Journey of a Thousand Miles

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand,

The hand that held the steel:

For only blood can wipe out blood,

And only tears can heal."

—Oscar Wilde "The Ballad of Reading Gaol"

I am not a fan of drinking. It addles the thinking process, and at this point of time I cannot afford that hindrance at all: I have a time limit to find something that I have no goddamn clue about with even less background knowledge and the looming threat of my eventual smiting by Arceus' golden hoof. I came to Mt. Silver expecting something impressive, but nothing as bat-shit insane as the spirit of a boy protecting the world from the dark side of the Legendary Pokémon. If for nothing else than to placate my spirits and contain my vanishing sanity, I buy a bottle of whiskey from the small town at the base of the mountain, and while Oz is treated in the clinic expertly built to handle frostbite, I stand in the cold to numb my body while the alcohol numbs my mind. I know I'm not doing myself any favors, but I would like to avoid reality for a little longer.

Oz doesn't wake up for a long time. When he finally does, the first thing he sees is me sitting by the bed watching him like a, ah, total creep. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," I say. "Great job wasting one of my seven days."

He stares at me for a second before shutting his eyes and turning his head away. "I didn't dream it," he mutters disdainfully.

"I wish you did. Hell, I wish I did too."

"Are you drunk?" He says it like he already knows the answer.

"Why?"

"I don't think you hear how drunk you are."

"You're right, I can't." The bottle only has half remaining but I dump it in the room's trashcan anyway. I settle back in the seat and look out the window at the drab snowy landscape. "Now that you've had a good night's sleep, I hope your mind's clearer."

"You're one to talk." His sarcasm annoys me, but honestly, I would be bitter too if I had to spend who-knows-how-long as someone else, although I'm starting to wish that I did just choose that option. I run my hands up and down my face, trying to string together my fragmented thoughts and failing miserably.

"The, uh . . . The, ah, Red thing. Can you just answer the question please? I don't want to end up like that and that's why I'm here."

"Yeah, about that." It takes some effort but he sits up. He seems a little upset, but through these drunk goggles reality is very elusive and deceitful. "Why aren't you still on Mt. Silver? I mean, I didn't question it before cuz you were better than lying there to die of cold, but now that I think about it, you should've been right after me."

"I made a deal, a deal with that big white equine thing." I laugh at the fact that I remember the word "equine" over its name, but Oz doesn't find it as humorous.

"Big white . . . I don't know what 'equine' means."

"Horsey."

"Oh. Oh, so you mean . . . you made a deal with Arceus," he finishes, stunned. I give him a clap for his effort. "B . . . But how? And why?"

"Look, I can't rehash that one-sided conversation with enough coherency . . . I don't even know if I sound the same to you as I do to myself."

"Look, I don't remember much from being Red or whatever. It was like watching an 8 mm movie . . . I was just watching him or it or whatever do battle and talk and everything but it was so bad that half the time I really had no clue what was happening. Before that . . ." He shudders, looking at his hands. "I can barely remember anything about what it was like before. It feels like my whole life—my life—was just some big dream. It's the scariest thing I've ever felt."