Randomville: Fictionarium: Chapter 5

The young woman arose with a start. She heard a loud crash, almost like an explosion, and woke up just in time to see a truly awesome display of light. It shimmered, it shined, it took her breath away... and then disappeared just as quickly as it came.

She looked around. To her dismay, nothing had changed. The hall was just as cavernous and empty as before. She called out and was answered only by her own echo. She went to scratch her nose but was stopped by the chains that bound her arms.

Outside the Door Club, Frank was still trying to piece together what had just happened. He replayed the events in his mind, but nothing made sense. He didn’t realize he was staring off into space, deep in shock, until he felt a sharp tug on his arm.

He didn’t move. He looked from Rosie to Chavvy to Django, and then at the Door Club, which had been a pile of rubble not moments ago. He tried to say something, but was interrupted by Rosie. “COME ON!” she roared, punctuating it with a smack on his head.

Frank started to feel anger build up inside because he didn’t ask for any of this. He minded his diner and had done well to attract a good crowd of regulars. He usually paid his bills on time, or at least thought of really good, plausible excuses if he was going to be late. He even made sure his grandma got everything she ever needed. What was happening now was the exact opposite of what should be happening. Frank gulped, looked Rosie in the eyes, and did something he had never done before: he stood up to her.

“I need some answers. I’m not doing anything more until I get some answers. You want me to follow you blindly, to put my full confidence in you, but I have no idea what the hell is going on. Don’t get me wrong - I trust you - but my life seems to be in danger, and I think I have the right to know why.” With that, Frank exhaled audibly, happy to be done with his speech. His voice had wavered a bit towards the end, but he had made it through and got his point across.

“Should we tell him?” Rosie whispered to Chavvy, none too subtly. “Well... we can tell him what we know. It’s not much...“ Chavvy replied.

While they were debating that, Frank walked over to Django’s body. His eyes were closed, and his body was limp. Frank bent down, trying to feel for a pulse on Django’s neck. He felt one, but it was faint. He examined the hole in his chest, and to his surprise, it was no longer bleeding. In fact, aside from the gaping hole, there seemed to be no damage. Inside the hole was a plastic sheen.

“So, you change your mind, honr?” came a deep voice that made Frank jump back. Django coughed and grunted, and slowly rose to his feet.

The young woman was woken up by a tug on her arm. She opened her eyes to see Nan bending over her. “Wake up, dear,” Nan coaxed. Nan was a matronly woman who always brought food, water, and fresh clothes to the young woman. “It’s time for your meal.”

“Hi Nan,” the young woman groggily said. She sat up straight as Nan sat next to her, holding a bowl full of a rice mash and a spoon. The young woman had grown to like Nan, being the only human contact she had since coming here. She opened her mouth as Nan fed her a spoonful of the mash. It didn’t look too appetizing, but it was spiced and prepared in such a way that it was the most delicious food that the young woman had ever eaten - though she was barely fed, so any food would have likely had the same effect.

They continued until the bowl was empty. Nan held up a glass of water to the young woman’s lips, and she took a few sips. “Nan, what’s going to happen to me?” the young woman asked.

Nan sighed. She looked off in the distance, as if trying to tell the truth but remove the painful bits. “I’m afraid that’s up to Master Vulokax to decide.”

“I’m sorry, dear. I have to go.” Nan arose, took the bowl, spoon, and cup, and walked away, passing through a doorway on the other side of the hall. The young woman struggled with the chains once more, but seeing that it was futile, gave up.

“Django... how... what... huh?” Chavvy was more shocked than anyone. “Eh, ‘twas one of my fake boobs,” he explained. “You know, from the Robot Factory Outlet Store, over on 9th Street? It has Silica-526E, which ‘works just like a bandage.’ I never knew it would work so well...”

“It’s like a band-aid for a bullet wound, only it really works,” Frank exclaimed. He could see the lights of the Door Bar shine through the hole in Django’s chest. “I’m just pissed that I can’t wear this dress again!” Django lamented, truly sad.

“Glad to see you’re okay, Django,” Rosie said. “But we need to get going. Frank, listen up. We don’t know much, but here’s what we do know. Everything that’s happened lately? Well, something similar happened about thirty years ago to your own father. As you know, that didn’t end well, and I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you.”

“Wait, what?” Frank couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His parents had died when he was only a few years old, and Rosie had always told him that they died in a car accident. “You have to believe me, Frank,” Rosie said. For a mean old woman, she could sure be gentle when she wanted to be.

Before anyone could say anything else, six cars screeched into the parking lot. Rosie wasted no time. “Book it, Frank!” she yelled, and the four ran towards the Door Club. Frank looked back to see a bunch of older men get out of their cars and start running towards him. They made it through the door safely, but showed no signs of stopping. Rosie led the way, and the others followed. She ran to the back of the club, skillfully avoiding crashing into any lingering bystanders, and went towards the bathrooms. Between the men’s bathroom and women’s bathroom was an unmarked door with a series of three locks.

“Your keys, Frank! We need your keys!” Rosie cried. Frank tossed the large ring over to her. He was out of breath, but full of adrenaline. “How do I have keys to this door?” he wondered, yelling over the bar noise and music. “We thought they’d be safe near your waist. No one would dare go near that region of your body...” Rosie joked. “Well, not ‘no one,’” Django said, winking and elbowing Frank.

After fumbling with the keys for a few moments, Rosie managed to get two of the three open. Frank looked back to see the old men at the entrance. They were arguing with the bouncer. After some time, he let them pass right as Rosie unlocked the third lock.

“Got it!” Rosie exclaimed. The four of them passed through the door, closed it tightly behind them, and ran down some stairs. They went along a hallway for awhile until Rosie stopped in her tracks. “Wait, this isn’t right,” she said. “Sure it is,” said Chavvy. “This matches the map that you showed me - unless they’ve changed it. Here, let me try to remember...”

They heard footsteps behind them. Had the old men somehow gotten through the door? Frank noticed a door to his right, reached for the knob, and was surprised to find that it was unlocked. He opened it and ran inside, the others following suit.

The young woman looked down into the great hall, where row after row was filling with older men. They had started about thirty minutes ago, and more were still coming. She couldn’t begin to count how many were here, nor did she have the energy. Along the walls, about twenty feet apart, candle lamps had been lit, mixing with the faux moonlight and giving the place a strange glow.

She struggled again with the chains, but had no luck. Up until this point, the only other person she had seen was Nan. Who were these thousands of people sitting in front of her? To her left, a door opened, and a strange-looking group of people walked in. One of them looked familiar, and was staring right at her.

“Frank?” she asked, looking shocked and not knowing what to think. He gazed at her. “Petra?” She hadn’t changed too much, but seemed to have improved with age. Seeing her in chains, he ran over to her to see if he could help. When he got there, he realized for the first time that they weren’t alone. The hall suddenly grew quiet, as the throngs ceased their murmuring, and Frank suddenly found himself on a stage in front of thousands of people, scared speechless and frozen in place.

BOOM! All of a sudden, there was another sound of an explosion. The cathedral was awash in light and color, in another awesome visual display. This time, however, it retained its glow. Frank saw a lone figure dressed in a dark robe walk down the aisle. As he got closer, Frank thought he recognized his gait. It couldn’t be him. He had showered and shaved, his hair was neat, his clothes were tidy, and he wasn’t wearing that ridiculous helmet. Could it be? Was that... Crackhead Stu?