Defy the Laws of Gravity - Page 6 - The Black Parade

bobsgirlfriend · 09-26-2008, 10:47 PM

Hey there, *katelyn*! Thanks for loving it.

And as for the title, well, it was just kind of random. Nothing else was coming into my brain but that particular phrase... I don't really think it's related to the story.

But I might do some stuff to make it actually related to the title.

bobsgirlfriend · 11-18-2008, 08:28 AM

DAMN! How long has it since I've updated? Sorry, for those who I've kept waiting. I think you all deserve two updates, I'm still working on the next chapter, but I promise as soon as I finish, I'll post.

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“Cain?”
“Yes, Nash?”
“Why don’t you ever talk about Mommy and Daddy?”
“Uh…”
“Cain?”
“Well…”
“Well what?”
“It’s just too painful, you wouldn’t understand…”
“Aw, great… please?”
“Hey, Nash, don’t force your brother to tell you everything. It’s only been a week and you haven’t talked sincerely in like, three years,” Frank butt in.
Cain, Nash, and Frank were in a taxi on the way home from the hospital. Frank only came because the rest of his band mates left him at the hospital when he visited Nash last night and fell asleep there. The other MCR dudes were at the Daniels’ residence, waiting for Nash to arrive.
“So when should I start forcing him?” asked Nash.
“You don’t,” said Cain, “because I don’t do well under pressure.”
“Oh, okay,” said Nash.
“We’re here,” Frank announced.
All three got off the cab and met Gerard, Mikey, Ray, and Bob. The MCR tour bus was parked outside the Daniels’ tiny home.
“Thanks for everything you’ve done for us,” Cain said immediately after shaking Gerard’s hand.
“Why are you thanking me?” asked Gerard. There was a tiny, almost unnoticeable note of sarcasm in his voice. “I didn’t even do anything.”
“Let’s review, shall we?” said Cain. “You paid for all hospital and non-hospital expenses, which include food and others, cancelled your shows for this week just to help me watch over Nash, you offered us an apartment to live in for the rest of our lives. You even offered me a job to be co-manager of your band. People just don’t go up to other people and offer them apartments and pay for their food and offer them jobs and everything.”
“That’s Gerard Way alright,” said Ray.
“Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes,” muttered Mikey.
“Hey, wasn’t that me?”asked Bob.
“Hell no,” laughed Frank, “at least, you’re not as nice as Gee.”
“Is that supposed to be funny?” said Bob, glaring at Frank.
“You just don’t have a sense of humor, don’t you Bob?” Frank shot back.
“Hey, cut it out,” said Brian, who had just stepped out of the tour bus. “Remember, anti-violence.”
“Well, I still say thanks, Gerard,” said Cain.
“Please, just call me Gee,” said Gerard. “It’s hard to say ‘Gerard, Gerard’ all the time.”
“Okay, Gee,” said Cain.
“Well, we’d best be off,” said Brian. “We pissed off a lot of people when we cancelled shows.”
“I completely understand,” said Cain, “and I can’t take the job ‘cause I gotta stay here and take care of Nash.”
“How will you earn?” asked Gerard.
“Miracles,” said Cain, a grin appearing on his face. “Me and Nash have miracles as our specialty.”
“Speaking of the little dude, where is Nash?” asked Frank.
“Probably inside already,” said Cain. “He didn’t want a tearful goodbye, and he misses TV.”
“But you didn’t have a TV the last time I checked,” said Bob.
“Well, you must’ve checked the day before yesterday because we got one yesterday courtesy of some Good Samaritan dude,” said Cain. His stare lingered over to Gerard, who pretended not to notice as he whistled “Teenagers.”
There was an awkward silence between all seven men, except for Gerard’s faint whistling. Then Brian broke the silence.
“Well, then, we’ll be going if you guys don’t have any business,” he said.
“Yeah, goodbye,” said Cain.
“Hey, don’t worry,” said Frank. “We could send you tickets to our shows. Just call or email anytime you’d like. We’re just somewhere in the world.”
“Yeah, somewhere in the world…” Cain repeated, his voice trailing off.
“It was nice meeting you, Cain,” said Bob, holding out his hand for Cain to shake it. Cain did so, although a little less enthusiastically.
“Yeah, nice meeting you,” said Cain.
“Gotsa goes,” said Ray, giving Cain a pat on the back. Cain nodded.
“We’ll be going now,” said Mikey, and he stepped into the tour bus, followed by Ray, Frank, Gerard, and then finally, Bob.
Mikey opened a window and peered out. He waved at Cain but didn’t say anything. Cain waved back. Bob kept the door open even though the bus was already moving. He was standing there, then he caught Cain’s eye and nodded, and Cain nodded back, too.
When the tour bus was out of sight, Cain proceeded to go back to his tiny home and stood in the collapsing porch. There was an eerie silence surrounding the whole red house. He didn’t know why, but he had a nagging feeling that there was something very, very wrong.
He went inside the house and saw that the new plasma screen TV was off and that the living room was empty. He checked every room in the house and found that it was empty, too.
Cain went out to look for Nash in nearby places. He had gone as far as the pavement outside his house when he heard three great bangs like successive gunshots behind him. He stopped when he felt sharp, stabbing pain in his back. He could feel blood rushing up his throat and next thing he knew, he was lying facedown on the ground with blood spurting out of his mouth.
Lying in excruciating pain and in need of serious help, Cain’s vision went blurry and then everything was black.

bobsgirlfriend · 11-18-2008, 08:29 AM

It’s been a week since the band left Nash and Cain, and it was one hell of a week for Bob. He cleaned up after everything and everybody. As expected, the guys deliberately made a lot more mess than usual making Bob’s work a lot harder than it already is. He couldn’t complain, since it was part of the rules of your punishment. The guys on the other hand complained nonstop, which was getting very, very annoying. They also purposely spilled anything that was liquid on everything (even the electronics weren’t spared), they suddenly decided to have pillow fights more often, and didn’t put things back where they belong even if they knew where they took it, including their own possessions. They even left the water running in the shower on during one show, and left all the toiletries scattered everywhere. Frank was also constantly (although jokingly) blaming Bob for losing some of his favorite t-shirts. It was driving Bob crazy. Only the thought of that horrible week ending was keeping him as sane as he was now.
Today was the last day of Bob’s punishment, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands around everybody else’s necks by midnight tonight, when his punishment officially ended. Right now, he needed to focus and brace himself for the worst chore in the world: cleaning up the guys’ bunks.
This might not sound like such a horrible thing, but it is, especially when the bunks include Frank’s. Trust Bob, Frank’s bunk is the last thing you would ever want to look at, or in most cases, the last bunk you’d want to pass by. It’s like a cave in there, but it smells worse than a very old one, and you never know what you’ll find. Once they found a rat’s nest under it, and they almost kicked Frank out of the band because of it. Almost. Now all they need was a couple of cockroaches and a stronger stench. Throw in some spiders with cobwebs and they’d probably write a restraining order against him. That’s how dirty Frank could possibly get and more. There’s still some dirty and stinky tricks up his sleeve.
Bob prepared everything. He had a bandana on, a black apron, a face mask, lab goggles, surgeon’s gloves, everything. He wanted every bit of his skin covered if he was gonna clean up everything. He was also wearing black sweat pants and a black, slightly oversized sweatshirt under the apron. If anybody looked at him now, they would’ve died of laughter. Even Bob admitted it. He knew he looked very, very ridiculous. But he didn’t care. He never usually did. Better to be safe than sorry, right?
Bob decided to start with Ray’s bunk, which wasn’t a nightmare at all. The only mess he’d make would be his bed not made. Nobody in the band liked to make their beds, therefore, nobody bothered to.
As Bob reached over to Ray’s bunk, a top bunk on the right, he remembered that the guys would be back in about two hours from an appointment. That didn’t give him much time if Frank’s bunk would be included in his list to clean. He quickly made Ray’s bed and was very thankful that Ray was a very organized person. He even had his LCD monitor and PS3 Velcroed to the wall. Apart from Ray’s duffel bags, which were neatly arranged in a corner, there was nothing else that occupied the bunk. Bob wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead and went to Mikey’s bunk, which was a bottom bunk, right below his own.
Mikey wasn’t the most organized person in the world, but at least he actually tried. The Stephen King books he’s so fond of reading were stacked in an untidy pile on a corner. His bed was never made (just like the rest of the band’s beds). Under Mikey’s bed, you could only find his old leather shoes, a few of his bags, and some spider-free cobwebs. At least it wasn’t a rat’s nest, and it was spider-free. Bob didn’t like spiders.
Bob sighed deeply. After making several deep breaths and focusing his mind, he dropped onto his belly and reached under Mikey’s bed. He brushed the cobwebs off with a feather duster and struggled to reach farther. He thought he heard a slight gasp from behind him, which was Frank’s bunk, but he resisted the urge to look.
Frank had been telling them of weird stuff happening since going back on the road a week ago. Bob mostly ignored it, though. Who wouldn’t? Frank’s stories were just too ridiculous. He said he smelled peanut butter heard silent chewing under his bed at night. He also sometimes hears not-so-loud bangs against the floor directly below the bunks. They had not taken him seriously, and hadn’t bothered to investigate. Besides, who in their right mind would want to look under Frank’s bunk, exactly where they had found a rat’s nest a few years ago?
They had all been a little suspicious though, a few days before, when the bus mysteriously locked itself up from the inside. The show hadn’t started yet, and Mikey had gone back to the bus because he had forgotten something. When he tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. He immediately suspected that there was someone in there that might have locked the door, but Mikey was positive everyone else was in the stadium, including Chris, the driver. He called Gerard, and they again tried the door but to no avail. They both went back in the stadium to tell the others but by the time they got back, the door was already unlocked.
This incident had the band have flashbacks to the time they were recording “The Black Parade,” their third album, where they stayed at the Paramour mansion. All of them were almost driven insane by a mysterious powerful ghostly force that kind of helped in making “The Black Parade” a more darker-themed album, but there were still the terrifying experiences. You know, the ever-present ghostly moans and the eerie shadows and the usual countless sleepless nights.
Back to the present, Bob reached out and brushed every corner he could possibly cover. He even had to get under the bed just to reach every bit. By the time Bob was back on his feet again, he was slightly covered in dust and cobwebs. He sighed deeply again and groaned loudly. Tsk, tsk, tsk. And this was only his second bunk.
The next bunk was to be his own, where there were only a few tangled sheets, a misplaced pillow, several scattered DVD’s, and an Apple Mac leaning against the wall. Bob cleaned everything up as quickly as possible, almost letting go of the MacBook in his hurry. He swore silently after he caught it, and put it under his pillow. After everything was cleaned up, he admired his work or a moment. He checked his watch. Only one hour and a half more before the guys were back, no time for further admiration. Now for Gerard’s.
Gerard’s bunk was a small challenge, but still. There were smelly clothes strewn about, a few candy and cigarette wrappers, empty water bottles, the usual bed not made, and a very strange odor that Bob didn’t even want to know where it came from.
He held his breath as he picked up the empty wrappers of all kinds and stuffed them in a black bag. He hadn’t used it yet on the other bunks, but he knew this was essential if he was going for Frank’s. Bob stopped. He could feel his eyes watering and a sneeze coming on. He twitched his face for a few moments, and…
“ACHOO!”
That could only mean one thing… or a couple more things. There were either too much dust in there or there was moldy cheese hidden around the depths and shadows of Gerard Way’s bunk. Bob was allergic to too much dust and moldy cheese. That and a few more things, namely, wet dog hair, pollen, and peanut butter. He remembered the thing Frank said about smelling peanut butter and wondered if it was actually just Gerard’s bunk.
Bob sniffed around in Gee’s bunk. It smelled very unusual, but there wasn’t even a just a tinge of peanut butter, moldy cheese, or pollen. Although it did smell like wet dog… and Bob could feel dust invading his nostrils despite the mask. He braced himself for another sneezing fit… and…
“ACHOO! ACHOO! AAAACHOOOOOO!!!”
He took off his mask and wiped the snot hanging from his nose. He was very thankful that the guys weren’t in here or else he’d be suffering a whole week’s worth of teasing.
Bob stopped for a moment after he thought he heard a giggle from somewhere. His first instinct was that there was a ghost in the bus. Stupid, I know. His second instinct was way more logical than the first: he was going crazy. Bob smacked his head with his own hand a little harder than he intended, and ended up getting a minor headache. He did this so he could get his head straight, and it worked, only a little.
So he dismissed the thought of that giggle and went back to cleaning. He did his best to get rid of the weird smell on Gerard’s bunk, but wasn’t exactly succeeding. Where it came from was way beyond him, and they were running out of disinfectant. It didn’t even work one bit.
“Memo to self,” Bob said loudly, as if he was talking to somebody a few meters away. “Get the guys to buy about a million more cans of disinfectant because we never seem to have enough!”
Bob calmed himself down and did a breathing exercise for five. Then he checked his watch and almost screamed. He had barely an hour before the guys arrived.
Bob quickly tidied up everything that needed to be tidied up in Gerard’s bunk. He arranged everything and let out a tired gasp when he was done. Frank’s bunk was still waiting.
Bob grabbed the black bag and stuffed everything dirty (or what he thought was dirty) from Frank’s bunk in it. There were so many weird things in there. Apple cores, empty water bottles, corn chip wrappers, rotting orange and banana peelings, and a possibly-weeks-old-half-empty pizza box just to name a few. Bob resisted the urge to gag as he picked up the pizza box and sprayed at the spot where it was at with disinfectant, only to find out that it ran out.
“Oh, that’s just fucking great,” Bob muttered angrily, cursing to himself. “How much worse could things probably get?”
Bob stopped momentarily, actually expecting for something worse to come up, but thankfully, nothing did. So he continued picking up all the trash in Frank’s bunk and simultaneously tried surviving the stench. He shrugged and threw the empty can of disinfectant in the garbage bag as well.
After about twenty minutes of picking up garbage and tidying up everything on the bunk, Bob proceeded to clean under it.
He was every afraid of what he might find, like a child afraid to go down the basement because there was some kind of “monster” in it. He slowly went on his knees and then placed his hands on the floor while gradually lowering himself down. He was expecting gross stuff to be under there (you know, like a lot of smelly garbage, more unexpected stuff…), but what he saw was way beyond what he could have imagined. Sure there were a lot of cobwebs and a lot more smelly trash, but there was something else that wasn’t supposed to be in there. Bob took one look at it and screamed his lungs out.

levena93 · 11-18-2008, 05:02 PM

YUS! UPDATES! I missed this story.
Whoa is it Nash under the bed...? Did Nash shoot his brother?! BAD NASH!
*yells at Nash*
Shooting people is never the answer...or scaring Bob if thats you under the bed XD
Update soon!!!!!

Moonshyne · 11-20-2008, 12:53 AM

Hi there,

Welcome back!! I suspect that Nash got on the bus before it left when they thought he was missing. But who shot Cain, it couldn't have been Nash could it have?

I'm can't wait to read more!!

bobsgirlfriend · 12-23-2008, 10:06 PM

Sorry it took so long, just finished it now. I haven't started on the next chapter so don't really bother waiting for early posts. Sorry.

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That something — or rather that someone — screamed back at him. It took Bob five full seconds of screaming to realize who it was. He stopped screaming and stared at that someone in a frightened expression.
“Nash?” he breathed.
Nash stopped screaming and grinned from ear to ear. “Hi, Mr. Bryar.”
Bob helped pull Nash out from under Frank’s bunk and looked at him in disbelief as Nash brushed dust, cobwebs, and whatever else that was under Frank’s bunk off him.
Nash’s arm was still in a cast, and the stitches on his head had just healed. He looked like he hadn’t fully recovered yet, even if there was a huge grin glued to his face. He was also wearing an oversized Skeleton Crew t-shirt that went all the way down just above the knees, and Bob realized that it was Frank’s. Guess they found the culprit of Frank losing his t-shirts.
“B-But — why — how —?” Bob stammered, but Nash cut him off.
“I snuck in the bus before you guys got in,” explained Nash. “I wouldn’t want to let the chance to secretly tour with MyChem pass, now would I?”
“Are you telling me that you have been living under Frank’s bunk for one week?” asked Bob. He was very confused and desperately needed an explanation.
“I didn’t say that,” Nash replied. The grin was still there. “But, yeah, I have. And could you please tell Mr. Iero that he seriously needs to clean up? Another week and I would’ve died in there. You do not want to find out where that smell comes from.”
“How in the world —?”
“Don’t talk yet,” said Nash, silencing Bob with a finger to his mouth. “You’re really shocked. Sit down.” Nash motioned for Bob to sit down, and he did as he was told on Frank’s bed.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” advised Nash, a completely serious expression on his face. Bob inhaled deeply, letting the scene sink into him and make him believe that it’s real life and not a dream.
“Now please explain why you’re here,” Bob said as calmly as he could, but the note of shock in his voice was obvious.
“Remember that time you were saying goodbye to Cain? I sneaked in the bus and tried hiding somewhere where you can’t find me in a week or so, and then I heard you coming in, and Frank’s bunk was the nearest, so I dived in and just didn’t come out.”
“But for a week? How the hell could a seven-year-old manage?”
“Eight-year-old, I had my birthday a few days ago.”
“Oh, Happy Birthday,” Bob said in mock cheerfulness, until he realized what Nash had just said, and that was when the clueless expression appeared on his face, just like that time when he said the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to him was that he was skinny, and Frank told him it was a bad thing.
Nash frowned. “I’m serious about the birthday thing. I became eight, like, two days ago.”
“Sorry, I’m still shocked,” Bob apologized sheepishly after about a minute of pure silence. “I never realize what I’m saying when I’m shocked. I suppose I could get myself some coffee, but the guys are gonna be here any minute and —” Once again, Bob had just realized what he had said. “Oh my God… The guys are gonna be here any minute and I’m not even done cleaning!”
“Can I help?” asked Nash.
“Are you serious?” exclaimed Bob, dropping down to the floor and frantically dusting out under Frank’s bed. “Nobody — and I do mean nobody — likes to clean the bunks, especially Frank’s. You lived under there for a week! How could you want to help me clean it?”
“Okay, I won’t help,” said Nash, shrugging. “If you don’t want me to, then I won’t push it.”
“Just chill by there,” Bob said, pointing to the front lounge with the feather duster. “And don’t move!”
“Yeah, fine.” Nash shrugged and dragged his feet to the front lounge, where he found a comfortable-looking black beanbag, and collapsed on it. He just watched Bob waving the feather duster under the bed like a sideways baton and muttering some stuff under his breath.
“Are you done now?” Nash asked impatiently after five minutes.
Bob looked at Nash like he couldn’t believe he had just said that. “You expect me to be done in five minutes with Frank’s bunk?”
Nash thought about it for a second. “Yes.”
“Ah, forget it,” said Bob, going back to his cleaning. “I’ll explain some other time when I do have time. Right now, I need to hurry up before —”
Before Bob finished his sentence, very familiar voices were yelling at the door to open up.
“Bob! We’re back! Hope you’re done cleaning!” said Frank.
“Yeah, but it’s okay if you’re not ‘cause we bought you a couple more disinfectant bottles!” said Gerard.
“And a lot more trash courtesy of me!” Frank said happily. He liked annoying Bob, and everybody else he knew.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” yelled Bob.
“Just open the door, Bob!” Bob heard Brian say agitatedly.
“Nash, be a dear and open the door!” said Bob.
Nash had a little trouble getting up from the beanbag, and when he did, he skipped towards the door and yanked it open. The guys, who were all holding water balloons, stared at Nash in disbelief.
“Hello Misters Iero, Way, and Schechter!” Nash said happily. “It’s pretty nice to see you again!”
Frank dropped the water balloons he was holding and pointed at Nash.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked.
“Long story,” said Nash. “Come on in!” He said this as though he owned the bus.
The three dudes followed Nash into the front lounge, all with mouths hanging open. Nash turned around and snapped his finger.
“Hey!” he said. “It’s like you’ve seen a ghost! I’m not a ghost!”
“Yeah, but you sure turned up like you were!” said Brian, unable to believe it. “How did you get here?”
“He snuck in!” yelled Bob. He seemed to be somewhere out of sight, and his voice seemed to come from under Frank’s bed. “And Frank, I’m gonna kill you if you even try doing one of your pranks right now!”
“How?” inquired Gerard, ignoring Bob. His question was directed to Nash.
“When you were saying goodbye to Cain, I went in the bus,” explained Nash.
“But Chris could’ve noticed you!” said Frank.
“Is Chris that driver guy?” asked Nash, “’cause he was checking out a blonde girl across the street when I snuck in.”
“Chris really needs to stay focused,” sighed Gerard. “He’s so easily distracted.”
“Does your brother know you’re here?” asked Frank.
“Yeah, about that, it’s actually a funny story, you’re going to just ROTFL—” said Nash, as Brian went from normal tan to red in a matter of split-seconds.
“WHAT?” exclaimed Brian, almost brick-red.
“Well, what part of ‘I snuck in’ don’t you understand?” said Nash, sounding logical. “He’ll say no even before I finish asking! Dude, just get the line, ‘I went in when you were talking to Cain!’”
“We need to make phone calls now,” said Brian, taking out his phone and dialing furiously. He seemed to be forcing himself to calm down, thought without much success. He was a little less red, though.
“What’re you doing?” asked Nash.
“I’m going to call your brother and notify him about your whereabouts,” Brian replied, trying to keep his composure, he was now almost light red. “Then I’m going to book a flight online so you can go home. You got that?”
“What? No!” yelled Nash, going opposite Brian’s color. His face had gone almost pale. He jumped up and tried to grab the phone off Brian’s hand, but Brian yanked it out of Nash’s reach.
“I’m – sorry, but it’s — out of – my hands,” stammered Brian. It was hard to keep the phone out of Nash. Good thing Brian was a multi-tasker.
“Whatdya mean it’s out of your hands?” said Nash, continuing his jumping. “The phone is in your hands!”
“I — mean that — as in I can’t — do anything about — stop jumping!” yelled Brian.
“Give me a reason!” Nash yelled back.
“This is as good as kidnapping, do you know that?” cried Brian.
“I don’t care!”
“I thought you were okay with your brother! Why don’t you want to go home?” Brian was having great difficulty keeping Nash from himself.
“I just don’t, okay?”
“Guys! Help me here!” Brian pleaded.
Bob crept out from under Frank’s bed and yanked Nash easily out of Brian.
“Don’t,” he said simply, with what he thought was a stern expression on his face. “Nash, you gotta go home.”
Nash stopped and hung his head. “You’re all just the same,” he muttered, although he was clearly heard. “Nobody wants me. You all hate me.” He sniffed loudly.
“Oh man,” said Frank. “All right, what do you want us to do?”
“Great, Frankie,” Brian said in an undertone, so only Frank can hear. “I’m going outside to talk to Cain. You convince Nash here to go back.” Then he left.
“It’s not that we don’t want you,” said Frank. “I mean, we’re just thinking of what’s best for you. You can’t come live with us in a hurry. We spend most of our offstage time asleep. And our concerts are usually at nighttime, when you’re asleep. Even if we did live under the same roof, we won’t be seeing or communicating much, y’know?”
“But I don’t want to go back to Cain’s,” said Nash.
“Why?” asked Gerard. “I thought you sorted it all out.”
“Because you don’t know how he acts when no one’s watching,” said Nash.
“How does he act?” asked Frank. But before Nash could answer, Brain came back in looking tragic. He was pale and his eyes were slightly red.
“W-we can’t send him b-back,” he stammered.
“Are you all right?” asked Gerard. “You look like someone died!”
“He is,” said Brian, collapsing on the black beanbag chair.
“Who’s what?” asked Frank.
Brian closed his eyes for a moment, buried his hands in his face, and muttered, “Cain is dead.”

levena93 · 12-24-2008, 12:19 PM

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
*runs in circles*
CAIN'S DEAD CAIN'S DEAD CAIN'S DEAD CAIN'S DEAD CAIN'S DEAD!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
But it wasn't Nash who shot him then? Well that good...I guess.....
WHO WAS IT?!
Update soon soon soon sooon. Before I EXPLODE!

bobsgirlfriend · 12-31-2008, 01:26 AM

“Wh-what?” asked Nash, unable to believe it. He had gone pale too, and his eyes changed from green to hazel rapidly.
“I called his phone, but it wasn’t him who answered,” said Brian, his voice slightly shaking. “It was some other guy. Then he asked me who I was and how I was related to some dude named Xavier Daniels. I told him I didn’t know who he was talking about but I told him who I was. Then he said that that dude, Xavier, was shot right after meeting with some guys who left on a bus. He was found unconscious by some passersby, and they rushed him to the hospital, he made it, but didn’t last long enough to be treated in the ER.”
“B-But you said some dude named Xavier was killed, not Cain!” exclaimed Frank. “Look, maybe you dialed the wrong number and it just so happens that the guy who owned the phone was killed and before he was killed, he met with some guys who had a bus —”
“You don’t get it, do you?” said Brian. “They told me the guy’s name was Xavier Jonathan Daniels alias Cain.”
There was a few minutes silence that followed Brian’s last statement. Finally, Gerard spoke.
“It can’t be. Why would anybody wanna shoot him? He seemed like a nice guy when we met him.”
But nobody answered his question.
“Nash?” Bob said cautiously, putting a hand to Nash’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“No,” mumbled Nash. Then he started sobbing uncontrollably. Bob knelt down and embraced him, and Nash sobbed onto his shoulder.
“It’s all right,” he whispered soothingly. The rest looked a little shocked again hearing that soothing voice coming from Bob.
“No,” said Nash. “It’s not! I don’t have anybody now, with Mom and Dad and Cain gone —”
“No, no, that’s not true!” said Gerard. “You have us!”
“But you’re not my family!” sobbed Nash.
“Well, you do have a point there,” said Frank. Bob whacked him hard on the shins with his feather duster.
“OW! What’s with?” he cried, holding his leg and jumping up and down. Bob just glared at him in reply.
“See?” Nash sobbed even harder. “M-Mr. Iero said so!”
“Maybe I should go and take Frank out,” said Gerard, grabbing a protesting Frank’s shoulders and forcing him through the door. Brian followed them, walking a little drunkenly.
“What am I gonna do now?” said Nash.
“Well,” said Bob, letting go of Nash, “for now, I guess you’re gonna have to stay here until we’re sure of what we’re doing.”
“B-but B-Brian said this is as g-good as k-kidnapping,” Nash said mater-of-factly.
“Well, they can’t arrest us for taking care of you for the meantime,” said Bob reassuringly, “because that will totally suck.”
Nash gave a small grin.
“You know what makes me feel better?” asked Bob, getting on his feet.
“No,” said Nash, wiping tears of his face with the sleeve of Frank’s shirt. “What?”
“Food,” said Bob. Nash stared unblinkingly at him with hazel eyes. “What? I love eating. I eat when I’m upset. That always makes me feel better.”
Nash seemed to be suppressing a laugh, but a snort still made its way out.
“Let’s go and fix you something to eat, shall we?” said Bob, waving his hand professionally toward the kitchen.
Nash grinned as he walked slowly to the front of the bus, where he found an unoccupied dining chair, and slumped down on it.
“What’re you having?” asked Bob, opening the fridge.
“If you have any soda or sandwiches, that’d be nice,” said Nash.
“We have both,” said Bob. “You want both?”
“Yeah,” replied Nash.
Even if Nash only asked for sandwiches and soda, Bob got almost everything out of the fridge and laid them out on the dining table one by one. Nash stared at all the food.
“I asked for sandwiches, not these,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t ask for sandwiches, but I want these,” said Bob, finally putting the last cans of Coke on the table and closing the fridge, which only contained stinky meat and cans of beer.
Nash grabbed a piece of bread and some peanut butter then started making himself a sandwich. Bob opened a can of Diet Coke and drank half of it. After a long while of just eating, a question hit Bob that he had been dying to ask since he Cain mentioned he and Nash were orphans.
“Nash, I hope I don’t get too personal, but h-how exactly did your parents — uh — die?” Bob asked cautiously, and then he added hastily after seeing the look on Nash’s face, “I mean — it’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”
Nash paused for a little while. “Well, it’s sort of a long story.”
“It’s gonna be a long night,” said Bob, relieved that Nash didn’t burst into tears. There was a long pause.
“They died in a horrible plane crash,” said Nash, his voice very low.
“Oh, God,” said Bob. “That’s a tragic accident.”
“No, it wasn’t,” mumbled Nash, his voice going even lower.
“What?” Bob didn’t catch what Nash had said.
“It wasn’t an accident,” said Nash.
“What — you think somebody was trying to kill them?” Bob instantly knew this was the wrong thing to say, because next moment, Nash’s green eyes had turned brown again. “Oh man, I’m sorry — I mean —”
“It’s okay,” said Nash, wiping tears off his eyes. “I just haven’t talked about them in a long time.”
“Look, I’m really not forcing you into confessions or anything, I was just curious,” said Bob. “Curiosity kills the cat, and I love cats.”
“Cats didn’t have anything to do with it,” said Nash. “You are one weird, weird man, Mr. Bryar.”
“Please just call me Bob,” said Bob.
“All right, Bob,” said Nash. “Well, I don’t really know what happened, it’s just sort of…”

Flash back

“—the flight 2A59D of Britain Pacific reportedly crashed after its left wing exploded and fell off, which outbalanced the aircraft and caused it to plummet into the sea moments later. More details after this reminder.”
The TV was on, casting a blinking light into our dark bedroom. I didn’t know what was happening. Cain told me that Mommy and Daddy was in danger and that we had to leave New York as soon as possible. He said some bad guys were after us and if we didn’t leave soon, the bad guys will find us and they’ll hurt us. I didn’t want to be hurt, so I followed Cain’s instructions as properly as I could. But I was just a kid. I was helpless.
“Cain, what’s happening?” I asked as Cain rushed by. He stopped, knelt down, and put his hands on my shoulders.
“We have to go away for a little while, okay?” he said, “but I promise you that everything will be all right.”
“But why do we have to go away?” I asked almost tearfully.
“Well,” said Cain. I can tell he was choosing his words carefully. “We really have to go, so we’ll be safe. I know it’s scary, even I’m scared, but we have to be brave, okay? I’m sure it’ll all be over very soon.”
I didn’t say anything, so Cain hugged me and I cried onto his shoulder. I was very scared and at the same time, frustrated that I couldn’t do anything to help.
“All right buddy, we’d better go,” said Cain. He was crying, too, although not as hard as I was. The he seemed to become very stern all of a sudden. “Pull yourself together and be brave, young soldier!”
I stood up straight and saluted him, “Yes, sir!”
“Now grab your bags and let’s move it!”
“Yes, sir!”
I did as I was told. Cain put some of my clothes in his old backpack that I had to carry, since it was mine. Cain also had his own backpack, but it was bigger and looked a lot heavier than mine. Cain took my backpack and his and stuffed it into the trunk of his car.
“Get in the backseat,” he told me.
I opened the door then I felt really shocked when I heard a bang like a gunshot just a few inches above my head. It ricocheted off the roof of the car and flew upward. I dived into the backseat and fastened my seatbelt clumsily.
“QUICK!” yelled Cain. He dived into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. “Keep your head down and no matter what happens or whatever you hear, don’t look up! Except of course if I tell you to!”
I kept my head low, not daring to look up in case a bullet shot through the car and hit me. I didn’t wanna die yet.
I heard successive gunshots as the cat swerved left and right alternately. If I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, I could have been thrown all around the insides of the car. Then I heard a crunch as I felt the car suddenly boost forward. Something strong and heavy hit the back, as if a car deliberately bumped into us.
I burst into tears when Cain pulled a gun out from under his seat. He aimed the gun out his window and pulled the trigger several times.
I heard a soft whoosh, a crash of metal and concrete, and then I saw with my very eyes: a black car flying over us from the left and landing dangerously close to the right. Cain jerked the steering wheel left, narrowly avoiding the black car as it landed with a loud crash. But I heard more sounds behind. I guessed that there was one last car following us.
Cain put on a burst of speed and I could feel myself being forced backward as Cain steadily sped on forward. Then he slowed down a little, and I could no longer hear the other car behind us. Cain glanced at me from the rearview mirror.
“You have to be brave, okay?” he told me, still facing the road. “No matter what happens, you have to be brave, buddy. We can get through this. I promise.”
I fought to hold back tears. “But why are there people trying to kill us?”
“I can’t explain to you right now, because I don’t understand much of it, either,” said Cain. “I’ll tell you as soon as we get out of this.”
“Cain, I’m very scared.”
“Don’t be. I promise it’ll all be over. Just keep your head down and don’t look up unless I tell you to.”
“Okay.”
Cain put the car on full speed again. I just closed my eyes and silently prayed that this will all be over soon. I heard the other car behind us again. Cain pulled out his gun and aimed out his window. He started shooting, but the car was still behind us. I heard more gunshots. One of the bullets hit the window on my left. I felt sharp glass raining over me.
“YOU BASTARD!” I heard Cain yell. “PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN FUCKING SIZE!”
Then he started shooting madly again. I heard more glass shattering, but I guess it was in the other car. I risked a look at the back and saw that the other car, which was also black, had a shattered windshield.
I put my head down again as more bullets hailed over our car. One hit a mirror, one (by the sound of it) hit the bumper, and one barely missed the window on my side.
“OH SHIT, I’M ALMOST OUT OF AMMO!” roared Cain. It was the first real time I saw him with so much panic in his eyes. I got even more scared knowing that maybe Cain can’t protect me anymore. “HOLD ON, BUDDY!”
Cain slammed on the brakes, jerking the steering wheel left as he did so. Then he aimed his gun out his window and kept shooting until the gun was out.
My head shot up in time to see what had happened.
It all seemed to happen in slow-mo. The car following us stopped abruptly, one of Cain’s bullets hit the driver as he shot at Cain, too. The driver’s bullet his Cain in the arm, but Cain didn’t stop. The driver gasped then fell unconscious over the steering wheel. Cain shot at the front seat passenger who also had a gun and hit him in the neck. The passenger didn’t have time to shoot at Cain. Then after a moment, everything was quiet again.
Cain turned in his seat, breathing heavily, then he smiled.
“It’s over now,” he said.
I was still crying. I didn’t know what to say. Cain got out of the car and opened the shatter-windowed door on my left. I unbuckled my seatbelt and ran into his outstretched arms. He lifted me off my feet and we hugged each other for what seemed like all eternity. I cried onto his shoulder and he patted my back, whispering soothingly into my ear.
“It’s all over now,” he repeated. “We’re going to be all right.”
Then he let go of me and wiped the tears off my eyes with a handkerchief.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Somewhere far, far away, where no bad guy can ever hurt us,” he told me. “Now let’s get out of here.”
I nodded and went back into the backseat. Cain got in the front and we drove away, very relieved that we can still live to see daylight on the next day…

“I seriously don’t get it,” said Bob. “Why would people want to kill you and your brother?”
“My parents are some kind of very successful tycoons,” said Nash. “Cain told me Daddy put a lot of people out of their businesses because his was really successful. Cain also told me all those companies he put out of business joined forces a-and — and — k-killed my parents. The bomb they planted in the plane killed a lot of other people, not just Mommy and Daddy. That’s how desperate the bad guys are.”
Nash had become quiet again.
“Oh,” said Bob, although in reality, he was completely lost.
“I guess it was one of those guys who killed Cain, too,” said Nash.
“Maybe we shouldn’t press on the topic,” said Bob.
“Okay,” said Nash.
“Eat up,” said Bob. “You can pass out on Gee’s couch. He never really sleeps there. And I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you slept there.”

bobsgirlfriend · 12-31-2008, 01:28 AM

oh goody. look at the number of people that read my fic. i must suck really hard. hahaha. im such a loser.

bobsgirlfriend · 12-31-2008, 01:31 AM

oh well. it's new years. maybe my luck will change. c'mon, 2009, be my fucking lucky year.