Decay (17 page)

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Orlando's eyes snapped open, and once more he found himself on the cold, stone floor of the mausoleum. He pulled the thick blankets closer around himself, adjusting his body slightly so as not to disturb Dallas...who he was supposed to be tied to, but no longer was. Frowning, he sat up and searched the room to find his friend sitting on top of the marble casing which held the casket.

“Is it...done?” he asked.

Dallas's dark eyes lit up as he smiled. “No, but I'm glad you're awake, because you've more or less been out for a couple of days. I thought I'd give you a break.” He put the book he was reading down and hopped down to the floor. “You need anything? Hungry?”

“You can explain to me what you're doing. I said no breaks. Let's just end this.”

“In a hurry to die?”

“If that's what it takes.”

“To what? Make penance for being an immature fifteen-year-old?” Dallas glared at him. “I get that you feel guilty, but you've got to stop punishing yourself. Yes, you hurt my feelings a lot back in the day. And okay, you were kind of an idiot most of the time too. But we were kids. You...you aren't the reason that it happened, and that's why I wanted to stop this. So I could wake you up and tell you that instead of having you figure it out in the afterlife. It sucks, knowing everything that's going on, but not being able to offer anyone any kind of peace. I don't wanna go through it again.”

With a sigh, Orlando lay back down. His head hurt like no other, and his body was weak. If it had been a couple of days since he'd last eaten anything, of course he would feel like garbage. Next to him was a bottle of water. He opened it and took a slow drink. It helped, but only a little.
I still don't understand how all of this is happening.
Accepted it, sure, but understood? Far from it. None of it made logical sense, and before he could ask questions, he'd been essentially comatose. Every few hours he'd wake up, eat something, or do whatever else he needed, and then drift back to sleep. Then every few hours became longer stretches of time. He'd blindly helped his friend with the promise of answers, and he wasn't even able to be conscious to get them.

Dallas moved closer to him and fluffed up the pillow he was resting on. “Prop yourself up, it'll make things a little easier. There. And yeah, I know, I promised you an explanation. I didn't realize the process would take so much out of you, otherwise I would have told you something right away.”

Orlando couldn't help but scoff. “You can read my mind now, huh?”

“You aren't the only one who was born with super cool powers.” Dallas smirked. “Something about coming back has jump started them. Or maybe it's something Nia did. I'm not sure how it works, but I've got a couple of things I can do.”

“Like read minds.”

“Sure, and I bet you could too if you tried hard enough. Your psychic abilities aren't limited to telekinesis, I know that much.”

“And how exactly do you know all of this?” Orlando asked, slightly raising his eyebrow.

His best friend sighed. “When you die, you get access to just about anything you ever wanted to know and then some. I've learned a lot of things about myself, you, our families, even this Alturan war thing.” Orlando's jaw dropped in shock, and Dallas laughed. “Yeah, I know
all
about that one too. When you're dead, and your spirit is kind of wandering around, you find ways to entertain yourself. I stalked you. What can I say? You're one interesting guy.”

“Aw honey, never knew you felt that way,” Orlando deadpanned. More laughter escaped his friend's lips. “Things mess a guy up, you know.”

“You were messed up long before I did what I did. We both were. Given everything with our families and friends...”

“Well, you slitting your wrists certainly didn't help things,” he muttered.

Dallas shook his head. “I guess not.”

“Only guess?”

“No, it didn't. There, happy?”

Orlando rolled his eyes again before squeezing them shut to subdue an oncoming headache. He didn't want to talk about his friend's successful suicide – he couldn't talk about it. The memory of getting the phone call and hearing the news, seeing the body, going to the funeral...it was all too much. So he decided to change the subject.

“Nia huh? And how did you meet her? Actually, how is she involved in any of this? You said she was the one who was making this possible, but I'm not sure I understand.”

For a moment, Dallas's gaze was glued to his hands which rested in his lap. “She's the one who has the power to bring people back to life. Somehow she connects life forces together and makes it happen. I'm not sure I understand how it works completely. As for how we met... It was late November, early December? My sense of time is kind of off right now. Some time before Christmas, I know that much. She has a lot of fights with her family. They're emotionally and verbally abusive to her. The cemetery is apparently one of her favorite haunts.” He chuckled a little. “Haunts, ha.”

“You were always full of puns.” Orlando groaned. “Try not to let your ADHD distract you.”

“Lighten up,” Dallas said and shook his head. “Anyway, she came here looking for an escape and somehow found her way inside here. I think she picked the lock. Let me tell you, security here sucks. While she was here, she saw we were the same age, got sad, desperate for a friend because she was close to ending it all herself. So she brought me back, and screamed because it wasn't exactly a pretty sight. It's taken a lot of work and rehabilitation for me to get back to looking like my beautiful self.”

Orlando eyed his friend, not sure if beautiful was the word he'd use to describe the guy. Dallas had always been long limbed and lanky. Had he finished going through puberty, he'd have probably been rather tall and thin, which fit his personality well. His hair was short, trimmed close to his scalp, instead of long and shaggy like Orlando remembered as well. And of course his skin was paler than ever. Orlando didn't want to imagine what the guy looked like when he woke up for the first time. Especially given what he knew of decomposing bodies.

He closed his eyes. “I'd always wondered how far gone you'd be by now. You know, how fast it happened, rotting, I mean. How long would it take for you to turn into dust? How long would it take for me to forget you?”

“Is that why you tried to copy me?” Dallas asked and pointed at Orlando's all black attire, and dark shaggy hair.

“I wasn't copying−”

“Ri-i-ight, that's why you went from Mr. All-American, to wannabe Goth overnight.”

“It's mourning,” Orlando explained. “There are some cultures who strip themselves of all normal clothes until they've properly moved on. It didn't feel right to go on with my life like nothing had happened, and I didn't like myself. I still don't. Because you were right, I was stupid, and I should have been a better person.” A lump formed in his throat, and he tried to push it down, not wanting to get emotional, and definitely not wanting to cry. “I got caught up in fun and threw my logic away. When you died, I couldn't look at colors and enjoy them. They seemed too happy for what I was feeling, so I threw them all away. The fact that you were interested in the Gothic style was merely a coincidence, but I also figured if there was someone I wanted to emulate, it was you.”

“Which is why you're quitting so easily?” Dallas asked.

Orlando frowned. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“Is that why you're willingly destroying your life for me? Quitting?”

He shook his head firmly. “I'm doing this because it's the right thing. You did everything because I−”

“Was an immature teenager.” Dallas waved a hand. “Look, it was a number of things okay? Don't get all special snowflake on me and act like you're the only reason I was depressed. You lied to me and blew me off to go hang out with plastic dolls. It hurt my pride, and I felt replaced. I also didn't have anyone at home. My parents didn't want to be with me. They still don't. Notice how quick they packed up and fled the moment I was gone? They've visited me here once. It's been two years. I finally understand why, but it still hurts. You know what it's like...to not have them around.”

“I do,” Orlando whispered. He hated that his family was gone all of the time as well. If it wasn't for Lyssa, he doubted he'd have come through the abandonment with such a level head. Dallas was an only child, however, so he was constantly either spending time at Orlando's house, or with the nanny who could have cared less.

He sighed. “I shouldn't have made things worse, though.”

“Maybe not, but we had different interests at the time,” Dallas said softly.

“That's not an excuse.”

“It's logic. We were both immature and did stupid things. My actions had more powerful consequences attached to them. If I could take it back, I would. At the time, it felt like the only way to feel good about myself. Like, if no one wanted me around, I could finally do what they wanted and leave. It's not like I ever had big dreams or goals to keep me going. Not feeling sounded like a wonderful option.” Dallas made eye contact with him, his piercing gaze landing deep into Orlando's soul.

He pulled the blankets up tight around his body, a sudden chill running over him. “Someone just walked over my grave,” he whispered.

Dallas raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“When you get the shivers, it means someone stepped on your grave,” Orlando explained, his voice still quiet.

“If that's the case, it's happening far in the future. Because I'm not going to let you die for me. It's sweet you care so much, but it's not what I want anymore. It was selfish of me to even ask.”

A wave of exhaustion washed over Orlando. “I've missed you,” he said before yawning.

“We can get gushy next time we talk, and there will be a next time, don't worry.”

“Good, because I still have questions.” A lot of them. He still wanted to know more about Nia and her strange power. Needed to know, in fact, because if she had powers, what did that mean for Alan's cause. How did she come about having them?

Dallas chuckled. “You're funny. Out of all the stuff you could possibly want to know, you pick that?”

Orlando opened his mouth to snap out a retaliation, but Dallas spoke up again.

“Sleep, man. You're going to need it.”