Today's word count: 2,012 words
Running total: 20,024 words
Summary: Chase and Alistair get to the bottom of the mystery of What's Happening to Kenneth.
Also, there is much confusion over tripping.
Hey, is this it?
He holds it in his hands in front of him so that I can get a better look at it. The title is surely the same, but the look of the book is entirely different and unlike the books from my era—book-binding must have changed significantly in the past hundred-odd years. I really shouldn’t find all these changes so surprising—change comes with time, right?
I cautiously tell my host, Yes. I think this is it.
Okay, then, we’re done here. I’ll check this out and we’ll be on our way.
~~~
Of course, it isn’t quite that simple. It is never that simple, is it? I can’t remember the name of the creature, so my host and I have a bit of trouble finding anything that resembled it. We first skim the volume together; when that turns up no results, we take turns extensively reading each and every entry in the thick volume. This tkea three nights, with the condition of my host’s friend worsening by the day. He is truly looking dreadful by day 4, and it seems that all references to his condition had been wiped from the latest edition of Jameson’s Guide to the Supernatural.
My host is displeased, to put it lightly. I don’t know how long I have to listen to him hurl vile insults at me, but it seems like a long time, and considering how I seemed to perceive time as much faster than it really is, it may have been much, much longer.
After the interminably long period time, he finally stops thinking in words altogether.
I waited several more minutes, making sure he won’t explode on me. When I feel it is safe, I send him a thought.
Do you feel better now?
It takes him a little longer to form a lucid reply.
A little, I guess. Pause. Before I can respond, he thinks, I’m sorry. I know that that’s not going to help Kenneth. It’s just—yeah. I guess… this is frustrating.
You’re not the only one that thinks that. I’m sorry.
Hey, it’s okay. There, we’ve made up.
…That didn’t take very long.
You’ve gotta react quickly to these sorts of things; make up quickly, I mean—when the other person is a voice in your head.
By they way, that reminds me. Are you going to keep calling me by that… nickname?
I guess we’ve got to work together and shit if we want to accomplish anything, right? He sighs. Fine, you don’t have to be Voice in My Head, Voice in My Head. Just one thing.
I wait expectantly. Once he realizes I’m not going to respond with words, he continues.
I forget your real name.
Ah, so that’s it. I’m Alistair.
Oh, okay. Alistair. Can you shorten that at all? I mean, it’s kind of—
I’d really prefer you not.
Fine. Silence. By the way, at Chase.
Ah, so I was right. I guessed as much, but I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.
He doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just lies around for a few minutes. Once sufficient time has passed for it to be fine etiquette to change the subject, he sits up and moves to a personal “computer” he has in his room. The glowing area with the constantly changing properties is much larger than it was at the library, and it’s much thinner from front to back. Chase told me it’s normal for computers to look vastly different from model to model. Here, I thought all newfangled devices looked exactly the same. The more you know!
All right. We still need to find out what’s wrong with Kenny, though. It would be easier if he took some of the initiative by himself, but I guess that’s not going to happen, huh? So… um, I guess it’s Google time.
…A what time?
It’s a web—oh, forget it. Just watch.
I do as he instructs. He makes the screen change from a picture of a strangely-dressed man to a mostly white display. “Google” is in the top-center of the screen; under it is a little box. Chase thinks deeply for a moment, then inputs “supernatural encyclopedia” into the box and hits an on-screen. Much like in the library the first day, the screen in suddenly filled with a wall of text. Chase peruses this text and eventually the screen changes to another page; this one is dark but easy to look at. There are letters A to Z at the top. He moves the on-screen arrow to A and another list pops up.
Ready to do this again?
I wince a little. I guess.
~~~
We start the same way we looked over the book, just skimming over each article on the magical “computer.” “A” turns up no answers. Neither does “B” nor “C” nor “D.” We get all the way to K before Chase falls asleep at the computer.
The next day in school is mostly normal (except for the fact the Kenneth looks increasingly unhealthy with each passing day) until lunch, when Chase is pulled aside by a kid quite a bit bigger than he. He is wide-eyed and bewildered, though I have no idea why. My first instinct is to tell Chase to run away.
Don’t worry, Alistar, this is Brian. Brian’s a… friend. Kind of. I don't know what the “kind of” carelessly added to the end is supposed to mean. I don’t like it, but I don’t say anything.
Brian speaks. “Chase, Chase, I totally need to talk to you. It’s about Kenny.”
“Go on,” Chase says. His voice is a flat monotone, but I can tell he’s a bit angry with this kid.
“Okay, so yesterday I was tripping, okay?” You know, when I think about it, I’ve seen this “Brian” before in that club Chase goes to sometimes. He seemed like he was pretty well-coordinated. I wonder if he trips on a regular basis? I wonder if that hurts, or if that clumsiness ever gets to him.
“Well, some of it’s a little fuzzy, because apparently I started hitting my head on the wall repeatedly…” So the clumsiness does get to him.
“Why were you—“
“I don’t know, okay? That’s the fuzzy part. God.” He scratches his chin. “I think I saw Atlantis, but I remember being unable to actually get there, and whenever I tried, some invisible force field would knock me back, and I was all, ‘whoa, dude, their technology is really advanced. I really need to get my hands on that force field stuff.’ And then I started running at it harder, but it only—“
“And this related to Kenny how?”
“Oh yeah! Kenny.” He takes another deep breath. “So there’s this chick named Ariel, right? Only it’s not a chick. It doesn’t have any sex organs. But it has a skinny little waist and these big hips, so it looks like a chick. Only it has a voice like a dude, and it wants me to call it a dude, but—“
“Brian…”
I’m starting to think this Brian is legitimately crazy. I wonder, did they shut down all the mental asylums in 2011? Because this young man belongs there. Talking to him makes me feel uncomfortable.
“Okay, I’m getting to the point! So I see Ariel a lot on my trips. I can trust her, she’s like my therapist. So I told her about Kenny, and she says that she’s heard of something like that before.”
Is he crazy or just spiritually attuned? This is beginning to actually be interesting, so I listen more closely.
“What did she say?” Chase asks. His tone is somewhere between “very annoyed” and “very interested.”
“Well, that’s the thing. She started going off into this tangent about Italy and the crusades and the ‘real heroes.’ And then stuff about the renaissance, and how people were more into the sciences and the dark arts then. And then, she said something about ‘the dark warriors.’” He then took a deep breath and a break from his own tangent, then finished his rant by saying, “So maybe the dark warriors have something to do with it.
“I’d trip again today to ask Ariel for clarification, but I’m all out of acid. Don’t know when I’ll be able to get anymore, which really sucks. Sorry, man. I hope that helps.”
“…Thanks, Brian.” Chase is obviously disappointed, but at least he has a semblance of manners.
Wait, Chase. The dark warriors sounds familiar to me…
Chase coughs. “Well, I’ve got to go. I can’t come to club today, not like I’m really needed quite yet, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you then.” Brian sounds a bit sad and helpless, but still manages a little smile. Despite being completely crazy and a little bit clumsy, he seems like a pretty nice kid.
But I wonder why he’s looking for acid?
Hey, Alistair. Can you tell me more about the “dark warriors?”
Let me think. I rack my brain. Dark warriors… Italy… wasn’t there that one Italian ghost? The crusades… yes, that sounded familiar.
Hey, what’s the Italian word for ‘dark?’
Hell if I know. I’m in Spanish 2.
…What?
…I’ve never taken Italian.
Oh. That isn’t going to help.
…Do you know any artists?
Chase suddenly stops walking. Without speaking to me, he suddenly turns around, chasing and calling for Brian. So he’s an artist? Figures.
It’s the word for contrast. He’ll know that, I inform Chase.
“What is it, man?”
“I was wondering if maybe… perhaps… um, in like art and stuff, do you use a special word for ‘contrast?’”
“Chiaroscuro? Why…”
Scuro. That’s it. Go look that up.
“Thanks a lot! Sorry, if this seems weird. I’ll explain later, but I need to do a little research myself!”
And so lunch ends, Chase and I coming out of it with a new lead and Brian left utterly bewildered.
~~~
First we go to that website that Chase found late last night. They list the scuro-type ghosts, but their entry is very limited:
A ghost-human hybrid born when a human’s life force is prematurely taken by a spirit, but only when the human survives the event. The first stories of these ghosts come from Sicily, where people reported seeing black-skinned, bipedal creatures lurking within the shadows. They were often portrayed in a positive light; forming groups that would selflessly protect humans from ghosts. Scuro have not been seen for over two hundred years, and they are thought to be extinct. Stories about them are sadly scarce.
That’s definitely it.
Yeah, but it doesn’t really help. Chase leans back, equally frustrated and discouraged. I mean, that makes sense why Kenny’s been affected. I don’t really get this life-force stuff but hey, I guess the ghost took some of it? But how does someone cope with it? That’s what we really need to know.
I see your point. And it certainly seems that Kenneth isn’t getting sudden urges to selflessly protect any humans…
Yeah. It’s just the opposite. I’ll do an internet search specifically for these guys, though. Let’s see if that helps…
About twenty minutes later, we find an actually comprehensive listing dedicated solely to these strange creatures. Once we finish up reading it, we know exactly what needs to be done. It’s not going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but there’s not much else we can do at this point. Chase and I spend the rest of the night drawing up detailed plans. Chase calls a few of his school friends to tell them what’s about to go down.
Then he calls Kenneth.
The phone line has been disconnected.
He looks up in the phone book and finds the name of Kenneth’s neighbors, as well as their phone member. He calls them.
The phone rings three times before a kindly female voice answers. “Hello?” “Ahh—hi. My name is Chase Summers. I’m a friend of—“
“Kenneth?” The voice sounds very sad.
“…Yeah, I’m one of Kenneth’s friends. Is he all right?”
“…He’s not feeling well.”
“Not feeling
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