Bleeding Out

Damnations From the Dead

May 1861

  It was an interesting thing, to be alive.
  It had been a couple days since he had split off of Stars, but that was beside the point. He had memories. He new what was happening, but he hadn't able to experience, to act. But now he could.
  The Confederate Battle flag stood on top of a grassy hill, looking down at the not yet blood bathed plane. He felt some pity for them, the humans.
  "You have to admire their courage." Stars had said, straightening his coat. They had been discussing battle plans for later that day.
  "Is it courage of foolishness? " The battle flag had wondered aloud. He wish he didn't. Stars eyes narrowed slightly.
  "That would be suggesting that we were made out of a mistake." He began to walk over to the battle flag. "Remember what you are fighting for, battle flag. For freedom, free of a tyrannical government that sees fit to decide and take away what it wants, ignoring whomever or whatever it sees fit to ignore." He had paused then, stopping right in front of the battle flag. Stars' eyes met his. Battle flag tried to look ahead, straining his attention stance.
  "We were made out of foolishness brother. Just not out own."

PRESENT

  Dixie didn't know where he was.
He seemed to be floating in some dark, strange abyss. Just hovering there, his mind numb. The last thing he remembered was that head-splitting migraine. Did he blackout?
  "Hel'o?" Dixie's voice didn't echo, like you'd expect it too in such a strange place. Instead it was muffled, like he was whispering. His feet lightly touched the floor.
  "You're finally here."
  He knew that voice.
  Dixie whipped around- well, as much as he could. He turned rather slowly, like turning around in water. "Stars?"
  The Stars and the Bars looked strangely similar to America- but his face was sharper, his sleek vest straighter, his white button-up shirt crisper, his slacks and brown shoes. He got a sick feeling.
  Something was off about him. Dixie couldn't put his finger on it.
  "Battle flag." Stars' southern accent was like ice, cutting through the thick silence.
  "I go by Dixie now."
  "I know."
  "'U're dead." Dixie said, his brain sluggish. "Bloodstained kill'd ya. What's goin' on?"
  Stars didn't answer. He stared at him.
  Dixie stared back, trying to figure out what was off about him. Were his flag colors different? No, they were blue, red and white. The design? No, still the same, stars and all. Stars' eerie silvery-grey eyes pierced Dixie's.
  "You think you know." Stars finally spoke, tilting his head.
  "What?" Dixie breathed. "No I don'. That's why I'm askin' you." 
  "You think you know," He repeated, "what's to come. What you are. You think you know because others have told you. He has told you. And you believe him. Could you really forget your sins so quickly?"
  Dixie took a step back. Stars began to move forward- but something was happening to him. His features became shorter, his face paler, his clothes changed too. And then-
  "You know what you are, Cross?" Bloodstained rasped. "You're an animal." He continued to move forward, step by step, like he didn't just change from one person to another.
  "Wh-"
  Suddenly he was right in front of Dixie. "An animal that does what it's trained to do."
  Dixie tried to take another step back, but Bloodstained grabbed his wrist, and an electric shock of pain shot through his arm. Then the creature morphed again, this time into-
  Dixie remained frozen, looking at himself. "An animal in my way." The other Dixie smiled oddly, his grumbly voice stuck in the stale air. "Which is a problem."
  Then, out of nowhere, the other battle flag pulled out a knife and thrust it into Dixie's chest.
  And his eyes flew open.
  Dixie was breathing raggedly, the blanket that covered him balled up in his fists.
  "Dixie's awake!"
  His eyelashes fluttered as the States shifted around him.
  "Guys back up! He needs some room!"
  As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit living room, he saw a group of conceded States huddled around him.
  "What happened? " he croaked.
  "We don't know." Mississippi said, his eyebrows crinkled in concern as he leaned against the wall.
  "Ya." New Jersey cut in. She was sitting on the coffee table. "You just sta'ted screamin' an' such."
  "Then you passed out." New Mexico's monotone voice said somewhere off to his right.
  "Dixie?" America came into the room, carrying a glass of water.
  Dixie pushed himself up into a sitting position and was immediately hit with a case of light headedness.
  "Easy there." The States moved out of the way, and America handed a glass of water into his trembling hands. "What happened? Are you alright?"
  Dixie swallowed the water in two gulps. "I dunno." He gasped, wiping some water off of his chin. "I just remember pain and then-" he stopped there. "That's it." Dixie made eye contact with America, and the country seemed to understand.
  "Alright." America said. "You kids still have chores to do, am I correct?"
  Groans erupted from the large gathering.
  "Go on." America said, shooing them away with his hands. "If you want your allowance. And I can tell if you do them or not!"
  The States slumped away, leaving Dixie on the couch and America standing beside him. He sighed.
  "Let's take this upstairs." The country said, offering the battle flag his arm.
  Dixie leaned on America as he practicality dragged him up the stairs. Dixie started to feel the shock ease off, so he dis his best to stumble up the stairs.
  Soon they reached America's bedroom, and the country nudged the door open.
  The cream-colored walls were covered in shotguns, rifles, and shelves full of old photographs and knickknacks. The layout of the room was interesting- there lay a leather couch, a worn coffee table in front of that couch, and a large wooden desk (which was messy with papers and sticky notes) under the upper loft. The carpet looked soft, and a small hardwood spot under the loft bed. A stair case lead to the bunk, where America's bed lay. It was askew with plush blankets and pillows, and had a small nightstand perched next to it.
  America led Dixie to the dark brown couch. Dixie rolled onto it, letting out a few tired huffs as he relaxed into the leather. America sat down on the coffee table as Dixie hugged one of the decorative pillows, his eyes flutting shut.
  "What happened?" America asked, folding his arms.
  "It was strange." Dixie said carefully. He peaked an eye open, and the blue iris stared back at America. "So I feel this presence, like someone's there. Then I get this really painful headache, like someone just punched my brain-"
  "Good visual."
  "Shut up. I blacked out obviously, 'm in this void. And I turn aroun', and Stars is standing right there."
  "Stars? As in Stars and the Bars?"
  "Yeah, lemme finish." Dixie seemed to be getting his strength back as he continued, "So he's there, but somethin's off about 'em. But he starts talkin' to me. Sayin' stuff like 'you don't know what's to come' and then suddenly he's Bloodstained-"
  "Wait- Stars turned into Bloodstained?"
  "Hold on, 'm almost done. " Dixie snorted, adjusting his blanket. "So Stainless is all like 'you're an animal' and then he grabbed my wrist- which really hurt by the way- and 'e says 'you're an animal in my way' and then he turns into me and then I stabbed myself, then I woke up."
  America stared at him, looking a bit stunned. "You stabbed yourself?"
  "No, no." Dixie clarified. "The thing turned into me and then it stabbed me."
  America blinked. "The thing that was Stars that turned into Bloodstained turned into you and then... stabbed you?"
  "Yes."
  America gave him a concerned look. "Any idea what it might mean?"
  "Prob'ly a new big bad." Dixie said. "That's my guess at least."
  America let out a frustrated sigh. "One more thing to add to the long list of stupid stuff I'm done with."
  "Am I on that list? "
  "Can't tell you."
  Dixie chuckled. "Well as long as I'm here I'll help."
  America smiled. "Thanks, brother."
  "Well it's my job to help." Dixie's eye drooped shut, and he settled down into the couch. "Now if you don't mind, I'm exhausted."
  "What are you doing." America said, raising an eyebrow.
  Dixie sank further into the cushions. "Mm."
  "You're not sleeping there."
  Dixie made a face.
  America offered him his hand again. "Come one. I have something to show you." Dixie accepted the hand and was once again hoisted onto his feet.
  He lead Dixie out of his room and down the stairs once more. They passed a couple of states doing their chores- Utah taking the trash out, Alabama dusting the TV stand, Colorado washing the windows. Soon they were going down more stairs, except these ones were shorter and lead to a place Dixie had only seen a couple of times.
  "The basement?" He said aloud.
  "Not necessary that." America adjusted his grip on Dixie's waist. "You remember that one room? The one that connects to all the tunnels in the house?"
  America's "house" (which was more of a mansion) had a system of secret passage ways and tunnels. There was one for every room in the house, and they all connected into five large passages that lead to the same place.
  The "Secret Room" (not a very creative name but that was what the States called it) was a concealed behind a wall. All you had to do was nudge it a certain way and it would swing open.
  America bumped the wall with his shoulder and sure enough the small piece of wall opened with a click.
  The room wasn't very large- it wasn't very small either. The five hexagonal walls held five main paintings, which were codes for tunnels lay behind them. For example, there was one of a large bowl of fruit- that one lead to the kitchen shaft and branched off to the pantry, living room, etc. And another of a rather normal human reading under a peach tree, who's tunnel lead to the outside garage. It was a neat room as well, with nothing in it but five dusty old paintings. No one ever really used it, and the only thing that was different was a small twin-sized bed pushed against the wall under a large portrait of George Washington (that one lead to the history relics room and split off into the library).
  America lead Dixie across the room and to the bed. Dixie sat down on it and the strings let out a squeak.
  "That was the only one we could find." America said as Dixie tested his weight on the bed. "I thought we had a larger one in the garage, but I didn't get a chance to look for it."
  "I get to stay here?" Dixie said, feeling a smile spread over his face.
  "Yep." America said back. "This is officially your room. Do whatever you want with it."
  "You're serious."
  "Yep."
  "This is mine. "
  "Yes."
  "Really? "
  "Just go to sleep." America said, turning around to hide his grin. "Don't set it on fire though. Or let Florida in. This is a nice room."
  Dixie settled under the comforter and sheets, feeling America's words getting farther and farther away. He had never slept in a bed. He remembered the times of bedrolls and the cold hard ground...
  America smiled softly as Dixie's breathing began to slow down. He backed out of the room, closing the wall behind him.
  Goodnight. Dixie's voice was rather soft in his head.
  Goodnight Dixie.
  America went back up the stairs, being as quiet as possible. But his thoughts were rather loud. What the heck did Dixie's dream- if it was even a dream- mean?