I Believe We're The Enemy

Gerard’s P.O.V.

Though Ginny has no more nightmares that night, she swears that Ray isn’t dead. “I would know,” she promises me, but I can see the anxiety glowing in her huge green eyes.

We eat breakfast as normal: Mikey and I chatter about random brother stuff while Ginny and Frank pretend to ignore the ever-present electric tension humming between them. Whenever they’re not around, MIkey launches into an endless tirade about what he calls “Ginny’s pathetic love triangle”. I feel sorry for Frank sometimes; he obviously likes Ginny a lot, but he respects Ray too much to act on those feelings, and at times it rips him apart. At the same time, I’m almost jealous of all the attention that Ginny funnels away from Frank.

After breakfast, Ginny and I leave the hotel to engage in a few practice fights in the small area of shade provided by the hotel and the surrounding plant life. I teach her a few basic punches, backhands, and kicks, letting her practice on me granted that she not aim for anywhere too vulnerable. At first, her efforts are nothing short of wimpy, but as she keeps practicing she learns how to use her limited strength and size to her advantage. After a few days of constant sparring she’s learned how to skip back and forth around me, throwing randomly-timed blows at me wherever she can reach, until I get too dizzy to stand and topple over, leaving her victorious. She also learns to shoot a blaster with incredible accuracy, and we even practice fencing with dried-up tree branches that we scavenge from around the hotel. Eventually, I learn that despite her doll-faced beauty that glows on the outside, Ginny is really a very angry, vengeance-filled person.

The nightmares continue. After two weeks Ginny wakes up not upset but rather determined, demanding that we rescue Ray as soon as we possibly can. Though it takes me a while, I calm her down, promising her that once we’re all ready to take on our enemies there will be no delay. The next day, Frank and Mikey join our training on my request.

Mikey is shocked by Ginny’s newfound skill. “She’s like a ninja,” he declares with an amazed smirk. The pride on her face mingles quickly with determination as she nearly snaps his nose in half with a well-timed roundhouse kick.

“Or a badass girlfriend out to save her lover from a certain doom,” Frank suggests eagerly.

I give Ginny a wary glance. “Somehow, I find that a lot scarier.”

“Probably is,” Ginny confirms.

That night as we’re about to retreat to our various beds to sleep, a light shines in through one of the curtain-less windows near Mikey’s sofa, startling us all as it flashes around the room and then disappears. Indistinct shouts drift into the room from outside, and as the dracs’ muffled dialect reaches our ears, panic sets in.

“They’re coming to see if we’re still here,” I hiss, trying to calm the others. “If we can get out of their way and hide, they’ll leave us alone.” I lead them out of our room and up two more flights of stairs, running as quickly and quietly as possible, until we reach the top floor of the hotel. There, behind the first two rooms, is the old laundry room, where heaps of threadbare towels and dusty sheets interrupt the smoothness of the tiled white floor. I point us toward a row of abandoned washing machines and dryers standing with a defunct air in the back of the room. After quickly checking to make sure that they don’t work, I help Mikey climb into one and Ginny into another, closing the lids once they’re out of the way. Frank and I soon realize that it’s impossible to fit into the washing machines and, hearing the dracs’ footsteps start to mount the second of the three staircases, we climb into the remaining dryer together, leaving the door open a tiny bit so that we can get out.

“I don’t want to die, Gee,” Frank whispers. I can feel his body, pressed uncomfortably against my own, shaking.

“It’s okay, Frank, just stay quiet and they won’t hurt us,” I reply, finding his hand in the overwhelming darkness and letting his slender fingers interlace with my own. Even though I put on a brave act for Frank, I feel my heart hammering against my ribcage when the sound of pounding draculoid feet mounts the last of the steps to the fourth floor. I let out a mental ‘Fuck!’ when I realize that we probably left footprints in the ever-present layer of dust on the well-worn tiles. Luckily, the dracs aren’t smart enough to realize where we’ve hidden. They search the two guest rooms with incredible thoroughness before moving on to the laundry room, their booted toes kicking at everything in sight. Frank’s fingernails dig into the skin of my palm as he clenches my hand to keep from screaming.

Apparently the laundry room is much more interesting than any of the other places we could’ve chosen to hide, because the dracs stay there for an hour, searching everything in the room again and again until we start to wonder if their short-term memory isn’t quite intact. The room finally falls into silence, but we don’t hear their footsteps leaving. I remember learning about the Holocaust back in grade school, and how Jews hiding from Nazis had to stay quiet long after their houses went silent, just in case any soldiers had stayed behind to listen for them. A wave of bitterness rises in my throat as I realize how similar that situation is to ours, and I hope with all my heart that Mikey and Ginny know to stay silent. After a few minutes, Frank lets go of my hand and curls up into a ball, his spinal cord pressed against my chest, and I feel my own fear threatening to engulf me as the tiniest of terrorized whimpers escapes from his lips. One of my arms drapes itself over his shoulder in a silent attempt to comfort him, but as my fingers brush his cheeks I feel nothing but tears.

“It’s going to be alright, Frankie,” I whisper, making sure that my voice is as quiet as possible. “They’ll be gone soon.” In response, he huddles closer to me, heaving a miniscule sigh as I bury my face in his shoulder, my cheek rubbing against his shivering neck.

After another half an hour we hear the dracs, which evidently had been waiting for us to reveal ourselves, rise from where they sit and leave the room, slamming the door behind them. Seven sets of feet descend flight after flight of stairs, and the faint sound of motorcycle engines roaring to life reaches my ears. As soon as I’m positive that they’re gone, I push open the door of the dryer carefully and climb out, lending Frank a hand, which goes to waste as he falls haphazardly onto the floor, his face stained by tears.

I help Mikey and Ginny climb out of their hiding places, and then I return to where Frank lays on the floor, still firmly curled up in a ball. Emotion engulfs me as I sit down next to him and lift him onto my lap, holding him until he finally stops shaking and starts to relax. Then I help him to his feet, and together we trot back downstairs to our barely-disturbed room, Mikey and Ginny at our heels.

Frank quickly regains his composure and goes straight to bed, but the rest of us soon find that we’re too afraid to even attempt sleep. Seeing Frank, normally so brave and optimistic, broken down to the level of a tear-streaked child shook something within me. I find that I don’t want to go to sleep for fear of what I’ll encounter behind my own closed eyes. Ginny and Mikey share similar feelings.

Finally, after promising that we’ll take care of each other if our nightmares become overpowering, Ginny, Mikey, and I retreat to our beds and quickly fall asleep, exhausted from trying to stay still and quiet in our various hiding places for so long. Like I predicted, the moment I shut my eyes I begin to dream. At first I seen to be inhabiting Ginny’s normal nightmares. I’m facing a broad, snow-white wall, on which a large array of knives, razors, blades, ray guns, and various electric-looking weapons are hanging. A drac marches into view, selects a small, shiny razor, and trots back to somewhere behind me. I’m incapable of turning to see what it’s doing, but I get the feeling that I don’t want to know.

All of a sudden a series of screams cut through the air, and the drac swears loudly as a spray of blood covers my back and the wall before me, minus a large Gerard-shaped patch. Then I’m turning, my feet moving on their own, and I see Ray, strapped to a weird-looking white chair in the center of the room. His face is bruised and covered in long, red gashes in various stages of the healing process, and as Ginny promised, his hair has been cut short--not to a buzz, but a little longer, and sticking out in all directions. As the lone drac rakes its razor across his palms again, he lets out a broken-sounding wail, his eyes squinting in pain. I thought that they would’ve been torturing him for information, but this looks more like blood just for the sake of blood.

Suddenly, a layer of fuzziness starts to take over the dream, as if my brain is improvising rather than just watching a scene play out. Three more chairs slide out from the gloom next to the towering white walls, and my stomach turns upside down as I realize that they’re occupied by none other than Frank, Mikey, and Ginny. I watch as Ginny sees Ray before her and starts shrieking at the row of dracs entering the room to let him go. One of them shouts something unintelligible at her before picking up a deadly-looking dagger and using its point to draw a thin, blood-red line across her throat.

I want to scream for Ginny, but no sound comes out of my mouth, and instead I sob silently as the dracs abandon her and move on to Mikey and Frank, slashing and scraping at their once-pristine faces. One vampire-faced creature starts hacking at Mikey’s pale lips, while another picks up what looks like an electric fire poker and gouges out one of Frankie’s beautiful green eyes. Instantly, I’m throttled by the sick pain in my throat, and everything turns fuzzy and then black.

Ginny’s P.O.V.

I wake with a start from the strangest dream I’ve had in a long time. I was in a strange chair, in the middle of a huge white room. Like normal, I could hear Ray screaming, but then the shrieks of my other friends joined his, and right before I woke up a single drac walked up to me and coolly slit my throat.

I expect Gerard to be holding me in his arms when I wake up, ready to soothe my frayed nerves as he never fails to do, but he’s still asleep, tossing and turning as he murmurs unhappily. “Gerard,” I call softly, grabbing one of his shoulders and shaking it gently. His eyes flick open with a jolt, and I instantly know that he’s going to need comforting just as much as I do.

“Come on, Gee,” I whisper, taking his hand and sliding off the bed. He follows me forlornly out of the room to where Frank and Mikey sit on their bed, and when Gerard spies Frank he pulls him into his arms, grabbing his face and running his thumbs down Frank’s cheeks lovingly.

“Frankie, you have dazzling eyes,” Gerard whispers, his fingers combing through Frank’s hair with unfathomable affection. Frank looks puzzled.

“So do you, Gee... What’s wrong?” I can hear Frank’s voice shaking, and I realize that we all must’ve been having nightmares at the same time.

Gerard drags Frank back to the bed, and they both curl up next to Mikey, who’s staring at his brother with wide, fearful eyes. Watching the three broken-hearted boys huddled together on the bed, crying silently onto each others’ shoulders, makes me realize that being a Killjoy isn’t all about defeating the bad guys and saving the day. This, right here, is the true spirit of the Fabulous Killjoys, except for one thing.

“Hope,” I yelp loudly, accidentally voicing my thoughts. All three boys turn to look at me, and I cross the room to them, feeling my emptied heart filling with a new strength. Through it all, there is only one promise that makes us Killjoys: that we will live on, even if only in spirit.

All of us.

Ray’s P.O.V.

The dracs end my nightly torture session earlier than usual, so when they toss me into my cell I’m conscious enough to scramble across the floor to my usual spot. Glory Girl was right; the dracs love machines that involve electricity. I’ve seen her get shocked by the poles a few times when I’m too weakened to get out of the way myself, and though she tries to hide it, I can tell that it hurts a lot. Still, she always does whatever it takes to defend me from them. Today, my tormenters discovered that I’m rather edgy around flames, mostly since I’m always afraid that my hair will catch on fire. Along with the usual collection of scars, scratches, and gashes crisscrossing my face, arms, and chest, I’m now sporting a number of incredibly painful burns as well.

Glory Girl takes one look at me and rolls her eyes. “Can’t you ever take care of yourself?” she asks exasperatedly. I’ve come to expect that tone, but also to pick out the fondness in it. Despite all the trouble I routinely cause her, we’ve quickly become good friends. I think she deeply enjoys having someone new and still compassionate to talk to.

Once again, I fall asleep while she’s still tending to my numerous wounds. I’m always exhausted; screaming uses a lot more energy than one would expect, and the dracs feed us only the bare minimum of what it takes to keep us alive. However, when I wake up again, Glory Girl is sitting next to me rather than across the room, and to my surprise, her head is leaned on my mangled shoulder.

“Glory, what’s wrong?” I ask, instantly noticing the shiny pink tear-stains on her tanned face. A fresh wave of sobs overcomes her, and she offers up her slender wrists, since she’s crying too hard to speak. Fury flows over me as I recognize the long razor slashes stretching almost from her palms to her elbows. Then I realize that the blistered lines on her face aren’t tear tracks, but rather burns. When she lifts a couple inches of her shirt up to show me the wounds on her pale stomach, it occurs to me that she’s lucky to be alive.

She finally pulls herself together and starts to speak. “They took me while you were sleeping,” she murmurs, huddling close to me as if we’re sharing a cell with deadly enemies. “It hurts so much, Ray, I never knew how painful it was. I thought those electric poles were bad, but they’re nothing compared to this... How do you stand it? You must be the bravest person I’ve ever met.” With that she leans her fragile head on my shoulder again, and I wrap both of my arms around her, holding her tightly as she shakes with uncertain sobs.

“It’s okay, Glory. Just rest now, and I’ll take care of you,” I whisper gently. I drag the small bucket containing our precious water over to myself, and I let her head slip into the crook of my elbow so that I can reach her face. My fingers work quickly as I pick up a strip of the cloth Glory Girl uses for bandages, and I start to dab at her burns and her bleeding wrists, watching her pained face carefully. When I start to lift the edge of her shirt, she jerks away from me, and I hold my hands up in surrender.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. Just let me take care of your stomach and I won’t touch you again,” I tell her softly, letting her ease back to where she had been laying across my lap. Her stomach obviously hurts a lot, as she hisses loudly every time the wet fabric comes into contact with her boiling skin, but I finish tending to it quickly and return to her arms. They refuse to stop bleeding, so I bandage them as tightly as I dare. Her callused hands seem so small and harmless now, and for a moment, my heart aches as I think of Ginny. I quickly shake the memories, thoughts, and wishes out of my head and continue dabbing at Glory Girl’s burning face.

Five minutes later, Glory is asleep. All traces of fear, uncertainty, and mistrust have faded from her face as her chest, made scrawny by malnutrition, rises and falls peacefully. I run my fingers through her dark brown hair and straighten her rumpled clothing, realizing as I do so that she’s incredibly beautiful. Her cheeks are naturally tainted a bright berry pink, which contrasts nicely with her darkish complexion, deep chocolate hair, and awe-striking copper-and-green eyes. I try to avoid looking at these eyes, because while they’re not even close to the shape of Ginny’s, just a couple flecks of her green match my girlfriend’s. She probably thinks I’m incredibly nervous and dishonest for my adamant refusal to make eye contact.

Finally, I lean my head back against the wall, leaving my arms wrapped around Glory Girl’s frail body. Despite my evidently long nap, I’m still tired, so using what little hair I have left as a pillow against the hard stone wall behind me, I soon fall fast asleep.