Double Double

by Background Bystander

7.5 Thawing Dawn (Extended)

Author's Note:

This was supposed to be a part of the previous chapter, but I felt it’d be best to have it as it’s own thing not to mess with the other’s ending.

Happy new year everyone!

Eyes shot open. The eyelids were torn clean off the skull, and it most definitely burned like it.

Chris’s being ignited with the raging flames of life, a great fireball of consciousness to which he flailed about frantically to control. This proved to be difficult given his current condition, for his movements were hobbled by the restrictions of limited range. He was still trapped, laid out on the ground in a cocoon of sheets, which could’ve also acted as his coffin. That didn’t stop him shouting in panic, as his mind immediately replayed last night, those final moments of personal brutality just before total darkness. It kept going back, over and over, right behind the eyes as watching in terror. Terrified as she towered above him sprawled out on the floor motionless, a face of glee as she had his…heart in her jaws.

Did that truly happen? Did anything of last night? Was all of yesterday nothing more than a sleep-deprived hallucination of punishment?

Sources were unclear on the answer, as one long study around his environment showed he was still in the stingy motel room. Noticing the sparse streaks of sunlight that were burned into the wall, just as any normal light would. Though, it would gently shift in shape every few seconds in a swaying motion. That happened to come from the cheap curtains there hung above the window looking out onto the parking lot. That’s where memory started to stumble, as said curtains were previously torn off and tossed about the room in a presumed bug-horse panic, but now were back on the rail as if nothing happened.

“But, how? …I never touched those,” He said, realizing just how dry his throat was. He laid his head back down in thought. Then, did she fix them? No, that doesn’t make any sense, why would she make such a lazy attempt at covering up that…thing she did?”

So we really are…we’re really going home?

Guess she really did run off then, hmph. He frowned slightly. Can’t say I’m gonna miss the nuisance, but…it wouldn’t have hurt to get know her a little more. At the very least it’d give the therapist something to work with, heh…heh…

He laid there for a while, feeling the heavy silence with its judgmental tone. He coughed.

“Well, whether she’s sticking around or not, it makes no difference. I gotta keep moving. The school’s probably about to start an investigation soon, and if I bail on Roman, he’ll be even more skeptical…and annoying, the snide prick.”

He fidgeted his arms, feeling just how vacuum-tight they were to his chest. His forearms specifically were crushing into the sternum beneath so hard, he could distinctly feel the heavy-handed heartbeat, which was pulsing on his temples just above the ears. That must’ve been what it was, otherwise, why would it feel so boney?

She’d pulled a sloppy death roll on him with the bedsheets, which worked to surprisingly decent effect. She’d left him completely immobile, giving her free reign to do whatever she wanted, including that weird thing with her jaw, followed up by kissing him.

Kissed by a horse. Ugh. No way something like that ever ends well. He cringed and curled with each continued thought on the matter. Feeling her cold wet lips pressed against his for a lukewarm embrace. How her long tongue would dance and sway with his own, as it snaked its way carefully down his throat in a manner that was firm yet soft in its touch. The aura of absolute pleasure radiating off every inch of her long, smooth body. And the smell…

Nasty. Disgusting. Stop thinking about it.

…

…

Stop.

Chris craned his neck forward and tried to look down his chin. Indeed, another part of the night has followed him into the morning. Several maroon layers were pulled so incredibly tight, he could see the bumps of his limbs poking up like little islands out on a red sea. He recognized most of them. Arms. Hands. Kneecaps. Shins going down to the tips of his feet. However, there was one that seemed a bit off. One near his thighs, and below the stomach.

What’s that? He asked internally, starting to squirm to free his arms of the sheet straitjacket. He rolled his shoulders up and down in a shrugging motion to move his arms up his chest and over his neck. He squished his hand against his face while yanking his elbow from the stinging pain the pressure caused. His cheeks heated up from the awkwardness of the whole scenario. That Jane girl better not be making the rounds on the rooms. If anyone were to see him like this, then he really would wish he’d died from getting his heart eaten.

Now with his left arm free, he went to work on unraveling the rest of him. He loosened the hole near his neck and freed his other arm, wincing as the pins and needles crawled themselves back into proper feeling. Tingling as they writhed just underneath the skin. He never enjoyed that sensation, nor feeling bones pop as he stretched. With sports, it meant he was always too tight, never loose enough. If you couldn’t move right, your entire game would be out of whack, which he found many times in his early years.

He patted around the area just underneath his arms until he found where the ends of the layers met to pull tight in one massive knot. He managed to push himself up to a sitting position, some pressure around his legs easing as a result. The stretch marks on his kneecaps moved, the bulge in the middle remained. Knots must be where those other bumps are…great, undoing this is gonna take all day! Thanks, Chrissy…

He tugged around on the knot and found its weak point and pulled them apart. Upon doing this, he managed to suck in one massive breath, feeling his chest open up now that the tension was released.

Chest. Open up. Don’t put those two together.

The ceiling fan made the curtains open slightly wider, casting a half and half shadow onto him. Luckily, the lighter half managed to fall upon his upper body, helping him speed up the process to freedom.

“There!” He exclaimed triumphantly with fistfuls of fabric, “One part down, however many more to go.” He twisted his head, hearing the bones snap as they went from side to side. He grimaced at the louder ones. “Ow, everything’s so stiff, I must’ve slept like this the whole night.” If he were to use labels, Chris might consider himself a pretty heavy sleeper, if and when he ever felt the need to do so. They would be small hours, but those hours were always pitch black. Very empty. Very quiet. Like his brain was put in stasis.

The sheets in his hands went up a few notches in color value due to the light. The muted maroon appeared now a vibrant salmon pink, nice and warm to the touch. For some reason, it made him smile widely at the sight of it. Like the light at the end of the tunnel, or the buzzer-beater to win the game. It was all quite comforting.

Then his thumb grazed over a spot. A weird spot.

“Hmm, what’s this? A stain?” Scattered across the sheets, haphazard in nature like an abstract painting, the maroon of the sheets appeared on the salmon. He cocked an eyebrow and turned to the window, figuring it was nothing more than shadows cast from the results of uncaring upkeep. While there were scratches and smudges across the glass, none of them lined up with their counterparts on the sheets.

Now, more confused, he brought his hands down to the spots directly to investigate further. When they passed over, the maroon spot didn’t jump to his knuckles. It disappeared. It was indeed a spot on the sheets, and rather than feeling his fingers brush over smooth discoloring, what he actually felt made him freeze.

The spot was dry and raised, pinching two pieces of the fabric together which he severed by rubbing his index and thumb together, causing it to flake apart. He brought them up to his face. They were still red, a deep wine red to be exact. He brought it closer, up to his nose. Metallic, like a copper coin.

“This…is blood.” He confirmed with a quiet whisper. His heart started to beat harder. He went back to pulling at the sheets, desperately trying to get up and check over himself. The further he dug down, the more of the salmon was overtaken by the maroon, then diluted further into deep reds. The dots turned to circles turned to smears, all cracking from age. The smell of it all completely overwhelmed him. “No, all of this-it can’t, that would mean…” He finally pulled the sheets away from his chest and sat forward. He screamed.

Chris discovered now why his chest felt so strange and boney, as the bones and muscle under his left pec were flared and warped hideously, showing signs that they’d been blown out. Or dare he say, bitten out. The skin had somehow reapplied itself over the gaping wound, leaving scars and splotches of sickly-looking discoloration. Well, it was made to look like skin, as upon closer inspection, the ‘skin’ was hard and smooth, only colored to mimic its fleshy counterpart. The best way he could describe it would be that of plating. Like an exoskeleton.

And buried underneath, placed deep within his chest cavity, a green light faded into view, becoming brightest in the middle. With each quick breath it would pulsate, shifting in intensity like a faulty bulb.

“M-My heart! What the fuck’s happened to my heart?” He freaked out was increasing, while the green light flashed faster and fuller. He clutched at his chest, the cold, hard plate sending chills up his arm. “No…no…that didn’t happen, it didn’t…how could it have…how could I be-“ Incoherent stutters stuffed his mouth whole, making him incapable of completing complete sentences. Though, the fact he still had the capability to do so was on the back burner. After what happened, after what she did, he shouldn’t even be alive at all! He saw the organ clenched between her jaws, he saw her shred it to pieces! That would kill anyone! That would kill anything!

Well, that’s if he was actually still alive to begin with. Was he? He couldn’t be sure, due to the conflict of signals that were firing off in his brain, as this revelation was juxtaposed by the room around him. Everything felt too real to be nothing more than an apparition. Objects were acting too normal. The world was acting too normal.

Insane. Completely insane. You mean to tell him he was wrong about traumatic heart injuries? Had history actually exaggerated what it meant to get an impromptu heart surgery without a replacement?

“Then, if she did that to me…” He said in a trembling murmur, “If she really did this to me, then that means she…kept me alive? Why?” The gaps in logic were vast as they were impractical. She seemed hellbent on finishing off there, going through the process of exhausting him of energy before laying in a kill shot. That looked like pretty standard predator behavior, even with the weird human-esque quirks. The only way he could see it, she must’ve kept him breathing to get something in return. Some fucked up self-centered exchange that’s custom on her planet. What could she possibly want out of him?

…Well, his heart, obviously, but there must be something else…

“Whatever it is, I’m not sticking around to find out. If she’s capable of this in one night, I can’t imagine what she’ll do if she comes back.” He quickly went to removing the sheets at his legs. The weird bulge was still there. Just what is this thing?

Due to his new heart condition, anything slightly off was now full-blown suspicious. Every hair, every freckle, every pore. Everything. He unwrapped his abdomen, which was still human, but heavily bruised due to the disorienting rolls he’d endured. He moved his legs around more under the sheets, which made him acutely aware of the bulge on his crotch. His face heated up again and he reached down to touch it. He was sweating. “…It’s…so big…and thick, it won’t budge.”

After a moment, he pressed his fingers down and applied pressure, confirming now that it definitely wasn’t balled up sheets. It was solid, rock solid. A weird energetic pulse vibrated on his fingertips.

He moved up to his waist, hands hovering over the other folds of the sheets. He was terrified to open them, trembling just above the fabric’s surface. From what occurred with another vital organ, who knows what she could’ve done in other areas. The mangled makeshift repair job of his chest was an eyesore enough, he didn’t know if he could handle anything else that could be replaced. No, she couldn’t have, it would be far too cruel! He wouldn’t wish that kind of treatment on his worst enemy. This part of the sheets were in the shadows, so all he could see was a mass pile of red staring back at him. All red. Deep red.

Cold fingers snatched a white knuckle grip on the folds. His legs were freed somewhat, allowing him to twist his knees and unlock his feet. The bulge refused to move, defiant in its resilience. His grip tightened again. He swallowed a lump in his throat, then closed his eyes and pulled the folds apart in opposite directions.

The object fell onto his stomach with an audible whump. He opened his eyes slowly.

Wood.

There, resting on his stomach, was a single large piece of petrified wood.

“What the fuck?” He asked flatly. He shuffled his way out of the rest of the sheets and flicked them away with his perfectly normal feet. Overall, besides from his chest, everything else about his body was left mostly unscathed…though, he did have a really bad case of B.O. going on. He took the log in his hand and got up from the floor, wincing once again as he endured more severe snaps of stuck bones. He felt like a statue coming back to life.

He took in another deep breathe and exhaled. The air tasted clean as it went down his throat. Unlike that weird slime she made him suck down.

…Ugh, nasty-nasty, stop thinking about that.

He looked to the log in his hand, tilting his head in confusion. The grain of the bark appeared natural, even through all the holes and weather of time and usage.

That was also the time the log stopped being normal.

Rather than being a sun damaged light tan, the texture of the wood had darkened greatly, resembling now more of a charcoal black, like it had been burned. The multiple holes he found didn’t look like those created by smaller insects nor old age. Rather, they were quite large, and their surface was very smooth in how they were bored out. Oh yeah, and there was a bright green glow radiating deep from its core, illuminating a collection of symbols etched in the outer bark.

He brought the log over to the massive hole in his shirt and placed it by his heart. Both of their lights began to glow brighter in sync, filling his body with this strange energetic feeling. It was…warm and invigorating, like a mother’s embrace. It pushed itself through his systems forcefully, zapping his nerves until they fizzled out through his fingertips. His muscles relaxed and loosened themselves, while his head cleared of all cotton. In a split second, he felt like he got a full night’s rest! It was incredible!

He calmed himself down, and blew a pink smoke ring into the air.

“Oooo~oh, that’s delicious…” He slurred, and wiped his mouth. He paused. “Yeah, it’s time to leave.”

---

The walk to the front desk was simple and quick. It was still early enough that many wouldn’t be waking up yet, though a few cars here and there had pulled up in the lot outside. It was the hour upon their arrival that was unknown to him, which may or may not have helped him speed up his pace a step or two. He was still unnerved by the absence of the clop cl-no, thump-thump of boots on the carpet. Perhaps it was simply the learned emotions and social cues of daily life, but he didn’t feel put together. He felt exposed. Like he didn’t belong. Like an outsider.

Behind the desk, the sleepy-headed girl was gone, including her laptop and tired standoffish attitude. In her place, an older man had taken the seat. Silently mouthing to himself, hand scribbling away at a stack of paperwork. With slightly gaunt cheeks and white hairs in his scruffy black beard, Chris couldn’t tell if he was someone higher up in the chain of command or someone who was really down on their luck. Nevertheless, when he reached the desk, the man perked an ear and looked at him.

“Good morning, sir!” He greeted cheerfully, wearing a smile that was way too wide for this hour.

“Yeah, morning.” Chris grunted.

“Indeed, I heard today’s gonna be a really sunny one, not a cloud in sight.” He looked at Chris and decided to shave off the small talk. “Anyways, my name’s John, what can I do you for at this early hour?”

“Yeah, uh…I’m checking out. Should be under Chris Greene.”

“Heading back out on the ol’ dusty trail, huh?” He chuckled. “Very well, I’ll check you outta here, it’ll just take a moment.” He looked at him again, this time taking on a concerned brow. “I…hope our accommodations were up to your utmost satisfaction, Mr. Greene.”

“Chris, not Mr. Greene.” He corrected, “And yeah, everything was fine. Why?”

“Oh, it’s just…you put your shirt on backwards.”

He acted surprised and looked to the clothing in question, grabbing the fabric in his hand to put up a façade of intrigued investigation. He’d flipped it around on purpose, trying in any way to not make it look like he had his heart ripped out. A hole in the back is far more acceptable…and explainable. Not to mention the piece of wood jammed down the seat of his pants. It was pressing into his back. He laughed it off and waved a hand.

“Ah, well, y’know, some days you start off all turned around, I’ll fix it later. And, uh, speaking of fixing things…” He put on a nervous smile and rubbed his arm. “I might’ve-how do I say-spilled something on the sheets of the beds. I…tried to clean it off, but…yeah, it’s still there.”

“Spilled something?”

“Yeah, like, liquids…heh…” He scratched the back of his head, feeling beads of sweat forming on his hairline. “Some of it…dried…on the sheets.”

John stood there and stared at him through a cautious squint. The lobby fell silent, the only noise being the same clock on the wall since last night. “Hmmm…” He pondered, masking disappointment, “Alright, that’s fine, we’ll have someone come and clean up the…mess. However, if we do find any significant damage to the bedding or the room as a whole, we may have to bill you for compensation.”

Chris nodded quickly, “Uuuh-yeah, totally! I understand!”

John turned back to the paperwork, a little more forceful with his handling, probably trying to hasten his removal from the premises. “Let’s see…Chris Greene…Chris…Greene…” He muttered, trailing off while flipping through the pages. Chris fidgeted a little watching him work, feeling the awkward tension in the air as a result of his word vomit.

…Eh, perhaps another shot at small talk wouldn’t hurt. “Yup, it should be there. I had it all ok’d by that Jane girl last night.”

The man’s fingers stopped.

“Jane?” He asked, “Who’s Jane?”

Bad idea.

“The girl who was working the night shift here? A bit shorter? Brunette hair? Blue eyes? Around my age or so?” Nothing. Not a single one of the traits listed struck a chord of remembrance, which only served to worry him more.

“I apologize, sir, but we haven’t employed anyone named Jane here, at least not recently as far as I’m aware.”

“You sure? She was sitting right where you are…she had a laptop and a name tag and everything else.”

“I…one moment, sir,” He pulled out a paper on the desk and tapped on a dotted line, while holding a phone in the other hand. “Sign here please, leave the key, and you’ll be good to go. I need to check on something, just to be sure…” He said and slipped into the back room.

Chris was frozen by the edge of the desk. Staring down at the paper and pen, wondering if this is how it truly felt like to go insane. Completely insane. To lose any grip on the fabric of reality and fall endlessly into twisting madness. Either that, or this guy just wasn’t up to date on his employee roster, but judging from everything that occurred to him prior, his guess was firmly with the former. So what was this then? More aliens? Ghosts? His own emerging psychosis? Oddly enough, it would be a lot more comforting knowing all of this nonsense was nothing more than creations of his consciousness, rather than being sentient beings with weight and mass making their way around the world.

Though, that itself would be the crazy thought, wouldn’t it?

With a sigh and a quick hand, he scribbled his chicken scratch of a signature on the line and placed the room key beside. He paused a moment, making sure nothing weird happened, then spun and made his way to the front door. Just before pushing on the handle, he heard a click behind him and turned around. Feeling the log nearly fall out of his pants.

“Wait, sir!” He said, coming back out to the lobby, “I just got off the phone with our manager, and they said we haven’t hired anyone named Jane either. Can you describe to me how she looked again? If you saw someone here last night, we may have to call the police. She could’ve been trying to rob us, to rob you!”

“…” He darted his eyes around the room for a few long seconds, then with an exaggerated expression, he acted as if he had a huge revelation. “Ah! Well, you see, I just remembered that I was thinking about someone…working somewhere completely different.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah…I was thinking of someone else, sorry about the confusion. I just…had a bad dream is all. Anywaythanksbye!” He finished, passing backwards through the door and turned running towards his car. He collapsed in the driver’s seat and chucked the log in the back. He threw the car in reverse, whipping out of the parking space. He put it in drive and turned right out of the lot and sped down the highway, never once checking the rear view.

Chris tried to control himself, focusing on the road rather than the stranger things surrounding his life at the moment. He touched his chest once more, only feeling the cold smooth plate just as prior. He exhaled and rubbed a hand down his face. It too was cold.

“Christ, what a shitty night.”

He fished his phone out of his pocket to throw it in a cupholder. But before he did, he tapped on the screen, to see if anything had updated when he was absent from the living world.

And, as a matter of fact, there was.

A single notification.

A single message.

A phone icon.

A missed call.

Mom.

He groaned and slumped down in his seat, “…And now for the shitty morning after.”

Comments

[Eris Dis Harmonia]

When the whole world has gone mad, it's best not to question your own sanity. That's a deep rabbit hole to follow.

[TheCommunistDog]

Hmm seems like he has a “little” problem.

[Cyana Flame]

Jane was Luna?

[Prettypony]

I'm having a little trouble following the story here. Chris1 and Chris2 check in to the motel. Chris2 goes to sleep and Chris 1 abandons him. Chris 2 finds himself in his chrysalis form in the nightmare torture dream where Luna fights him. A bunch of fighting happens and it also happens in the real world but not really? Then Chris2 as Chrysalis opens a portal and kisses himself and indiana jones his heart? And that carried into the real world some how with the wood thing?

The dream sequence was really hard to follow for me and I'm still a bit confused on what actually happened.

[Background Bystander]

11106866
You're pretty much correct on how everything went down, as I was writing it so events in the dream would correlate to things in the real world while taking magic into effect. However, upon looking at the whole scenario now (as well as messages both public and private) I will be revising this sequence of the story to be a lot more understandable.