Terra Firma

Ivy

I never did like the dark.

Plants need sunlight, after all. So when I found myself in complete darkness I was naturally afraid, searching for any bit of light--artificial or natural. But there was none here. So I wilted.

I don't know how long I was stuck in that position--void of form and starved of light. It is said that dreams can sometimes seem as long as days or as short as seconds--but in fact last much longer (or shorter). It is also said that in dreams you cannot feel pain.

I disagree, especially when I wake up.

I heard a small voice that seemed to be coming from far off and looked up.

"May..."

It was nerdy and rough, with a hint of haunting playfulness I knew that only one man in the world could produce.

"Jack?"

I stood quickly, hunting for the scent of gasoline and rain but only smelling chilly air and stone. This was to be expected, of course. The dream version of Jack was almost always the old version of himself: clean, white-toothed, and mild. The kind of guy you expected to bump into at the library or pass by in a grocery store, stopping only to mumble stupidly about the weather. But when I woke up Jack would fade, and be replaced by a man whose nasally voice was not soft, whose body was as hard as the heart pounding frighteningly real beneath his chest, a soul as gnarled and crooked at the scarred smile playing at his face.

I didn't mind waking up with him next to me like that, even with the yellow teeth and the greasy hair and unkempt fingernails. Jack was an aquired taste--like boiled peanuts or anchovies.

And I'd aquired it, alright. Fallen in love with it. Quickly. Too quickly, it seemed. I could see why, even if it was a skewed, like mist clinging to a windowpane--he'd never actually forced me into this life. Our relationship was never exactly Stokholm Syndrome, he gave me my own identity, allowed me to become something larger than life itself. Hell, he let me have Daisy. Through all the hitting and the scratching and the biting he was still a fragile thing. Through all the threats and the teasing and the manipulative conning, he equaled me out.

He was the only man to keep a promise.

And I said those things to him. Those horrible things. I left. And got myself...

I began to sob thinking about this, realizing I was alone right now. This was uncharacteristic for me. But darkness and fear and doubt brings out very raw, human emotion.

"Oh, poor, poor, May."

I looked up, and a light snapped on.

"Jeannie... I thought you were..."

"I've been dead a long time. I'm going nowhere." She smiled awfully. Her too-long teeth gleamed ghost-white in her rotting skull. She was covered in this ugly, oozing black liquid. It dripped slowly off her fingertips, down her head, off the tips of her brown hair. Her eyes were mad and her body covered in a tattered hospital dress. There were holes in her throat and thorns were sticking in her, holding her sunken body together. She smelt so terrible... rotten eggs and that food mess you find at the bottom of the sink after not rinsing for a few days couldn't compare. There was no way I could dream that smell. I gagged.

"I live in dreams." She said cooly, pulling out a cigarette and lifting it to one of the openings in her throat, "Jack won't let me in his anymore. But I've got you. My friend. We could be good friends. Just you and me. We just need to get rid of him."

"Him...?"

The dim light around her stretched, revealing my partner on one side, sitting dumbly in a chair, blinking off into space.

"Look how stupid he is May. He doesn't pay attention. It's already nightime out there, and he still hasn't found you." She waved her dripping hand in front of his clean face.

"May May May." He whined, his eyes faraway.

"See? I mean, he loves you. But he can't see you. We can't rely on men, you know. You know that."

I frowned, gasping as the light spread to the other side of the horrid thing that called herself Jeannie and revealed.

"Rachel!"

Jack was slouching and staring dumbly. But Rachel was tied up and moving angrily.

"May... don't listen..."

"To him. That's right." Jeannie said, her nagging voice boomed, "You can't listen to him. Us girlies got to stick together! Look what happened in all this chaos, look at poor Rachel. Next it might be Daisy... We need to get rid of him..."

"No, May! Stop! She's just mad because he hasn't killed you... there's a reason I died! I wanted to die! You spent your whole life sacrificing for my happiness, and I knew it had to be done to repay..."

Jeannie screamed and it seemed to weaken my friend.

"May," she smiled sweetly, "You're my friend. I always liked you. I'm trying to help you. I've warned you. But now you have to act. Choose."

I suddenly realized in horror that I'd been sitting in the place where my best friend died, that a ring alcohol stood around each. Her cigarette seemed dangerously close to the ground now. I eyed it. She beamed.

Rachel breathed desperately, "May, I made this decision for us years ago. I knew there could only be one. And I wanted you to be happy. Just like you backing off from Harvey for my happiness. Remember? Goddammit May DON'T LISTEN TO HER!"

Jeannie roared in warning again.

"Before you make any quick decisions, May..." She grinned menancingly, "I have something to reveal... something that's very important about that night."

I cocked my head.

Rachel's eyes widened, "No. No."

"Yes." Jeannie said, "I know something you don't know..."

"What...?"

"Do you think the mob was that smart? Do you think Batman didn't get her in time for a reason..?"

"What?!" I exclaimed, "Tell me! Tell me what happened!"

"May don't listen, it doesn't matter I never wanted them to find me...!"

"One more word out of you, girl, and I'll burn your pretty head," Jeannie snarled bitterly then turned. I could only stare wildly as Rachel moved desperately and Jeannie's grin widened, "You see May..."

"NO!" Rachel shouted in a high voice, knocking herself over, causing Jeannie to lose her balance and drop her cigarette into Rachel's own side of the trap. Flames ignited around her and Jeannie cursed. Jack stood up from his chair once Jeannie went down and began to drag me away from throwing myself into the fire.

"Fire is bad for you. Fire and bullets. Fire and bullets hurt you."

I screamed, staring as my friend was devoured by heat. I clawed at cement hopelessly as he dragged stubbornly.

"IN THERE," I yelped deliriously, "IN THERE IT'S MY FAULT AND SHE'S IN THERE. HAVE TO GO BACK..."

"Anything for a friend." I saw Rachel's beautiful smile one more time.

I'll never forget it.

Joker

"GAH!"

I jolted in the desk chair I'd set up, staring numbly at one of the riddles, now covered in spittle.

I rubbed my eyes, vaguely remembering something about trying to get Ivy away from a fire.

"IN THERE MY FAULT SHE'S IN THERE I HAVE TO GO BACK..."

I frowned, rubbing my eyes and rolling my neck. I'd pieced most of these stupid puzzles together before conking out, but they weren't much help. I knew a few things: one, this guy was a total obessive complusive (exact opposite of me), he didn't like getting his hands dirty (again, polar opposite), he had a thing for redheads (okay got me there),

and he hated Ivy. I'd found at least thirty hate messages bashing, each one now turned to little bits of torn pulp thanks to my rage-filled fingers. It didn't matter that I was destroying them. I remembered each and every single one.

THE FOOL'S QUEEN WILL BLOOM TO PERISH.

That one stuck in my mind the most.

But if that little smartypants Riddle-head boy thought he could lay a hand on my woman and not lose a hand of his...

okay, maybe two hands.

maybe two legs.

oh, and his head!

oh oh don't forget the arms.

and...

Whatever. The point is, this little punk was going die. Slowly, painfully, twisting in my hands.

I was going to play with him. Ohohohoho, boy was I going to play.

This thought brought a giggle to my soul and woke me up a bit. It was then that I heard sounds of a guy being dragged down the hallway, the heavy lumbering footfalls of Goofy and Grumpy stalking towards my door.

"Boss, we found..."

"Hey uh, I thought I told you to go get some pizza..."

"I know but--"

I jumped up at the sight of Gambol's son at their feet, holding his bleeding nose and looking up at me fearfully, "And, uh, who's this?"

"Some guy. We found him walking down here. Some of the goons were roughing him up and we chased 'em off. He said something about wanting to work for you..."

"For me?" I said stupidly. I like playing stupid. It's fun and people don't expect you to have all the answers. Plus it kept my brain off things. Too many things were in my brain. I looked the dark-skinned kid over, crouching down so he could stare into my face.

"Hiiii."

He shuddered.

Geez, I love doing that. I grabbed his face, inspecting it.

I can tell several things by staring close at people's faces--when people are scared, you see a lot things. I remember looking at Daisy the first time--spunk, low self-esteem, abused, overly-dependent, follower.

Ivy was interesting--bad-tempered, stubborn, man-hater, recluse, detached and searching for something to fill a void, obviously wanting a bigger name than she already had.

She was interesting because I saw the same things when I looked at my face.

And this guy...

Homosexual, single, bold. Slightly paranoid and very insecure. Hated his parents. He was a good cook, liked having a lot of friends, and...

I sniffed.

He was an alcoholic.

I smiled.

"You want us to kill him, boss, or?"

"No, no, no." I said, wearing an expression of disbelief, as if this was something I would never do. (HA) "Why don't you guys go get that food... and Mr. Gambol here can have a job interview."

Goofy and Grumpy shrugged, pushing the fellow into the room. He rubbed his nose uncomfortably, still bleeding, and looked around at the little room with the mattress off to the side and the old bucket lying in the same place and the desk in the center that I'd set up upon getting back, now covered in those riddles. I sat down and he stood in front, eyeing me warily.

"You look thirsty. How about... a drink?"