Volume One: The Road Out
Chapter Two
Verse Five: All Threads Make a Quilt
Marion sat on the couch in Harley's basement for two hours staring at a blank spot on the wall before Harley came home and found his best friend. Harley seemed to consider saying something, but then decided otherwise and simply sat beside Marion on the couch and turned on the television to an old John Carradine rendition of Dracula in black and white. They watched in silence Dracula and the Wolf-man tried to to find cures for their conditions, although Dracula was using the search for a cure as a pretext for darker motives.
The movie finished and Marion remained sitting quietly.
"Did you want to get pizza?" Harley asked, "I don't really feel like trying to cook."
"I don't have the money. Charity provided me with lunch today. I literally h ave negative money. If money was gravity, I would be a small but inescapable black hole." Marion said without looking away from the television set which had begun playing the werewolf classic 'The Howling'. Harley suspected that the channel was doing a John Carradine marathon.
"You're not paying. We're going to order pepperoni pizza, and we're going to break out your birthday gift to me and get ourselves properly intoxicated. We haven't touched that limited run Barley Wine you bought me. What's it called 'Harbinger of Doom'? I still have all six bottles. The stuff is twelve percent."
"Are you suggesting I attempt to drink away this depression? On a weeknight? That doesn't sound like a very responsible solution."
"I am ordering food. I am mandating equal water and beer intake. We are getting properly intoxicated. I am not drinking to the point of hangover and you can sleep in. I am being entirely responsible. But you need something to cheer you up and you assured me that this barley wine will help me find religion. So it's settled.”
The pizza arrived quickly. The Barley Wine had just finished chilling wrapped in wet towels in the freezer when the pizza delivery guy arrived with the food. Harley carried in the pizza and flipped the top back before placing the alcohol beside it.
"Give thanks for this feast." Harley said with mock solemnity.
Marion smiled a little and picked up a bottle and raised it in toast, “Many Microbes died to bring us this inebriation.”
They were well and truly drunk when Marion's phone beeped to indicate that he had a text.
"Who's that?" Harley asked.
Marion checked his phone and saw that it was a text from Amy.
<<Are you still at my house freak?>>
"It's your girlfriend. Here, you take it." Marion said and handed his friend the phone. Harley took the phone and read the text. Then he typed out an answer.
<<He's still here.>>
Almost immediately a text came back.
<<Is this Harley?>>
<<Yes. Why did you text him?>>
<<Because I'm not talking to you. Call me when the loonies is out. But make it soon. You can't have me and him.>>
Harley handed the phone back to Marion wordlessly. Marion read the texts and shook his head.
"I still Have a sleeping bag. I can go."
Harley picked up another beer and popped the top with his keychain tag. He tipped the bottle to his mouth and tilted his head back. Bottle empty, Harley turned to Marion, "I will not be blackmailed. I am doing the right thing. How can Amy not see that?"
"You want the truth?" Marion waited until Harley nodded and then continued, "she doesn't care about the what's right. She never has. She care about what she wants. She's been raised on a pile of stereotypes and advertising lies that tell her that she's got the right to demand whatever she wants from the world. She wanted a cute devoted boyfriend. But she didn't want to share him. I've been public enemy number on since Amy met me. I tried to make Friends with here. But Amy doesn't have friends. Amy has a checklist of what she wants. And nothing else registers."
Harley shook his head and reached for another drink. " shouldn't have to choose between my best friend anecdotal my girlfriend. This is what you do. You help friends out in their time of need."
"Harley. When has Amy ever acknowledged the sometimes things go wrong? In Amy's world things aren't allowed to go wrong. She stomps he cute little feet and demands that they get better or she'll get so angry.
"It isn't fair. You've been awesome to her." Harley said, "I just can't believe anything I'm hearing from her."
"I know. But the only way she's coming back is if she gets to win. Which means I have time go."
"You know what? If she wants to believe you're her competition. Fine. Then she can deal with the consequences. I'll wait for her to get over her issues." Harley said finishing a glass of water in a single draw and reaching for another barley wine.
"What if she doesn't?"
"Then I don't want her back."
"Harley you are too drunk to decide this right now."
"No. I try to be reasonable. I try to hear people out and come to agreements. I try to be nice. I don't intend to get walked on."
"She might tell your landlady." Marion pointed out.
"Fine then I'll fight Mrs. Critchwood. My friend is seeing visions and getting kicked around by life. I don't care if it's a tumour or if you're the next Buddha, I'm walking with you. As long as I'm around, you never have to walk alone."
"If you keeping talking that sentimental while we're this drunk, we're going to end the night sobbing about we love each other. Let's not go there."
"Agreed. Nobody wants to see that."
The evening seemed very much settled after that, and the two drank largely in a comfortable silence. Old Film noir dramas playing from the classic movie channel. Some time after one in the morning, Harley announced that he had reached his limit for weeknight drinking and headed off to bed, leaving Marion alone on the couch.
Feeling guilty relief over what Marion was fairly confident was the impending explosion dissolution of his best friend's romantic relationship with Amy, Marion pulled himself up and set about the kitchen and the living room. He put the pizza box in the garbage and rinsed out of the empty bottles and set them as quietly as he could into the recycling bin the kitchen before crashing on the couch to continue watching whatever would distract him.
When Marion found himself standing in the vast chessboard floored expanse, he just shook his head, "This is getting predictable."
Marion looked around for whatever the vision wanted to show him this time, and quickly spotted Darius Salt standing with hands clasped behind his back staring away from Marion. Behind Darius two soldiers in white tabbards stood holding a battered Mary Salt upright. Darius did not look back at the three figures.
One of the soldiers spoke, "We have captured the traitor, Mary Salt, in the name of the Locust King. What are your orders, sir? She stands accused of treason and witchcraft."
"Darius don't do this. You have a choice! Don't do this, don't be what they want you to be! This can be your story! You don't have to play the villain!"
Darius didn't turn around when he spoke, "You forced me into this situation. You left me with no choice."
"Your orders, sir?" The soldier asked again.
"You make your our choices Darius, nobody forces you to do anything. You choose who you will be in the story! Don't choose to be a monster!"
Darius waited until Mary had stopped speaking and then said, "You are hereby found guilty of the charges against you, and I and sentence you to die in the name of the locust king."
Marion looked around, but the seen was devoid of anyone else. Maia and Fitzroy were noticeably absent.
One soldier stomped on the back of Mary's knees, dropping her to the ground, as the second soldier drew his sword. Mary was still trying to reason with Darius when the soldier brought the blade down and her voice went silent.
"She forced me into this situation," Darius said, "I didn't kill her, her own stubbornness killed her." Darius finally turned around, and he did so, he immediately noticed Marion and his eyes widened, "You again! This is your fault! I'll make you pay for what you did?"
"Wow, you really are working the self-delusion angle aren't you?" Marion deadpanned.
"Kill him! Kill the dreamer!" Darius screamed to the soldiers. The first soldier drew his sword and the two charged Marion.
Marion summoned up his twin Tomahawks, and noted to himself that he was getting better at doing so. Part of Marion was thinking that he should run, but he was also thinking about what everything meant that he'd been seeing. And it seemed pretty clear that the visions wanted him to act. On the other hand, he didn't know how to use the tomahawks and had only helped kill the wendigo through surprise and luck last time. The soldiers were almost within striking range now, and Marion's chance to make a break for it was disappearing with each foot fall. On the other hand, Marion remembered the first dream, where he had effortlessly known how to fight the the tomahawks and where these knights had been so much cannon fodder. Maybe he could do that again.
"That's right isn't it?" Marion said as he drifted into a ready stance without thinking about it. "I am the Dreamer. Everyone else seems to know it, even my subconscious seems to know it. Alright. Fine. If this is a story and I'm supposed to join the story, then fine. The universe can stop kicking me, because I'm ready to take my place in the story. And that means you imperial stormtroopers aren't fighting Marion Day, you're fighting the Dreamer! Whatever that means."
The soldiers entered combat range and Marion was ready. He'd never felt so ready, and the feeling was beautiful. It wasn't a fight, it was a massacre set to ballet. The Dreamer moved like a dervish and the soldier's sword cut nothing but breeze Marion left as he moved. In the span of a single breath, both soldiers lay dead and The Dreamer stood inside a crimson ring now painted on the black and white floor.
Darius glared at the Dreamer, "You don't know the fight you're in for now boy. My wife played your part in the story before you! Look what happened to her! I kill storytellers. You think awakening to your role as the Dreamer will save you? I just killed the Dreamer! I can do it again!"
Marion jolted awake on the couch with a monstrous headache and Darius Salt's threats still ringing in his ears.
"Well that raised the level of engagement significantly." Marion muttered.
Harley was standing in the kitchen mixing smoothies.
"Great. You're up." He said and turned on the blender. The sound of metal blades grinding ice jolted the last bit of slumber from Marion's consciousness and forced him to cover his ears.
"How are you so chipper?" Marion asked when the blender stopped. Harley poured out the smoothie into two glasses and handed one to Marion along with several aspirin.
"One of us drank half his weight in water last night, the other kept explaining that water would dilute the intoxication."
"Sounds like me." Marion muttered.
"Ready for a run?" Harley asked.
"No really. I don't any running clothes anymore. Remember?"
"You can borrow mine, we are different enough sizes my my running gear won't fit you. Come one. You love to run, it will feel good. Down the shake and take your pain meds like a man and let's put miles on your shoes."
"You're not going to give on this are you?"
"Nope. So unless you want me to be late for work, we'd better get going." Harley grinned.
"That's blackmail."
"Yes, it is."
"Fine, let me get changed."
Harley and Marion had not come from wealthy family's and sports had been out of the question growing up unless it was something cheap. Soccer would have been manageable, but both boys had found that they liked the running better than the kicking and liked running without being surrounded by other screaming kids. Running had been meditative for both of them since they were about ten years old. After about a mile, Marion's headache began to wane as the rhythm of the run took over.
"I wish I could just run every day," Harley said as the did there best to float above the pavement, running lightly and smoothly, "I swear I could hit all the main states in a year."
"I bet you could. You'd need to win the lottery."
"That's the only escape from this life, isn't it? If I won the lottery, I'd go pro and compete as a professional runner. We could do it together."
"I'd keep running if I won the lottery. I don't know if I would want to compete. I want to run a video blog site, do commentary and film review and that sort of thing. But, yeah, I'd still run."
The ran about eight miles before calling it quits so they would have time to pick up their lottery ticket before Marion had to leave for work. The Boys always bought their lotto tickets at 'Gnu News' a little corner and news stand that opened early every day. They picked their lotto numbers based on their times for the run: total time, distance run, fast mile time, and whatever else they needed to fill the numbers. Harley then pulled out his lucky keychain with the red shoe key tag that acted as a bottle opener and rubbed the shoe on the tickets. And then they paid and left with their tickets.
They'd run a little longer that they probably had time for, and so Harley had to leap into the shower and change for work in a hurry. Marion stood back and let him rush, Marion had no place to hurry off to today. Harley grabbed several tubes of snack yogurt and a frozen burrito to take as lunch and then disappeared out the door.
Marion was pretty sure at this point that he was doomed to unemployment, and so Marion wasn't in a hurry. The television was still on and displaying the local news as Marion grabbed some water to finish mitigating his hang over. Then audio from the television drew his attention and Marion stared in shock as the News reported on the murder of Mary Salt, wife of local businessman Darius Salt, and on the kidnapping of their children. Darius Salt was reported to be offering a huge cash reward for the return of his children. The news played a brief clip of an interview with Darius Salt.
The reported asked Darius why he offered a reward, "I want to remind the kidnappers of the stakes. It's a lot of money, and anyone who thinks the reward won't motivate people to look for my children is a dreamer."
Marion froze, his glass of water half poured.
"Did you want to say anything to the kidnappers?" The reporter asked.
"What they've done is stupid. Morality is black and white here. They're dreaming if they think they'll get away with this."
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