Duval Dirtbag

The Stray

Chapter 48 - Goldilocks’ Bear (Non-Playable Character)

Michael turned from the house out to the walkway from whence they came. Hearing an odd noise, he lifted the rifle that he’d been given and turned the light on it on. To be honest, it was the only part of the safety instructions he’d paid attention to: where was the safety and how to turn on the searchlight; as he had no intention of pulling the trigger. His beam of light arced into the rain that was quickly raising the water level in the walkway. The door to every cage along the walkway was open. Lions, tigers and bears were on the loose.

“I don’t know what y’all would be able to compare to a bear. But it’s big and mean and usually wins in an argument.” Michael shakily whispered. He started to hear Joph’rena growling in his earpiece but could hear something else growling that was much closer to him. He stepped off of the wooden porch now slick with rain. Without thinking about it, he took a step down and didn’t wait to see if his body stopped at the step. It did not. Watch that first step, it’s a doozy.

Michael watched as the gun in his hands lifted up away from his chest. His feet followed the gun up into his line of sight. He noticed, as if in slow motion, that the treeline moved downward as the rest of him went upward. The next thing he knew he heard a thunk and then nothing.

In the blackness, Michael assessed any signs of pain. There were none. No pain, but almost a warmth surrounded him. In this comfortable, safe space, he asked the void. ”Why do I feel like an NPC?”

A familiar voice replied. It was warm and welcoming. It wasn’t intimidating or frightening. I don’t know. Even NPCs are fan favorites.

”Right?” Michael replied, leaning into the warmth. “Who am I?”

You’re the main character.

”But I don’t feel real?”

What do you mean, “real”?

“Real like...” Michael paused to figure out what he meant. “Like I’m making a difference.”

Your life has meaning.

“Thanks, I guess, Voice from the Void.” Michael felt an increasing warmth, as though you could feel a chuckle instead of hearing or seeing it. “But, I feel like the world is happening around me and I’m just existing in it.”

There was a thoughtful pause, then the Void spoke back. If we’re using terms like ‘NPC’ and ‘main character’, have you ever felt like the hero in a game?

”I guess.”

Did you ever make meaningful decisions in the game?

”Sometimes.”

Did your voice directly impact the game?

”No, not really.”

Doesn’t it feel like video games are on rails and you’re doing what was written for you to do to move the story forward?

”Not always but mostly yeah.”

Do you think you are living your life or are you existing in your life? Riding the rails? Or are you in control?

”Riding the rails. Making my way through life, not knowing what’s coming next.” Michael chuckled ruefully to himself. He felt the warmth again. “Kind of like Mr. Magoo.”

Do you want to keep on doing that?

”No. Not necessarily. I mean I’ve made bad decisions on purpose. ‘Try anything four times.’” Michael quoted himself to the Void.

Sure. Have you considered making any good decisions? Thinking about what those good decisions may be based upon?

”Hmm” Michael didn’t have a good answer.

What are you about? What are your values?

”Ultimately, I’m a pacifist.”

Oh?

”I play violent games and I have masculine fantasies that TV has taught me to have.”

Rambo. Terminator. Uh huh. Go on.

”But I don’t want to do those things. I don’t see a value in them. I feel extreme guilt over Sarah Macloughlan’s sick animal commercials. I can’t imagine hitting a sick dog. Or even a dog who was well. I can’t imagine hurting someone on purpose.”

Then you want to make the largest change that does the least damage?

”How do you mean?”

How do you mean?

”Honestly, Void. What do you mean?”

I am your subconscious helping you process things while you are unconscious.

”I’m unconscious?”

Oh yes very much so. But when you wake up do you want to be the NPC or the hero?

”Or do I want to be something completely different?”

Completely different? Like what?

”Like being myself.”

***

Michael woke up feeling wet. The kind of bone-wet that he’d only read about in cowboy books. His limbs felt heavy and floppy. His head weighed a hundred or more pounds. He turned his head a little too quickly, the heaviness of it plus gravity plus his own body feeling like it had been chewed up and spat out. Sight restoring slowly, Michael folded his fingers in to touch fingertips in a flat O. Viscous liquid coated them. The pools of fallen rain felt thicker than they should.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Michael blinked to clear his vision and brought his fingertips closer to his face. They were practically purple. He heard rasping breaths. He steeled himself, clenching his arms and legs and core to roll his body in line with his head. His arm resisted then shifted to accommodate the step of the deck that hadn’t cradled his head. A bubble formed from a higher step slipped down the side of the step and popped in Michael’s face.

The suddenness of movements, the complete soaking weight opposition to his equilibrium and the smell of whatever had been in the bubble that splashed his face were enough to make him vomit.

Groaning as he drew himself upright, Michael surveyed his surroundings. It hadn’t been too long between his loss of consciousness and now. Wind and rain were still whipping their way across the ranch where they had tracked Finley and Rachel.

Floodlights were on at this point but who knew how long they’d hold. They revealed the enclosures to be empty. Looking closer to himself, Michael saw a number of lumps on the ground around him. Surrounding the lumps was a pool. Looking around behind him at the deck, he saw the gigantic mound that used to be a bear. “Shit!” he exclaimed before he shot up like a bullet. At standing level he could see a well-scratched Shil’vati Marine leaned up against the outside wall of the cabin. There were two others attending to the wounded one. In the doorway, Rachel was already sitting like a mermaid on a sandbar; her hair slung in front of her. Besides being on the ground and in a dramatic position, she seemed unharmed.

Rachel met eyes with Michael. He, as always, noted her angelic round face. Her eyes, though, her eyes beamed murder to everyone around her, except Michael. To him she seemed to call for safety, security, escape.

Behind Rachel, Joph’rena was dragging Finley into place; holding him by the scruff of his neck. Finley’s teeth were bared and was growling in murderous tones. “Motherfuckers.” Joph’rena said nothing until Finley and Rachel were both on the porch, in the light, with lasers trained on them.

Once settled, Joph’rena looked at Michael and smiled. “Why hello Sunshine!” She huffed contentedly. “You missed all the fuss.” She said as she gestured at the carnage around them: Finley and Rachel cornered on the deck practically frothing at the mouth in rage; the bear that was standing in for Rachel on the couch was now laid out fur-rug style on the porch though its mass took up a vast amount of space, laser burns made the air a fragrant mix of burnt hair and flesh; Michael couldn’t tell heads or tails about the wolf that was sitting in for Finley, but could tell that a Jaguar and a Lion had tried to join the party on the porch. They were uncomfortably close to where he had been lying unconscious. “Thanks for being the bait for us! You kept those big cats distracted while we dealt with this bear thing or whatever you called it.”

Shuddering with fear, Michael tried breathing with little success. “Thanks? I guess. For keeping me alive?”

Joph’rena shrugged. “Call it a bonus.” She kicked Rachel over from her semi seated position. “This is one of yours. What do you think we should do with her?”

“Do with her?” Michael asked. “Isn’t there going to be a trial? Won’t there be any questions? Aren’t those decisions above our paygrade?”

“Not mine.” Joph’rena replied with a tone of indifference. “In fact, it’s well within my means to decide what to do with this murderous, sadistic, terrorist.” She bent down closer with more menacing demeanor toward Rachel with the last three words. Then she straightened up and looked at Michael. “But I’m gifting you that opportunity.”

Michael looked down at his hands. They were covered in the blood of various creatures and species. He was pretty sure that a lot of his body was covered in this bloody mess.

In the worst case, what’s one more body? Michael thought. But also, I’ve never killed a person. What will that do for me other than live in my insides for the rest of my days. I mean, I have affection for her, we dated or whatever and that ran its course. Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean I want her dead.

“Can’t we take her in front of a judge?” Michael pleaded.

“I am that judge.” Joph’rena insisted.

“Please!” Rachel insisted. “Please kill me, Michael!” Michael turned to her in shock. “I’m not going to live under the heel of these Purple Bitches!”

“These Purple Bitches gave you a new arm!” Joph’rena spat back.

Rachel snapped back. “I wouldn’t have needed a new arm in the first place if you hadn’t removed it from me!”

“Standing in the way of progress means that the chaff will get trimmed.”

Rachel grimaced. “Seems like someone trimmed you down a little too.” She said as she tongued in her own mouth where Joph’rena’s missing tusk was and winked.

Joph’rena fumed. Before she could get her next jab out, Michael repeated. “I ‘get’ to choose Rachel’s fate.” Michael turned to Finley. “What happens to him?”

Joph’rena turned her gaze to Finley. “He’s not going anywhere until he tells us about his Auror friends.” His fangs were holstered when the Aurors were mentioned.

“I don’t know what all these two have going on, but she may be used to leverage something out of him.” Michael said to Joph’rena pointing at Rachel and then Finley.

Finley said solemnly, “Better luck with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked in surprise.

“She’s still in love with you.” Finley admitted.

“What?” Michael asked, mouth agape.

Rachel twisted toward Finley accusingly, but looked back at Michael. “It’s true.” She closed her eyes before continuing. “Michael, you’re the love of my life. You left me and my world fell apart. Then the actual world fell apart when the Shil’s invaded.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe I contorted the two together; my feelings for you had nowhere to go until the invasion and I had the time, energy and opportunity to make a difference in the world.”

Michael had to pause to process what she was saying. “But you didn’t just kill Shil’vati, you killed Humans as well.”

“Humans who accepted Shil’vati rule. If that’s the case, they’re just as bad as them. I see no difference.” Rachel declared. Her stance softened. “Then I saw you on the Shil’vati base in Jacksonville talking with that Purple Bitch just before our plans for the men to attack the base unfolded. They just needed a signal.”

Michael almost whispered. “And Serca became your starting pistol.”

“Her name was Serca?” Rachel asked. “Did you love her?”

Michael stared blankly. “I’d just met her the night before. She was the highlight of the experience for sure. Just before we got outside when you shot her, I had been–”

Before Michael could complete his thought, Rachel asked point blank. “Did you love her, Michael, like I love you?”

Michael’s patience was exhausted. “No!” He remembered Serca’s face exploding in front of him. He remembered Pennar’dun yelling at him as she forced herself upon him. He thought of all the mangled bodies that he’d seen because of Rachel’s confused aggression. “In either case!” He took a breath and looked at the blood crusting up in his hands. “But no one deserves to die.”

Rachel’s face wrenched with sadness. She couldn’t look at Michael. “I didn’t deserve to lose you!” Even Finley flinched at that. “As far as I’m concerned, no one deserves anything. We earn everything we get.”

“Agreed.” Joph’rena purred with satisfaction before removing a pistol and directing it at Rachel’s head.

Michael threw his arms in Rachel’s direction. “You said this was my decision.”

Rachel threw her white hot hate at Joph’rena, though she was talking to Michael. “I will keep on fighting the Imperium whether anyone likes it or not.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists.” Joph’rena said flatly before she pulled the trigger.

There was nothing Michael could do. He was too late. Rachel had signed her fate, perhaps a long time ago. He dropped his arms; the rest of his body followed to the ground. He crumpled both inside and out. He wasn’t sure how he was going to save Rachel, but Joph’rena had given him the deciding power and then took it away. Or did Rachel take that deciding power away from Michael? He wished that everyone could just get along but even he couldn’t maintain a relationship with her. And maybe he saw that he couldn’t or shouldn’t back when he broke up with her but some part of him hoped–not that they would get back together, but that he could save her. Heh, Michael thought, I would be her knight in shining armor–literally–just to keep her alive another day only for her to not only not be with me, but to be angry at the way the world was.

The Marines under Joph’rena’s command scooped Michael up and took Finley away in chains. They whisked away in Shil’vati ships headed to orbit to avoid any further interaction with the hurricane.

***

Later a scrawny man with a bleach-blonde mullet drove up to the site of the carnage in a jeep with Royal Tiger emblazoned on the doors. His boots squelched on the muddy, bloody gravel of which the pathway between big cat enclosures was composed. He smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. He took a deep breath which made his neon blue and cheetah print silk shirt ruffle and exhaled, “I will never financially recover from this.”