Having A Rotten Time; Wish You Were
Here
Part
3
I woke up on my bed groaning from the throbbing pain. "God, can't somebody find a way to create pain that doesn't hurt?" I asked aloud. Alan sat in my desk chair looking at me with a slight grin, which brought things back into perspective, but didn't help. "Can you look somewhere else besides me?" I demanded irritably.
"I like your computer," he said simply.
It was like somebody had just dropped the bomb and I was waiting for it to hit. "What?" I asked.
"I said, I like your computer," he repeated. "Been playing with it while you were asleep."
Please say I hadn't put in my password yet, please say I hadn't..., I begged mentally. That computer had access to everything, body, mind and soul. If Alan learned how to use it...
"Gimme the password to get in and I bet I'll have a lot more fun," he added.
HA!!!, I thought to myself. "Not even if you said please," I grinned sarcastically.
Alan shrugged. "Okay," he said, getting up.
I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
"Yeah," he nodded, going for the door. "If you don't mind letting Christine die, I sure as hell don't mind killing her."
"You don't have her," I said, not buying his line for a second..
"You're right; I don't...although at the size she is right now, I could have her on me..." Alan said. "I could kill her by snapping my fingers and putting her in between them." He snapped his fingers loudly, then looked from them to me.
I wasn't about to let that happen. I called Chris mentally, knowing fully well that it didn't matter where he'd hidden her; as long as she was somewhere in my head, the power of my call would physically teleport her here.
"Where is she?" I demanded.
"How would I know? I don't have her," he shrugged.
Now I was pissed. I jumped up and shoved him against the wall, but he recovered quickly and pushed me against it, too. "Either give me that password now or lose that kid," he growled at me.
I didn't know what to say.
I couldn't find Christine in my head at all, which either meant she was in the
"Yeah," he said. "For now."
If I told him the password, Alan would have the power to take over my entire body, subconsciously and consciously. But if I didn't tell him, I'd never get Christine back.
Surely I could let her go and recreate her again; she was really only part of my imagination. But that excuse was thin and threadbare. All of this was part of my imagination and my being here made it real enough that I would never, ever get over deliberately letting a 7 year-old child die, no matter how imaginary she might be.
My head throbbed painfully as the password fell from my lips.
It was so bad that I never even felt Alan club me again; I just blacked out...
"Look, youw 'posed to scream 'help me, Wed Wanger'
and I come to wescue you," said Stevie dolefully.
"I don't want to
play this anymore," yelled Christine from her makeshift prison underneath
a drinking glass. "Can't we just sit and talk?"
"No!" said Stevie, his voice cutting through the glass as if it
weren't even there. Chris clapped her hands over ears as he added, "I wanna play Powew Wangers!"
"But we've been
playing that for almost a half-hour," Chris wailed.
"You argue too much
for a toy," he said.
"I'm not a..."
Chris began, but then remembered her purpose here. If she told Stevie she wasn't really a toy, then he'd just get upset
and tell Alan she wasn't playing right, and Alan would hurt Daina
somehow, wherever they were. Even if Stevie did
believe her, Alan would probably have made it so they couldn't get back to Daina's side of The Link, anyway. For now, she'd just have
to stay on Jerry's side as Stevie's Pink Ranger doll
and play along.
"Just say 'help me,
Wed Wanger'," said Stevie.
"That's all."
Chris sighed. Poor Stevie, she thought. If he only knew Alan was just using
him...
"Say it!!!"
"Help me, Wed...I
mean, Red Ranger," she groaned.
"I will come to youw wescue, Kimbewee!"
yelled Stevie, going into another fit of karate
exhibitions.
I woke on the bed up to a strange tapping sound. I couldn't remember what had happened at first, but it came back to me the minute I saw Alan pecking away at my keyboard, his eyes aglow with interest. Maybe he hasn't figured out the system yet, I hoped. Then I could call Naomi and...
"So," he said, turning and tapping his finger tips together as he looked at me, "Where's Naomi?"
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Not only was he asking a strangely prophetic question, he was doing a horrendously overused evil guy thing with his fingers. "Who?" I finally asked, managing to sound completely innocent.
Alan rolled his eyes. "Don't play me," he said.
I grinned wanly. "Well, I've got great comebacks for that one," I said, "but why waste them on your lame ass?" I fully expected him to jump me at that and this time, I'd jump and get out my sword from the ceiling tile above me. If that didn't work, I'd fight dirty and go for the nuts.
Instead, he rather calmly turned to the keyboard and began typing like a madman. "Hey, what're you..." I began, but before I could finish, a werewolf-type creature tall and big enough to reach my ceiling stood dripping foamy saliva on me. I got out half a gasp and a quarter of an escape move before it grabbed me up and slammed me against the door...then the floor...then the wall...and then the ceiling.
"I like this," Alan said, smiling as he looked up at me. "I type it in and it happens. Beautiful. Now, you wanna try again on the Naomi thing?"
"Oh, her," I wheezed, recoiling from the creature's breath and my pain. "Gimme a minute, the details are a little hazy."
"Clear 'em," he snapped.
"Easy for you to say," I said, trying to blink the stars away. I couldn't think now, let alone remember where Naomi was. It was just as well, however. Alan's newfound freedom and creativity on my subconscious computer wasn't something she needed to be around for, anyway. Where ever she was, I hoped, as always, that she was extremely far away...
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