The Devil in the White City

"Rust never sleeps"

"All is quiet on New Year's Day.....I will be with you again"

"If I could start again a million miles from here...."

The devil came to the White City, with new budding tears in his eyes
And a circle was called and pushed to that same place
Some like ships lost at sea
others like wild horses tethered with tears in their eyes
some awash in the uncertainty of Life
others seeking redemption and rebirth
The devil came to a City of Dreams, and there he learned to cry

Hard to Imagine (A conversation with McCready)

[this is a break from the story already in progress...which kinda ran out of steam...it does go somewhere though...i promise]

"I'd tell a story but no one'd listen that long"

It is now months later since the rambling, barely adequate narrative you've been reading. I could briefly explain how it turns out and what happened afterwards, but that would spoil things. I will say that following that incident McCready began appearing to me (and unfortunately, ONLY me) right here in the waking world. Strange things occurred in the months since then. Massive and spine-disintegrating truths were revealed. Betrayals. Heartbreak. Worlds colliding. And somehow McCready wound up stuck inside my head with me. And not by choice. Yes, not by choice. How do we explain that one to them, McCready? You don't. Let them stumble around in the dark, I don't have the patience to explain things to children. Unless you think I look like a schoolteacher? Yeah, you could teach school. You could teach 5th grade and Hitler could have the kindergarten. I really feel like I should have met this Hitler before...maybe I have. Stop it, you're going to scare everybody away. Screw them. Okay, moving on...

McCready, for reasons we won't get into right now, lost his ability to frolic in our world in a physical sense. We're working on getting him his own place. Hey, maybe on the bad part of town - near a strip club, right McCready? No, how about near a nursery school. Or an animal shelter. Thankfully I can still see when you're smiling even inside my head, so I know you're just joking. I wasn't joking about the animal shelter.

Alright, McCready - where should I begin? What should I tell them? Everything?
Do you really need to tell anybody anything?
You know I do.
Well, then maybe you should leave out all the crap about Lilly because I also know you're going to want to babble on about that for 800 pages and I think I'll just start puking now and get it over with if that's going to be the case!
Would you feel better if I drank something?
Couldn't hurt.

"this is the world we live in"

When I entered the light in the hallway, Jack was gone. And I was no longer being propelled along by my own locomotion. Instead the walls, shadows, and soon everything from houses and trees began to just slip by me, like I was encapsulated by a bubble of soap, just easing its way through existence. And then I saw the giant Phil Collins puppet-head nodding in time to "Land of Confusion" while a chorus of bunny rabbits sang and clapped along. I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing.

Now sinking, my mind was glad to see Phil Collins' grinning mug disappear somewhere above me in what should have been the living room of Lilly's house. But then what were all the trees and other houses doing there? Ah, details... I settled again and now found myself not below ground but rather standing upon a cliff. It was evening and stars glittered above. Directly beneath and in front of me, there was an abyss of shadows. Yet I felt a presence there, a large presence. I kept looking deeper and the hairs on the back of my neck began to stand on end. Awareness began to bloom in the way that urgently whispers "I'm not alone in the house!" And then I saw movement. Shadow upon shadow. And then two orange-red eyes each the size of a man flicked open and peered back up towards me. With a start I stumbled back from the edge and wheeled around. And stopped again. Hovering about ten feet away at about chest level was a cartoonishly oversized mosquito. A red mosquito.

We looked at each other. Well, at least I looked at it. Strangely I could not find its eyes, despite its grapefruit scale. But I could feel these eyes I could not see. I felt no malice or outright evilness from the bizarre bloodsucker. But I wouldn't trust it to date my sister, either. Just when I was starting to find the little guy with his rust-colored wings and gently bobbing demeanor slightly amusing, it began to speak to me. Naturally, I heard or maybe even felt the words in my head as opposed to with my ears. This was a giant red mosquito on a cliff with shadow-inhabiting creatures with glowing eyes below it. One would expect such an insect to do its speaking telepathically, right?

"That's my dragon." I assumed it meant the thing with the glowing eyes that I could just then hear rumbling and munching on things down in the darkness.
"Okay..."
"You cannot have him."
"Okay..."
"You weren't meant to survive this. But things have changed. Thank your friends. Or your God. Now it can just be considered a warning. Heed it well."
"Okay..."
"We have things to see...and to discuss..."
"Okay..."

Searching With My Good Eye Closed

Was that the faint opening strains of Soundgarden's "Searching With My Good Eye Closed?" Then the best part at the 1:25 mark when the rhythm and the drums come crashing in. Things wobbled. Things waved. My head rolled right long with the things. And with the music. I drifted. The little hospital room ceased to be and instead became the bathroom where my waking self lay curled in the fetal position in front of the toilet. The lights above the mirror casting a yellowish glow about my pale and sickly form. Then I saw myself wake enough to lurch up to the toilet and vomit. There appeared to be a little blood in it, too. Lovely.

Now the bathroom was replaced by the bedroom. I seemed to be hovering where the window should have been, but that would have meant I was either inside the wall or could see through it. Yet there was myself again, lying in bed beside Lilly. I no longer seemed sick. But whatever this was that I was seeing felt like something different. Maybe symbolic or otherwise having nothing to do with my present condition in the waking world. I found myself swimming in the thoughts and feelings of my relationship with Lilly. She was turned away from me and I lay facing her back, a gap of pillows and blankets between us. My little Inconsistent Love. Things had been a little strained in recent months, but better than in the fall. And nothing abnormal for any relationship.

The song ended. A moment later I felt a mental jolt, like the safety bars on a roller coaster locking into place. The figure of myself in the bed beside Lilly had disappeared. The room had grown dim and felt wider, emptier. Then I could hear more music, drifting, searching. I knew the song, but my mind suddenly felt like it no longer had control of the wheel. My head turned by itself and there was a man standing in the bedroom doorway. In a flash he transformed from a black faceless man-shape, to McCready, then into a strangely familiar man a little older than myself, then back to the black shadow, then a flurry of other jumbled images, then myself - looking shaken and out of reality, and then finally it settled into the form of Tommy Jack.

"got some kicks, wanna take a ride, I said 'yeah!'"

"Leave her, Gabriel. You must come with me." he said, beckoning towards the light now spilling from behind him in the hallway. I took a look back at Lilly, she seemed somehow unknown to me. A bit like a stranger. I moved around to her side of the bed and as I normally did when leaving while she was asleep, I gently placed a kiss atop her forehead. And then I followed Jack out of the room and into the light.

Questions for the Doctor

McCready did not shoot Tommy Jack (what kind of name is that anyway?). He had made his point. He had let the inner demon play a little. Monica asked him nicely to put the gun away and he did. She didn't even have to say please. McCready and Jack's eyes never left each other, though. Meanwhile I was throwing up on the somewhat recently waxed hospital floor. And still laughing in between my stomach's upward thrusts.

Things grew a little hazy. Commotion, talking, urgent whispers. Surprisingly few curses and threats from McCready. I think Orestes picked me up and carried me into the room that Jack had emerged from. When things finally cleared it was only Jack and I. They had propped me in a chair and Jack had pulled a stool in front of me.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am." he replied with a smile.
"Good, 'cause something is definitely wrong with me. Dream or no dream, I am messed up."
"Do you think this is a dream?" He looked at me closely.
"Of course it's a dream! How else would I be here?" But I had my doubts.
"How do you know it's a dream?"
"Because in my real life I don't get carted around through hospitals by characters from my dreams who shoot up the place. And there certainly aren't any floating crystal orbs or whatever that was. But that would be pretty cool if they had those in real life. And Monica looks different, I can't quite put my finger on it, but she's different. I haven't seen her in years, though, so who knows. It just has to be a dream." Jack said nothing, only looked at me patiently. My mind had gained some clarity since the vomiting. It paused before allowing my mouth to go on speaking.
"But you know...this is by far the most vivid dream I've ever had. And I tend to have abnormally vivid and detailed dreams anyway. Am I in a coma? Is this some sort of hyper-vivid coma dream?"
"No, I don't think you're in a coma, Devan. I believe you have been bitten. Perhaps by the Red Mosquito. You will live, but you will be quite miserable for a while yet. And the antidote, you might say, is not exactly pleasant either." I was confused.
"Wait. The Red Mosquito? What is that? And why did you call me Devan, my name is Gabriel? This is getting crazy." Jack smiled and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, I know you as Devan. I guess you don't recall any of that. No matter. The Red Mosquito is not something you should worry about right now. Just think of it as a sickness, a virus. It will be alright." Before I could get out another round of baffled questions, the door opened and Monica ducked inside. Yelling, shooting, and other sounds of trouble could be heard down the hall.
"I think the cops are here!" she said, "McCready and Orestes went off to deal with them or kill them all or who knows! This is getting out of hand!" Jack spoke calmly, soothingly.
"Things are certainly not as well as we would like them to be. But everything will be fine. As long as it is only police and others of this world, we have nothing to be worried about." Monica looked at me. My head wobbled.
"How is he?" she asked.
"He'll be okay. He's going to have a bumpy ride for a while, but he'll get through it. You made it to me in time, you did well."
"But what is it? Orestes said something about someone starting his waking process before he was ready."
"That could be it, or it could be the Red Mosquito. Which could actually be both." Again with the Red Mosquito. I couldn't stand it.
"What the HELL is a Red Mosquito? Are you talking about malaria? Do I have malaria?" Neither one answered me. Instead Jack stepped over to me and removed a roll of what looked like Sweetarts from his pocket.
"Take one." he said.
"Are those Sweetarts?"
"They are if you want them to be." And sure enough, they were Sweetarts. There was a red one on top and I took it. As I popped it in my mouth, Jack ushered Monica out of the room and left me alone for a minute. Immediately my head cleared a bit, but then I began to feel a new kind of fogginess creep in. A little like a beer buzz. The nausea was gone and the coughing ceased. I began to doubt that those had really been Sweetarts.

Temper, Temper

Monica returned McCready's gaze with one of those condescending head shakes that some women are particularly good at. For all her insecurities, she could also be quite confident and self-assured. The two of them glared at each other for a few more moments. McCready's face began to transform into one of his many smiles. This time perhaps more of a playful smirk.

"Well, let's not wallow in our situation any longer. There might be other dangers lurking around here. And I just don't know if I can manage to keep them all at bay. I wouldn't want to see any of those pretty auburn curls harmed. I might lose some sleep over it." McCready's eyes sparkled and Monica stewed.

"Did you two used to date or something?" I chimed in. They instantly turned to me. McCready seemed a bit perplexed, but Monica rolled her eyes and gave another patented head shake, this time aimed at me.
"I'm sorry, I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm drunk. Wait. How am I drunk? What am I doing here? I've never had a such a realistic dream. This is great. Hey! Can I fly? I want to fly! I love dreams where you can fly!" I think I may have continued to babble on, but the others stopped listening when a tire-sized glowing orb hovered over to us and the scattered bodies of the guards. It seemed to assess the situation as a pale cream color shimmered within its glassy frame. Like icicles swimming in a vat of partially melted vanilla ice cream. Minus the vanilla beans. McCready looked at Monica and Orestes and gave a shrugging gesture with his arms. After a moment the orb hovered away, back into a nearby open door.

"Now what?" asked Monica. McCready began to walk towards the open door, but stopped when a large man built like an NFL strong safety stepped through. He wore a white doctor's coat, tight over his athletic build. He looked fairly young for a doctor, perhaps in his late 20s. His hair was nearly shaved and his eyes displayed a distinct wisdom and knowledge of many things. He never even glanced at the dead guards or the mess left by those who had fled. Instead he focused on each of us in turn, and then repeated the process. At some point I stopped my rambling and just looked back at him. I could have sworn I felt a rush in my head when he focused on me. And then I began coughing and laughing again.

"Good to see you, Jack. When you don't want to be found, you really don't want to be found." said McCready putting his hands on his hips, not all that far away from his guns.
"Hi, Jack." Monica added in a tired voice. Tommy Jack glanced at McCready before nodding his head towards Monica.
"Hello, Monica. It has been too long. I hope you are well."
"Ah, well, you know how it goes, 'the best laid plans,'" Jack gave her a knowing but compassionate smile and turned back to McCready. The evil cowboy from my dreams now leaned on his left hip and casually picked at one of his fingernails. Jack continued to address Monica.
"I never thought I'd find you in the company of McCready...at least not willingly. But then one night I dreamed of such things. Many things I never thought possible were suddenly becoming true. But it will take a lot more for me to believe in a redeemed McCready. A redeemed Blackheart, the Smiling Demon..." McCready had been biting his bottom lip and now suddenly drew his right-hand revolver and brought the barrel inches from Jack's forehead.
"Redeemed? You want to see redeeemed? I'll give you redemption! We'll all be able to see it right through the back of your head!" Jack never flinched. He cool gaze never wavered. Monica looked very alarmed and frantic again. Orestes was a dark blur above and beside me. I just coughed and laughed harder.

Volcano

After that my head tilted to the right for a while and could not seem to correct itself. For some reason this was amusing to me and I began to laugh in quick spasmatic bursts. Like turning your head and coughing for the doctor, but without all the discomfort and embarrassment.

After some time I became aware that we had stopped. My gaze shifted up and observed McCready and Monica exchanging heated words. Unfortunately my hearing had decided to go on strike and I could hear nothing. What a strange dream. Finally it seemed like the occupants of this hospital were taking notice of us. Nurses threw concerned looks in our direction while huddling around their stations. A few authoritative doctors stood some distance away, clearly disapproving of our presence and deliberating on the proper way to handle things. Only Orestes, who was now directing me around by the sheer will of his left bear-claw on the back of my neck, took notice of this new development. McCready and Monica were arguing with each other at increasing volume levels about this Tommy Jack and the Priest and infections and other things that made no sense at all.

"Tick, tick, tick...ticking away, the moments that make up a dull day," I said to no one in particular. But Orestes heard me and swiveled his head down to give me a quizzical look. I think I smiled and coughed another one of my laughs again.
"Orestes. My friend. Did I ever tell you about when I worked construction? I was a carpenter! I helped build people's homes! And I hated it. I fried my brains out there in the hot sun and never wanted to be there. I think I may have fried out some important stuff, too." Was that concern upon Orestes' granite face?

Evidently someone had called in security to deal with the strange gun-toting cowboy and his accomplices. Five uniformed guards approached us from both sides. Most were rather doughy and unhappy in appearance. But something about their eyes...the way they looked at us. Something was not right about them. Maybe it was the drunkenness, but to me, they didn't even seem human.

"I don't care who I have to drag out of their peaceful slumber or even if I have to kill them! I'm not going to let him die. He dies, we die." said McCready.
"We don't know that for sure." Monica replied.
"You know damn well it's true!" McCready was incensed.
"I meant, we don't know if he even CAN die here! Look, I'm doing the best that I can. We're running around this stupid place, wasting more of our time and all you do is badger me!" During this exchange the security guards had tried reasoning with us and having thus failed, drew their weapons and began to close in. Orestes had moved me closer to the other two and was apparently planning to stare the guards into submission.
"If you can think of a better way to find the Priest, I'm all ears, sister!"
"He doesn't need the Priest! He needs to wake up and go see a real doctor in the Waking World!" McCready's expressive face contorted into overly pained exasperation.
"A real doctor? A real doctor?!" One of the guards with his dead eyes had managed to get within a few feet of McCready and Monica. Monica finally began to take notice of the situation and alarm flashed from her hazel eyes. Three of the other guards continued to near Orestes and myself, yet Orestes just stared back at them. I kept up my cough/laughs and occasional giggling fits. But McCready just continued, heedless to the armed figures surrounding us.
"A doctor in the Waking World -- whichever Waking World you might be referring to - is not going to have a flaming clue what to do with him. They probably won't even find anything wrong with him. They'll send him home and he'll go to sleep again and he will die. And you know what that means."
"McCready..." Monica tried to interrupt.
"I don't know if the Priest can do anything or not, but we don't have a better option right now."
"McCready!" Monica had backed against the corridor wall, one of the guards jabbering at her and reaching out to her. All of them were jabbering, it was nonsense. My mind just seemed to tone it all out.
"If the Priest can't help him directly, then he'll know what to do next. I'll make sure of that. Now quit your bellyaching!" With that McCready's guns seemed to magically be in his hands and firing away at the squad of security goons. Orestes had propped me against the wall and in one swoop had snatched away the nearest guard's gun, grabbed him by the shoulder and then casually snapped his arm like a carrot stick. The weirdest part was that the other guards (before they were struck down by McCready) actually shot at Orestes, but the bullets just disappeared when they reached his body. Like they ceased to be.

If I hadn't been in such a disorderly mental state, I might have made better sense of the complete chaos which then erupted in the hospital. Nurses screamed, doctors and transporters ran, papers fluttered everywhere. Patients in wheelchairs were abandoned helplessly in the middle of the corridor. McCready briefly took in his handiwork before putting away his guns, folding his arms, and leveling a that-settles-that glare at Monica.