concerns me too," he stated as he got in nice and close, preparing to carefully fire his last round between the young man's eyes. "Like I said before, kid. You should have just stayed dead."
Michael didn't flinch, holding Anne tightly. He glared at his opponent and dared him to do his worst. The captain merely smiled from sickening amusement and eyed the young man with an edge of annoyance and suspicion, ensuring he didn't have any other tricks up his sleeve.
Myriad vines sprung from the ground and immediately entangled the captain, bound and gagged. It swiped the gun out of his hands, throwing it far away. Luz came out of the APC with her card deck in hand. Tulip followed later, holding a strange console in her underarms.
"Sorry it took so long. These assholes took my glyphs, and it wasn't easy getting it back," Luz remarked as Michael and Anne were relieved, being saved at the last minute.
The witch-in-training then looked down at the young man, eyes beginning to tear as she jumped with glee, squeezing between him and Anne. Her face nuzzled against his, and her noodle-y arms wrapped around his waist.
"Oh my God! Michael! You're alive! Wait, how are you alive?! Are you a ghost? A zombie? A mimic shadow created to twist my feelings for you! No! Don't tell me!" Luz blabbered on, growing distraught, but calmed down when michael held her and Anne tightly.
Michael nodded and smiled, nuzzling both girls affectionately. "It's me, girls. It's really me and I'm not going anywhere."
Tulip stood and watched, touched by the heartwarming reunion. Suddenly, the redhead got close and eyed Michael. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. That's when she noticed the crimson red dripping from his abdomen, her face falling into dread.
Tulip grabbed the young man, shouting, "Girls, we got to leave! Mow! Michael is bleeding to death, and he needs urgent care immediately!"
Anne felt something wet, her hazel eyes glancing down. She got up after gazing at the red stain on her shirt and Michael's pale look. The sight made her jump, terrified and almost sick. She turned to Luz, her expression grimaced, before both looked at Michael. The loss of blood was already taking its toll. The young man slowly drifted in and out of consciousness.
"Oh, God! Is there a hospital around here?" Anne asked frantically as she and Luz helped Michael to his feet.
Tulip shook her head and turned to the Cadillac. "We're in the middle of the wood, so there's a slight issue there. Fortunately, if we take the car, follow the main road, and head back into town, we might be able get him treated, but we have to make it quick. In his condition, I don't know how long he'll last," she pointed out while helping the pair load everything in the car, taking the driver's seat afterward as Anne and Luz sat in the back, keeping Michael company.
"Tulip, I'm fine. There's a first aid kit back home. It's enough to patch me up, and I don't want you' all to…raise…suspicion…" Michael protested and tried to lean upright but fell back in his seat, slurring his words before passing out.
Tulip looked over her seat, staring deadpanned at Michael. "Yeah, that's not happening, sweet cheeks. We're getting you medical care, whether you like it, or not. Now, hold on. This is going to be one, crazy ride."
Maneuvering the gear shift and moving in reverse, the redhead floored it and the Cadillac sped off, returning to the main road. The fender fell to the side while the headlight was again broken, but that was the last part of the girls' lists of concerns.
Meanwhile, a knife protruded out of the vines as the captain slowly carved himself free, intensely watching as his targets got away. With the APC out and his men unconscious, going after them on foot was futile. It was best to call it in, as the captain created enough space to reach his walkie-talkie.
Agent Jones sat alone at his desk, which was cluttered beyond belief. In his hands was halfway finished magazine filled with very young, very naked girls (The Lolita Express Weekly). He was getting ready for personal time when his phone began ringing. The agent dropped his magazine, reached over, and swiftly answered it, much to his annoyance.
"What is it?"
On the other side of the line was the captain, and what he said, Agent Jones had lost all of his composure. His teeth gritted so hard that they almost cracked, and the eyes behind his frames began seeing red.
"This is the extraction team captain, sir. The operation was a complete disaster. My entire unit is completely incapacitated and I'm requesting an extraction for the extraction team at the Blue Ridge Parkway, pronto," the captain addressed as the agent threw the phone against the wall, watching it shatter into pieces.
It was at that very moment that Agent Jones soon went ballistic. From tossing his desk over to smashing his picture frames, his anger was directed to his office. It wasn't the captain his rage was at, though, but the very young man who ruined his plans. Once his cathartic destruction ceased, the disgruntled agent walked to the other side, picked up the battered phone, and made a quick call. Despite its condition, the sturdy device worked as Agent Jones hit the right buttons.
Huffing through his nostrils, the agent calmed and regained his composure, though still seething through his teeth. "Get me every file you have on that kid Agent 47 spoke about. I want birthdates, immunization sheets, dental records, the whole shebang. I want to know everything about Michael Therman at once!"
Pain swirled as Michael lay in darkness. It throbbed and ached as the young man tried to collect his thoughts. Pieces of his mind seemed to jump to and away from him. Cracks of burning white light pierced through the darkness, drawing his vision and engulfing his very being as if to guide him out of a dark, narrowing tunnel that brought him out of his coma.
"Where am I this time? Purgatory?" Michael questioned with a weak groan as he drowsily looked around.
The beeps and hums of monitors filled Michael's ears as a cold chill touched his body. A few IVs drifted into focus as a series of needles and tubes fell stuck into his arms, but that wasn't the only thing that caught his eye. Michael looked to the side, Anne lying her head on his lap. As the young man adjusted his body, his friend slowly woke up and stared at him with shock and warm eyes. Shifting slightly, he could feel the left side of his body up against an abrasion. Michael slightly pivoted his head and shoulders, seeing another body beside him. Opening his senses more, he saw the space next to him was taken up by Luz, her head resting on a pillow and her arms bringing him close to her body, her eyes meeting his as well.
"Hey there, sleepyhead," Luz greeted as she gently kissed him on the lips.
Anne smiled and leaned forward, giving the recently awoken young man the same greeting. "I'm so glad you're okay and happy you pulled through. You had us all worried sick, Michael Therman." Her tone became reprehensive at the end.
Michael sat up halfway while asking, "Uh, yeah. I'm surprised I'm back to the land of the living myself. By the way, how long have I been out?"
"Oh, you've been out for about three days," Luz announced straightforwardly.
The room fell silent. Panic bit Michael like a snake as he almost jumped out of bed, his already pale face becoming erratic in astonishment.
"Three days?!"
Anne calmed the young man, chuckling while rubbing her neck. "That's right. You didn't just lose a lot of blood, but you needed your entire damaged kidney surgically removed. After that, we stayed with you until you regained consciousness, which wasn't easy since the orderlies kept trying to throw us out after visiting hours were over."
"I got to watch the nurse change your catheter a few times. It's not relevant to this conversation, but I thought it was fun to watch," Luz chimed in, her face flashing childish innocence, hiding her pure erotic arousal.
Anne grabbed his pillow, fluffing it before putting it back. Michael lay down and sighed, his head aching. Hand reaching up, he touched his head to feel the pulsating veins in his temple.
So, I've been out for three days in a coma. Frankly, with everything I went through today, I should be dead. However, if it weren't for the girls bringing me here, I would be though.
Michael gazed up at Anne, and she looked down at him, her hand on his chest. That's when a thought wriggled up, the young man's face furrowing.
"Wait a minute. How did you guys bring me here?" Michael asked.
Anne averted her gaze while chuckling awkwardly. "We used your grandfather's car to drive you back to Boone. Tulip took the front seat while Luz and I made sure you didn't bleed. We managed to leave before law enforcement arrived to scope the area. The car is completely totaled, but it is in no way our fault."
"Why would it be? I'm the one who rammed it into those agent's carrier, not you guys," Michael corrected as he shifted a warm smile from Anne to Luz.
Luz turned her head, looking at Michael with blank, amber eyes. Anne exhaled a sigh she'd held for a while before moving in close, careful not to knock anything important.
Anne's hand moved to Michael's cheek, her fingers gliding along his skin, "Still, after everything you've done for us, I'm sorry that you lost it. I know how important that car meant to you."
Michael tried to smile, but it came out as a painful grunt. "Believe me when I say I'd do it all over again if it meant saving you guys. I wouldn't let those government spooks hurt any of you, though destroying the one thing I had left of the old man was not an easy call to make."
"Was it because he took you in when your parents died and raised you like his own son?" Luz surmised as Michael felt her snuggled closer, leaning her head on his chest.
Michael started to laugh, albeit painfully, making both Anne and Luz worry. "Fuck no! I wish those two assholes were dead since they've made my childhood a living hell. Usually, I'd talked to my psychologist about it, but I can tell you guys since you're going to have to know, sooner or later."
"You don't have to do that," Anne weakly protested, eyes half-lidded.
"Trust me, girls. You have the right to know more about me as much as I want to learn more about you," Michael stated, his expression blankly growing as he stared at the ceiling.
Anne reluctantly nodded as her hand combed into his hair, moving to his chest while avoiding his bandages. Michael let out a relieved sigh, her touch like magic. That, or the morphine, was finally kicking in, either way.
Luz looked down with sad eyes as she held his lower body close to her chest. The bandages touched her small bosom, her hair cascading all over her face, but her eyes still stared at the young man with woeful care.
Michael closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. It had been a long time since he told anyone about his past, his silence proof as he refused to turn his attention to the two yet held a firmness in his reopened gaze.
"My childhood was far from the ideal one. I just wanted to you all to know that and it'll make it easier for me before I can continue without too much issue."
Anne nodded, focusing on the handsome young man as she prompted herself up by the arm.
Michael continued, "Ever since I was a little boy, my parents were the prime example of what not to do when raising a kid. My mother was a neglectful bitch, spending her days laying by the poolside of our home while getting drunk. As for my father…well, he was the worst. Not another day went by when I haven't thought about subjecting him to all the horrendous abuse and torture he did to me before finally…ending him."
"Oh, my God," Anne whispered in shock, covering her mouth.
"And that's who I think saved me for when I turned ten, my grandfather came and took me away. All I remembered from that day was him and my sorry excuse for a father going at it, fist after fist, and then later driving away in the back of his Cadillac. From that day onward, I wasn't raised with hate and cruelty but love and care. sadly, the damage that bastard put on me was done and it almost took me to some terribly dark places, I tell you. If it wasn't for my grandad getting me the help I needed, I don't know what would have happened."
Anne gripped the young man and grinned, looking with eyes that had cried a thousand tears, "What you said was just heavy, Michael. But I'm glad you told us all of that. What's important now is that it's over, and we're here for you. It's the least we can do for everything you've done for us."
Anne's gaze turned to look past Michael to Luz, raising her head from the young man's chest. The tomboyish witch-in-training nodded in agreement.
"That's right. And even when you want us out of your hair, we care about you too much to leave you alone, so get use to us being by your side," Luz teased before playfully bopping her finger on Michael's nose, making him huff.
Michael shrugged, tilting his head a little. "Honestly, I'm glad to get all of that off my chest. I think you guys have the right to know since the world is going to end quickly."
"Yeah, about that…"
Michael and the girls turned, facing the other side as the hospital door opened, watching Tulip strolling in with her red hair down and a laptop in hand. Her hands worked at the buttons, keeping her eyes glued to the screen and making a beeline to the bed.
"When I told you the world was ending, it was mostly hypothetical, and I was running on inadequate equipment. Thanks to the parts I stole from those agents' APC, I made some adjustments and reached the right conclusion: "Tulip winked at Michael as she sat at the edge of his bed, computer flashing as she finished calibrating her data. "The good news is that the world isn't ending and we won't have to experience Armageddon in a bomb shelter."
"What's the bad news?" Michael inquired with an arched brow.
Tulip held the laptop at Michael and showed him and the girls what she had uncovered, "the breach is getting bigger, that part is true. However, it's pouring in all sort so anomalies into your world and the biggest one that's coming through is right in the Appalachia."
The girls turned to Michael and frowned. The young man pinched the bridge of his nose as he recomposed his trembling demeanor and his nerves steadied.
"Well, there's nothing we can do about that, except be prepared for what might come through. Either other heroes and heroines from fiction, or a hive of eldritch monstrosities straight from the mind of Lovecraft, I'm sure we can handle it and with you guys by my side, I'm pretty sure we can," Michael proclaimed with his hands lowered to the sides, calmed and reserved.
"Obvi, you can you count on us! Like Luz just said, it's not like we're going anywhere, and you can't really get rid of us."
Anne's thin mouth made a small, confirming smile. Luz giggled. Tulip gave a slight nod, her green eyes filled with confidence.
Michael folded his hands together, his head craning as he began to strategize, "That settles it, then, but we still have other problems, and we need to start preparing as soon as I get out of this hospital. We're not only dealing with intruders from the other side, but threats here as well. Whoever those government agents are working for, they'll won't give up easily and will come up with a different approach. They'll lick their wounds for now but will return and with a bigger force. Right now, we need to…" He tried to continue, but the headache stormed on.
"Right now, the best thing we can do is rest," Anne said with a comforting smile.
Luz nodded in agreement and stood up. "Anne's right, Michael. You need to get some rest and worry about all of that when you get better."
"But if that day does come and we're faced with those government creeps again…" With the girls heading out the door, leaving the young man alone, Tulip turned one last time, earnestly grinning while trailing. "… don't worry, big boy. We'll be ready and we won't make it easy for them next time."
A/N: Hey, everyone. This is Kman134, and I'm here to tell you I'm not dead. I'm very alive and have finished the final chapter of Intruders: Volume 1 (not counting the epilogue). So, to keep it short, I had to take some time off to work on the new semester for my master's. I also had writer's block trying to figure out how to set everything up, and now I'm trying to will myself to keep going out of mental fatigue. All in all, the results seem to be doing alright for themselves. Anyways, what do you guys think? If you have any suggestions, please do not hesitate to ask. Send as many reviews for this chapter as possible. Also, if you know any beta readers who are still active, please send them my way. I really need some editorial help.
Also, to answer some people's questions about the "oncoming storm," it has a double meaning in the story. It refers to the massive breach storm and the government agency coming in to harass Michael and his friends, as to who might be coming later. Well, stay tuned for all shall be revealed in the epilogue.