HankPankylol
patreon
A Winkle in Reality: Chapter 2.
🕑 Added 2025-04-07 16:39:04 +0000 UTCAnother week, another chapter.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun had started dipping into the horizon by the time I found the second thing that wasn’t fucking sand. The realization that I remembered nothing regarding my personal life had me stunlocked by the lagoon for quite a while, but luckily I knew lots of different things. Even things about deserts, like the fact that night time in a desert was as freezing as the day time was scorching. Given that the sun had made it a fair bit past the midday point by the time I thought to check, I knew I had to haul ass if I didn’t want to become a popsicle, even if the idea of cold had been tempting after so long in the heat.
Brooding about my suspicious amnesia could be done on the move.
And it was suspicious.
Waking up in a different world, with the only memories missing being the ones that anchored me to my previous life? I could remember fucking Wolverine’s height, the spawn tank cheat code for GTA Vice City, and every bit of fiction inbetween, but not the people who raised me for 15-ish years? Someone, or more likely something, ripping a fucking hole in the space-time continuum just to drag my nerdy ass through it and dumping me in the Distorted World, yet the semi-beneficial memory loss wasn’t their doing?
Pull the other one, it spawns fucking unicorns.
It wasn’t impossible as such, as far as I knew anyway. There were many different types of amnesia, and some of them were hyper specific. Hell, it was even possible that it had been an effect of my time in the Spooky Space. I felt that realm grind against my soul, my very sense of self. Maybe it managed to erase just that part of me. There were several feasible explanations without someone intentionallyactively doing it.
Just super fucking suspicous.
It also, as I realised during my second impersonation of Moses leading the Jews through the scorching hellscape, didn’t really matter.
As I said, the amnesia was actually somewhat to my benefit.
If I couldn’t remember the people important to me in my old life, I couldn’t feel the loss of them. The thought of not seeing my parents, hypothetical siblings, and romantic interests, couldn't hurt me if I didn’t remember ever seeing them in the first place. It was a fresh start.
New world, new me.
A completely blank slate.
Which was what made it so fucking suspicous.
Still, that line of thought had reached its end without starting to go in circles. I needed more information before I could make any actual conclusions, and at the end of the day, it didn’t really matter why or how. It happened and now I had to deal with it.
Besides, I thought to myself as what I prayed was buildings instead of rocks drew nearer, I had a way more important decision to make.
“New world, new me, new name,” I muttered, a small smirk pulling at my cracked lips.
“Hmmm, Pokémon names tend to be based on real, natural stuff, like Ash, Oak, Brock, or… Gary…" I trailed off with a mutter, frowning at the last one.
"The games and manga used colors though," my mind drifted through the options as my feet carried me closer and closer to what was becoming more and more obviously a man made structure, "So there are a lot of choices."
I planted my feet wide, toes digging into the sand as my fists rested on my hips, egg laying cozy in a nest of sand. My chin tilted towards the sky while my eyes gained a glint. White teeth gleamed in a grin as I spoke the name that would strike fear in criminals and awe in children.
"Periwinkle."
A breeze blowing with the top layer of sand was the only response. I held my pose for several moments, grinning at the world, before hunching over with an explosive sigh.
"That's stupid. I’m going fucking insane."
In my exhaustion, as I bent down to pick the egg back up I hit it with my foot and sent it tolling a few feet, bouncing sporadically. I let out a cry as I moved to catch it, tripping over myself as I did.
That fumble saved my life.
As I caught myself after a couple of steps, the slight, bowl-shaped depression my left foot had just been in collapsed in the blink of an eye as a large, tan blur leapt up and snapped giant mandibles closed with a horribly loud sound.
CLACK!
The scream that left me sounded like a boiling kettle as I fell on my ass and scrambled to get back. I had a brief moment to take in a huge head the size of my own, made up 90% of a pair of ginormous jaws and a small black eye on the side of its head, before it wriggled back into the sand.
Shivers racked my body as I stared at the spot where I had almost died, shock and disbelief freezing me in place. Several long seconds passed as I remained static, breath stuck in my throat, before rackdolling into the sand with an explosive exhale. A forearm covered my eyes while a choked sob rattled my chest.
“F-fuck.”
Again.
I had almost died again.
I’m not sure how long I spent on the ground, focusing on taking deep breaths as my body slowly came down from the adrenaline high and stopped shaking, but eventually I recovered enough to sit up. I wasn’t okay by any means, but at this point, I just wanted the day to fucking end already. And that could only happen when I found some shelter.
Which, in turn, could only happen if I got off my ass and kept moving.
When I finally took the first steps to continue towards my previous destination, they came much slower and more carefully, my eyes on swivels, analyzing every single grain before me for more shitty death traps that apparently existed in these parts. Calm enough to think somewhat clearly, I’m pretty sure that had been a trapinch, a Pokémon I actually liked quite a lot, but that did not fucking matter when the fuck was trying to eat me for dinner.
I tried to put my close call behind me by picking back up my train of thought.
"Black and White are taken. So is Gold and Silver. Red, Blue, Green… Tree names seem to belong to the Professor's… Maybe just a regular name then, like Bill, or Paul… No, Paul is taken too… All hail the mighty Champion, strongest Trainer in the world, Bob!... Pokémon is Japanese, I guess, so I could do someth- is that a fucking train?"
I was finally close enough that the blurry blob in the distance had gained detail, and sure enough, it was a train. An old, rust colored, monster of a steam engine sat innocently among the sand dunes, nearly a hundred feet of poorly maintained metal. Large, crooked pipes of the same beaten red emerged from the top of the machine, while the wheels appeared to have been ripped off and scattered around randomly. A ramp had been attached to the back part and led up to a large open door. A dozen buildings, closer to huts of seemingly paint peeling sheet metal, dotted the surroundings, with an ancient gas pump front and center of the cluster.
I turned and looked back the way I came. A lonely tumbleweed rolled across the desert. The right and left of the settlement was similarly empty. No train tracks. No giant grove carved into the landscape from the 100 ton slap of engineering being dragged into place. No indication at all of how it got there.
Just a train in the desert.
“Why is there a fucking train in the middle of the desert?”
Nonsensical or not though, night had more or less officially fallen and the temperature was dropping at a rate that was noticeable minute to minute. The lighting was getting dimmer, making the odds of falling into the jaws of another nightmare bug higher and higher. I didn’t care if it was a train, a cave, or a fucking gaint pumpkin, shelter was shelter. And given the two lamps at the front and back of the vintage machine and the light spilling from the wide open doorway, it wasn’t as abandoned as it looked.
The sheds seemed deserted as I made my way past, but people may go to sleep earlier around these parts.
Something about it was familiar. I would have thought a giant train in the desert would stick out more in my memories, but there was just a faint tickle in the back of my mind of having seen this before as I traversed the empty bottles and metal parts spread through the sand. The rust behemoth loomed over me, acting like it hadn’t been airdropped by giants.
Or Pokémon.
The steel creaked ominously under me as I climbed the ramp. The warm air nearly had me floating inside like a cartoon and I almost fell the second my feet crossed the doorstep. I had gotten so good at ignoring my discomfort over the last day that I hadn’t noticed the light shaking of my legs or the blisters developing ontop of my blisters.
Last part. Just needed a place to sleep, I convinced myself as I took a look around the interior of the train turned building, egg clutched to my chest. I’d take the fucking floor as long as it’s inside.
In contrast to the dilapidated exterior, the inside was actually rather nice. A long, L-curved counter took up the wall right in front of the doorway. Bar stools were placed along the side facing outwards, while a shelf full of bottles containing different colored liquids covered the left wall. A small kitchen and a bunch of boxes finished the area.
Next to the bar, a large TV displayed an interview with some small rotund guy taking place. Dressed in black shoes, puffy blue pants, a large brown coat that turned pink at the cuffs and collar and finished with a grey vest that was struggling for its life to not pop a button, he was quite the sight. Add in the bolo tie with a giant gold button and three giant puffy ribbons, and he turned into something that required a double take. With the grey hair that left the top of his head bald, growing only on the sides, and was formed into two candy floss shapes, he just became bizarre.
Nice mustache, though.
Besides the screen with the president of Clownville grasping at his chest as he said something that was probably very dramatic, stood an antique jukebox. It looked like it had been used to beat someone half to death and then stored in the jungle for a couple of years, but I’d always had an appreciation for jukeboxes.
They were a glimpse into a different era.
Across the beat up music player were some old school dining tables with pastel green couches framing a slim table. Finishing it all off, bronze pipes ran along the walls and into what I could only guess was an unreasonably big steam turbine in the far wall.
Which was weird, but I guess it was only one among a bunch of confusing shit in the odd steampunk/retro/Fallout building.
It was also completely empty except for a young guy behind the bar.
Semi-long, greasy strands of hair crowned his head like a limp, sand colored mop. The worn, oversized t-shirt and hollow cheeks made him look young but the sparse curly beard hair pecked him as a late teen that was a couple of weeks past his last shave. The dull, unfocused, brown eyes of a minimum wage worker that would rather be anywhere else stared blankly at the TV, sharp chin propped up in spindly arms as he lay with his whole upper body draped across the counter.
There was no bell to announce my entrance, so I took the dozen steps up to him and cleared my throat.
“Ahem.”
Nothing. Not even a twitch. I moved to the side to be in his line of vision and tried again.
“Excuse me.”
“What?”, the sigh sounded like it came from a dying man as he forced it past his lips, eyes unflinching from the screen.
“Do you guys have a room or something I can stay in overnight? Honestly, I’ll take the floor at this point, or like a closet. Anything other than staying outside.”
“50 Poké for a night.” Even though we were exchanging words the rather impressive sloth impression continued.
I scratched the back of my head sheepishly as I gave what I hoped was a charming smile. If there was one benefit to being a kid again, it would be that people tended to treat them better.
Not that this guy seemed to give a fuck.
“About that… I kinda don’t have any money…”
“Then fuck off.” The completly monotone delivery would have been comical if not for how disheartening it was.
I would like to think that I handled the dismissal like the mentally mature guy I was and gave a perfect, irrefutable compromise, or accepted the decision with stoicism and sophistication.
Others might disagree, though.
“Come on, pleeease!? It’s really cold, and dark, and sandy, and there are hungry Pokémon, and cold, and I don’t want to! Please let me stay! I’ll wash the dishes, or sweep or something! Just please let me stay!”
If nothing else it finally got a physical reaction from the rude bastard in the form of a frown. Not the one I’d hoped for, but it was something as he turned his half lidded gaze to me, realising that I was not, in fact, going to just fuck off.
“What part of ‘no money, no room’ is so fucking hard to understand? Does this look like a fucking charity? Do I look like a fucking rich schmuck that can afford to waste my shit on street trash fucktards like…”
He didn’t even hesitate when he saw that he was talking to a child. If anything my age only made him more annoyed.
The egg in my arms, however, brought him to a stop and a glint entered his eyes.
“... On second thought, I’ll make you a deal. You’re right, it’s going to be extra cold tonight, and I'm a nice guy. Tell you what, you give me that egg, and I'll let you stay the night. Fuck, I’ll even throw in some food and drink. I’m feeling generous.”
I don’t think my face could’ve been more deadpan had it been carved from stone. I might not have known the precise price for Pokémon eggs, but it sure as fuck was more than a single night in a shitty room, with some bread and water. Did I look fucking stupid? Was the jackass actually trying to scam a child? What the fuck?
Was this normal in the Pokémon world? What fucking region was this?
Not that I was going to say any of that, I was still holding out hope for that room.
“Uhhh, thank you for the offer but I can’t do that. I woke up in the desert and can’t remember anything. This egg is the only thing I have. Is there anything else I can do? Please Mister.”
Again, I was a kid and sympathy was much easier to accrue. Even if this guy was a scumbag scammer trying to take advantage of a child, surely even he would give in to a lonesome 10 year old with amnesia.
“No. Either give me the egg or freeze.”
Or maybe not.
He must have thought I was close to caving because he kept going, leaning forward to loom over me. It might have been intimidating if he didn’t look like he ate once a week.
“Look, I’m trying to be nice, kid. I know my eggs and that looks like a standard wingull egg. Damn birds are the most common Pokémon in Orre and an egg wouldn’t go for more than 30, maybe 40 Poké, so in the end I’m the one losing out here. Nobody is going to give you more than that for it and kindness is rare around these parts. Fuck, most people would have just clubbed you in the head and taken the fucking thing, so stop being a bitch and-”
“Kurt.”
I nearly jumped at the gravelly voice suddenly interrupting. The dickhead’s, Kurt apparently, eyes had moved to the doorway behind me and he snapped into a straighter stance. I turned to look myself and my jaw hit the floor.
Standing in the doorway, backlit from outside into a dark silhouette, was less of a man and more of a mountain of muscle. His frame filled the opening almost entirely, shoulders at least five feet across, if not six, with a tank-top straining chest that would make a steroid filled bodybuilder give up on life in envy. His smooth head, revealed to be wrapped in an orange bandana as the colossal moved into the train engine, seemed to scrape the over eight feet tall ceiling as his hard, black eyes took in the scene before him. Bulging, scarred arms hung bare, each individual muscle at least the size of my head, as his veiny forearms rested comically far from his ballerina thin waist. Every step from his trunk-like legs felt like they should shake the cart, yet he moved with a graceful gait as he came to stand before me, my head barely reaching the start of the yellow apron wrapped around his waist.
My neck hurt as he met my eyes, which I imagined was the size of golfballs at this point.
For fuck’s sake, he was litteraly twice my height and four times my width!
Through my disbelief of the titan of men before me, I heard Kurt stammer behind me.
“B-Bob! Hey, sorry man, I-I was just about to sort the back, but this kid won’t leave, and, and-
“Shut up.”
Bob’s voice vibrated through the air like he had been chasing cigarettes with gravel since childhood as he finally took his gaze away from me and addressed Kurt. It felt like a physical weight had been removed as he did and I felt almost breathless.
Who the fuck was this and how did I get the fuck away from him?
“I told you. I don’t want this shit here. Do it again and you’re fired. Understood?”
Kurt’s head almost blurred with how fast he nodded.
“Yeah, sure, I-I’m sorry that’s my bad, I’ll just go and, uhh, and sort the back now”, he mumbled as he slit out from behind the bar. He moved in a large circle around Bob the Giant, tossing a glare my way on his way out. Maturely, I stuck my tongue out in response.
Fuck that guy. How is it my fault that he gets called out on being a scumbag? You were trying to extort a child, own your shit.
As Kurt slunk out the door, I went back to Bob who had somehow appeared behind the counter in the meantime. Seriously, how was he so quiet?
A silence fell over us, each just looking at each other. Bob had picked up a glass and was wiping it with a cloth he pulled from the pocket of his apron, while I was just trying to figure out how to proceed from there. It was one thing to bother an anemic teenager and a whole other thing with a guy that can flex boulders out of existence.
Honestly, it was probably best to just give up there. Being outside overnight was going to suck, yet better than Bob the Bodybuilder slapping my head off.
“Uhm, sorry to bother you sir, I understand that you don’t have room. I’ll just go-”.
“What’s your name, lad?”
I blinked at the interruption, but went with it. Maybe there was still a chance for salvation? Though I hadn’t finished coming up with a name yet.
Fuck it.
“Peri, sir.”
Another moment of silence and staring. Damn, this guy was intense. Nervousness bubbled up within me and I couldn’t stop myself from breaking first.
“It's short for Periwinkle.”
There! The corner of his mouth flinched. It was barely a twitch, but was definitely a positive reaction. It was almost worth committing to that stupid-ass name.
“What are you doing out here on your own?”
“I’m not sure, sir, I woke up in the desert this morning, alone. I don’t remember anything other than my name. I don’t even know where I am. I found this,” I lifted the egg in my arms and his gaze flickered to it before returning to mine, “in an oasis. It was really lucky, I almost died. That I found the oasis, I mean. That was lucky. Not finding the egg. Though that was also lucky…”
Finally, something softened in the titan’s eyes as he looked at my chest for a moment. His shoulders dropped and he let out a sigh as he placed the glass under the counter and leaned forward on his forearms.
“Sorry to hear that, kid. Wish that was the first time I heard that story, but this far out in the desert is the favorite dumping ground for the gangs. Occasionally we get someone that has managed to survive a Mindbreak. Usually just bodies, though.”
Wait, what? My bullshit was an actual thing? Also, Mindbreak?
“Mindbreak?”
Bob nodded absentmindedly as he stared into the distance, seeing things I couldn’t imagine if corpses of children were a common occurrence around these parts.
“It’s what it sounds like. A Psychic-Type Pokémon does its best to crush your mind, break it beyond repair. Usually leaves you a drooling mess, a living corpse. Body keeps going for a time, but there's nobody home upstairs. Rarely someone makes it through, because of user error or the target being a minor psychic themselves, though that is even rarer. Ghost’s can do it too, just takes more effort, in return for less chance of recovery. Dark Types… well, easier and kinder to just kill them off…”
The terrifying speech trailed off to the same dream world as his thousand-yard stare. He seemed lost to the world for a long moment, only to snap back as I went to speak. He cleared his throat as he straightened and with a couple of distance devouring steps stood next to me.
“Follow.”
I recognised an order when I heard one and scrambled to follow him outside. Each of his steps through the sand was the same as four off mine, forcing me to jock to keep up. He took us to the rows of sheds and stopped by the second one on the right. Up close it was even shittier than I thought. Five metal sheets nailed to wooden posts with giant gaps in the corners where they didn’t fit together.
Fishing around in his apron for a second, he pulled out a rusty key and passed it to me.
“You can stay here. We usually get several passersby’s through the day. One of them will take you to Phenac City or Pyrite Town. There’s water and rations inside. Won’t taste good, but you’ll live. Toilet is there,” he pointed to the middle shed on the left, “and I’m there, with Kurt there.” He finished with the first one on the left, next to mine, and the one across from it. Both of them were at least twice the size of mine and could almost pass for actual buildings.
Perks of living there, I suppose.
I gaped as, without another word, Bob spun on his heel and headed back towards the train.
Just like that?
“Wha-Thank you! Thank you, sir, really!”
Bob raised a hand over his shoulder in acknowledgment, but didn’t turn around.
I chuckled to myself as I put the key in the lock, which was just a padlock.
What a nice guy, despite all appearances. Built like a cartoon character, but a heart of gold.
The inside of the shed was as bare bones as possible. A thin cot with a small pile of blankets took up nearly half the space, with a crate filling most of the rest, leaving only a narrow path in the middle to get to and from the bed. A brief peek revealed that the crate was filled with water bottles and what looked like army rations. I downed half a bottle in two gulps as I took a seat on the bed, old springs creaking like they were about to snap. I polished off the rest as I swung my legs up and bundled up in the blankets.
The mattress was filled with lumps, which were almost preferable to the spots where the springs poked through, while the pillow had been compressed into a rock. The blankets were more hole than fabric and the scent of mildew was so strong it could classify as a biological weapon.
It was glorious.
I let out a happy sigh as I laid back, a second bottle at my side, and my egg besides the cot at the head end.
What a fucking day. Torture in the Distorted World, torture in the desert, asshole Pokémon and store clerks, and gentle giants.
Without even mentioning ending up in the Pokémon world. And Orre, as well. As far as I recall, the desert region featured in the Colosseum series, which I had never actually played, so I only had cursory knowledge of it. A shithole without equal in the Pokémon world, it was run by gangs, thiefs, and Teams, while constantly being on the verge of collapse. The population were either broke or criminals, probably both, and no matter what, they were starving and dying of thirst.
Even wild Pokémon stayed away from the shitshow of a region.
There was no way I was staying.
Almost as if in agreement, the egg gave a slight wobble before going still again. My attention glued onto it with laser-like focus, but there was no further movement. Not hatching yet, then. Still, it implied that it wouldn't be too long.
A smile pulled on my lips as I turned to lay on my side. I may have been skeptical and cautious earlier, but there was no denying the rising excitement in my chest. There was so much to learn and see, Pokémon to catch and train, entirely new physics to figure out. Specific goals could be formed along the way, but there was one obvious one.
Become the very best, like no one ever was. Sure, I had been cautious earlier, but it was Pokémon. There had never been a choice. Camping under the stars with my team, beating Gym’s, defeating the Elite Four, and crushing the Champion were literal childhood dreams. There was so much to experience and explore, regions and untamed wilderness just waiting to be conquered.
How could I ever refuse?
My thoughts spun and turned through various team compositions. Maybe I should be a Dragon trainer? Dragons were awesome. Ghost’s and Dark-Types was kinda edgy but the immunities were worth it. Not that I would seriously choose to be a single Type trainer, but it was fun to think about. And it did lead to remembering various trainers that had techniques worth stealing. Like Wionna’s Steel Wing lightning rod thing.
Thoughts of massive roaring figures clashing in land shaking battles filled my mind as I flipped to my other side and closed my eyes to sleep.
Which turned out to be harder than I thought.
I turned to lay on my back again and stared at the ceiling. Despite the VERY long day, I wasn’t the slightest bit tired.
I almost died.
Twice.
And even before that I was trapped in presumably the Distorted World for an undetermined amount of time that felt like decades. I may not remember what my life was like before, but I knew damn well it wasn’t like that. I felt rubbed raw, numbed from repeated shock without time to process any of it. I felt…
… alive.
My body hummed with satisfaction through the exhaustion, muscles burning from fatigue yet twitching in anticipation. My emotions were all over the place but I was laser focused and clear minded. I felt keyed up, awake in a way that seemed very new, and very addicting. It was-
-the pad clicked as it opened. Everything froze as the door slowly tilted outwards.
The pillow probed up my head enough that I could see the thin streak of moonlight shine through the new crack. The lack of further movement as if it was waiting for my response made it clear that it was not an innocent visit. I narrowed my eyes to slits and slowed my breathing. The focus came back and there was no doubt in my mind. If it was who I thought it was, then I would come out swinging.
There was not a single cell in my body that gave the tiniest fuck.
If Kurt wanted to steal my things, after the day I had, after the absolute fuckwad he had been, I was going to break every crack-addict shaped limb on his skeleton corpus.
The focus, and new bubbling fury in my chest did not make me stupid, however.
Even formed like a literal stickman, Kurt was twice my height. Biding my time was wise.
The wait was excruciating, my heart rate increasing to a point that it became a struggle to keep the rise and fall of my chest consistent. My palms grew sweaty as the intruder slowly pushed the door open enough to slip through. The darkness made it impossible to make out their features, but the tall, reed thin frame was plenty to confirm my suspicions. Even if it hadn’t been, the slow beeline they made for the egg at the side of my bed removed any doubt.
The adrenaline pumping through my veins almost had me shaking, yet I kept still as Kurt crept closer and closer. Even as he passed the foot end of my cot, I didn’t make my move, closing my eyes fully and focusing on remaining still. He paused as he reached his goal, presumably watching for any hint of me waking, but I didn’t give him any.
Patience was the name of the game.
It wasn't until I heard the rustling of his shirt and a slight pop from one of his knees that I made my move. With a jerk, I rolled to the side with a sudden movement, off of the bed and onto his back. I had timed it just about perfectly, leaving him bent over, yet not touching my egg as I hit him. He was a lot older and bigger than me, but the unexpected weight and his bad positioning tipped him over and he hit the sand with a scream that cut off as the impact forced the air from his lungs. Before he had time to regain his senses, I wrapped my arms around his throat and squeezed.
“Trying to steal my shit, huh!? Huh, you fucking bitch!?”, I spit out through gritted teeth. He squeaked for air as his fingers scrambled for purchase on my arms, but I was holding the fucker tight. Any other day, I may have been more forgiving, but Kurt had been a pissant from the very start and it had been a long fucking day. I was really not in the fucking mood.
His escape attempts grew more and more frantic as his need for air became critical, throwing his body side to side to dislodge me. He managed to get a knee under himself and struggled upright, which was a mistake as it allowed me to lean back and put my full weight behind my chokehold.
I was panting, my arms burning from the strain, but I ignored it. The grasping fingers of his left hand trying to get under my arms were growing weaker and weaker.
Any moment now he would go down and I would have the chance to get Bob to take care of the asshole. Based on the giant’s previous words, he knew Kurt sucked.
It was pure luck, a convenient hole in the roof, that let me see the light reflect off the blade of the knife he pulled from his pocket with his other hand. Holding it in an icepick grip, he thrust awkwardly behind him, trying to plant the weapon in my side. I barely managed to jerk away in time. The blade skidded across my bottom rib, looking for a place to dig in before being repelled, carving a thin grove of fire that throbbed in pain.
My dodge gave him enough room for half a strangled breath to force oxygen into his desperate body before I reapplied the pressure.
I saw red.
Motherfucker…
My leg stepped under his armpit, making his frenzied stabs unable to reach. Before he could adjust, my right hand shifted to the side of his head and I threw my entire body behind pushing him towards the side of the large, wooden crate.
CRACK!
“PIECE!”
CRACK!
“OF!”
CRACK!
“FUCKING!”
CRACK!
“SHIT!”
CRACK!
He went limp in my grasp.
“FUCK YOU!”
CRACK!
Kurt’s skull bounced off the corner with such force he flipped over entirely, hitting the cot before slumping to the ground. My chest heaved as I gulped down air, staring down at Kurt as he laid motionless.
Several beats passed without him stirring, something that only pissed me off more. A harsh kick to his ribs rocked him.
“Get up!”
Nothing. I let a second, harder kick fly, turning him over onto his back.
“I said get up, you-!”
A beam of moonlight, the same one that alerted me to the knife, reflected red off the liquid covering his forehead. A large gash running over his temple leaked out copious amounts of blood, dyeing the sand beneath him.
I stared at the body in disbelief. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears, my heavy breathing echoing unnaturally loudly in the tiny shed.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I-I-...
He was dead. I killed someone.
I was a murderer.
I took a hesitant step towards him, but stopped. I-I had to leave. I had to go, I had to run, grab whatever I could and get the fuck out of there.
Time blurred as I wrapped the egg in a blanket and threw the water bottles and rations in another. Several fell out through the holes in my haste, but I didn’t care. There was no time, I had to run, I had to go, had to escape.
The door nearly tore off its hinges as I threw myself through it, leaving the corpse behind. My head darted left and right to see if Bob, or anyone else, had noticed the struggle, yet the palely lit sand was deserted. I didn’t know the direction to anything, but anywhere was better than here. My best bet was probably the opposite way of where I arrived from.
As I turned that way, my eyes passed over the larger shed that Bob said was Kurt’s.
I… I didn’t have time. And it was fucked up besides, but if there was anything in there that could help me survive, I needed it. There might be a map or something.
My shoulder bashed the door open before I had time to think. I barely noticed the
interior as I ripped drawers out of a large dresser, rifling through them at record pace. The first three had only clothing that I scattered across the ground, but the fourth yielded a small roll of paper bills that looked an awful lot like money. Further searching of a closet gave more water bottles and rations, with a couple of packs that looked like jerky of some sort.
The biggest finds, however, were a large dufflebag with some camping equipment and an empty hiking backpack. Shoving everything into the larger of the two, I wrapped the egg in a couple of thick shirts and put it in the back pack. Throwing on a ratty jacket I had found, the bag straps went over my shoulders. The jacket probably looked ridiculous, so large that it reached my knees and I had to roll the sleeves up seven times, yet it was infinitely better than freezing.
A pair of shitty sandals were next to the bed. My feet were sore from the walking, but okay, even after the terrain, somehow. Still, thin and awful as they were, they were better than nothing.
I was just about to haul ass with my loot when I finally registered the thing standing in a corner next to the exit. A beat up, rusty, and all together sad motorized bike that kinda resembled a scooter stood innocently propped up against the wall. I didn’t flinch, throwing the duffle bag on the back while hastily shoving the half empty can of gas into it. Grabbing the scooter by the handles, I ripped it outside. My luck continued, the key was in the ignition.
The first turn produced a weak stutter before dying out. The second and third were hardly better.
My frustration and fear got the better of me and I lashed out with a hard kick.
“Come on!”
B-B-Br-Br-Br-BR-BRRRRRRRRRRR
The giggle I let out sounded more than a little unhinged as I threw my leg over the saddle. Thanking god, or Arceus, or whatever, that the thing had the same throttle as bikes on Earth had, I floored it.
A cloud of sand kicked up in my wake as the scooter tried its best to move faster than a brisk walk, but despite its unimpressive acceleration, it was moving. Passing the sheds at faster and faster speeds, I risked a look over my shoulder, just in time to see Bob emerge. Snapping my head back, I focused on squeezing out every last bit of speed the bike was capable of, guilt and regret bubbling in my stomach.
I would make this up to him. He took a risk and showed kindness to a stranger when he didn’t have to, there was no way I could leave things like that forever.
As the weird train and the body of the man I killed disappeared behind me, I swore that someday, when I had the means, I would come back and repay my debt to Bob.
My breath misted in front of me as I headed out into the night.
What a shit fucking day. And I’d been so excited to be a Pokémon Trainer.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I promise these notes will get more interesting with time.
