Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > R.I.P.
Chapter 1
13 ReviewsSent straight to a hospice for the orphaned dying, four teenagers have no idea the twists and turns that lie ahead on the last road of life...
I've come back to add a note on all my stories to any new readers who may come along, or to anyone who may come back to read again. Smooshy and I have created our own MCR fanfiction site where we've posted all of our stories and we're deliciously writing new dark ones!! We appreciate all the love and support you all have offered us over the years so much and we want to continue sharing with you and having you share with us. We hope you'll come and check out our new site. It's free to join and has all kinds of fun pictures and themes for you to enjoy as well as new stories!! We hope to see you there to carry on this relationship we've built together through being fans of My Chem and Creative Writing. Thank you from the bottom of our little black hearts and we hope to see you soon! www.fanficfanatics.com xo Harley
This story will be a longish one and I hope you’ll like it. I’m marketing it as Dramatica Horror though it won’t be dripping with sex or frighteningly terrifying either. There will be sex though, both m/f and m/m so be warned now and note the disclaimers for each chapter. I’ll post reminders when there will be sexual situations as they will be rich with the detail I have come to be known for. Haha Please be responsible. If you’re underage, please find a story or chapter that is not NC-17 as it is rated for a reason. As for the horror, it will be more of a dark mystery but there really isn’t a description in the box for that. I like to think outside the box anyway. This story will be dark as well as have some humor and it will all come to a hopefully riveting end. I hope you stick around for it. I’m reviving my Mikey character from Life Lessons a little bit, though with a few alterations. I hate to keep doing it to Mikey as it has nothing to do with the real man himself. But none of them portray the real people anyway and that character is just so much fun to write. I hope you won’t mind the similarities in the character revival. Please let me know how I’m doing along the way. You guys drive me and I appreciate it so much!
This story is a complete and total work of fiction. Names and images have been used based on those of actual people for frame of imagery reference ONLY. The people these fictional characters are based upon in no way share the thoughts, views, personalities, morals, traits, agree with or have knowledge, of any part of this story. It is a complete work of fiction stemmed from my imagination and should be treated as such. All rights are copyrighted and cannot be reproduced without the Author’s (my) permission. It is fiction and it is mine. But so long as you’re here…welcome to my world…xoxo Harley Quinn
(R.I.P.)
The Reality Immortality Project
By:
Harley Quinn
“I had swooned; but still will not say that all of consciousness was lost. What of it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet all was not lost. In the deepest slumber -- no! In delirium -- no! In a swoon -- no! In death -- no! Even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. Arousing from the most profound of slumbers, we break the gossamer of some dream. Yet in a second afterward, (so frail may that web have been) we remember not that we have dreamed. In the return to life from the swoon there are two stages; first, that of the sense of mental or spiritual; secondly, that of the sense of physical, existence. It seems probable that if, upon reaching the second stage, we could recall the impressions of the first, we should find these impressions eloquent in memories of the gulf beyond. And that gulf is -- what?”
~ Edgar Allan Poe ~
~The Pit and the Pendulum ~
As the train slowly pulled to a stop at another station, Callie Snow hardly took notice at all. Her delicate hand continued to script across her journal in fluent marking to embed her words across the pages. They were proof that she was there at one time. They would outlive her for sure. She was not as powerful as the permanent ink on those pages. Callie was temporary in that world; brief in its air, like the drying of the ink that would outlive her. Callie Snow was dying and sixteen years had not been enough to prepare her for it. But before she left…Callie would leave her mark. She continued to write…
‘Imagination is the most skilled and straying lover I have ever known. I am my Muse’s mistress…and a loyal one at that. While sweet Imagination wanders…I remain steadfast, knowing it will always return to me. Neither my Imagination nor I can exist without the other; each incomplete without our fusion. Together though… magic! But like all good magicians, there is always a trick. And neither one of us will ever divulge our secrets to the other…even though one day we will share the same grave.’
She stared down at the paragraph, weighing her satisfaction in her editing. Callie tucked a long blonde strand of hair behind her ear, a comforting nostalgic code her mother had ingrained in the young girl’s memory. It was a nuance of endearment, comfort and care. Her mother had spent Callie’s entire life taking care of her daughter and nursing her. Every late night visit to the Emergency Room only to baffle the doctors after a battery of tests that revealed no solid answers. Every change of the bucket by Callie’s bedside as she wasted away in that healthy pink room. Every painful swallow of pills that seemed to only destroy the girl more…Callie’s mother was there by her side for it all. And now she was gone. Callie’s only comfort was that she would be with her again soon when the disease finally claimed the last of her life. It had taken her entire life so far. Now, it was only a matter of time. Closing the journal with her pen inside, Callie did not want to write anymore. She was tired. Always tired.
Sitting back in the train car in the quiet of her cabin, Callie closed her eyes and imagined the destination before her final one. After the fire claimed both her parents while Callie slept in the hospital only five miles away, there had been no family left to take the girl in. It had been a bigger shock than the news from Dr. Bishop that the hospital could not figure out what was wrong with her; a rare incurable disease they could not identify in order to treat. Her body was shutting down systematically. There was no hope. But there was still her mother. And then…she was gone too. The double shock had come with only a month between the two life-altering disasters. Then, Dr. Bishop stepped up and intervened in the only way he knew how.
Dr. Bishop, both a Board Certified Doctor of Medicine and Psychology, had come in late to the perplexing scenario of Callie’s unidentifiable disease. A seasoned veteran of his trade, the salt and pepper-haired man had devoted his life to the hopeful preservation of dying youth. He cared deeply for his patients and watched over them like his own. Dr. Bishop had run more tests than the hospital could afford and he was the only person Callie knew as well as her mother. They were both always there, taking care of her. They held her hand through the pricking of needles for the input of meds and the drawing of blood. They let her hear their voices while she endured the claustrophobia of catscans and MRIs. They were always present so she would not feel alone. But Callie was alone. Though it all, deep down, it was just her and the disease that would eventually take her life.
When Dr. Bishop suggested that she come to his home by the sea instead of the government hospice, she had agreed if only because he was the closest thing to family Callie had left. It did not matter to her if she passed on in a cold sterile room or a warm house by the ocean though. She was going to die either way. The last thing she saw before that happened would leave little impact for long. After leaving the hospital and being given the ticket Dr. Bishop paid for himself, Callie had committed herself to arriving at his home. Having somewhere to go after all she had lost, Callie had even begun to feel a little better. Perhaps she had simply found comfort in resolving to die and settling on a place to do it. It would be private and comfortable and Callie had heard of its beautiful view that could work wonders for the soul. There was no hope for a miracle as it had been explained to her many times by Dr. Bishop. But he had also told her that wonders were still fair game, and she should embrace them whenever they came along.
The door to the cabin swung open as two boys laughed their way right through the door, falling over one another and pushing their way in. The first had jet black hair, as inky as Callie’s pen could write. His nose was sharp with a small raise at the end that showed no pretentious bone in its rise. His laughing eyes danced between gold and green before clouding into a dark hazel of intrigue as they fell over Callie in the tiny stateroom. The more slender boy, who continued to push the first inside, the playfully hard push only a brother could get away with, was taller and yet younger looking. His chocolate hair matched his eyes, though the wide orbs swirled with a caramel hue that matched his sweetly innocent demeanor.
“Are you Callie?” the first boy asked, straightening up as the other pushed past him and pressed to the window with a smile.
She was startled by the energy the boys brought into the quiet room. Callie had been told she would be accompanied by two other patients of Dr. Bishop’s who had been offered the same opportunity to reside at his home in lieu of the hospice. The only thing she knew of them was that they had lost their mother some months ago and the three of them would travel the distance together to the good doctor’s retirement home. It was a retirement of sorts for all of them.
Realizing he was staring at her with polite expectancy, she shook away her thoughts and finally answered. “I – I’m Callie,” she nodded. “You must be…” She had forgotten the name already. It was uncommon but not unusual, she knew. But names were not at the top of Callie’s thoughts those days. She did not feel the need to learn them, unsure of how long she would be around to remember them. She had wasted the time in learning too many names of patients in the hospital only to have them be discharged if they got better, or disappear when they got worse for the last time.
“Gerard,” he smiled, filling in the blank she left and sitting down across from her. He looked up at the other boy who giggled excitedly as his entire body pressed against the window and the train began to move. He reached up and pinched the back of the boy’s shirt, pulling him down next to him and across from Callie. “This is my brother, Mikey. Say hi,” he told him.
“Hi,” Mikey smiled and waved, jumping back up to watch the world speed by as the train picked up speed.
Gerard shook his head at the boy’s enthusiasm. “Forgive my brother. He’s…easily distracted,” he laughed.
Mikey tapped the glass. “Look at the deer!” he squealed excitedly. “Aww,” he sighed, pressing his cheek to the glass as he tried to look back and the train barreled forward. “It’s gone so fast.”
Callie watched Mikey closely. He was taller than she was and perhaps a year older yet he seemed more simple than she could ever remember being except at a young age. His fingers danced over the glass like spider legs as he stared at everything, calling out whatever he saw as though recognizing the name of it instead of pointing it out.
“Stop sign! Bridge! Lake! Tree!” Mikey slowed down as his enthusiasm seemed to wear off and they got further into the country where there was less to see. “Bird…telephone pole…tree…dead people.”
“What?” Gerard gasped, jumping up and pushing his brother aside to look out the window as Callie sat glued to her seat. He laughed and shook his head, sitting back down. “Cemetery,” he smiled at the perplexed girl across from him. She nodded slowly, obviously confused and too embarrassed to ask. Gerard was used to it though. It did not take much time around his younger brother to figure out something was different about him. Gerard had become accustomed to filling in the blanks before people’s judgments found a reason of their own. “He’s not retarded,” he smiled.
Callie was shocked by the blatant remark and embarrassed by what look she must have portrayed for him to read her mind. “I didn’t…”
He nodded. “It’s okay. You didn’t have to. It’s the first thing people assume. He’s not though,” Gerard said casually without critique of her unspoken presumption. “He’s just…simple,” he shrugged. “He’s been sick his whole life…like me. Maybe it’s genetic.”
He launched into their story like he had told it a hundred times. And maybe he had. Callie had told hers too many times to count but the latest events of her own were too fresh to relay with such casual informality. Still, she listened, intrigued.
“I didn’t get sick until I was about three but Mikey practically came into the world afflicted. Our mom was kind of a pro by then at taking care of a sick kid but she really threw herself into Mikey.” Gerard shrugged. “I guess cause he was so small and helpless.” He watched his brother’s back, as Mikey quietly listed the things he saw, listening to Gerard in the pauses in between. “She coddled him though,” he sighed, “obsessively trying to protect him from the world. Home-schooled him even,” he shook his head. “Lot of good it did. The only thing that can hurt him…is already inside him,” Gerard said softly. “She never let him grow up,” he said with sad regret. “Maybe cause she thought he never would. I don’t really know,” he added. “I know she meant well. She always did. But I think she hurt him worse than she helped him.”
Callie was at a loss for a response. What do you say to a stranger who just told you that his mother stunted her child because he was sick and if she could not see him grow up, would rather keep him a child forever? It was an awful thing to do and yet Gerard seemed bothered but at peace with it. It was hard to judge the dead though; especially when you knew you would soon be one of them.
“What’s that?” he asked, noticing her quiet discomfort and pointing to Callie’s book, changing the subject. She held it up protectively to her chest as though unsure of whether to share or even where to begin. The leather bound book had a soft papered plate on the front for a title she had filled out herself as he read it aloud. “Diary of the Damned and Dying.” Gerard grinned as he joked, “A comedy?”
Callie had to smile. She was in no place to be joking about death as she spiraled toward it but Gerard made it seem somewhat okay. “Tragedy,” she said softly. “I like to write,” she shrugged timidly, as though apologizing for her taste. “It’s nothing really.”
“If it really is your diary, I highly doubt it’s nothing,” Gerard smiled sweetly. “I bet it’s really somethin.”
She was too modest to agree; too dedicated to deny it. Callie spoke softly as though afraid of her own voice; as sometimes she was. She had been sick for nearly her whole life; fragile and guarded. On those pages she could be loud and forceful. In real life though, Callie was too far off the page to be as loud as her diary allowed her to be. “I just want to leave something behind. I want to be remembered,” she whispered.
“We all do,” Gerard nodded sympathetically.
Mikey backed away from the window and sat down, leaning his head on his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t feel so good, Gee,” he whimpered.
Gerard smiled, brushing the boy’s hair softly. “Just a little car sick probably.”
Mikey frowned. “We’re not a in a car. Maybe I’m train sick.”
“Sure,” he nodded.
Mikey raised his big brown eyes to Callie. “Do you feel sick too?”
She bowed her head, avoiding the innocence of his eyes and turning her attention to the passing world outside. “I always feel sick,” Callie said softly. It was not often she got to offer advice on feeling better to someone else though, so she added, “Sitting backwards on the train probably isn’t going to help you though.”
Mikey cocked his head, intrigued by her knowledgeable thought. He pushed himself up off the seat and crossed over the space between benches, sitting down next to Callie and resting his head on her shoulder as he closed his eyes. Mikey did not see the surprise in Callie’s eyes or the uncomfortable look of having someone sit so close to her, as she was not used to people being unafraid of catching whatever she had. He did not see the look of wonder in his brother’s eyes either as Gerard found a sadly relieved smile across his face to see the boy reach out to someone who was not him or their mother. Mikey fell asleep quickly and did not wake again to the people who watched him the rest of the trip until they arrived at their final destination.
The station was empty; more of a stop in the middle of nowhere that’s only claim to civilization was the fact that it was planted on the train track and could not be removed. One person stood with a sign on the platform as though there might be hundreds of travelers getting off board. He had a long dark trench coat pulled warmly around him in the chilly vacancy of the station as his eyes peered out from the collar like an old movie spy. A soft brown fro tussled in the December breeze as he held up the sign: Dr. Bishop welcomes Caliana Snow and Gerard and Michael Way.
Gerard set down his bags as Mikey cringed behind him and Callie both. “Well, I guess that’s us,” he shrugged.
Mikey shook his head. “He’s a stranger! He even looks like a stranger! I don’t wanna go. I wanna go home,” he whimpered.
Gerard sighed. “We’ve been over this, Mikey. We got nowhere else to go. We’re going home.”
Looking to Callie, although he was taller than her, Mikey’s eyes pled with her to protect him. “You’re coming too, right?” he asked worriedly.
She nodded. “We’re all going together.”
He took a deep breath as Gerard picked up his bag for him. “Kay.”
The man lowered his sign, peeking his face out from his trench coat to reveal his warm smile. He was younger than they thought now that his face was in view; maybe only twenty-three. “Welcome,” he nodded, reaching for Callie’s bag and taking it for her. “I’m Ray Toro. I work for Dr. Bishop. He sent me to pick you up and bring you to the house. How was your trip?” he asked as the whistle blew and the train chugged its way into the distance.
“Good, thank you,” Callie answered politely. “I’m-“
Before she could finish, Ray cut her off with a smile. “I know who you are. All of you,” he nodded. “My colleagues and I have been reviewing your cases for months. Dr. Bishop has kept us well informed.
“Dr. Toro?” Mikey asked.
Ray smiled, “Just Ray.”
“Dr. Ray?” he started again.
The man laughed. “No doctor. Just Ray. I’m a student,” he nodded.
Mikey shrugged. “Ray? Is the house far?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Not too far.”
Mikey needed more information. He was not used to traveling and right then he had no idea where he was. The farthest he had ever been from home was the hospital and back and there had not been much in between. “Okay…but how far?”
“Barely a few miles,” Ray smiled.
Gerard shook his head. Ray may have read their files but he obviously did not understand Mikey from them. Mikey did not measure in distance. He only understood what he knew. “A few miles,” he explained to his brother, “isn’t very far. You should still be able to hear the train whistle blow when it passes through. It’s that close.”
Ray nodded, understanding better. “It will be about a seven minute drive.”
Mikey nodded, feeling better with the information. He was used to being told everything that was going to happen before it did. ‘I’m going to give you a shot now, and you’re going to feel a little pinch.’ ‘Drink this. It’s going to taste like chalk and we’re going to follow it on the scanner as it shows up inside you to see how it travels through your body on a little television.’ ‘Take these pills and your tummy will feel better.’ When the world was intimidating and everything was new, all information helped before the act of change took place.
The teenagers stepped into the big black car as Ray put their luggage in the trunk. He drove them the seven minute distance as promised as they looked out the window and followed the snow-capped shoreline along the way. The birds that had not flown south for the winter circled the air like vultures seeking fresh food they could thaw in their beaks. The churning tides floated the ice as it bobbed over the waves and offered small temporary refuge for the birds as they scavenged over the ocean’s fish bowl.
“Can we go swimming?” Mikey asked, peering out the window.
Gerard shook his head. “Do you know how cold that water is, Mikey?”
Ray smiled in the rear view mirror as he looked back at the disappointed boy. “There’s a heated pool at the house if you like to swim, Mikey. There are tons of things to do if you feel up to it.” Mikey’s face lit up at the thought. “How do you feel?” he asked, looking over the boy’s complexion.
“Good,” he nodded. “I feel pretty good,” he smiled.
Ray turned to Callie who sat in the front seat beside him. “And you, Callie? How are you today?”
“Better,” she nodded with surprise. “Maybe it’s the fresh air.”
He smiled. “This ocean air can do wonders. Anything is better than that stale recycled air at the hospital.” He added warmly, “Mother Nature is her own medicine.”
Mikey’s excitement faded away as he leaned on his brother’s shoulder and took his hand, softly playing with their fingers together. Just the mention of mothers was a sad reminder of the most important person in their world they had lost. She had been Mikey’s world and it had been small enough before she was gone. “I changed my mind,” he whispered. “I don’t feel so good anymore.”
Ray nodded in the mirror. He has always been amazed by the power of psychosomatic suggestion. Emotions could control the body in a dominant way. Just the mention of ‘mother’ had regressed his health instantly. Or maybe the boy was simply relapsing from being out in the cold and off the train. “Once you’re settled in at the house, we’ll get you on a cocktail that will make you feel better. And Mikey?” he smiled. “When you see all the wonderful things there are to do there, meet the great people, you’ll forget all about how sick you are.”
Mikey wanted to believe Ray but he found it hard. Deep down he knew why they were going to the house and it was not to play games and get better. They were going there to live out the rest of their lives until their time was up. There was another boy already there who was just like them; orphaned and ailing. Mikey wondered all about him. Did he have the same disease they had? Would he be nice? Would he die before or after him?
“Frankie’s real excited to meet you guys,” Ray said. “He’s been cooped up in that big house with us stuffy grown-ups and no one to play with,” he said, poking fun at himself. “He’s been bouncing off the walls for days in anticipation,” Ray smiled.
Gerard asked, “Is there anyone else there?”
Ray shook his head. “Not pa-.” He cut himself off, reminding himself that the teenagers were not patients. They were hospice residents. Patients were people in hospitals who got better. Residents lived in hospices to be as comfortable as possible before the inevitable. “Frankie’s the only other resident,” he said softly. “Then there’s Bob and Carrie Bryar, orderlies like me to help take care of you.” He smiled, “And you already know Dr. Bishop.”
The man who was taking them all in had never had the opportunity for children of his own. He had dedicated his life to his work and never married. He liked to think he had hundreds of children through his work at the hospital. The sad part though was that he had already outlived so many of them. When Dr. Bishop learned of his patients losing their parents, he took them in, unable to bare the thought of them living out the rest of their lives in a government-run hospice. They were too sick to go to an orphanage or a foster home without proper medical care and the expenses that went along with it. Dr. Bishop felt that all children should have a home; so he opened his own to them.
“We’re here,” Ray smiled as they pulled up to the towering mansion at the end of the drive.
The estate loomed over the cliffs of the ocean like the end of the world that it was. The house was three stories high, made of slated stone and old money. A widow’s walk perched high above the house looking out over the ocean in lonely reverie. The windows were crested with little overhanging roofs of their own. Multiple chimneys smoked in tall stacks sending the crisp, sweet scent of burning wood crackling into the sky. Marble lion pillars adorned the sides of the front door beneath the columns that supported the tier above, where French doors opened to the balcony that wrapped the house. And there in the circle they pulled into stood a fountain with two stone angels in the center. They stood back to back, their wing tips connecting, a man and a woman, naked and stoic as the water leapt from their mouths on each side into the stone pool that engulfed them.
The teenagers stepped from the car with wide eyes as their necks craned to look up at the house that loomed over them, casting its great shadow across them. While Ray walked around the car to collect their respectably small luggage from the trunk, Mikey walked a big circle around the fountain angels.
“He’s huge!” Mikey exclaimed, staring at the anatomically exaggerated humanity of the male statue as Callie blushed and looked away from the naked angel’s detail.
Gerard laughed and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t you rather look at her?” he smiled, his eyes feeling their way over the smooth female statue as Callie grew more flushed in the distance.
Mikey looked at the female angel and wrinkled his nose at the sight of her. “Why? We don’t have any of the same parts,” he shrugged. “We have nothin in common to talk about.”
Gerard smiled and nodded. “Weird way of looking at it but alright.”
Ray carried their bags towards the door. “Come on in, kids. Welcome home,” he smiled, pushing open the door to the grand foyer.
They followed him inside where yet another world was opened up to them. The walls were draped in rich dark colors with antique paintings hung in each room. The floor was a shiny wood, untainted by the ages of traffic that had passed over it. The staircase was grand with a red liner carpet leading up to the second floor and a banister of smooth mahogany. Intricately carved statues of cherubs adorned equally pale pillars at domed archways between each room to the sides. The hallways were lit with sconces of both candles and tiffany lamps of stained glass to welcome them in every direction.
Getting up from their plush chairs in the parlor by a roaring fire, two people smiled and entered the cathedral ceiling hall. The strangers were immediately assumed to be the orderlies Ray had mentioned. The man had short blonde hair and deep ocean blue eyes. His broad shoulders and stocky build did not display the usual bedside manner the teens had become accustomed to but his smile was warm and friendly. The young woman beside him had light hair as well though it was more of a caramel blonde than the sun-soaked pale of the man’s. Her eyes, also blue, were more clear than deep and she was attractive by any standards and appeared used to attention being drawn to her. If she was slighted by Gerard’s intent focus on Callie, she did not show it as she greeted them warmly.
“Welcome home, new friends. I’m Carrie Bryar and this is my brother Bob. We’ve been waiting for you,” she smiled, “and we’re so glad you’re finally here.”
Bob nodded with an equally comforting smile. “You’re going to be very comfortable here. Everything you want is right at your fingertips and in time we hope you’ll settle in and treat it as home.”
Ray set down their bags and looked around. “Where’s Frankie? And Dr. Bishop?” he wondered.
Carried laughed, “Frank hasn’t been able to stay still all day much less in bed. Dr. Bishop’s been running after him up and down the stairs all afternoon.” She looked up the stairs and called out, “Frankie! Dr. Bishop?” She turned back to the teens and smiled. “There’s a dog and a cat somewhere around here too.”
Mikey’s excited curiosity had him looking in ever direction for the pets as he had never been allowed to have one of his own. He moved tentatively around his brother, peeking toward the corner that led into the parlor to the right of the stairs where the glimpse of a furry mop was poking past the doorway. “Hello friend,” he said softly, reaching out his hand and hoping it would come out into view.
The furry head leapt out from hiding and lunged at Mikey, jumping into a full upright stand almost as tall as the boy as it growled and bared its wolf face. “Raaar!” it yelled as Mikey leapt backward.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Mikey’s high-pitched scream broke the sound barrier in increasing levels of octaves as he stumbled back and ran right out the front door.
Gerard giggled as the boy in the Wolfman mask revealed his smile. His dyed blonde hair was cropped short on the sides and then black where his long bangs tumbled down over his hazel green eyes. His smile was clipped with a small silver ring on the side of his lower lip and his nose was pierced with an identical ring on the opposite side. “That worked well,” he smiled proudly. “I’m Frankie. Frank Iero,” he nodded certainly.
Carrie frowned, “And what an introduction it was.” She stepped out the door to collect the terrified boy who cringed outside as she gently dragged him back in. “It’s okay, Mikey,” she smiled. “It’s just Frank. He likes scary movies, scary masks, scaring people…” She sighed with a giggle. “All things scary really.”
“I’m sorry,” he offered softly, observing Mikey’s wide eyes and extending his hand in a more polite greeting.
Mikey frowned and twisted his lips in a pout. “You’re mean.”
“No,” he said, almost offended. “I’m…fun,” Frank smiled innocently with a shrug.
He shook his head. “You’re crazy.”
“No. I’m Frankie,” he grinned.
Bob laughed, “How about we let these guys get settled in before you give them heart attacks, okay, Frank?”
“Alright,” he sighed. He turned to the other teens. “You’re the older brother?”
Smiling, he nodded. “I usually just go by Gerard.”
They shook hands and Frank faced Callie to greet her as well. “I’m Frankie. Welcome!”
Callie smiled as he pulled her into a hug that made her giggle. For someone on death’s doorstep, Frank bounded with energy and she hoped that some of it would rub off on her. It had been so long since she had had anything to laugh about, much less actually feel the urge to follow through. Callie could not help reminding herself that this was not an adventure no matter how new and exciting it seemed to be. Any way she looked at it, she had a death sentence and this was the prison where she had come to die. It was going to take more than games to lift her spirits when her soul was slipping away every day. Callie had been fitted for a mask of her own and it was the face of Death. There was no pretending her way out of it, even if Frank could.
Dr. Bishop appeared at the top of the stairs with a bright smile. “Welcome to Fox Hall, children,” he said affectionately as he descended the stairs with outstretched arms. He embraced each of them but Mikey held on, keeping the familiar man between himself and the boy he had not yet figured out. “I see you’ve met Frankie,” he said, ruffling Mikey’s hair.
“Rrrr,” he growled at the boy.
Frank lowered his eyes to play along as he leaned in. “Rrrr,” he growled back as Mikey jumped behind Dr. Bishop.
The Doctor laughed and shook his head. “You two can sniff each other out later. Right now let’s get you settled into your rooms.”
Bob, Carrie and Ray took the new resident’s bags upstairs and led them to their rooms down the long hall. Callie’s was the first in the almost identical row of bedrooms. Each had a wide open room with a fireplace across from the king-sized bed, a sitting area with a windowed box seat overlooking the vast ocean and plush chairs nestled around the room. Shelves with snow globes and walls of books lined each room awaiting the personal touches each teenager would add of their own. They traveled light with one suitcase a piece and few belongings from the lives they had left. There was not much need to take anything with them as there would be nothing they could take with them in the very end.
Mikey frowned as he was shown to his room. “We’re not sharing?” he panicked.
Gerard cocked his head. “We never shared, Mikey. We always had our own rooms.”
“But we had a bathroom that connected our rooms!” he insisted. “So it was almost like the same room!” he said, worrying at the sight of Gerard’s room all the way down the hall.
Frank offered hopefully, “You’ll be right next to me though.”
Mikey turned to him with an angry pouting exclamation. “This does not make me feel good!”
Frank looked hurt as Gerard smiled. “He has a little trouble adjusting to change. Don’t take it personally,” he shook his head. As Mikey clung to him, gripping him and trying to convince him to stay in his room, Gerard unlatched Mikey’s fingers, prying them off his reddened arm. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything okay? You’ll be fine, Mikey,” he promised. “It’s only while we sleep. The rest of the time I’ll be right here with you.”
“All the time!” Mikey demanded, eyeing Frank warily.
Gerard was watching Callie though. She was beautiful and quiet, deep and almost unreachable. He kind of liked that about her. Gerard had spent so many years isolated from the world as he drew and sketched and created different worlds he could live in. Here was a girl worth returning the real world for though. His body might be dying but his hormones were still alive and well. Living with a pretty girl down the hall could come with its advantages.
“Well,” he mused. “Maybe not all the time. But most of the time,” he nodded, turning back to Mikey but leaning against the wall away from him to appear available to Callie as he smiled.
She did not seem to notice or care much though as she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. Callie picked up her suitcase and hoisted it up onto the high bed she knew she would be spending much of her time in. At least it appeared to be a comfortable one as the suitcase bounced on the mattress. She unzipped the case and began filling the cherry wood dresser with her clothes. There were not many though. Most of her attire consisted of assorted matching pajamas that were flexibly comfortable when her body ached, tossing and turning in the bed she was often confined to. Callie set a picture of her mother on the nightstand and a few small shadow box trinkets on the dresser in front of the large mirror. She put her suitcase in the closet and tucked her journal beneath one of the fluffy pillows as she sat on the bed, looking around. She wondered what would become of her last worldly possessions after she was gone. Would they be thrown away or would someone look after them for her as keepsakes of her memory? The very idea of it made Callie very tired as she sunk down into the bed and cried herself to sleep.
Mikey sat on his bed in his own room, looking around curiously and trying to envision the place as home. It did not feel like home and he wondered if it ever would. He lacked the luxury of time to find out. The room was too big and it made him feel small and helpless inside it. He worried that a house so old would creak in the night and anything so historically big had to be haunted. Mikey’s imagination ran away with him as he began to wonder what kinds of ghosts might roam the old house’s halls at night and he eyed the door that bore a keyhole but no key. Mikey tucked his feet up onto the bed and away from the reach of anything that might be hiding underneath it; like Frank.
A knock at the door nearly startled Mikey right out of his skin as he stared at the dark wood with frightened eyes. “Who…who is it?” he asked.
The smiling voice called back through the thick door. “It’s Frankie!”
Mikey sighed. He was not excited to hear who his visitor was but he was relieved nonetheless to know Frank was not under his bed waiting to scare him again. “G’way!” he shooed with his hands even though the boy on the other side of the door could not see him.
“Aw, c’mon, Mikey. I have a surprise for you.” Realizing his last surprise had not gone over very well, Frank added, “One you’ll like this time!”
Mikey’s curiosity became greater than his fear as he inquired, “Tell me what it is and maybe you can come in.”
Frank laughed at the bated interest. “Let me come in and I’ll show you what it is,” he smiled.
Mikey crossed his arms with a huff. “Fine.”
Frank opened the door slowly, hoping not to scare the boy he hoped would be his new friend. “I’m coming in,” he said, bracing Mikey. Frank opened the door all the way as he leaned half out in the hall, hunched over something out of sight. “I feel real bad about scaring ya,” he nodded apologetically. “So I wanted to bring you what you were looking for earlier.” He straightened up and let go of the dog’s collar as a grey and white Siberian husky bounded into the room. He beamed as Mikey’s eyes lit up and Frank knew he had done something good. “This is Thor and he’s a big wooly beast but he’s nice as can be,” he smiled.
Mikey leapt off the bed and onto the floor where he sat down, crossing his legs and burying his face in the big dog’s fur. “I love you!” he exclaimed.
“Me or Thor?” Frank grinned.
Mikey frowned at him. “Thor.” When Frank’s smile fell, he added, “You…I like a little more though,” he grudgingly conceded.
Frank smiled and nodded. “It’s a start. He especially likes to have his ears rubbed,” he said, giving Thor a gentle scratch.
“I can be the one to rub his ears sometimes!” Mikey exclaimed hopefully.
He nodded. “Sure. He’ll like that. And I hope after a while, maybe you can like me too,” he offered hopefully.
Mikey raised his chin high in the air, establishing some kind of dominance over the strange boy he was slowly getting to know. “Maybe,” he said curtly. “If you’re good.”
Frank smiled, satisfied with Mikey’s answer. “I’m good, Mikey. You’ll see.” He looked over the handsome boy with a smile. Dr. Bishop had told Frank all about him. Mikey just needed some growing room to explore the world before he ultimately left it. Frank had a feeling there were many things he could teach Mikey and they would both enjoy them. He did not want to expose that side of himself so early though. Mikey was handsome but he was new and scared and Frank had already gotten off on the wrong foot with him. Still, he could not help but wonder if he could get off with him in some other way in time. Frank could not be sure that Mikey was even into guys though and he was not about to scare him off again with any revelations about himself. Mikey was going to be the last boy Frank would probably ever meet though and he could not help but feel the desperation for connection inside himself. They were all there for a reason, and before they left, connection was something they all wanted to experience.
Gerard set up his sketch pad on the easel that had been placed in his room. He ran his fingers over the multitude of paints and pencils beside it that had been left for him. There were all kinds of charcoal sticks of every shape, texture and size. He taped some of his drawings to the walls and tried his best to make the room look familiar so he could be more at ease. It was overwhelming how he had gotten there. This was his life now, or what was left of it. Gerard had accepted his fate long ago and he saw no reason to fight it. It was a fight he could not win. His drawings reflected his struggles with life and death, dark and light, as he fought internally with what he was going through. None of Gerard’s questions had any answers still and he knew they would not come until he experienced them. If there was life after death, he would not know it until he arrived. Gerard was afraid though that there was nothing out there at all beyond the world his soul was clinging to. He was terrified to think that he might one day simply disappear. What would become of Mikey then? Gerard’s real greatest fear was that he would die before his brother. Mikey would never survive losing him. He was not sure he could get through losing Mikey either though. But that was why they had their pact.
Dr. Bishop sat in his office on the third floor, filling his journal with a slightly arthritic hand. A man of his age could not trust in the confounded inventions of unreliable technology. What if the power went out as it often did? He could not bear to lose a single notation of his experiments. Every observation was detrimental to his research. He wrote feverishly across the page, filling each line as his smile hovered over top.
‘Day 1 – They’re all finally here. Three boys and a girl. I would have rather liked to have kept the test subjects parallel but the Way boys came as a set. Their circumstances were too perfect to pass up. They all believe why they are here and have mostly shown some resolve to their condition. All are generally in good spirits and my formula is tested and self-approved. The chemical cocktail they will all be administered will be fluctuated with placebos sporadically and even the staff will not know which combination will be given at the time. I will keep intricate records and detail the progress and recoils of effects as they occur. They have no intuitive inclination as to what they have in common or how they have come to be here. I suppose they could not possibly have any way of knowing though. That is how the disease works and it has worked them over as in every other case. That was how it was intended to be and the way it will stay so as not to taint the results. If they only knew the secrets that surround them, their affected conscious would destroy the natural results. They are convinced of their impending end. They have no idea this is only the beginning.’
Dr. Bishop smiled, resting his pen on the desk as he closed the journal and sat back in his chair to look out the window over the ocean. “It’s already begun,” he smiled to himself.
Please tell me what you’re thinking! I know this was a long introduction at 20 pages but there was a lot of setting up to do! I’m really excited about this story and leading you through it as you discover just what it is Dr. Bishop and his staff are testing. The funny thing is, as much as you think you know, you have no idea. Twists and turns will abound! I hope you come along for this wild ride to find them all out. I’ll explain the title later on too so it makes more sense, but don’t worry, it will. Hope you like it!! Xoxo Harley
This story will be a longish one and I hope you’ll like it. I’m marketing it as Dramatica Horror though it won’t be dripping with sex or frighteningly terrifying either. There will be sex though, both m/f and m/m so be warned now and note the disclaimers for each chapter. I’ll post reminders when there will be sexual situations as they will be rich with the detail I have come to be known for. Haha Please be responsible. If you’re underage, please find a story or chapter that is not NC-17 as it is rated for a reason. As for the horror, it will be more of a dark mystery but there really isn’t a description in the box for that. I like to think outside the box anyway. This story will be dark as well as have some humor and it will all come to a hopefully riveting end. I hope you stick around for it. I’m reviving my Mikey character from Life Lessons a little bit, though with a few alterations. I hate to keep doing it to Mikey as it has nothing to do with the real man himself. But none of them portray the real people anyway and that character is just so much fun to write. I hope you won’t mind the similarities in the character revival. Please let me know how I’m doing along the way. You guys drive me and I appreciate it so much!
This story is a complete and total work of fiction. Names and images have been used based on those of actual people for frame of imagery reference ONLY. The people these fictional characters are based upon in no way share the thoughts, views, personalities, morals, traits, agree with or have knowledge, of any part of this story. It is a complete work of fiction stemmed from my imagination and should be treated as such. All rights are copyrighted and cannot be reproduced without the Author’s (my) permission. It is fiction and it is mine. But so long as you’re here…welcome to my world…xoxo Harley Quinn
(R.I.P.)
The Reality Immortality Project
By:
Harley Quinn
“I had swooned; but still will not say that all of consciousness was lost. What of it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet all was not lost. In the deepest slumber -- no! In delirium -- no! In a swoon -- no! In death -- no! Even in the grave all is not lost. Else there is no immortality for man. Arousing from the most profound of slumbers, we break the gossamer of some dream. Yet in a second afterward, (so frail may that web have been) we remember not that we have dreamed. In the return to life from the swoon there are two stages; first, that of the sense of mental or spiritual; secondly, that of the sense of physical, existence. It seems probable that if, upon reaching the second stage, we could recall the impressions of the first, we should find these impressions eloquent in memories of the gulf beyond. And that gulf is -- what?”
~ Edgar Allan Poe ~
~The Pit and the Pendulum ~
As the train slowly pulled to a stop at another station, Callie Snow hardly took notice at all. Her delicate hand continued to script across her journal in fluent marking to embed her words across the pages. They were proof that she was there at one time. They would outlive her for sure. She was not as powerful as the permanent ink on those pages. Callie was temporary in that world; brief in its air, like the drying of the ink that would outlive her. Callie Snow was dying and sixteen years had not been enough to prepare her for it. But before she left…Callie would leave her mark. She continued to write…
‘Imagination is the most skilled and straying lover I have ever known. I am my Muse’s mistress…and a loyal one at that. While sweet Imagination wanders…I remain steadfast, knowing it will always return to me. Neither my Imagination nor I can exist without the other; each incomplete without our fusion. Together though… magic! But like all good magicians, there is always a trick. And neither one of us will ever divulge our secrets to the other…even though one day we will share the same grave.’
She stared down at the paragraph, weighing her satisfaction in her editing. Callie tucked a long blonde strand of hair behind her ear, a comforting nostalgic code her mother had ingrained in the young girl’s memory. It was a nuance of endearment, comfort and care. Her mother had spent Callie’s entire life taking care of her daughter and nursing her. Every late night visit to the Emergency Room only to baffle the doctors after a battery of tests that revealed no solid answers. Every change of the bucket by Callie’s bedside as she wasted away in that healthy pink room. Every painful swallow of pills that seemed to only destroy the girl more…Callie’s mother was there by her side for it all. And now she was gone. Callie’s only comfort was that she would be with her again soon when the disease finally claimed the last of her life. It had taken her entire life so far. Now, it was only a matter of time. Closing the journal with her pen inside, Callie did not want to write anymore. She was tired. Always tired.
Sitting back in the train car in the quiet of her cabin, Callie closed her eyes and imagined the destination before her final one. After the fire claimed both her parents while Callie slept in the hospital only five miles away, there had been no family left to take the girl in. It had been a bigger shock than the news from Dr. Bishop that the hospital could not figure out what was wrong with her; a rare incurable disease they could not identify in order to treat. Her body was shutting down systematically. There was no hope. But there was still her mother. And then…she was gone too. The double shock had come with only a month between the two life-altering disasters. Then, Dr. Bishop stepped up and intervened in the only way he knew how.
Dr. Bishop, both a Board Certified Doctor of Medicine and Psychology, had come in late to the perplexing scenario of Callie’s unidentifiable disease. A seasoned veteran of his trade, the salt and pepper-haired man had devoted his life to the hopeful preservation of dying youth. He cared deeply for his patients and watched over them like his own. Dr. Bishop had run more tests than the hospital could afford and he was the only person Callie knew as well as her mother. They were both always there, taking care of her. They held her hand through the pricking of needles for the input of meds and the drawing of blood. They let her hear their voices while she endured the claustrophobia of catscans and MRIs. They were always present so she would not feel alone. But Callie was alone. Though it all, deep down, it was just her and the disease that would eventually take her life.
When Dr. Bishop suggested that she come to his home by the sea instead of the government hospice, she had agreed if only because he was the closest thing to family Callie had left. It did not matter to her if she passed on in a cold sterile room or a warm house by the ocean though. She was going to die either way. The last thing she saw before that happened would leave little impact for long. After leaving the hospital and being given the ticket Dr. Bishop paid for himself, Callie had committed herself to arriving at his home. Having somewhere to go after all she had lost, Callie had even begun to feel a little better. Perhaps she had simply found comfort in resolving to die and settling on a place to do it. It would be private and comfortable and Callie had heard of its beautiful view that could work wonders for the soul. There was no hope for a miracle as it had been explained to her many times by Dr. Bishop. But he had also told her that wonders were still fair game, and she should embrace them whenever they came along.
The door to the cabin swung open as two boys laughed their way right through the door, falling over one another and pushing their way in. The first had jet black hair, as inky as Callie’s pen could write. His nose was sharp with a small raise at the end that showed no pretentious bone in its rise. His laughing eyes danced between gold and green before clouding into a dark hazel of intrigue as they fell over Callie in the tiny stateroom. The more slender boy, who continued to push the first inside, the playfully hard push only a brother could get away with, was taller and yet younger looking. His chocolate hair matched his eyes, though the wide orbs swirled with a caramel hue that matched his sweetly innocent demeanor.
“Are you Callie?” the first boy asked, straightening up as the other pushed past him and pressed to the window with a smile.
She was startled by the energy the boys brought into the quiet room. Callie had been told she would be accompanied by two other patients of Dr. Bishop’s who had been offered the same opportunity to reside at his home in lieu of the hospice. The only thing she knew of them was that they had lost their mother some months ago and the three of them would travel the distance together to the good doctor’s retirement home. It was a retirement of sorts for all of them.
Realizing he was staring at her with polite expectancy, she shook away her thoughts and finally answered. “I – I’m Callie,” she nodded. “You must be…” She had forgotten the name already. It was uncommon but not unusual, she knew. But names were not at the top of Callie’s thoughts those days. She did not feel the need to learn them, unsure of how long she would be around to remember them. She had wasted the time in learning too many names of patients in the hospital only to have them be discharged if they got better, or disappear when they got worse for the last time.
“Gerard,” he smiled, filling in the blank she left and sitting down across from her. He looked up at the other boy who giggled excitedly as his entire body pressed against the window and the train began to move. He reached up and pinched the back of the boy’s shirt, pulling him down next to him and across from Callie. “This is my brother, Mikey. Say hi,” he told him.
“Hi,” Mikey smiled and waved, jumping back up to watch the world speed by as the train picked up speed.
Gerard shook his head at the boy’s enthusiasm. “Forgive my brother. He’s…easily distracted,” he laughed.
Mikey tapped the glass. “Look at the deer!” he squealed excitedly. “Aww,” he sighed, pressing his cheek to the glass as he tried to look back and the train barreled forward. “It’s gone so fast.”
Callie watched Mikey closely. He was taller than she was and perhaps a year older yet he seemed more simple than she could ever remember being except at a young age. His fingers danced over the glass like spider legs as he stared at everything, calling out whatever he saw as though recognizing the name of it instead of pointing it out.
“Stop sign! Bridge! Lake! Tree!” Mikey slowed down as his enthusiasm seemed to wear off and they got further into the country where there was less to see. “Bird…telephone pole…tree…dead people.”
“What?” Gerard gasped, jumping up and pushing his brother aside to look out the window as Callie sat glued to her seat. He laughed and shook his head, sitting back down. “Cemetery,” he smiled at the perplexed girl across from him. She nodded slowly, obviously confused and too embarrassed to ask. Gerard was used to it though. It did not take much time around his younger brother to figure out something was different about him. Gerard had become accustomed to filling in the blanks before people’s judgments found a reason of their own. “He’s not retarded,” he smiled.
Callie was shocked by the blatant remark and embarrassed by what look she must have portrayed for him to read her mind. “I didn’t…”
He nodded. “It’s okay. You didn’t have to. It’s the first thing people assume. He’s not though,” Gerard said casually without critique of her unspoken presumption. “He’s just…simple,” he shrugged. “He’s been sick his whole life…like me. Maybe it’s genetic.”
He launched into their story like he had told it a hundred times. And maybe he had. Callie had told hers too many times to count but the latest events of her own were too fresh to relay with such casual informality. Still, she listened, intrigued.
“I didn’t get sick until I was about three but Mikey practically came into the world afflicted. Our mom was kind of a pro by then at taking care of a sick kid but she really threw herself into Mikey.” Gerard shrugged. “I guess cause he was so small and helpless.” He watched his brother’s back, as Mikey quietly listed the things he saw, listening to Gerard in the pauses in between. “She coddled him though,” he sighed, “obsessively trying to protect him from the world. Home-schooled him even,” he shook his head. “Lot of good it did. The only thing that can hurt him…is already inside him,” Gerard said softly. “She never let him grow up,” he said with sad regret. “Maybe cause she thought he never would. I don’t really know,” he added. “I know she meant well. She always did. But I think she hurt him worse than she helped him.”
Callie was at a loss for a response. What do you say to a stranger who just told you that his mother stunted her child because he was sick and if she could not see him grow up, would rather keep him a child forever? It was an awful thing to do and yet Gerard seemed bothered but at peace with it. It was hard to judge the dead though; especially when you knew you would soon be one of them.
“What’s that?” he asked, noticing her quiet discomfort and pointing to Callie’s book, changing the subject. She held it up protectively to her chest as though unsure of whether to share or even where to begin. The leather bound book had a soft papered plate on the front for a title she had filled out herself as he read it aloud. “Diary of the Damned and Dying.” Gerard grinned as he joked, “A comedy?”
Callie had to smile. She was in no place to be joking about death as she spiraled toward it but Gerard made it seem somewhat okay. “Tragedy,” she said softly. “I like to write,” she shrugged timidly, as though apologizing for her taste. “It’s nothing really.”
“If it really is your diary, I highly doubt it’s nothing,” Gerard smiled sweetly. “I bet it’s really somethin.”
She was too modest to agree; too dedicated to deny it. Callie spoke softly as though afraid of her own voice; as sometimes she was. She had been sick for nearly her whole life; fragile and guarded. On those pages she could be loud and forceful. In real life though, Callie was too far off the page to be as loud as her diary allowed her to be. “I just want to leave something behind. I want to be remembered,” she whispered.
“We all do,” Gerard nodded sympathetically.
Mikey backed away from the window and sat down, leaning his head on his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t feel so good, Gee,” he whimpered.
Gerard smiled, brushing the boy’s hair softly. “Just a little car sick probably.”
Mikey frowned. “We’re not a in a car. Maybe I’m train sick.”
“Sure,” he nodded.
Mikey raised his big brown eyes to Callie. “Do you feel sick too?”
She bowed her head, avoiding the innocence of his eyes and turning her attention to the passing world outside. “I always feel sick,” Callie said softly. It was not often she got to offer advice on feeling better to someone else though, so she added, “Sitting backwards on the train probably isn’t going to help you though.”
Mikey cocked his head, intrigued by her knowledgeable thought. He pushed himself up off the seat and crossed over the space between benches, sitting down next to Callie and resting his head on her shoulder as he closed his eyes. Mikey did not see the surprise in Callie’s eyes or the uncomfortable look of having someone sit so close to her, as she was not used to people being unafraid of catching whatever she had. He did not see the look of wonder in his brother’s eyes either as Gerard found a sadly relieved smile across his face to see the boy reach out to someone who was not him or their mother. Mikey fell asleep quickly and did not wake again to the people who watched him the rest of the trip until they arrived at their final destination.
The station was empty; more of a stop in the middle of nowhere that’s only claim to civilization was the fact that it was planted on the train track and could not be removed. One person stood with a sign on the platform as though there might be hundreds of travelers getting off board. He had a long dark trench coat pulled warmly around him in the chilly vacancy of the station as his eyes peered out from the collar like an old movie spy. A soft brown fro tussled in the December breeze as he held up the sign: Dr. Bishop welcomes Caliana Snow and Gerard and Michael Way.
Gerard set down his bags as Mikey cringed behind him and Callie both. “Well, I guess that’s us,” he shrugged.
Mikey shook his head. “He’s a stranger! He even looks like a stranger! I don’t wanna go. I wanna go home,” he whimpered.
Gerard sighed. “We’ve been over this, Mikey. We got nowhere else to go. We’re going home.”
Looking to Callie, although he was taller than her, Mikey’s eyes pled with her to protect him. “You’re coming too, right?” he asked worriedly.
She nodded. “We’re all going together.”
He took a deep breath as Gerard picked up his bag for him. “Kay.”
The man lowered his sign, peeking his face out from his trench coat to reveal his warm smile. He was younger than they thought now that his face was in view; maybe only twenty-three. “Welcome,” he nodded, reaching for Callie’s bag and taking it for her. “I’m Ray Toro. I work for Dr. Bishop. He sent me to pick you up and bring you to the house. How was your trip?” he asked as the whistle blew and the train chugged its way into the distance.
“Good, thank you,” Callie answered politely. “I’m-“
Before she could finish, Ray cut her off with a smile. “I know who you are. All of you,” he nodded. “My colleagues and I have been reviewing your cases for months. Dr. Bishop has kept us well informed.
“Dr. Toro?” Mikey asked.
Ray smiled, “Just Ray.”
“Dr. Ray?” he started again.
The man laughed. “No doctor. Just Ray. I’m a student,” he nodded.
Mikey shrugged. “Ray? Is the house far?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Not too far.”
Mikey needed more information. He was not used to traveling and right then he had no idea where he was. The farthest he had ever been from home was the hospital and back and there had not been much in between. “Okay…but how far?”
“Barely a few miles,” Ray smiled.
Gerard shook his head. Ray may have read their files but he obviously did not understand Mikey from them. Mikey did not measure in distance. He only understood what he knew. “A few miles,” he explained to his brother, “isn’t very far. You should still be able to hear the train whistle blow when it passes through. It’s that close.”
Ray nodded, understanding better. “It will be about a seven minute drive.”
Mikey nodded, feeling better with the information. He was used to being told everything that was going to happen before it did. ‘I’m going to give you a shot now, and you’re going to feel a little pinch.’ ‘Drink this. It’s going to taste like chalk and we’re going to follow it on the scanner as it shows up inside you to see how it travels through your body on a little television.’ ‘Take these pills and your tummy will feel better.’ When the world was intimidating and everything was new, all information helped before the act of change took place.
The teenagers stepped into the big black car as Ray put their luggage in the trunk. He drove them the seven minute distance as promised as they looked out the window and followed the snow-capped shoreline along the way. The birds that had not flown south for the winter circled the air like vultures seeking fresh food they could thaw in their beaks. The churning tides floated the ice as it bobbed over the waves and offered small temporary refuge for the birds as they scavenged over the ocean’s fish bowl.
“Can we go swimming?” Mikey asked, peering out the window.
Gerard shook his head. “Do you know how cold that water is, Mikey?”
Ray smiled in the rear view mirror as he looked back at the disappointed boy. “There’s a heated pool at the house if you like to swim, Mikey. There are tons of things to do if you feel up to it.” Mikey’s face lit up at the thought. “How do you feel?” he asked, looking over the boy’s complexion.
“Good,” he nodded. “I feel pretty good,” he smiled.
Ray turned to Callie who sat in the front seat beside him. “And you, Callie? How are you today?”
“Better,” she nodded with surprise. “Maybe it’s the fresh air.”
He smiled. “This ocean air can do wonders. Anything is better than that stale recycled air at the hospital.” He added warmly, “Mother Nature is her own medicine.”
Mikey’s excitement faded away as he leaned on his brother’s shoulder and took his hand, softly playing with their fingers together. Just the mention of mothers was a sad reminder of the most important person in their world they had lost. She had been Mikey’s world and it had been small enough before she was gone. “I changed my mind,” he whispered. “I don’t feel so good anymore.”
Ray nodded in the mirror. He has always been amazed by the power of psychosomatic suggestion. Emotions could control the body in a dominant way. Just the mention of ‘mother’ had regressed his health instantly. Or maybe the boy was simply relapsing from being out in the cold and off the train. “Once you’re settled in at the house, we’ll get you on a cocktail that will make you feel better. And Mikey?” he smiled. “When you see all the wonderful things there are to do there, meet the great people, you’ll forget all about how sick you are.”
Mikey wanted to believe Ray but he found it hard. Deep down he knew why they were going to the house and it was not to play games and get better. They were going there to live out the rest of their lives until their time was up. There was another boy already there who was just like them; orphaned and ailing. Mikey wondered all about him. Did he have the same disease they had? Would he be nice? Would he die before or after him?
“Frankie’s real excited to meet you guys,” Ray said. “He’s been cooped up in that big house with us stuffy grown-ups and no one to play with,” he said, poking fun at himself. “He’s been bouncing off the walls for days in anticipation,” Ray smiled.
Gerard asked, “Is there anyone else there?”
Ray shook his head. “Not pa-.” He cut himself off, reminding himself that the teenagers were not patients. They were hospice residents. Patients were people in hospitals who got better. Residents lived in hospices to be as comfortable as possible before the inevitable. “Frankie’s the only other resident,” he said softly. “Then there’s Bob and Carrie Bryar, orderlies like me to help take care of you.” He smiled, “And you already know Dr. Bishop.”
The man who was taking them all in had never had the opportunity for children of his own. He had dedicated his life to his work and never married. He liked to think he had hundreds of children through his work at the hospital. The sad part though was that he had already outlived so many of them. When Dr. Bishop learned of his patients losing their parents, he took them in, unable to bare the thought of them living out the rest of their lives in a government-run hospice. They were too sick to go to an orphanage or a foster home without proper medical care and the expenses that went along with it. Dr. Bishop felt that all children should have a home; so he opened his own to them.
“We’re here,” Ray smiled as they pulled up to the towering mansion at the end of the drive.
The estate loomed over the cliffs of the ocean like the end of the world that it was. The house was three stories high, made of slated stone and old money. A widow’s walk perched high above the house looking out over the ocean in lonely reverie. The windows were crested with little overhanging roofs of their own. Multiple chimneys smoked in tall stacks sending the crisp, sweet scent of burning wood crackling into the sky. Marble lion pillars adorned the sides of the front door beneath the columns that supported the tier above, where French doors opened to the balcony that wrapped the house. And there in the circle they pulled into stood a fountain with two stone angels in the center. They stood back to back, their wing tips connecting, a man and a woman, naked and stoic as the water leapt from their mouths on each side into the stone pool that engulfed them.
The teenagers stepped from the car with wide eyes as their necks craned to look up at the house that loomed over them, casting its great shadow across them. While Ray walked around the car to collect their respectably small luggage from the trunk, Mikey walked a big circle around the fountain angels.
“He’s huge!” Mikey exclaimed, staring at the anatomically exaggerated humanity of the male statue as Callie blushed and looked away from the naked angel’s detail.
Gerard laughed and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t you rather look at her?” he smiled, his eyes feeling their way over the smooth female statue as Callie grew more flushed in the distance.
Mikey looked at the female angel and wrinkled his nose at the sight of her. “Why? We don’t have any of the same parts,” he shrugged. “We have nothin in common to talk about.”
Gerard smiled and nodded. “Weird way of looking at it but alright.”
Ray carried their bags towards the door. “Come on in, kids. Welcome home,” he smiled, pushing open the door to the grand foyer.
They followed him inside where yet another world was opened up to them. The walls were draped in rich dark colors with antique paintings hung in each room. The floor was a shiny wood, untainted by the ages of traffic that had passed over it. The staircase was grand with a red liner carpet leading up to the second floor and a banister of smooth mahogany. Intricately carved statues of cherubs adorned equally pale pillars at domed archways between each room to the sides. The hallways were lit with sconces of both candles and tiffany lamps of stained glass to welcome them in every direction.
Getting up from their plush chairs in the parlor by a roaring fire, two people smiled and entered the cathedral ceiling hall. The strangers were immediately assumed to be the orderlies Ray had mentioned. The man had short blonde hair and deep ocean blue eyes. His broad shoulders and stocky build did not display the usual bedside manner the teens had become accustomed to but his smile was warm and friendly. The young woman beside him had light hair as well though it was more of a caramel blonde than the sun-soaked pale of the man’s. Her eyes, also blue, were more clear than deep and she was attractive by any standards and appeared used to attention being drawn to her. If she was slighted by Gerard’s intent focus on Callie, she did not show it as she greeted them warmly.
“Welcome home, new friends. I’m Carrie Bryar and this is my brother Bob. We’ve been waiting for you,” she smiled, “and we’re so glad you’re finally here.”
Bob nodded with an equally comforting smile. “You’re going to be very comfortable here. Everything you want is right at your fingertips and in time we hope you’ll settle in and treat it as home.”
Ray set down their bags and looked around. “Where’s Frankie? And Dr. Bishop?” he wondered.
Carried laughed, “Frank hasn’t been able to stay still all day much less in bed. Dr. Bishop’s been running after him up and down the stairs all afternoon.” She looked up the stairs and called out, “Frankie! Dr. Bishop?” She turned back to the teens and smiled. “There’s a dog and a cat somewhere around here too.”
Mikey’s excited curiosity had him looking in ever direction for the pets as he had never been allowed to have one of his own. He moved tentatively around his brother, peeking toward the corner that led into the parlor to the right of the stairs where the glimpse of a furry mop was poking past the doorway. “Hello friend,” he said softly, reaching out his hand and hoping it would come out into view.
The furry head leapt out from hiding and lunged at Mikey, jumping into a full upright stand almost as tall as the boy as it growled and bared its wolf face. “Raaar!” it yelled as Mikey leapt backward.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Mikey’s high-pitched scream broke the sound barrier in increasing levels of octaves as he stumbled back and ran right out the front door.
Gerard giggled as the boy in the Wolfman mask revealed his smile. His dyed blonde hair was cropped short on the sides and then black where his long bangs tumbled down over his hazel green eyes. His smile was clipped with a small silver ring on the side of his lower lip and his nose was pierced with an identical ring on the opposite side. “That worked well,” he smiled proudly. “I’m Frankie. Frank Iero,” he nodded certainly.
Carrie frowned, “And what an introduction it was.” She stepped out the door to collect the terrified boy who cringed outside as she gently dragged him back in. “It’s okay, Mikey,” she smiled. “It’s just Frank. He likes scary movies, scary masks, scaring people…” She sighed with a giggle. “All things scary really.”
“I’m sorry,” he offered softly, observing Mikey’s wide eyes and extending his hand in a more polite greeting.
Mikey frowned and twisted his lips in a pout. “You’re mean.”
“No,” he said, almost offended. “I’m…fun,” Frank smiled innocently with a shrug.
He shook his head. “You’re crazy.”
“No. I’m Frankie,” he grinned.
Bob laughed, “How about we let these guys get settled in before you give them heart attacks, okay, Frank?”
“Alright,” he sighed. He turned to the other teens. “You’re the older brother?”
Smiling, he nodded. “I usually just go by Gerard.”
They shook hands and Frank faced Callie to greet her as well. “I’m Frankie. Welcome!”
Callie smiled as he pulled her into a hug that made her giggle. For someone on death’s doorstep, Frank bounded with energy and she hoped that some of it would rub off on her. It had been so long since she had had anything to laugh about, much less actually feel the urge to follow through. Callie could not help reminding herself that this was not an adventure no matter how new and exciting it seemed to be. Any way she looked at it, she had a death sentence and this was the prison where she had come to die. It was going to take more than games to lift her spirits when her soul was slipping away every day. Callie had been fitted for a mask of her own and it was the face of Death. There was no pretending her way out of it, even if Frank could.
Dr. Bishop appeared at the top of the stairs with a bright smile. “Welcome to Fox Hall, children,” he said affectionately as he descended the stairs with outstretched arms. He embraced each of them but Mikey held on, keeping the familiar man between himself and the boy he had not yet figured out. “I see you’ve met Frankie,” he said, ruffling Mikey’s hair.
“Rrrr,” he growled at the boy.
Frank lowered his eyes to play along as he leaned in. “Rrrr,” he growled back as Mikey jumped behind Dr. Bishop.
The Doctor laughed and shook his head. “You two can sniff each other out later. Right now let’s get you settled into your rooms.”
Bob, Carrie and Ray took the new resident’s bags upstairs and led them to their rooms down the long hall. Callie’s was the first in the almost identical row of bedrooms. Each had a wide open room with a fireplace across from the king-sized bed, a sitting area with a windowed box seat overlooking the vast ocean and plush chairs nestled around the room. Shelves with snow globes and walls of books lined each room awaiting the personal touches each teenager would add of their own. They traveled light with one suitcase a piece and few belongings from the lives they had left. There was not much need to take anything with them as there would be nothing they could take with them in the very end.
Mikey frowned as he was shown to his room. “We’re not sharing?” he panicked.
Gerard cocked his head. “We never shared, Mikey. We always had our own rooms.”
“But we had a bathroom that connected our rooms!” he insisted. “So it was almost like the same room!” he said, worrying at the sight of Gerard’s room all the way down the hall.
Frank offered hopefully, “You’ll be right next to me though.”
Mikey turned to him with an angry pouting exclamation. “This does not make me feel good!”
Frank looked hurt as Gerard smiled. “He has a little trouble adjusting to change. Don’t take it personally,” he shook his head. As Mikey clung to him, gripping him and trying to convince him to stay in his room, Gerard unlatched Mikey’s fingers, prying them off his reddened arm. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything okay? You’ll be fine, Mikey,” he promised. “It’s only while we sleep. The rest of the time I’ll be right here with you.”
“All the time!” Mikey demanded, eyeing Frank warily.
Gerard was watching Callie though. She was beautiful and quiet, deep and almost unreachable. He kind of liked that about her. Gerard had spent so many years isolated from the world as he drew and sketched and created different worlds he could live in. Here was a girl worth returning the real world for though. His body might be dying but his hormones were still alive and well. Living with a pretty girl down the hall could come with its advantages.
“Well,” he mused. “Maybe not all the time. But most of the time,” he nodded, turning back to Mikey but leaning against the wall away from him to appear available to Callie as he smiled.
She did not seem to notice or care much though as she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. Callie picked up her suitcase and hoisted it up onto the high bed she knew she would be spending much of her time in. At least it appeared to be a comfortable one as the suitcase bounced on the mattress. She unzipped the case and began filling the cherry wood dresser with her clothes. There were not many though. Most of her attire consisted of assorted matching pajamas that were flexibly comfortable when her body ached, tossing and turning in the bed she was often confined to. Callie set a picture of her mother on the nightstand and a few small shadow box trinkets on the dresser in front of the large mirror. She put her suitcase in the closet and tucked her journal beneath one of the fluffy pillows as she sat on the bed, looking around. She wondered what would become of her last worldly possessions after she was gone. Would they be thrown away or would someone look after them for her as keepsakes of her memory? The very idea of it made Callie very tired as she sunk down into the bed and cried herself to sleep.
Mikey sat on his bed in his own room, looking around curiously and trying to envision the place as home. It did not feel like home and he wondered if it ever would. He lacked the luxury of time to find out. The room was too big and it made him feel small and helpless inside it. He worried that a house so old would creak in the night and anything so historically big had to be haunted. Mikey’s imagination ran away with him as he began to wonder what kinds of ghosts might roam the old house’s halls at night and he eyed the door that bore a keyhole but no key. Mikey tucked his feet up onto the bed and away from the reach of anything that might be hiding underneath it; like Frank.
A knock at the door nearly startled Mikey right out of his skin as he stared at the dark wood with frightened eyes. “Who…who is it?” he asked.
The smiling voice called back through the thick door. “It’s Frankie!”
Mikey sighed. He was not excited to hear who his visitor was but he was relieved nonetheless to know Frank was not under his bed waiting to scare him again. “G’way!” he shooed with his hands even though the boy on the other side of the door could not see him.
“Aw, c’mon, Mikey. I have a surprise for you.” Realizing his last surprise had not gone over very well, Frank added, “One you’ll like this time!”
Mikey’s curiosity became greater than his fear as he inquired, “Tell me what it is and maybe you can come in.”
Frank laughed at the bated interest. “Let me come in and I’ll show you what it is,” he smiled.
Mikey crossed his arms with a huff. “Fine.”
Frank opened the door slowly, hoping not to scare the boy he hoped would be his new friend. “I’m coming in,” he said, bracing Mikey. Frank opened the door all the way as he leaned half out in the hall, hunched over something out of sight. “I feel real bad about scaring ya,” he nodded apologetically. “So I wanted to bring you what you were looking for earlier.” He straightened up and let go of the dog’s collar as a grey and white Siberian husky bounded into the room. He beamed as Mikey’s eyes lit up and Frank knew he had done something good. “This is Thor and he’s a big wooly beast but he’s nice as can be,” he smiled.
Mikey leapt off the bed and onto the floor where he sat down, crossing his legs and burying his face in the big dog’s fur. “I love you!” he exclaimed.
“Me or Thor?” Frank grinned.
Mikey frowned at him. “Thor.” When Frank’s smile fell, he added, “You…I like a little more though,” he grudgingly conceded.
Frank smiled and nodded. “It’s a start. He especially likes to have his ears rubbed,” he said, giving Thor a gentle scratch.
“I can be the one to rub his ears sometimes!” Mikey exclaimed hopefully.
He nodded. “Sure. He’ll like that. And I hope after a while, maybe you can like me too,” he offered hopefully.
Mikey raised his chin high in the air, establishing some kind of dominance over the strange boy he was slowly getting to know. “Maybe,” he said curtly. “If you’re good.”
Frank smiled, satisfied with Mikey’s answer. “I’m good, Mikey. You’ll see.” He looked over the handsome boy with a smile. Dr. Bishop had told Frank all about him. Mikey just needed some growing room to explore the world before he ultimately left it. Frank had a feeling there were many things he could teach Mikey and they would both enjoy them. He did not want to expose that side of himself so early though. Mikey was handsome but he was new and scared and Frank had already gotten off on the wrong foot with him. Still, he could not help but wonder if he could get off with him in some other way in time. Frank could not be sure that Mikey was even into guys though and he was not about to scare him off again with any revelations about himself. Mikey was going to be the last boy Frank would probably ever meet though and he could not help but feel the desperation for connection inside himself. They were all there for a reason, and before they left, connection was something they all wanted to experience.
Gerard set up his sketch pad on the easel that had been placed in his room. He ran his fingers over the multitude of paints and pencils beside it that had been left for him. There were all kinds of charcoal sticks of every shape, texture and size. He taped some of his drawings to the walls and tried his best to make the room look familiar so he could be more at ease. It was overwhelming how he had gotten there. This was his life now, or what was left of it. Gerard had accepted his fate long ago and he saw no reason to fight it. It was a fight he could not win. His drawings reflected his struggles with life and death, dark and light, as he fought internally with what he was going through. None of Gerard’s questions had any answers still and he knew they would not come until he experienced them. If there was life after death, he would not know it until he arrived. Gerard was afraid though that there was nothing out there at all beyond the world his soul was clinging to. He was terrified to think that he might one day simply disappear. What would become of Mikey then? Gerard’s real greatest fear was that he would die before his brother. Mikey would never survive losing him. He was not sure he could get through losing Mikey either though. But that was why they had their pact.
Dr. Bishop sat in his office on the third floor, filling his journal with a slightly arthritic hand. A man of his age could not trust in the confounded inventions of unreliable technology. What if the power went out as it often did? He could not bear to lose a single notation of his experiments. Every observation was detrimental to his research. He wrote feverishly across the page, filling each line as his smile hovered over top.
‘Day 1 – They’re all finally here. Three boys and a girl. I would have rather liked to have kept the test subjects parallel but the Way boys came as a set. Their circumstances were too perfect to pass up. They all believe why they are here and have mostly shown some resolve to their condition. All are generally in good spirits and my formula is tested and self-approved. The chemical cocktail they will all be administered will be fluctuated with placebos sporadically and even the staff will not know which combination will be given at the time. I will keep intricate records and detail the progress and recoils of effects as they occur. They have no intuitive inclination as to what they have in common or how they have come to be here. I suppose they could not possibly have any way of knowing though. That is how the disease works and it has worked them over as in every other case. That was how it was intended to be and the way it will stay so as not to taint the results. If they only knew the secrets that surround them, their affected conscious would destroy the natural results. They are convinced of their impending end. They have no idea this is only the beginning.’
Dr. Bishop smiled, resting his pen on the desk as he closed the journal and sat back in his chair to look out the window over the ocean. “It’s already begun,” he smiled to himself.
Please tell me what you’re thinking! I know this was a long introduction at 20 pages but there was a lot of setting up to do! I’m really excited about this story and leading you through it as you discover just what it is Dr. Bishop and his staff are testing. The funny thing is, as much as you think you know, you have no idea. Twists and turns will abound! I hope you come along for this wild ride to find them all out. I’ll explain the title later on too so it makes more sense, but don’t worry, it will. Hope you like it!! Xoxo Harley
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