The Pseudo-Chronicles of Mark Huntley

No Stigmata to Show - 10/15/04

Friday, October 15, 2004

So I went to work today because there was really no good reason not to. Rence had stayed so long to help me cope with the strange things happening to me… but at this point going about my regular routines seemed like the best way to cope.

To be honest, Rence's presence was beginning to seem, how do you say, a little superfluous. Not a single purple had yet shown interest in attacking us. And none had shown any interest in following me around since the two on the Metro Tuesday night. Which had been, of course, before Rafael's long explanations at Union Station and my ultimate rejection of the whole game.

You still think I made the wrong call, though, don’t you? I can sense your disapproval, Reader, just as clearly as I can see those goddamn auras. You think I’m walking away from responsibility.

Well, guess what? I don’t want to be used. I don’t care how supposedly vital the cause. 

I don’t want to become another… Fade Killer. That’s what they’d make me. You have to recognize that’s true. That guy was insane, even if he was targeting aura people. He let it get into his head and eat up who he was. I’m not going to let that happen to me.

Anyway. I left Rence a note on the table in the kitchen with my work number, in case he should need something. I figured he'd be good. My old friend is a pretty late sleeper (when he has that luxury), so I figured there might only be four hours or so from the time that he woke up to the time that I came back from the Divide.

Yesterday, work was much less discomfiting than it had on Tuesday. Though still with kind of a strange air to it, like it was a place that I didn't quite belong. Today, I’m happy to report, the vibe continued to improve. It felt almost normal, being back there. Like the world could move on again, and I could be a part of it. 

Dale paid me a visit around eleven or so. He, too, seemed like part of that great promise of normalcy. Good, reliable Dale, with not even a toe dipped in the pool of supernatural madness.

"How are ya?" he said. "Great to have you back, man." He'd kept his distance yesterday. Maybe he thought I'd been out half of Tuesday and all of Wednesday because of some highly communicable disease.

"Eh," I said. "Wasn't out that long. How was your long weekend, anyway?"

He laughed. "Yasmin was out of town, so conducted myself like a true gentleman. Gave myself bedsores reading Yu Yu Hakusho and other tripe all day."

"Wow—sorry I missed out."

"How about you? How was hanging out with, uh, Lawrence?"

"Oh— fun." He's still here, in fact. D.C. just tickles him to pieces! "We had fun. Took him around. You know."

"Cool. Hey, I'm hankering for some suds... what do you say we cut out for lunch around noon or so? Maybe hit The Bottom Line?"

Ah... normalcy. Powerful force. Combined with the promise of alcohol, nearly unstoppable, in fact.

I bit down hard on my lip, and said, "You know, Dale, I'd love to.... but I can't. I'm really, ah, loaded down with work here. Gerald's riding my ass."

He nodded, stroked his chin where the beard used to be. "'S okay. Maybe next week, hey? I guess I've actually got work to do, too. Bush and Kerry need more ammo to fire at each other, and I'm just the man to load 'em up."

Though I got myself a lunch partner after all. At quarter after noon, Rence called and said he would really like to meet up for lunch in fifteen minutes. First I got over the shock that he'd actually be ready to leave the apartment that early, then I agreed to meet him in front of the L Street Corner Bakery, on... well, the corner.