Monday, August 27, 2007

Blue Prison

I know you all may be tired of hearing from me, but R.F. has had some rough times and is having a troubled sleep right now. We're back at his home.

The drive there was surprisingly uneventful. At a gas station between our current place and the destination, I spotted a man who seemed to be watching me as he filled up his car. It was a faded green muscle car, much like the one R.F. spoke to you all about in his Sky Pilot post. Nevertheless, after paying for the gas, he left without incident. There were also a couple of times where I felt we were being followed by another car on the road, but it set off on a different road more than an hour before we reached R.F.'s family's temporary home.

We reached the home more than just a couple of hours before dawn. A van was parked out front, but there were no other vehicles. Examining it, I noted nothing of interest inside. I assumed it belonged to someone in R.F.'s family. He glanced at it but didn't seem to think it out of place. There wasn't a single light on in the house, which made sense considering the time. Walking up the front porch, I could've swore I heard the faint sound of the door's lock clicking. R.F. was very nervous and didn't seem to notice it. He managed to knock on the door in a way that sounded both loud and cordial. No answer. Again. No answer.

"They're probably sleeping upstairs." His voice was quiet and hopeful.

The house was, excluding the attic and basement, two stories tall. It was also very large and seemed even farther out in the country than even R.F.'s real home.

I decided it was best not to wait out there for God knows how long. I assumed the door would be locked but figured the straight approach would be at least worth a try. It was. The door opened for me immediately. The house was well-furnished, but not a single thing in the house was turned on. Walking in, I instinctively flicked on a ceiling light right inside. R.F. simply followed quietly. The fan built up speed overhead, muffling out the silence that we had been confronted with when first walking in. There was an eerie vibe to the place, but I also felt extremely comfortable there. It's very hard to explain when thinking back. I knew there was something wrong about the place, but it also felt very familiar and safe to me on a personal level. I felt like I was back home.

To our left was a large den with a television, couch, loveseat, chair, and personal computer. On the right was a hallway that seemed to lead to a bathroom and some first floor bedrooms. In front of us was a staircase that led to the second floor. R.F. told me that a dining room and kitchen could be found going through the den and asked me what we should investigate first. Naturally, I told him it'd be best if he checked out all the bedrooms.

As he headed off towards the bedrooms, I just sort of stood around awkwardly. I didn't really know what to do. I had just started to head off to check up on him when I heard a sound slowly overpowering the ceiling fan. Sound from what appeared to be a loud music box was drifting downstairs. Against my better judgment, I decided to follow it.

The second story was an absolutely confusing mess. There was no pattern to any rooms or hallways. Everything was just sporadically placed about. I had no clue where to go. Even the noise of the music box seemed to come from no place in particular. I wandered down a hallway that seemed to be lined by bedrooms. I was about to open the first one I saw, but something made me stop: voices. Familiar voices.

"You'll never guess where they're sending them."

"Rosalez."

"Oh, you heard."

"Rosalez. The man's a hackjob and a crackpot."

"It's a fantastic combination when you think about it."

"They'd be better just letting that glorified masseuse handle them. At least he is dependent on us. At least we can trust him."

"Ha. Wallace said he found Tyler rifling through med supplies. Thinks he was looking for drugs or something."

"Strange little man. His wife works here, yes?"

"It's his ex."

"Oh, yes. She is the one who had the miscarriage."

"Eh... one of them, I think."

"Pfft. In the camps, I was an apprentice to some of the greatest minds in Europe. I was considered a prodigy. Even the states turned a blind eye to my history afterwards. Gave me a new identity and a new life. Where do I end up? Working alongside drug addicts and butchers. It is deplorable."

"I think we're in over our heads. Aside from all the scumbags on staff and the shoddy security, if this man can do what they say he can-"

"Perhaps I am just too old to be working with people of dignity anymore. Oh... continue, Tony."

"Well, wouldn't that make him practically a god?"

"Bah! We had twins just like that. I can tell you, it was hard keeping them lucid and under control. There were even rumors that there were more of them. They're so good at hiding, these little buggers."

The conversation seemed to have ended, and I was about to walk into the room. The younger voice speaks again.

"Being serious here for a second, what should I do if I suspect a coworker of being severely unstable?"

"I am supposing this is about Mr. Tyler."

"Uh, yeah. I found him in one of my labs. I was about to shoo him out as usual, but I noticed he was crying and holding something."

"...Well?"

"It was one of the lab mice we'd been running those neuro-circuitry tests on. It was dead, and he kept calling it his 'baby'."

"Oh boy. What did you say to that?"

"I just took the mouse from him and told him to get out. He was very... irate. Told me to give him his baby back."

"Now you want to tell someone."

"I'm... not sure."

"You would have to speak to Helena."

"I know. Why do you think I'm so hesitant?"

Their laughter fades. I open the door. No one's inside.

Familiar voices. I couldn't place names.

Examining the room, I found no evidence of recent living or any source of sound.

Stumbling out into the hallway, I continued to walk around, afraid that I had just begun to have a hallucination attack at one of the worst of all places and times. Spotting a twitching of movement at the end of the hallway, I made one of the few smart decisions I've made recently: I retreated. It followed, its form "jumping" sporadically from one side of the hallway to the other. Practically falling down the stairs, I went in search of R.F.

I was pretty much just randomly running/jogging around in search of him when I noticed that everything seemed to be dimming. Up ahead of me there was a short flash of blue movement. I was starting to panic. Tripping, I found myself laying flat on my face next to a table. A cat. Some blue cat had tripped me. Somewhere, I heard what sounded like a little girl speaking. She was frightened.

"He's back."

After this, it sounded like three infants had started to cry. I felt all the air in my surrounding area tighten. I simply laid still. I did not feel like running or fighting anymore. I was just so tired.

The darkness seemed to have crept up above me. I could feel it staring at the back of my head as I lay on the ground and simply wished everything to just stop.

"Everyone has this potential. When I am done, you will see that men need not Gods or Kings. They need only themselves."

Such an indescribably calm and gentle voice. I felt very cold.

"I have to force the cure."

I was being picked up and blinded. Nothingness. I was starting to see again. Nothingness. Something near me smiled like a mother. Nothingness. Parts of me began to fall off. My arms, my legs, my head... my body just slipped off of some core part. I was molting. I was being reborn. The darkness dripped off of me like water. Something inside of me was screaming as parts of it fell off. A larger figure inside me smiled at it mockingly.

I've never been happier.

I awoke on a couch in the living room. It was daylight. I began to get up. R.F. lunged at me with a claw hammer. I was able to get it away from him before any serious damage was done, though I have had two fingers broken. I restrained him and explained that I was on his side. Hesitantly, he briefly explained his actions.

"You were one of them when you were asleep."

He will tell most of his story soon enough, but I'll get the stuff you want most told now. No, we did not find any trace of his wife or family. He claims to have called the police. I know he is lying. I cannot say anything to him. I share his fear for some reason. He has been sleeping most of the time since we returned to his home, but he has gotten up for a few moments every now and then to randomly pace around. He tells me that he doesn't know what to do at this point. I do not think he feels comfortable with me any longer.

I found a note of his. I do not think he has any problems with me posting it. I think that was its purpose. It's rather simple.

"BLUE = PRISONER
GREEN = "

I'm not sure whether he's looking too much into it or not anymore. I'm not sure of anything.

3 comments:

vitpink said...

Greg, I think the voices you heard talking, were talking about Samuel Tyler aka Sammy, and I thing he's the strang little man you both remembered when you met with RF in the restaurant.


voices - "Wallace said he found Tyler rifling through med supplies. Thinks he was looking for drugs or something."
"Strange little man. His wife works here, yes?"


RF, what did you mean by Greg was one of them? In Gregs account he saw a figure twitching toward him, did Greg seem like a twitcher? I wonder if you saw each other?

Good said...

Hi there...I've been reading your journal over the past day and I'm quite interested in all that you've both written. I'm coming at this in the middle unfortunately, so I'll do my best to sound coherent, though I've still got a bunch of thoughts to collect.

The thing that struck me most about the voices you heard was the man who talked about his old work. Did you work with a German on the Red King Project? Did the voice you heard have a German accent?

Greg said...

vitpink:

I agree. I am almost positive who Samuel Tyler is now.

good:

No, but that doesn't rule a German scientist out of the project altogether. There were so many people work on different things. Besides, it's not as if my memory is entirely trustable.