Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
“You’d know a thing or two about jealousy… wouldn’t you, 35?” Velle says calmly, though no one believes he won’t totally pull a Sub-zero and rip Luthor’s spine out through his mouth. “Since your boy’s showering later so he can take a rough pounding from someone who isn’t you.”
Oh, snap…
“The only similarity between our situations is that Rook is obviously hooking up with other people to get your attention,” Luthor rumbles. Velle’s eyes go wide. “So it would appear that you’ve got your own Ren now, Officer.” Luthor smirks. “Enjoy the ride.”
Velle is visibly sizzling, and I’m subtly inching my body in front of my friend’s in case he needs a human shield.
But to all of our immense shock and awe, Velle simply huffs, and shakes his head.
“You’ve got some balls on you, kid.” He slaps a heavy palm down on Luthor’s shoulder, causing him to jump. “But speaking from personal experience… If you’d just let that horny monster of yours suck ‘em dry, you’d be a lot less stressed.” He winks. “Just sayin’.”
Luthor’s eyes narrow as Velle snaps at the group. “Alright, vamonos! Get the fucking lead out, Jesus…”
Everyone kicks back into motion, but I’m still reeling. I mean, Velle’s a dickhead, sure, but that was probably the tamest response I’ve ever seen him have to someone mouthing off.
It has me wondering if maybe last night didn’t end in the hallway for him either…
Whatever. Hopefully, he was getting his own action, not watching me get mine.
We’re shuffling quietly for a while, lost in our own thoughts. The voracity with which this shit is building up in my head is staggering, and I need to get it out before my brain explodes.
My book of secrets is calling to me.
When we reach the showers, Velle stops Luthor and mumbles, “I’ll go get Dash in a bit. Bring him up to shower when Ren goes.”
Luthor peeks at me, the two of us sharing an unspoken thought…
Velle was abducted by aliens last night, and this is a much calmer, more considerate species currently wearing his skin in order to walk amongst the human race. It’s the only explanation.
“Cool,” Luthor rasps, dumbfounded. “Thanks.”
Velle nods and sneers, “Of course, I can’t guarantee he won’t do something to get himself immediately sent back, since it seems to be M.O. But here’s hoping.”
He crosses his fingers, dripping in sarcasm, but still.
Perplexed, Luthor and I stalk into the showers.
“Who is that, and what did they do with Velle?” I huff.
“I’m no expert,” Luthor hums, “but I’d say he most definitely got some action with Rook last night… After the hallway.”
We peek at Velle, who’s standing at the entrance to the showers, still grinning.
He waves at us, and I huff, shaking my head.
“You go, Glen Coco.”
Now…
The battle is raging on. And if any of us have a prayer of putting an end to it—of winning—we’ll have to start thinking outside the box.
Specifically, outside of this stone box we’re huddling inside.
I’m not excited about driving Velle’s Harley around the island while the cartel shoots at me, shooting back and covering Felix so he can go all Flambo in the woods again, and take some of these pricks out to keep them from advancing. But I’ve accepted the facts.
This needs to be done. I’m sick of standing around waiting for more grenades to blow up more dudes, or for The Ivory’s men to inevitably shoot us with an RPG that we know they have.
I’m going to help. Because I have to.
Fuck sitting back, right?
I give Trevel one last kiss. Felix gives one to Lem—who’s doing mad work right now, saving lives and shit.
I might not have enough medical knowledge to do anything like that—though if they make it out alive, I could potentially help them with P.T.
But what I do have, in spades, is a high as fuck pain tolerance and a hardcore addiction to adrenaline. Oh, and the honed desire to kick the shit out of people for sport.
Hopping onto the bike, I smirk at Felix and pat the seat behind me. “Get in loser. We’re going to fuck shit up.”
Still with the Mean Girls references. I can’t help it.
Felix looks excited, and it has me chuckling. As weird as it sounds, he kinda feels like the younger brother I never had but always kind of wanted.
He’s about to climb on when a yelp from across the room draws our attention.
Dash is visibly worked up, and Kemper is trying to calm him down. But it doesn’t seem to be working very well.
“Uh oh…” I mumble, standing up fast.
“Shit.” Luthor rushes to our friend, the rest of us not far behind.
“What’s going on?” Trevel asks me in a whisper.
“Dash has… schizophrenia,” I tell him, recognizing this all too well.
And just like that, I’m right back in the caf. Watching Dash freak the hell out, the day before he escaped.
I can practically smell the mushy pasta and cheap, overcooked jar sauce.
“Dash, bud…” Ren murmurs calmly. “You doing alright, pal?”
Kemper looks purely miserable, rubbing his eyes. “He hasn’t taken his meds…”
“Well, stuff ‘em in his mouth!” Brenner grunts.
“Why aren’t you outside taking bullets?” Luthor hisses at him.
“I’m on break, smart guy,” the dumb oaf replies, and we all shake our heads.
“He lost the bottle,” Kemper sighs, as if he’s too exhausted to even argue.
“Okay, everyone fan out and look!” Joy shouts.
“Yea, we’ll find them!” Felix nods enthusiastically.
“They’re most likely in the woods…” Kemper reaches for Dash, who’s now on his knees in the dirt, staring at his hands.
“I’ll go get ‘em.” Hancock jumps up while Dr. Love is trying to change out his bandage. “Hurry up, man.” He snaps his fingers at him.
“No, we’ll go,” I say, nodding at Felix. “We were already going. We can look for the meds while we’re out there.”
“You’ll never find them.” Kemper shakes his head despondently. “They could be literally anywhere between the mansion and here…”
“No one will find anything with that attitude.” Ren gives him a pointed look.
“Yea, I mean, we can at least try—”
Boom!
My words are cut off by another grenade. Farther away this time, but still close enough to rattle the walls and blow out our damn eardrums.
Joy runs to the door, rifle up. I can hear Velle screaming from outside. “Fall back!”
My ears are ringing, dust in the air prompting a coughing fit. Still, my main focus right now is Dash.
He’s up and looking around, no longer visibly freaking out. But he doesn’t seem… quite right.
Grabbing Felix by the arm, I croak. “Let’s go.”
He nods, but Kemper rushes us.
“I can’t let you guys do this,” he gasps. “You’ll get yourselves killed, and he’ll never forgive himself. And I’ll never forgive myself for him never forgiving himself.”
“We can handle it,” Felix assures.
But then Joy stomps over. “He’s right. It’s too dangerous out there. These assholes just aren’t letting up.”
“Time for Plan B,” Velle growls, storming over to Angel, grabbing the kid by the wrist.
“Whoa whoa! What the fuck?!” Trevel barks, jumping between them.
It’s anarchy in an instant. People are yelling and screaming, Velle is yanking Angel toward the door while Trevel and Felix attempt to pry him free.
Poor Angel’s like a Stretch Armstrong in the middle while the rest of us shout at them all to let go, or calm down, or something to the effect of stop it.
Suddenly, Dash stalks over, without a word. Almost in slow motion.
He gets right up to Velle, cocking his head. Velle actually pauses, distracted.
And then Dash knees him, right in the balls.
“Argh!” Velle roars, dropping to the ground with his hands cupping the goods.
“Oh, shit!” My gasp turns to a chuckle I’m trying like hell to hide, though it’s pretty damn funny.
“Reznikov! What the shit is wrong with you?!” Velle groans.
“Dascha, what the hell did you do??” Kemper snorts, shaking his head.
Rook and Joy are by Velle’s side, attempting to comfort him and not laugh openly. In fact, all of the shouting from just seconds ago has turned to laughter. Mildly sympathetic, but mostly like… Yea, he still deserves it.
He may be a different guy now, but that doesn’t negate all the shit he pulled before he fell in love. I’d say a dozen or two more of those might barely scratch the surface.
“Déjà vu, huh?” Luthor snickers.
“Dad’s not gonna be able to make any growly man-bun-wearing gorilla babies if you keep attacking his jewels like that!” Ren exclaims.
“Are you insinuating that I might… become pregnant??” Joy blinks, horrified.
“Yea, I can’t picture it,” Kemper says.
“Me neither,” I agree.
“Me freaking neither!” Joy gasps.
“Um, I was thinking of Rook, but sure, we can go with yours,” Ren mutters.
“Shut… up,” Velle chokes, sitting up with a pained breath. “101… fuck, I’m gonna whip you across the room by your pink hair.”
Joy whispers something to him, most likely about Dash’s current state, which has Velle losing most of his rage. And now we’re all back to watching Dash, who’s just sort of dazedly wandering around, mumbling under his breath.
I don’t understand much of what he’s saying. Some of it is in Russian—none of the limited phrases he was able to teach me in his barely two months in prison. Some are names…
“Callum… You said your name… was Callum.”
Luthor’s face pales at the same time that Ren’s brow furrows.
But when he says, “Shadowman,” all of my muscles tense.
Fuck…
Fuck fuck fuck.
This is bad.
Dash’s face drops into his hands as he whines and gasps, fingers raking back to yank fistfuls of pink. He looks pained, and it’s killing me as well.
He knows…
On some level, he must know. And like the disorder that plagues his mind, the truth is attacking him too.
Being lost somewhere between reality and hallucination must be the worst feeling ever.
The way I felt when I was drugged by The Ivory.
I loved it in the moment… But it wasn’t real, and that’s the worst part.
If Dash thought he was with Kemper… but it was really just the Shadowman…
God, that’s such a miserable sense of disorientation.
The unintentional proxy.