Hall of Mirrors

Hall of Mirrors “Jesus, calm down. It’s all going according to plan.” Kei lounged on the hard motel bed. The sheets were a garish off-white that contrasted terribly with her brighter hair. Doug meanwhile paced back and forth across the rough carpet. “What do you mean ‘according to plan’?” he demanded. “She got away! Not only that, she made us look like morons.” “Did you stop to think that that might have been the point, Doug?” “The point? The point? Funny, I didn’t know that all along the point of all of this was to show her that we’re literally no threat to her at all.” She just shook her head and laughed. “You’re being sarcastic, but it actually was.” “What?” “Think about it.” She leaned forward. “What would have happened if we were competent? You would have killed Abigail, then what? The whole cult would have turned against us, and we—er, you I guess—would be dead. Or worse.” He paused at that thought. If he considered it, Kei might actually be making some sense. “Now Abigail got away, yes. And that’s kind of a bummer. I was secretly hoping we could catch up to her before she fully got away, but ah well, what can you do? Next time will be much easier.” She leaned forward on the bed, springs creaking. “What makes you say that?” “Because as you said, right now we’re not a threat.” Doug threw his hands in the air. “Well, how are we supposed to kill her, then?” “No, no, she thinks we’re not a threat, dum dum. Think about it: she’s already had you scared out of your mind, wrapped around her finger. I was an unknown but now I’ve proven myself to be even worse than you are at planning. I gave you a gun that was unloaded, after all.” “But what she doesn’t know is that you were aware the whole time that the gun wasn’t loaded.” Doug’s eyes widened as awareness dawned. “Exactly!” Kei grinned. “Why do you think I couldn’t tell you the plan? Because you wouldn’t have sold it if you’d known.” “I’m still annoyed about that,” he frowned. “And feel highly disappointed to learn your true opinion of my acting skills, but continue.” “So now that we’ve made that much of a blunder after concocting this elaborate scheme, we’ve completely dropped off of Abigail’s radar. I doubt she’s suspecting we’ll even find her, let alone be able to kill her.” Frowning, Doug thought of something. “Okay, but how are we going to find her? She could be anywhere.” “Not just anywhere. She’ll be back in Ede Valley.” “How do you know that?” She grinned. “My uncle’s-wife’s-second cousin was the grandmaster strategist for the intergalactic legions. I inherited it from him.” He just shook his head. “That’s a lie.” “Perhaps,” she shrugged. “It’s just common sense, really. Where else is there to go? But we have more than that to go on,” she continued without pause. “We have your old friend.” “My old...?” Doug blinked. “Do you mean Mike?” Had he ever actually told her about him? “Yep,” she nodded. “If he doesn’t know where she is now, she’ll tell him soon.” “What makes you think that?” “You really don’t think she’ll try to get him on her side? He’s a friggin’ superhero, and she’s got a lot of enemies.” Doug grunted in consent. “So what do you want me to do, get in contact with him?” “I’m so glad you catch onto things quickly,” she said. “Yes, just... don’t let your anger get the best of you, please. Something tells me he won’t respond well to that.” Nodding, Doug grabbed his phone and went out onto the motel balcony. But he hesitated in dialing the number. Something Kei had said was bugging him. Was he really that angry? Only against Abigail, and it wasn’t really anger anymore, anyway. Obsession, maybe. He nearly laughed every time he thought of the light leaving her eyes, the surprise on her face when she realized that he had won. He wasn’t quite sure what this feeling was. Had he always been like this? No, if he’d felt like this all along, Abigail would have been dead a long time ago. He remembered feeling dead, numb, trying to forget all of the terrible things that were happening to him. Wasn’t it ironic? Abigail’s experiments would be the very thing that led to her death. Doug wasn’t sure which was better. He’d spent the majority of the last few years not feeling anything. Did he even know what to do with all of these emotions that were suddenly hitting him full force? Either it would be for the best in the end, or it would tear him into pieces. Only time would really tell. He was just about to hit call, when something else occurred to him: who would pick up the phone? Mike? Or Nihil? If it was the latter son of a bitch he might kill him. He’d allowed himself to kill Jilli. Doug would never forgive him for that. It was his doing that she now constantly danced at the corner of his vision, mascara-black tears running down her face, old, black blood caking her chest beneath the fist-sized hole. “Go away,” he whispered, but she only got closer. She honed in, as if interested in the call. Doug sighed as the phone rang, silently praying that it would just go to voice mail. But alas, no such luck, as a small click heralded someone on the other end. “Mike?” he asked hesitantly. “It’s Doug. I know it’s been a while but... we need to talk...” ~~ o ~~ Doug was dreaming again. He knew he must be, because everything was slightly wrong, and constantly changing. It followed no logic that he knew of, left to the whims of an absent god. Here he was, a youngest child, two brothers. Still a genius, but the madness was not man-made. It was always there, created by an act of god or academic pressure. His last name wasn’t Bailey. Now it was, and he was in a padded cell, now another, now another. Tortured, anguished, always insane. For what? For what? Pure amusement? He broke a mirror. Another, another. That was not his face, not his face. Rolling off the bed onto the floor, like some kind of dead fish as the world and colors altered around him like a movie made by a bipolar director. So many iterations. Which is the real one? Now he was older, driven mad by a voice in his head, stuck in a room at the end of the world. It was so, so cold. But that was nothing compared to the pain on the side of his head. He felt and his hand came back bloody. His ear was gone. “Stop it!” he cried, though he wasn’t sure to who. “Stop torturing me! Haven’t you had enough? Why won’t you just forget me already?” It can’t be done, said a voice. You’re too important. You’ve already broken the cycle, you just don’t know it. “Who are you?” he shouted to the void. There was no response from the endless blackness, just a sudden, sharp pain in his head. He screamed as something burst through his skin and blood poured down his face. Two spiraling goat horns emerged from his head and curled around his ears. He collapsed to the ground, but there was nothing to catch him, and he fell downwards into the green-purple void.