Doctored Chance #NaNoWriMo2019

21 | Unfathomably Lost

Deep sleeps, especially induced by powers, create most unfathomable imageries. When lost to dreams, but occasionally slipping out of them due to the power of immense pain and the body recognizing blood loss, all of the memories of dreams blur with the memories of reality, which creates a very difficult situation to untangle for the reporter-turned-unlicensed-detective who is trying to tell your story accurately. Take note for your future.

I lost count of the hours I spent stalking up and down the streets of East Benediction on numerous cloudy sleepless nights to decipher how much of Tobias's recount was real, and how much was dreamed, and how much was premonition.

Parts of his statement included obvious dreams, such as a much younger Tobias spectating as his teenaged team played volleyball. I could find no non-typicals in the area with age-reversing powers, or any therapists that would help the team play happily together, so I could quickly conclude that this was a dream.

The scent of warm cinnamon and glaze, I had initially scoffed at, but found the remnants of sugary glaze smeared over the cobblestones down one long alley and followed this alley to its end. Coming out onto a new street, there was no evidence of sweet treats at first, but with more in-depth research, I discovered that during the time of Tobias's alleged kidnapping—or rather, napping by kids—there had been a cinnamon roll vendor cart that had closed for the day shortly before Tobias was carted past.

He also recalled being crammed into a bicycle trailer, intended to fit two small children, not a fully grown and unconscious man. I found the trailer abandoned by the headquarters of the girls, infested by flies and spoiled by foul and stiff stains and clots of blood, and thus know that Tobias's transport was indeed in this cramped and careless manner.

He consciously glimpsed small parts of different sections of streets which led me the headquarters itself. Descriptions of a flickering light covered in stickers, a pot-hole that had jolted him awake for a moment and the shuttered locksmith nearby, and a yard full of restless dogs.

The description of the yard full of restless dogs had actually been, "I remember passing a fenced property, where I could hear dogs barking and see their ears flopping as they jumped. And then there were cats. Maybe fifty of them. Yowling. Their yowling seemed to sooth the dogs, and the dogs began to howl along with them, in harmony."

The descriptions of all the landmarks had been likewise convoluted, but after my dedicated investigations, I uncovered the secret location of the three girls' headquarters all the same. At this location, Tobias was carted inside through the warehouse-style shutter door.

"He's coming to," Hiccup said.

The smell of coffee drifted to his nostrils and he inhaled it blissfully, rolling his sore shoulders and stretching out his neck. He almost slipped back to sleep but felt a nudge against his arm. His nose wrinkled, then he felt another and opened his eyes.

His sleepy gaze found Hiccup first, then Milk Chocolate beside her and lastly Dizzy, sat backwards on her bicycle seat watching him. Milk Chocolate pressed his glasses into his hand and he wearily unfolded the arms.

"I hoped it was dream," he said quietly, slipping the spectacles over his eyes. He massaged his silicon-coated temples and sat up. His back stuck to his shirt, his shirt stuck to the fabric of his hoodie, which stuck to the fabric of the trailer, and he audibly winced as he peeled away. Then, he looked behind himself and pressed his knuckles to his lips, nauseous. "Oh, heavens... Oh, good heavens."

He struggled to throw the hoodie off over his head, then scrabbled to escape the bloodied trailer. It tilted with his violent movements, and Dizzy hopped off her bike as it was thrown, too. Tobias stumbled away, crippling on his prosthetic and collapsing to his knees on the unforgiving cement. He felt his back, then looked at his gloved hand. It glistened sickeningly.