SAVE POINT 94
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"Whoa, Nellie," I wheeze to the enormous bird under me, feeling it grind to a choppy halt as I yank on the reins like pumping the breaks on the tiny Nissan the ex currently owns and not me. Damn that reminder. I could be in the fucking desert and still think of that woman. I pat the ostrich's side, feeling its oily feathers under my palm. And, shit, I feel like Moses reaching the end of that tree line, breaching it and seeing the ocean rising up in the distance—like I just reached deliverance for all of us to not have to see another God-forsaken tree looming with all that nonsense darkness.
I led my people through the metaphorical desert—I did. We fled on these wonky birds. Those zombies are no fucking joke, boys and girls.
And, now, we're free of the looming forest. I finally have some sun on my face just to look ahead and see—
There's a group on the horizon.
What have we here?
I'm not super graceful, but I am pretty great at falling; I slide off the ostrich and to the ground. The sandy dirt jars my knees and my bones more than expected but, hey, what do you want when you spend most of your days barefoot? It's not all pumpkin juice, you know?
The freckled, ruler-up-her-ass part of M&M (no, I won't admit her real name which I just realized is Mimi) rushes up next me, the ostrich beneath her making grunt-like squawking noises and trying to spit out the halter. The girl's mouth falls open in shock, "Grand Dragon, it's Rosabella—" Her whisper is reverent. Wait... Oh shit, she means that main character girl?
The girl takes off at a gallop towards the group. She's quickly replaced by skank blonde, clearly wrestling with the bird under her too and having a time of it with those spindly arms of hers. "I hate that my main job right now is to follow her around," she confides in me, nodding at the dust the freckled girl is kicking up as she races forward.
I nod back, trying to keep it smooth like one should always do with blondes—even if they are skanky, "I feel that." I keep bobbing my head like, somehow, that'll make her hate me less, but I only see the annoyance pool larger in her eyes.
She scowls openly at me, her lips drawing into a self-entitled pout. "You're so high you probably don't feel anything," she mocks.
Touche, touché. People around here really are getting to know me.
"Listen, I gotta take a whizz over there"—I point, probably unhelpfully, to a wooded patch—so, if you need me, I'll be..." But I realize I'm talking to myself. I turn around and the girl's gone—one 'M' chasing after the other. Now, that's the story of pretty much everyone's life right there. But metaphorical lesson or not, I have to pee, and a man's gotta do his business when a man's gotta—
I wouldn't have chugged that energy drink if I knew we were ostrich riding for miles without a break, err... I pause, running my fingers through my blonde dreads.
Nah, who am I kidding: I still would have chugged the thing.
I'm halfway through the piss when I hear somethig non-piss-like.
Stolen novel; please report.
Bushes.
Crackling.
Oh shit. Something big. My mind instantly goes to a black bear which has me already zipping my pants with trembling fingers, but—well, the possibility of undead zombie is also equally high and equally scary on the list of possibilities...
Shit, shit, shit, shit—
I try to sneak out of the brush without tripping some kind of motion sensor alarm, but I was always kinda bad at that; you should have seen me when I tried to break back into my woman's house after she ousted me. She had my second-best surf board, you know? ...Uh, I guess I'll be real, it was about the wad of weed I'd left hidden in my sock drawer, but who's keeping track? 'Forgot about the stupid alarm and couldn't remember her birthday for the pass code. It was 2am and the cops showed up—mega awkward. Plus, it meant I couldn't tell them about the weed—err, surfboard. Rough night for all, especially for her little, yappy dog who I kicked when it went to torch my ankle with its razor-sharp incisors. Man, I'm an animal-lover, I swear to God, but that thing's a fucking piranha. Back to the life-or-death, piss situation, though:
I crouch in the ferns feeling like a moron ten-year-old who nearly shit himself after a horror movie and—
Are those...voices? I strain forward, around a tree trunk, to hear. The bark scratches at my palms.
"I get you, dude, I do," whispers a raspy man's voice, "They shouldn't have her tied up like that—"
"It's messed up—" A second agrees.
"That freckled girl Mimi is getting on my last nerve. I say we free the huge dragon, let it fry everyone and get the hell outta here." A third voice? I can't really tell...
"Or maybe we should tie them up," huffs the first, "It's good to be king, you know?"
Oh, I know. And sounds like one of these nerds thinks he has dibs on the title when I clearly delivered them all through the zombie madness. Apparently, they've forgotten who organized this chat room. Time to squash a little rebellion. Shaking my pants down in line with my boxers, I step confidently out of the brush.
There was no bear, folks.
No zombies.
Just blood-thirsty fantasy nerds. All in a day's work.
The ground is hot on the soles of my feet, but, if you walk quick, it doesn't burn as bad, so I have about half the pads on my heels burned off by the time I reach the group. They're hugging and smiling and fucking kissing babies and shit—no, for real, there's a child there. Who the hell mixed a child up in this galactic mess?
Rosabella nudges Dormouse in the rib-cage playfully. "Your man saved my life...probably at least twice over," she jests, smiling at Mimi.
...Apparently, she didn't get the memo. I haven't even been allowed to off-handedly mention the nerd kid for days to the freckled twit; she's that bitter about it.
"I—" Dormouse starts, turning tomato red—not his best look—and shoving his hands under his mighty-fine, green cloak.
"He's not..." Mimi stumbles, "I mean..."
Looks like my perfect moment to barge in. In typical drama club fashion, I clear my throat theatrically, waiting till all eyes dart to my face to make my move. "I just wanted to let you know that the Slytherin nerds are planning a coup," I detail, scratching at the top of my head and feeling my dreads shake, "I'm all for Napoleon, you know, so..." I fiddle with my fingers, finding a pretty gross cut there. Damn woods.
"A coup?" Joy demands around a bobby pin as she winds her pink-hair into an enormous bun at the crown of her head, "Who?"
"We'll portal them out immediately," Mimi snaps.
Damn, if that girl is one thing, she's paranoid and efficient. ...Err...that's two things.
"No need," Rosabella steps forward. And it's almost like you can see the royalty dripping off her. Everyone immediately pauses or steps back. All eyes Velcro to her face when she speaks.
Shoot. I wish I had authority like that. Nobody'll hardly even listen to me most days....
"We don't need to worry about the coup because I'm going back to The Higher Place. We'll take the prisoners, and everyone is invited to either come or go. We'll come up with a plan on how to tackle the nerd situation when everyone's fed and had a good night's sleep. The stragglers are going to stray anyway, so we'll just have to find them later if we decide sending them back is the best option."
"Uh..." I raise my hand like it's school because everyone's nodding and I feel completely lost. "What's The Higher Place?" I must have skipped that part in the text...
Skank blonde turns to me, snapping her gum, "It's a palace where the Game Maker usually lives. Think grand, beautiful and food."
She's talking down to me like simplifying the thought for a five-year-old but...well, I don't really care at the moment 'cause... Wait, bros, there's a castle here???