The Black Dog Apparition
Chapter 7
Michael’s Point of View
“Mikey! Michael! Wake up! C’mon, you shithead, wake up!”
Startled, my eyes snapped open and I bolted upright from my lying position, my eyes wider than saucers and my back rigid as a board. The lights above blinded me and I recoiled while shielding my eyes from the brightness.
“What?” I shouted back. “I’m awake! I’m awake!”
“I said wake up!”
“I am awake!” I bellowed angrily.
“Michael! What the fuck? Quit screaming!”
I quickly looked around, wondering where I was. My eyes still hurt from the light, but someone’s body blocked out the light when they stood over me. Fear shot through my again and I scrambled backwards until I fell off of whatever I had been sleeping on. The wind shot out of me, but my heart was pumping madly and I hardly felt a thing. I flipped onto my front and scurried away as fast as I could, afraid to look back. That’s when I felt arms wrap tightly around my torso.
“Michael James Dockery! Wake up!”
I squirmed and yelled and I could only tell I was crying when I tasted the salt on my tongue. I bit at the arms that were restraining me, biting biting biting like an animal.
A fucking animal.
Everything faded to a colorless nonexistence.
Bret’s Point of View
“I am awake!” I heard Mikey’s voice shout.
I swung the door open to the changing room we had been assigned for the concert and greeted, “Good thing you are, Guitar Hero - it’s time to…” I trailed off, finally looking at Michael. None of it seemed to register. The red color, the bright shimmer in his eyes, and the…. the… grin?
I felt someone shove past me, running into the room. I thought I heard Jen’s voice, but I can’t be sure about that.
“Oh my God! What the fuck happened? Bret? Bret! Go get some bandages! Bret!”
I blinked, and slowly turned from the scene, walking down the hall. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I didn’t care. I walked into the back of a person slightly taller than I, and I was almost pulled out of my trance, but not completely.
“Hey, woah, kid… What’s wrong with you?”
I looked blankly at the person I had run into. All I noticed was that his black hair, short in the back and long in the front, was flopped over one side of his face, covering one eye. And, god, the amount of make up.
Another one spoke, “Hey, I know these kids. Remember? One of them nearly tackled us to the ground… uh… I forgot the band name… What’s wrong?”
I looked at the floor and shook my head slowly. I just turned around and walked away. I heard both of them sigh heavily behind me and footsteps following mine. They were murmuring things that I couldn’t hear, and honestly did care to.
Jennifer’s Point of View
It’s was just a few cuts… just a few cuts… just a few goddamn motherfucking pouring-out-the-blood cuts. Well, bite marks, really. I tried to get Mikey to talk to me, to get him to explain to me why in the world he would bite himself, of all things. Well… he didn’t have a knife… so… Shut up, Jennifer! Bad thoughts, bad thoughts! Besides, all Mikey would do was giggle. Since when did Mikey giggle?
And where in the hell was Bret with those bandages? It’s not like they were in some secret place.
My attention was returned to Michael when I felt his breath on my face, uncomfortably close. I lurched backwards, “Uh… okay…”
Mikey put his index finger to his lips and spoke, “Hey… you got any crank?”
I arched an eyebrow. Crank? Did he mean crack? “Uh… no… I quit that stuff a while back… you know that.”
He sat back and scrunched his eyebrows together and his lower lip jutted out in a pout. It would have been comical, if his arms hadn’t been bleeding. “Damnit. No one ever has crank.”
“Okay - he won’t tell us. So… oh… I see.”
I did a double take and my jaw dropped. Holy Jesus. Bret didn’t get bandages - he got God himself to come down in the bodily form of a gorgeous bass player and a lead singer.
My left eye twitched involuntarily.
Pete Wentz. Patrick Stump. Here. Now. O. M. G.
“Hi,” I squeaked hoarsely.
Pete strode over to the couch I had Michael sitting on and lifted one of the boy’s bleeding arms to analyze them. I wish he would analyze my arms. Wait - focus, Jen! C’mon. Worry about your friend now, not this… beautiful… luscious… man.
Pete called over his shoulder to Patrick who was leaning against the wall as if he’d seen much worse than this, “Hey, Pat, can you go get something for this? It’s not bad, but it needs some care.”
Patrick nodded and left the room casually.
Pete crouched down in front of Michael who was ignoring him entirely and, instead, was staring at me with what I think was a seductive gaze. Yeah, he’s gonna need some practice on that. Pete snapped his fingers in front of my crazy guitar player to gain his attention and when he finally did, he asked,
“Why did you do that to yourself, huh? All you did was get blood all over you. No use in ruining clothes.”
Mikey thought for a moment, the tip of his tongue sticking out childishly as he did so. Finally, he spurted out, “I’m a vampire!” and he grinned with all of his teeth.
Pete gave me a side-long glance, looking me over as if I had made Michael act this way.
“Ookay… well… when Patrick gets back, you should wrap that up and keep it covered. I won’t take long to heal, and I’d be surprised if it scars severely. Um… maybe he shouldn’t be alone, anymore…”
“Mikey! Michael! Wake up! C’mon, you shithead, wake up!”
Startled, my eyes snapped open and I bolted upright from my lying position, my eyes wider than saucers and my back rigid as a board. The lights above blinded me and I recoiled while shielding my eyes from the brightness.
“What?” I shouted back. “I’m awake! I’m awake!”
“I said wake up!”
“I am awake!” I bellowed angrily.
“Michael! What the fuck? Quit screaming!”
I quickly looked around, wondering where I was. My eyes still hurt from the light, but someone’s body blocked out the light when they stood over me. Fear shot through my again and I scrambled backwards until I fell off of whatever I had been sleeping on. The wind shot out of me, but my heart was pumping madly and I hardly felt a thing. I flipped onto my front and scurried away as fast as I could, afraid to look back. That’s when I felt arms wrap tightly around my torso.
“Michael James Dockery! Wake up!”
I squirmed and yelled and I could only tell I was crying when I tasted the salt on my tongue. I bit at the arms that were restraining me, biting biting biting like an animal.
A fucking animal.
Everything faded to a colorless nonexistence.
Bret’s Point of View
“I am awake!” I heard Mikey’s voice shout.
I swung the door open to the changing room we had been assigned for the concert and greeted, “Good thing you are, Guitar Hero - it’s time to…” I trailed off, finally looking at Michael. None of it seemed to register. The red color, the bright shimmer in his eyes, and the…. the… grin?
I felt someone shove past me, running into the room. I thought I heard Jen’s voice, but I can’t be sure about that.
“Oh my God! What the fuck happened? Bret? Bret! Go get some bandages! Bret!”
I blinked, and slowly turned from the scene, walking down the hall. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I didn’t care. I walked into the back of a person slightly taller than I, and I was almost pulled out of my trance, but not completely.
“Hey, woah, kid… What’s wrong with you?”
I looked blankly at the person I had run into. All I noticed was that his black hair, short in the back and long in the front, was flopped over one side of his face, covering one eye. And, god, the amount of make up.
Another one spoke, “Hey, I know these kids. Remember? One of them nearly tackled us to the ground… uh… I forgot the band name… What’s wrong?”
I looked at the floor and shook my head slowly. I just turned around and walked away. I heard both of them sigh heavily behind me and footsteps following mine. They were murmuring things that I couldn’t hear, and honestly did care to.
Jennifer’s Point of View
It’s was just a few cuts… just a few cuts… just a few goddamn motherfucking pouring-out-the-blood cuts. Well, bite marks, really. I tried to get Mikey to talk to me, to get him to explain to me why in the world he would bite himself, of all things. Well… he didn’t have a knife… so… Shut up, Jennifer! Bad thoughts, bad thoughts! Besides, all Mikey would do was giggle. Since when did Mikey giggle?
And where in the hell was Bret with those bandages? It’s not like they were in some secret place.
My attention was returned to Michael when I felt his breath on my face, uncomfortably close. I lurched backwards, “Uh… okay…”
Mikey put his index finger to his lips and spoke, “Hey… you got any crank?”
I arched an eyebrow. Crank? Did he mean crack? “Uh… no… I quit that stuff a while back… you know that.”
He sat back and scrunched his eyebrows together and his lower lip jutted out in a pout. It would have been comical, if his arms hadn’t been bleeding. “Damnit. No one ever has crank.”
“Okay - he won’t tell us. So… oh… I see.”
I did a double take and my jaw dropped. Holy Jesus. Bret didn’t get bandages - he got God himself to come down in the bodily form of a gorgeous bass player and a lead singer.
My left eye twitched involuntarily.
Pete Wentz. Patrick Stump. Here. Now. O. M. G.
“Hi,” I squeaked hoarsely.
Pete strode over to the couch I had Michael sitting on and lifted one of the boy’s bleeding arms to analyze them. I wish he would analyze my arms. Wait - focus, Jen! C’mon. Worry about your friend now, not this… beautiful… luscious… man.
Pete called over his shoulder to Patrick who was leaning against the wall as if he’d seen much worse than this, “Hey, Pat, can you go get something for this? It’s not bad, but it needs some care.”
Patrick nodded and left the room casually.
Pete crouched down in front of Michael who was ignoring him entirely and, instead, was staring at me with what I think was a seductive gaze. Yeah, he’s gonna need some practice on that. Pete snapped his fingers in front of my crazy guitar player to gain his attention and when he finally did, he asked,
“Why did you do that to yourself, huh? All you did was get blood all over you. No use in ruining clothes.”
Mikey thought for a moment, the tip of his tongue sticking out childishly as he did so. Finally, he spurted out, “I’m a vampire!” and he grinned with all of his teeth.
Pete gave me a side-long glance, looking me over as if I had made Michael act this way.
“Ookay… well… when Patrick gets back, you should wrap that up and keep it covered. I won’t take long to heal, and I’d be surprised if it scars severely. Um… maybe he shouldn’t be alone, anymore…”