Algernon - Part Four

Presented with an opportunity, Ryan goes after a target that could end his troubles and redeem him from his past mistakes. The only problem is, he's their target as well.

Redemption

 

Ryan carefully opened his eyes and looked around.

The bare, grey walls of his room melted together in a dark fog, his feet stood out pale and pink against the white of the sheets, a mirage that glistened across the miles toward the end of the bed. He was pretty sure he was suffering from the world’s worst headache, his head echoed with the sound of several jackhammers. He tried to put a hand on his pounding head and get up but found that his arms were above his head with…were those handcuffs?

He blinked at them stupidly for a minute until his vision cleared and then determined that they were indeed handcuffs. He groaned loudly and tried to roll over onto his side. As he did, he noticed the bed felt kind of wet.

Ryan knew for a fact that he hadn’t wet the bed since he was nine. Taking a breath, he smelled a sweet briny tang mixed with the smell of urine and recoiled.

He looked down his body, saw he didn’t have any clothes on, and cringed.

“Oh my God, what did I do last night?” Ryan wondered out loud.

He looked around the room and realized that he probably wasn’t going to get out of whatever he had gotten himself into without some help.

“Moose! Hey, Moose!” Ryan yelled, but then realized the door was shut. “F**k that b***h, I’m gonna…” He trailed off, rolled onto his side so that his legs hung off the bed and did the best he could to examine the sheets.

Not being able to see that far, he pulled himself back up onto the mattress so he didn’t strain his arms and thought.

He couldn’t possibly have done anything or Valerie would have kicked his a*s, or perhaps she already had. Whatever he had done, she had made sure he remembered his stupidity. If only he remembered….

“I actually didn’t come up to tell you I was sorry,” Ryan whispered.

“You didn’t?” she whispered back.

He leaned closer to her, but he was having trouble distinguishing whether or not it was actually Valerie he was talking to. The vision of a woman with blond hair with a grimace masquerading as a smile was alternating with Valerie.

“I don’t need you. You’re nothing but trouble and you deserve nothing less than to be…”

He had gone down to the radio room to ask her to leave, but decided that a drink might make it easier. He mused that somewhere between the fourth and fifth drink, his real feelings about her surfaced.

She had started to frustrate him in the short time she had been here and he had intended to tell her so.

The trouble was, the more he talked, the less he saw of her. The more he talked, the more she became someone he used to know, someone else who frustrated him, someone who pushed him too far.

Someone he was close to….

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“You awake in there?" Moose called from the other side.

“Yes, but I’m starting to think it might have been better to stay asleep.”

“Is that so?” Moose inquired. “Well, get up and get dressed. We have a lot of work to do. Course by ‘we’ I mean you.”

“I wish I could do that, but that’s going to be kind of difficult since I’m handcuffed to the headboard.”

Moose grunted and opened the door.

“Wild night?” Moose laughed.

“Not quite the wild I would have liked, but yeah, I guess you could say that,” Ryan sighed.

“For all the trouble you caused yesterday, I think I might leave you there.”

“Moose, come on. I already had a terrible night and I woke up in my own soup. I think I’ve been punished enough.” The light from above stung his eyes and the more he talked, the louder the drumming in his head became.

“The radio still isn’t fixed, you shot my microwave, and on top of all that, the woman’s gone and she took all the money.”

“What?” Ryan’s jaw dropped.

“You heard me. I think I’m gonna leave you there a little longer so you can think about what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done? I was gong to tell Valerie to leave!” Ironically, Ryan’s head felt a little clearer now that he had remembered what he said.

“Well, looks like you got your wish. I, on the other hand, didn’t get s**t. All I have is a bunch of crap that you’ve busted.”

“Some of that was her fault,” Ryan mumbled.

“It wasn’t, so quit trying to shift the blame. At least she was trying to help. You could stand to take the hit for what you do.”

“So you’re going to leave me tied up here stewing in my own juices?”

“Yeah. And the best part is, you don’t appear to be able to do anything about it.” Moose turned and walked down the hall.

“Stop treating me like a child!” Ryan yelled after him.

“Then quit acting like one!” Moose rounded on him.

Ryan gawked at him as he walked away and disappeared down the hall.

Perhaps I should stop arguing, he thought. I suck at it.

 

After a few hours, Moose took pity on Ryan and un-cuffed him from the bedpost. Glad to be free, Ryan showered, dressed, and made his way to the hold for something to eat.

He met Moose in the kitchen, but neither of the two men said anything to each other as Ryan hunted for and then found some noodles – they were probably the best hangover cure at his disposal. Ryan ran the water in the sink until it was hot, filled the noodle cup with the hot water, and set it on the counter to cook.

“My old man used to tell me that you need to be responsible for your actions. Recognize when you’ve done something wrong and take the steps to make it right.”

Ryan said nothing and checked on his noodles.

He turned and faced Moose. “I really act like a child?”

“Yes. It’s unnerving. You should act your age.”

“Be honest – how old do you think I am?” Ryan asked, checking the noodles again.

“You act like you’re five. But if I had to guess, I’d say you were twenty-something.”

“Yeah, I probably am,” Ryan smirked. “But I always feel a hell of a lot older.”

“Beating yourself up like you do, I’m not really surprised.” Moose crossed his arms. “Any kid that takes hits like you do is probably already dead, anyway.”

“Well, I don’t feel lucky to be alive, I’ll tell you that.”

“Living like we do, I kinda don’t blame ya.”

Ryan laughed and took a bite of the food. “It’s not good to eat carbohydrates all the time. A man needs protein.”

“Go out, earn some dough, and buy us some meat.”

“Nah, too hard.” Ryan took another bite. “What we need is a big break. We need to wake up from this dream we’re in.”

“You think it’s all just a dream?”

“I know it is. I’ve been dreaming for a long time.” He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I just don’t know if I’ll ever wake up.”

Moose shrugged and went to turn on the television.

At first, nothing caught his eye, but a brief clip of a news report made him stop and lean toward the TV.

“Mirielle Dante is in town this week,” the reporter announced, “promoting new legislation for a bill that would allow for the…”

The reporter went silent as the two men watched a picture of a tall, slim woman with long blond hair exit a limousine accompanied by a smaller woman with burgundy hair, short in the front and long in the back.

Ryan, upon hearing her name, retreated to his room and grabbed his coat, which he filled with grenades. Each of the oval explosives weighed heavily in his hand, the pins protruding like the light switch on the wall; the scent of the stained mattress was replaced with the sweet scent of sawdust. Hearing Mirielle was in town was more than enough to sober him up.

He sat with a box of bullets and fed them carefully into an empty clip, the grooves of his fingers imprinted on the cool metal cylinders. Moose came and stood in the doorway, watching him collect bullets and grenades.

“Where do you think you’re going, cowboy?”

“To do something I should have done a long time ago.”

“You can’t change what happened in the past.”

“Let me live in my dream and you live in yours.” Ryan got up off bed.

“While you’re out, you mind looking for the little b***h that stole our cash?” Moose asked as Ryan walked past him. “That was two thousand I could have used to buy us some food.”

“I’m only going to look for one woman. You can look for the other one.”

 

He found his way out and began walking toward the downtown area of the city. He had no idea where to find her, but he thought he knew where she might be.

After big meetings, she often went to a church to confess, or so she said. There was a small Catholic church downtown that was very prominent, so Ryan figured he would head in that general direction.

As he walked, it grew later and darker. At dusk he spied the church, a grand cathedral modeled after the Notre Dame in Paris. Two large towers stood flanking the stained glass window shadowing the entrance, the flying buttresses graced with large stone gargoyles; over the door were carvings of the Virgin Mother and the twelve disciples. People had once flocked to this place, but now that the government was God, there was no need for churches any more. The state was the religion.

As he approached, the same limo he had seen earlier on the news pulled up to the church entrance and a woman got out of the car. She leaned back inside to give the driver instructions, closed the door, and the car sped away. She turned to face Ryan as he approached, a grimace masquerading as a smile flashing across her face.

“I remember you,” the woman smiled.

“As do I.” Ryan continued to come toward her.

“It’s true what they say. You just have one of those faces that people never forget.”

“You, Ms. Dante, are equally unforgettable.”

“Ryan, please, call me Mirielle. How long have I been telling you that?”

“Long enough that I got tired of listening.”

Ryan stopped a few feet from her and looked her over, noticing something thin and long hanging from her belt.

“Do you still carry that with you everywhere?” Ryan gestured at the sword at her hip. She smiled and drew it. It glinted faintly in the dying light.

“A gun is no match for a good blade of steel at your side.”

“I’m inclined to believe differently.”

Mirielle sheathed the sword and looked at him. “Oh?” she feigned surprise and continued to walk toward the entrance. “Does that mean you finally learned how to shoot?”

“I always knew how to shoot,” Ryan growled through gritted teeth as he followed her.

“Really? Cause when I knew you, you couldn’t hit s**t worth beans.”

“You’re the third person that’s told me that.”

“Then it would be considered a fact.”

“How does that work?”

“If people point out a flaw in another person, saying it once makes it a comment, saying it twice makes it a concern, but it has to be said three times to make it a fact.”

“Is that really true?” Ryan moved closer.

“Why don’t you try and prove me wrong?” Mirielle rested a hand on the hilt of her blade.

Ryan drew quickly and fired.

Mirielle drew, blocked the bullet with the sword and then swung at him. Ryan dodged to the right, and ran in the door of the church.

He fired an occasional shot over his shoulder to try and slow her down, but Mirielle caught up. Sweat was starting to form on his brow and his breath came in short gasps. He felt very out of shape.

Ryan tried to fire, but Mirielle was faster, bracing her sword against the gun and causing him to shoot upwards.

She pushed him back, took a swing at his leg, and retreated inside the church, finding shelter in the stairwell to the top of the bell tower. Ryan clutched at his leg for a moment, the blood mixing with the sweat and gunpowder residue on his palms, and followed her.

Mirielle began her ascent up the stairs, Ryan at her heels. When they reached the top, Ryan tried again to fire at her, but the bullet was again blocked by her sword. She released her hold on his gun and he fell forward onto the railing, moments later bouncing back onto the floor, Mirielle standing over him. Ryan held the gun at her left shoulder and she rested her sword on his right.

“You may think you’ve improved, but you’re still the same bad shot as five years ago.”

“I was never a bad shot,” Ryan grunted, digging the gun into her shoulder as Mirielle pushed further into his.

“Stop living in a dream. Killing me won’t bring her back.”

“Is that why you’re doing this?” Ryan asked through gritted teeth.

“No, I’m doing this to teach you a lesson. Next time, don’t say no,” Mirielle breathed. Her long blond hair fell over her small eyes, shining with malice and hatred. Her mouth twisted like the smile of a Cheshire cat, like an animal that had found its prey. His chest heaved with each breath he drew, the sweat from his forehead was starting to drip into his eyes, and as he stared at her, she transformed from a woman into a beast.

Ryan fired and Mirielle swung up, both thrown backward by the other. Mirielle recovered faster and kicked Ryan toward the ornate glass window.

Moments before he fell, he threw a grenade towards Mirielle. It exploded in a haze of fire, wood, and glass.

Just before Ryan hit the ground in a shower of concrete splinters, he saw May’s face swimming in front of him.

“This is…all…a dream….”

“Yeah…” he heard himself whisper.

“It’s just a bad dream….”

***

            “How could you do this to me?” Mirielle asked, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Strands of blond hair fell out of the neat bun into her face and she brushed them gently behind her ears.

            “I can’t go with you and you know it. Besides, my place is here.”

            “There’s nothing for you here! There’s nothing…” She paused. “What’s here that you could possibly want or need more than me?”

            “Hope,” Ryan whispered. Their breath formed puffs of cloud as they spoke, the cool wind wrapping its arms around them and penetrating through their thick coats.

            “Hope? Is that what we’re going to call it?”

            “What else is there? If I leave, there’s no chance of fixing the problem.”

            “There is no hope, Ryan; you’ve been dreaming again!” Mirielle was screaming now. “If we work for the government we can fix what’s wrong with this country. We can make a change for the better.”

            “You’re solution isn’t the end all be all.”

            “But being with her…that’s what’s going to fix it?”

            Ryan stared at his feet and bit his lip, but said nothing.

            “You think being with her is going to fix what’s wrong with this country?”

            “I never said that…”

            “You may as well have.”

            “Mirielle…”

            “No, that’s fine. Go. Be with her. Just know that by not going with me it means that you will be hunted. I’ll make sure the police come after you; and if they don’t, then I will.”

            “Then let them hunt me, if that’s the way you want to do this.” He turned and walked away from her, hoping that this would be the last time he would see her.

            “You’re making a mistake Ryan! Ryan! Ryan!”

~~~

            “Ryan!” May’s voice cut through the darkness of his dreams and his eyes snapped open. He wasn’t standing out in the cold arguing with Mirielle; he was in the safety of his small apartment. Ryan sighed and grabbed a handful of the thin sheet laying on top of him and looked around.

            Somewhere above him there was a light on…or maybe it was coming in through the window…but it was obscured by a woman peering over him, her long blond hair spilling over her shoulders and into her face.

            “May?”

            The woman smiled and put a hand on his cheek. “You were dreaming again.”

            “Was I?”

            “Tell me about it,” she breathed as she lowered her face closer to his. “Please?”

            “No,” he murmured as he lifted his face toward hers and their lips met. “It’s not important.”

            May’s face disappeared from his line of vision and he felt her head nestle into his shoulder.  Her hand drifted across his face and rested it on his bare chest.

            “It was about Mirielle again, wasn’t it?”

            “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.” Ryan tried to roll over, but only turned his head away from her. He heard the bed squeak next to him as she sat up, put her arm around him, and leaned once again into his line of sight. He smiled and pulled her close – there was no way he could stay mad at her.

            “Do you ever regret it? Not going with her?” May whispered.

            Ryan glanced down at her: May’s blond hair falling over her shoulders just grazing the slope of the soft round mounds of her breasts; his hand rested on the curve as her torso turned to hip, her firm thighs, the whiteness of her skin like the surface of a pearl. She was perfect in every way. She was beautiful, she was his, and it was hard for him to imagine his life without her.

            “Never,” he sighed as he rolled on top of her. “Because I have something far better than anything I would have had if I had said ‘yes.’”

            May clutched at the back of his head, winding her fingers through his hair, pulled him closer and kissed him.

            “This is all a dream…” she whispered.

            “If this is a dream, then don’t wake me up….”

***

Ryan opened his eyes slowly to find Moose standing over him, shaking his head in disapproval. “Stupid b*****d.”

Ryan closed his eyes, and then opened them again. Cold, unfeeling steel bars dented with rivets surrounded him, and he could hear the faint sound of waves lapping against a barnacle encrusted ship’s hull. Out of the corner of his right eye he could see a blur of yellow against the grey. His body was composed of bandages, a living mummy.

He was on the couch in the hold of the Algernon; he was still alive.

It had been a dream.

“Hmm,” he grunted.

“Why’d you go after her, anyway? That’s too risky to kill her in public.”

Ryan said nothing, staring at the ceiling. He felt completely numb.

Moose finally gave up trying to get him to explain himself and left him to sleep. When he awoke again, Moose was sitting on the table, looking down at him.

“For a stupid b*****d, you sure are lucky.”

Ryan blinked at him for a moment and turned his head to the side.

“Perhaps. Maybe,” Ryan whispered. “But I sure as hell don’t feel lucky.”

“You fell five stories out of an exploding building.”

Ryan looked back up at Moose. “I’ve fallen further.” Moose crossed his arms. “I’m probably still falling for all I know.”

“Well, I’m not always going to be there to get your a*s up when you fall, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop falling. Particularly out of buildings.”

Ryan was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

“Did you ever hear a story like this?” Ryan asked.

Moose said nothing so he continued.

“There once was a tiger striped cat. He died a million deaths and came back a million times. He had several owners that he didn’t care for. After many years, the cat became a stray and was free.

“Then one day, he met a white female cat and they lived happily together for many years. One day, the white cat died of old age. The tiger striped cat cried a million times and then died. He didn’t come back to life.”

Moose folded his arms, closed his eyes and smiled. “It’s a good story.”

“I hate that story.”

Moose opened his eyes, startled.

“Then again,” Ryan smiled weakly. “I hate cats.”

“You would,” Moose chuckled.

“No, really. I’m allergic to cats.”

“If you don’t like cats as much as you say you do, why’d you pick up a stray?”

“What stray?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Moose said, rising and leaving Ryan’s field of vision.

Ryan stared blankly at the ceiling and sleep eventually found him.

 

After six weeks of lying flat on his back on the couch, Ryan got up and started sleeping in his own room.

Life seemed to have gone on well without him, except that because Moose had been keeping an eye on him, he hadn’t been able to do much of anything in the way of trying to finish fixing the radio or replace the microwave.

As soon as Ryan was close to healed three months later, Moose began to ride him about fixing what he’d broken.

“She still hasn’t come back, which means we’re in pretty hot water thanks to you.” Moose growled from behind the radio.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. None of this is my fault.”

“If you weren’t such an a*s, I’d agree with you. Thing is, you keep wanting to blame other people for your mistakes.”

“Y’know, not everything is my fault.”

“Well, in this case, it is. So fix it.”

Ryan sighed and shuffled slowly out of the room. There was no easy way to do this, other than to just do it, he thought. He sighed loudly and made his way back down to the hold.

As he turned the corner into the room, he saw a woman wearing only a bathrobe and a towel around her head standing at the counter holding a bowl of something hot. He stood blinking at her in surprise; she wasn’t really standing in the kitchen, was she? How had she gotten back to the Algernon anyway?

The two stared at each other for a moment before Ryan sat on the couch.

“The cat came back,” he mused.

“I was hungry,” she snorted.

“Isn’t that usually the case?”

“Cats come back ’cause some people are nice to them, not just because they want food.”

“You saying you can’t get your own food?”

“I can get my own food just fine. You guys on the other hand….” Valerie trailed off as she sat down next to him. “After I’m done, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No,” said Ryan quietly.

“What?” Valerie looked at him in shock.

“Why don’t you just stay?”

“Why would I do that? You made it clear you didn’t want me around and I’ve clearly overstayed my welcome. Wouldn’t you agree?” Valerie raised her eyebrows and tapped her foot. “Well?”

Ryan whispered something under his breath.

“You want to share that with the rest of the class?”

“I need you,” he said quietly.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I need you to help me, okay?” Ryan yelled. “Are you happy!?” He turned toward her.

She continued to look at him in disbelief for a moment before she took the bowl of hot soup, turned it over on his lap, got up, and walked away.

Ryan yelled and tried unsuccessfully to get up off the couch. He gripped at the cushions, gritting his teeth in pain. The soup was so hot he felt for a moment that it had burned off his balls, the noodles clinging comically to his pants in misshapen squiggles.

“You really know how to hit a guy where it hurts, don’t you?”

“Oh please, there isn’t much there to loose anyway.” Valerie smiled as she waltzed out of the room.

Seconds after she left, Moose’s head appeared in the opposite doorway. He looked at Ryan sitting on the couch in pain and laughed. “She come back?”

Ryan glared through his grimace and Moose nodded.

“I should have known."