Doctored Chance #NaNoWriMo2019

19 | The Vanishing Act

Savor this chapter, despite its unpleasantness, because it is the last chapter in this story where Tobias MacClain—Doctor Tobias MacClain—has true friends. From the next round chapter, the number twenty, a new act begins, in which Viola Mae Reed and Teddy McGuire are complications on the other side of a war, where they believe in fighting for the light against all that is dark—or, in Teddy's case, cheering from the sidelines, or a plane. Tobias toes the line of light and dark, for he understands that sometimes doing villainous things can be justified for the right reasons. But the "right reasons" are always controversial. For instance, when I stole a civilian's car in order to escape from six terrifying officials from Higher Defense Headquarters, I felt my actions were justified. Suffice it to say, neither the officials, nor the car's owner, agreed.

And when Tobias robbed a bank, broke into a university, and interrupted nationwide broadcasts with his own face, he felt that it was all for the right reasons. But, like stealing a car, these acts are inherently criminal, and by most, will not be seen as good at all.

Viola Mae and Teddy were not yet aware of Tobias's less than noble plans for the future. In fact, Tobias was not fully aware, himself. All of their minds swam with turbulent thoughts of the present predicament; each so overwhelmingly filled with these "rough waters" that each comrade felt numb, as if drifting at the bottom of the gloomy sea, beneath it all.

Tobias leaned against the window, watching dark buildings brush by through the fog of his breath. Viola Mae sat in the passenger seat in front of him, her hand trailing behind her to hold his. Teddy had his eyes on the road ahead, lips pursed. The radio played music quietly, but no-one in the car could hear it, as if each person were trapped in their own bubble. Again, as if underwater, it was deafeningly silent. The pressure of their individual puzzlements swallowed the insignificant garble of the radio.

The streets were empty, the night was cold. Despite the heating of the vehicle, Tobias felts chills throughout his body, circulating from his cheek, against the frosty window, running under the defensive watch that Viola Mae had returned to him, and whispering—barely felt—through his shriveled half.

"On the bright side," Teddy offered, clearing his throat, "there's no traffic."

The others grimaced. Though both appreciated his optimistic attempt to lighten the mood, they were both lost deep in their worries. I cannot say what exactly Viola Mae was thinking, for in Tobias's transcript, he was too preoccupied with his own brooding to make any attempt at reading her. I could not ask her personally for her thoughts, because she does not like me, even remotely, and most of our correspondence has been through letters; in which she only writes what she wants to be known. In this case, her thoughts were private. From the tone of her writing, I could extrapolate that she was afraid for her friend but could glean no more. Please take it up with her; and, while you are at it, please explain that I am not a cockroach and insist she cease to call me as such, for as long as she does, I will continue to write her as a woman, despite knowing her preference to preserve her youth and "coolness" with terms like "lady" or "bird."

Her friend, Tobias, on the other hand, I know was afraid for her, and angry with himself. How had he been so complacent, and so foolish, as to bring Viola Mae—and the wonderful fiancé whom he loved, but couldn't help but envy—into his mess? Why had he stayed with them for so long? Why hadn't he figured out what to do next? Why had he forced them to lie for him? Why had he drunk so much wine? Why hadn't he washed his mask? Why—

"Tobias, how's your vision?" Viola Mae asked, turning in her chair to look at him.

He sighed glumly, not moving his head from the glass. "Terrible."

"At least you can't see the chances of me crashing, eh, Tobias?" Teddy joked.

Tobias huffed and grumbled. There were many reasons why he could not drive, and why he did not like to get into cars in general. Firstly, he had never learned to drive. Secondly, there was always a high chance of accidents in vehicles, and it made him very skittish to have to see glass shards from the windscreen spearing the chests of his drivers whenever he was on the road. Thirdly, at this particular time, his body was still processing copious amounts of wine, and not only did he feel ill, he felt blind and powerless—the visions of the future that crowded the edges of his vision were jumbled and blurry and provided not only a migraine, but a nagging urge to vomit. On top of that, he had not had the time to clean out his mask since his last adventure in it, and its stale sweat smell did not help his mood or his wellness.