Sort of Dead

32 - Gung Ho On Going Ballistic

AAR'S POV:-

'Well,' she began, 'apparently, even the spirits were wrong about Witch Moon. Not completely, but still. It did lent them extra powers, but also made them go kind of . . . ballistics. It affected Marra in a bad way, too.’

‘I saw that, alright,' I said crossly, shooting an ugly look at my leech of a friend. Really, can you blame me.

'I am . . .’ Marra wheeled about and shambled a step or two. I could read the expression on his lowered, defeated spine: kill me.

Would that I could, pal, I thought. And if you could stay that way.

I hated myself for having that thought, but I won't deny that I did.

‘. . . sorry,' Marra finished after the Triassic Period had come to an end.

'You're sorry? Right, right, and can you guess what I am, Mar? Can you gue - '

‘AAR!’ Bee shrieked, loud enough for her voice to echo through the hall. The hall. I realized suddenly where I was. It was Marra's Uncle Mr. Om's mansion. I’d been here dozens of times, and wow, in a situation of crisis I suppose even your pillow can become a Wraith.

‘What?’ I shot back at her.

She didn’t shout again. Her eyes were wet. I wanted to wipe those tears, but I was angry. I had no idea what was going on, and I wasn’t even getting a clear explanation. Bee gestured at Marra, who was sobbing wildly now. His back shaking like a guitar string on pull.

I felt bad. More about how I was behaving like a jerk than for Marra. But still.

‘So, erm, what – what happened anyway?’

'All the spirits went nuts,' Bee said. ‘That’s why we couldn’t find Es. She says she was in a field of wheat, and she could touch the rainbow and the butterflies - '

'Sounds like something she’d fantasize about,' I suggested, doubtful.

'No, I think she went into some sort of a trance. If spirits have that kind of thing. I mean, she’s been looking a bit off to me lately. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.’

'I noticed, all right,' I said, thinking about her less-than-usual rainbow-outline and that tired floating. 'Couldn't she be lying?'

Bee gave me a look. 'Es? Lying? Seriously?'

‘You got a point there. So basically, Witch Moon messed things up?’

‘In a nutshell, yes.’

‘And what about our . . . blood-bag here?’ I pointed discreetly at Marra.

‘Aar! It isn’t his fault!’ Bee scolded me.

'Bee! He did drink his father to death!’ I mimicked her tone. Actor reflexes, you know. I didn’t mean to rude.

Apparently I was, though. Those beady tears returned in her usually beautiful eyes. ‘He – he - Mar didn’t kill him – I did . . . '

Of course she was going to blame herself. Great. But if I was in her place, isn’t that what I would do as well?

Now, I’m not very good at pacification, but give me props (pun intended) for trying. 'Bee, come on, it wasn’t your mistake. It was Mr. Om and his – wait a second.’

‘Huh?’ Bee looked up at me, wiping those tears. Again, I wish I could wipe them, but that would be too awkward, I guess.

Also, I suddenly had a lot on my mind.

'Two questions. First, where is the dead body?’

Bee sniffed. Her nose was running, I just noticed. She reminded me somewhat of Bogs the nose-picker, I don’t know why. Only difference being that Bogs was disgusting and Bee was lovely.

‘Mr. Om went to –‘ sniff '-take care of that.’

'Okay. Second question. Where is he?’

'He who?’ Sniff.

‘Marra’s Uncle. Mr. Om.’

Sniff. ‘He’s - '

‘Right here,' a thick voice said.

Boot steps. Made us look.

Moments later, a one-armed guy with his face flushed in colors and tears entered the hall. He looked like he’d just lost a brother.

Which was appropriate. Because he had.

STAY SAFE, EVERYONE. LIFE IS NOT OVERRATED.