Arc II, Chapter 77: The Outsider Returns

When we arrived back at the mansion, I expected to find Bobby’s ghost. He was fatally injured; surely, he would join us on the other side soon. He had to have burns to much of his body and was missing chunks of skin.

But he lingered.

His Grit, I noticed, was through the roof. I couldn’t figure out why until I realized what had happened.

Cassie had done it.

After he was injured, Cassie had accidentally activated her Empathic Shield ability when she showed such genuine concern for him. Then, when she used The Anguish to share his pain, it must have doubled up. It was a great combo to use before someone was fatally injured. She used it afterward.

She buffed his Grit by five points. Luckily, that meant he didn’t feel much pain. Unluckily, it meant he was taking forever to die.

I had been there. Pain-free injuries still took their toll. My brain struggled to understand what was going on in some deep, primal way.

“How do we help him?” Kimberly asked tearfully.

Antoine shook his head. Bobby twitched and gurgled.

“I don’t think… I don’t think we can.”

If memory served, Arthur had a trope just for that.

We watched as his Dead indicator lit up for longer and longer periods of time.

“Cassie still needs help,” Isaac said, cutting through the silence.

He was right. She was severely injured, too. She had breathed in a lot of smoke. Her Grit was still very low (that made her Anguish trope stronger), which meant she was going to have a fairly realistic reaction to the damage. No movie magic would protect her.

I got Antoine and Kimberly to follow me to the entrance to the secret passage. We found Cassie there, awake but coughing and ill.

“Are we supposed to bring her to the hospital?” Antoine asked.

It seemed obvious that she needed medical attention, but Carousel’s hospital system had some major shortcomings.

They opted to bring her anyway. Isaac and I didn’t get to follow. The white, glowing fog stopped us like a brick wall.

It was just us ghosts again.

“How are you doing, Isaac?” I asked.

He was stone-faced for a while but then said, “I never thought I would be caught dead wearing a shirt like this.”

He flipped the large wing collar of his shirt and smirked.

If he wanted to crack jokes and power through, I wasn’t going to stop him.

We found Bobby sitting with his knees in his chest next to his body. He had a peaceful yet distant look on his face.

“Bad break there,” I said.

“Bad break,” he repeated. After a bit of silence, he added, “Why does Carousel bother to keep us alive once we’re useless? It’s telling a story. Did it keep me alive just to watch me squirm? I wasn’t even On-Screen most of the time.”

I explained my theory about Cassie buffing his Grit to him.

He nodded. “That makes sense. Don’t tell her I said anything. No use making her feel bad.” He looked around. “I guess the others survived?”

“Cassie is injured, but I don’t know how bad.”

“And the Die Cast?” he asked. “The script wasn’t clear.”

I nodded in the direction of the river. “Flask drowned. Gale Zaragoza’s body is in the river, too. Antoine couldn’t haul him out. The body was just too heavy, the stream too strong. He tried having an emotional moment with his old friend’s body, but Carousel didn’t go for it.”

Bobby nodded.

With nothing else to spend our time doing, Isaac and I sat next to Bobby right there at the entrance to the burned-out mansion. NPC firemen and EMTs ran this way and that. News crews showed up to report on the carnage. Ghosts of Geists and friends wandered aimlessly. They mourned their deaths in their own ways. Bobby’s body was taken away.

I watched for Carlyle, but I didn’t see him. I didn’t want to see him. When he died, I remembered thinking that at least I wouldn’t have to face him about my character’s betrayal. Now, I feared that confrontation.

Would Carousel let me explain that I was just acting under duress? Would he understand?

I had to let go of the thought.

The three of us didn’t talk to each other that much. There was peace in the silence. Even the ghosts that walked by us crying did so silently. Silent as the grave, the saying goes.

We were in the Finale and appeared to be heading toward the true ending. Project Rewind was working.

The secrets of this universe of pain were never closer to being revealed than they were right at that moment. Yet, I didn’t want to focus on that. I didn’t want to dwell on any of it. I had not had the opportunity to just sit silently and think about nothing in a very long time.

The thoughts that ran through my mind every moment since we arrived at Carousel raced no longer.

I didn’t even notice when all signs of life left the area, when the smoke stopped rising from the heap.

I didn’t notice time passing. It may not have. Carousel had enough control over us to dupe our perception of everything.

The peace was long and unbroken until Bobby said, “Eight Years Later!”

He was reading off the script.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Oh lord,” I said.

“Where are the ambulances?” Isaac said. “They were just here.”

I took a few moments to take in our surroundings again.

“We got taken off the board,” I said. “Carousel set everything up for the Finale.”

I knew it was going to happen, but I had not noticed it when it did.

“My dogs!” Bobby said. “Oh no, I forgot about my dogs!”

“Bobby,” I said.

“I left them back at the farm,” he said. “Oh god, eight years.”

“Bobby,” I said. “It hasn’t been eight years. I know it feels like it, but that’s just Carousel. It’s probably been thirty minutes for all we know.”

Whatever stillness had moved over him from dying had left.

“Bobby, it’s okay,” I said.

He was up on his feet and pacing.

“I meant to go check on them,” he said. “I didn’t mean to leave them alone. What if it was a test and I failed? What if I died because I left them alone? Maybe Carousel punished me?”

Bobby, the anxious ghost, turned to me and said, “I have to go find the dogs. Just to check on them.”

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. Not very well.

“Bobby, they are NPCs. They are not normal dogs. They do not need you. When the story ends, they’ll be right there waiting for you, tails-a-wagging.”

Bobby was having none of it. “You can just talk yourself out of caring about anything, can’t you,” he said. He was muttering to himself. “I can’t. I can’t do that. I can’t talk myself out of looking everywhere for… I… I need to care about the people I love, like actively caring about them. I can’t put that out of my mind just because it’s convenient. You are all weird, all of you. ‘Just let it go.’ If we let everything go, what’s the point?”

Death had a way of making you rethink your life. Bobby had faced his life and came to much the same conclusions he had when he was living. There he was. This was the Bobby who almost got his whole team killed looking for his wife.

I was just going to let him blow off steam.

He turned to leave, but the bright, white fog didn’t let him go. No path opened up for him.

“I’m just going to take a look,” he said.

Carousel didn’t budge.

Bobby paced and circled to no avail.

I might have said more, but as soon as Bobby saw “Eight Years Later” on the script, I saw it on the red wallpaper using Deathwatch.