The Rest of the Story: Read it
here.
This is the final part of my College Roomies from Hell fanfiction. I thought I better get this up before I posted the storyblogging carnival. Speaking of which, I'll have it up tomorrow.
Chapter 7
"So…" Mark said. "You have
laservision."
Dave was watching Wendy and Stella set up the pentagram. Rose, with Fluffy on her arm, was overseeing them to make sure they got it right. Dave just hoped that rock knew what it was doing. When Mark spoke, he looked at him, then very carefully took a step away. He looked envious, and that made Dave nervous. "Yeah. Like I said, I swam in a polluted lake and mutated."
"But why didn't that happen here? None of us are mutated." He sounded positively disappointed.
"I don't know why Dahlia and the others didn't do the same thing. Maybe because girls aren't as likely to get so drunk they hijack a plane and make a porno movie before waking up in a tree about to be cut down by a lumberjack."
"Wow, that sounds like it was quite an adventure. So, um, where is this lake?"
"Trust me, stay away from there. I was lucky: my mutation isn't disfiguring. Mike and Roger weren't. Mike's left arm turned into a tentacle and Roger grew an eye in his hand. There's no telling what mutation you'd end up with if you went there. "
"Aww. Okay, then tell me why you didn't use your laservision on me when I was beating you up. You could have taken me down anytime, couldn't you?"
Dave rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, only to gasp in pain. He reached up to massage his aching shoulder, which gave him time to think. The truth was that he had been giving voice to his frustrations, and laservision would have ended the fight before he could do so. "I, uh, didn't want to hurt you," he said instead.
"And here I was, worried about hurting you." Mark paused before continuing. "So I guess this is why you're so convinced that you and the others are supposed to help this female version of me. You think that the mutations were given to you for that reason."
"It's occurred to me, yes," Dave said.
"But here, Dahlia doesn't have a mutation. How is she supposed to help me?"
Dave shook his head. "It's not about the mutations. They give us an edge in the fights, but I don't think it's about the fights either. Satan wants our souls, and in order to do that, he needs to corrupt us. Individually we're doomed, but if we help one another, we have a chance."
"Heh, you sound like that friend of yours, Rikki."
"Yeah, he's the one who gave me the idea… oh no, now what?"
Stella and Wendy had gotten into a fight, and Rose and Adam were trying to drag them apart. Marvin came over to help, leaving Michelle idly filing her nails, and pried Stella's hair out of Wendy's grip. "You're such an idiot, Wendy!" Stella shouted. "It's no wonder Satan chose me as his bride."
"No way! He chose me!" Wendy said, managing to grab hold of Stella's dress despite Rose's, Adam's, and Marvin's attempts to separate them. Stella was trying to claw her eyes out when a blaze of blue light set the air sizzling and they both froze instantly.
"Frankly, I don't care if Satan marries you both," Dave said, relieved that Wendy had released her grip on Stella's bodice. The fabric had seemed close to tearing, and that was the last thing he wanted to see. "He can have a family, raise a couple of little demons. Maybe it'll get him off our backs. I do care about getting home, though, so can't this wait until
after I get there."
"That's the problem. That idiot"—Stella pointed at her roommate—"thinks the last three candles should be black, red, red, but I
know they should be red, black, red."
"Oh, sure, if you want to turn him inside out," Wendy said. "If you want something less dis-
organ-ized, you should do it my way."
Everything took on a blue tinge as Dave briefly entertained the thought of putting them both out of his misery. Unfortunately, he needed their help. "Rose, what does Fluffy say?" Dave asked.
"Fluffy's not sure," Rose answered. "The books they're using argue as much as they do."
"Argh, just when I could use advice from a rock. Okay, we'll do it Stev-Stella's way."
"Are you sure?" Mark asked. "If Wendy's right, it might kill you."
"If they're anything like Steve and Waldo, then Stella's less of an idiot. Besides, if it turns me inside out, they know you'll kill them. I think they have plenty of incentive to make sure it works."
The two witches looked at each other, then back at him. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Mark said.
Rose, Marvin, and Adam released the two of them, they scrambled to get to work, Stella putting the last few candles in place while Wendy used chalk to draw one last symbol on the wooden floor. When they were done, Stella said, "Okay, it's ready. Should we do it now?"
Dave took a couple of deep breaths as he gathered up Chester.
If it kills me—then at least those two will be right behind. "Okay, we should do this now before my courage gives out."
"Dahlia" sighed, then closed her eyes as she lifted the glass to her lips.
"Stop!"
Everyone froze, including girl-Dave, who held the glass less than an inch from her mouth. With so many people packed into the kitchen, all their eyes focused on "Dahlia," no one had noticed that someone else had crowded into the doorway, his discolored and puffy face peering over Marsha's shoulder. Complete silence fell over the room as he entered, limping, until Margaret said, "Dave?"
"Yeah, it's me," he said, crossing the room to where Dahlia—Margaret guessed that really was her name—stood. A black cat, obviously Chester, followed after him. Dahlia continued to stand still, the glass trembling against the edge of her lip as her eyes darted around the room, until Dave took the potion out of her hand and placed it on the counter. "And you're Dahlia, aren't you? I'm thinking you really don't want to drink that."
"Then I-I'm not Dave? They said I was…"
"No, you're not Dave. I am," he answered.
"Then I
am useless," she said, and started to cry.
"Whoa, wait," Dave said, hands raised helplessly. "Who said that?"
She pointed a shaky finger at Mike as she wiped at her eyes with the other hand, saying, "He did."
Mike seemed to shrink under the withering looks the others gave him. Well, probably it was only Marsha's venomous gaze that caused that. "In my defense, I thought she was you," he argued.
Dave's eyes flashed blue and Mike raised a tentacle to shield his eyes, but there was no brilliant blaze of light this time. "You know, Mike, I ought to blast you on general principle, but…" He looked back at Dahlia. "C'mere," he said, pulling her into an awkward hug. He wasn't much better at the comforting stuff than Margaret. "You're not useless, Dahlia. You're just out-of-place. They need you back home just as much as these guys need me." He looked over her shoulder at Mike and the others, as if wanting to see whether anyone would challenge him. No one did.
"But how do I get home?" Dahlia asked. "Where am I?"
"Isn't it obvious?" asked April. "I bet she's from an alternate universe."
"That's the craziest thing—" Mike began.
"April's right," Dave said before Mike could start an argument. He let go of Dahlia so he could talk to the others. "Steve's and Waldo's spell worked right the first time, sending me to Dahlia's world. If they re-cast the spell, we can send Dahlia home."
"Does this mean we spent all that time on that potion for nothing?" Steve asked.
"If you don't want it to go to waste,
you can try it," Margaret said.
"Uh, that's all right. I'll just go get started on that pentagram." He hurriedly left the room, Waldo trailing in his wake, leaving the kitchen just a hair less crowded.
Chester had joined Chelsea on the counter, and the two cats were sniffing at each other. Dave hastily seized hold of his cat, and Dahlia grabbed hers, both of them blushing furiously as they did so. The others wisely didn't ask any questions.
"So, Dave, what happened to you?" Margaret asked. "You look like you've been in a fight with a werecoy—werewolf, a fight with a werewolf." She carefully avoided looking at Roger, who was holding a furious whispered conversation with Fluffy and didn't seem to have heard.
He said, "I'll explain after we get Dahlia home."
"But I still don't understand," Dahlia said. "What do you mean about an alternate universe and another world?"
Dave did his best to explain the concept, which was a neat trick considering he just barely understood it. April joined in, as a result of which he understood even less.
"So events happen in parallel in both worlds?" Margaret asked, worried.
"Not completely parallel," Dave said, gesturing significantly to his bruised face. "Although apparently both worlds are out to get me."
"Well, obviously!" Roger said loudly. When he noticed that everyone had turned towards him, he said, "Um, sorry, what did you say, Dave? Fluffy was just pointing out that the events of the two universes aren't identical, but they do converge for significant events, then they diverge along different paths only to converge again at the next significant event."
"I find it odd that the mutations aren't considered a significant event," Margaret said.
"Fluffy agrees, but it doesn't have an explanation," Roger replied.
"What did happen there, Dave?" Dahlia asked him. "You look like you got into a fight."
Dave sighed. "I guess you're going to find out anyway. Mark and I had a disagreement."
"Mark did that?" Dahlia asked, horrified. "But why? I know he has a temper, but…"
"I hit him first, actually," Dave said, looking down at Chester, resting in his arms, rather than meeting Dahlia's eyes. "Uh-oh, I think I hear Steve and Waldo arguing. I better go make sure they get it right." He hurried out the door before Dahlia or Margaret could say anything else. Margaret hadn't heard anything from the wonder morons. She and Dahlia met each other's eyes, and they both shrugged.
"Don't worry about it, Dahlia," Mike said. "Dave can't cross the street without getting pounded by somebody. Something about him just screams 'Hurt me!'"
"And you're always happy to oblige, aren't you, Mike?" Margaret snapped.
"Hey, he expects it from me. Better me than someone who would really hurt him." Mike arched an eyebrow at her. It was an impressive feat, and Margaret would have appreciated it more if she hadn't understood perfectly well what he was implying.
Rather than respond to Mike's goading, Margaret headed out into the living room, where Dave was arguing with Steve. The others followed. Unlike the living rooms upstairs, this one had a wood floor, more amenable to chalk drawings than a carpet, at least. A pentagram was drawn on it, surrounded by all sorts of symbols, bearing a resemblance to letters but each from a different alphabet: Arabic, Chinese, Hebrew, even what looked like an English "W." There was plenty of room for it, as the living room was even more sparsely furnished than the guys' apartment, lacking not just a television but even a couch, although there were plenty of bookshelves laden with old leatherbound books with unreadable languages printed on their spine, along with more modern volumes such as
Demon Summoning for Dummies and
A Beginner's Guide to Sumerian Chants. None of the room's current occupants had much interest in those books, as Steve and Dave stood on opposite sides of the pentagram, glaring at each other, while Waldo was scribbling more symbols on the floor with chalk while trying to stay below eye-level.
"I know what I'm doing," Steve was saying. "I had no trouble sending you there, did I?"
"But I'm telling you that in the other universe the candles went red, black, red," Dave said.
"That was there," Steve answered. "Here they go black, red, black. Are you going to trust me or not?"
"I'm not going to trust you, that's for sure. If something goes wrong, I'm going to give you a terminal case of laserburn."
"Nothing will go wrong, I'm sure," Steve said. "So…, um, how can you tell whether it actually sent her back to the right place?"
"Because if she doesn't arrive home within an hour from the time I left, they're going to send Mark after her, and you know that their spell works. If it turns out you lost her, he's going to be furious. He did this"—Dave pointed to his face—"out of mild annoyance."
"Oookay," Steve said, backing away a step, "you've answered all
my questions. Do you have any questions, Waldo?"
"None at all. You
beat me to the
punch."
"I guess we're ready then."
"Dahlia," Dave said. "It's time to go."
"Are you sure it's safe?" she asked as she sat down in the center of the pentagram, Chelsea in her lap.
"No, not really," Dave said, looking at his feet. "But Wendy and Stella were able to send me here, so Steve and Waldo should be able to send you to your home."
Dahlia turned very pale, but all she said was, "Let's hurry up and do this. Thanks, Dave."
"Just trust me when I say they really do need you there," Dave answered.
Dahlia nodded. "And thank you, Margaret, for listening to me."
"Yeah, sure," Margaret replied.
Steve and Waldo took positions on either side of the pentagram and began to chant. It was, as far as Margaret could tell, a very poor job of it. She wasn't sure what language they were chanting in, but quite a few words came out garbled, quite often they seemed to be saying very different things, and once she distinctly heard Steve slip the phrase "Dave is a jerkwad" into the mumbling. Despite this worrying fact, Dave didn't show any reaction to their poor chanting. On the other hand, he had a distinctly greenish cast throughout, even showing through the bruises, so maybe he was too worried to notice. Dahlia looked almost identical, sitting there with her eyes tightly shut. Finally the chanting came to a crescendo and suddenly halted. The eerie silence in the aftermath stretched on for a few seconds, then a minute, then two.
"Is something going to hap—" Margaret began.
"Shhh," hissed Dave.
She was going to argue, but at that moment she notice that Dahlia had grown dim and dingy. She looked more closely to try to see what was happening to her, and realized that Dahlia was surrounded by a black mist, the same darkness that had formed around Dave before. It grew darker and deeper until it was quite opaque, blocking her sight of Dahlia underneath a dome tied to the outer circle of the pentogram. And then it vanished, and Dahlia was gone too.
"Did it work?" she asked.
"I think so," Dave replied. "Even though their chanting sounded terrible."
"It doesn't really matter what they chant," Roger replied. "As long as they have the rhythm and volume right. That's what Fluffy says, anyway."
"Do you think we'll ever find out if she made it home?" Marsha asked from where she had been watching, well away from the pentagram.
"I don't know," Mike told her. "Probably not. Well, who wants pizza?"
"I do," said Roger. "Can we get anchovies and peaches?"
"Heh. I thought you'd want gravel again," Mike said as he headed out the door.
"That's Fluffy's favorite, not mine, and he's not hungry right now."
"As long as it doesn't have mushrooms I'm happy," said April as she followed Roger into the hallway. "Every time I see a mushroom I can't help looking for a blue tinge."
"Dave, are you all right?" Margaret asked him, as he had remained where he was. Waldo and Steve seemed eager to be rid of them, but reluctant to say so considering who they were talking to.
"I suppose. I… learned something about myself, and my feelings, over there. I'm not sure I liked it, but I'm glad it happened."
Margaret nodded, "I know what you mean."
"Really? What did you learn?"
"You know, feelings and such."
"And here I thought guys were supposed to be the ones who didn't like talking about their feelings," Dave said as he turned towards the door.
"Well, was guy-me any better at it?" Margaret asked, joining him.
"Not exactly," Dave said. "I pretty much had to beat it out of him."
"Oh, really?" she said, trying Mike's one eyebrow trick and only managing to lift both.
"Well, okay, so he did most of the beating, but he was honest, to me and to himself. I think he was, anyway. He had an easier time talking to me than to Dahlia."
"Yeah, that's the impression I got from her, too. Why is it so much harder to communicate when it's a man and a woman?"
"Dunno," Dave replied as he pushed the button for the elevator. It dinged and opened right away. The others seemed to have taken the stairs, but Margaret got on the elevator with Dave, even though it was only one floor. Dave didn't look like he was in any condition to climb even that far. In fact, he looked as if even holding Chester in his arms was painful.
"Here, give him to me," Margaret said, pulling Chester from him.
"Wha—really? I thought you were, you know…"
"I don't mind holding him just so long as he behaves," she said, cradling the cat against her stomach. Chester snuggled against her but otherwise kept still. A rumbling purr started up almost immediately.
Dave was fighting a losing battle to keep a dopey grin off of his face. With the condition his face was in, it looked like that grin hurt. "He's very happy," Dave blurted by way of explanation. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, "Anyway, with Mark, I could say what I felt, I could be honest. I wish I could do that with you."
"Well, why don't you?" she asked.
"Eh, maybe we can wait for my injuries to heal first."
Margaret rolled her eyes, but otherwise kept her thoughts to herself. She was good at that. Besides, she had forgotten how warm and soft Chester was, and she was enjoying just holding him.
The End
This is the last 3,111 word excerpt of a 17,473 word short story.
