Coronasona Writings

Stop. Get Some Help pt 2

When Jackson regained awareness, he was somewhere completely different. He could tell because instead of laying up against a cold stone in the dirt, he was laying face down on a cloth surface. Further inspection (opening his eyes) proved that this was a couch.
His eyes darted around the rest of the room as he absentmindedly took in his surroundings, not quite registering what he was seeing. His head was still static-y and he couldn't quite form coherent thoughts.
The room was nice enough. The cream walls and hardwood floor looked aged, but not ruinous like so many buildings did after the world ended. There was a wooden shelf pushed up against the wall with an unsteady stack of books and dozens of potted succulents and air plants. On the top was a small vase, unfinished and messy like a child made it. Sitting next to it was a small picture frame laying face down.
Something about the room was familiar, but Jackson couldn't quite place his finger on it.
He pushed himself up so he was sitting on the couch and looked around the rest of the room. There was a coffee table, two doors, and another bookshelf. Above the second bookshelf was a group of pictures framed much like children's school pictures would be. Instead of children, there were humanoids with various leaves and flowers on their green skin. These were not human people, these were plant people.
Just then, the door swung open and one of those plant people peeked through the doorway. They were tall as their head poked out from the top of the doorway and had small spikes sticking out of their face.
When they noticed Jackson looking at them, the plant person let out a small yelp and ducked behind the doorway. Two hushed voices spoke roughly from the other side.
Not long after, a different, much shorter plant person walked in. They had a spikey head of purple hair, standing on end and brilliant purple eyeshadow.
"Howdy!" they said, waving at Jackson. They propped their elbows up on the couch and smiled at him. "I've never seen a zombie before!"
Jackson was taken aback. "A what?"
"A zombie! And one that can talk at that!" the plant said. They popped up and stuck out their hand. "I'm Serrulata! he/him pronouns! Most people call me Ser! What's your name?"
Jackson hesitantly took his hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you..." he said, "i'm Jackson. Jackson Signal."
"Oh that's a cool name! Sounds familiar! What are you doing undead? Are you here to eat our brains? We don't have brains, sorry!"
"Oh my goodness, leave him alone Serr," chimed in the plant from the doorway.
Serr rushed over and dragged them into the room, not paying attention to what they said. "This is Mini!" they exclaimed, "They found you last night and got Mama Daisy so now you're here!"
With that phrase, it clicked how Jackson recognized this room. The set-up, the house plants, the walls. He had spent 6 years there.
As if summoned, the door opened and in walked a familiar woman. Her most striking feature was her auburn hair with streaks of gray. She had a smattering of freckles across her face and kind blue eyes Jackson hadn't seen in 15 years. It was the eyes of Daisy Shaine.
"Run along kids," she said, her voice stern but kind, "the adults have some talking to do."
"But Maaa," Serr whined, running to cling to her arm, "we never see anyone new!"
She pointed to the door with her other finger. "Out," she said. "You can talk later."
Mini wordlessly grabbed Serr's hand and led him out the door, giving a small wave as the pair left.
As soon as they left, Daisy let out a sigh. "Kids. I love em to death but sometimes the questions they ask." she shook her head and let out a small chuckle.
Jackson sat there in shock. It wasn't unbelievable that she was alive, she was only 47 after all, but seeing her still took his breath away. After 15 years of insanity and worlds ending, Daisy had made it, and by the look of it she was thriving in the new world order.
"Haha yeah. Kids..." he said, not quite sure how to react.
"Well don't worry, they aren't yours," Daisy said with a snort. "Though I guess you could figure that out. They aren't really anyone's." She paused and thought for a moment. "Well they're mine but not biologically. Now look you've got me rambling."
"What happened here?" Jackson asked, looking around.
"I think the better question is what are you doing alive?" she asked, crossing her arms.
Jackson sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not," he said. "Not really."
Daisy laughed. It wasn't a warm laugh, but it wasn't cold either. A neutral laugh. An 'I don't know what you're talking about' laugh.
"Well all that bleeding and breathing sure convinced me otherwise," she said. "Me and Mini cleaned you up but whoever did that was not messing around."
Memories of the night before came flooding back. He clutched his chest, half-surprised surprised he hadn't bled out and died. More alarming than that was the thought of his microphone.
He held out his hand and summoned his microphone, the pit in his chest growing larger. His worst fear was realized as his microphone appeared, still cracked in half and sparking. He held the two halves with a defeated sigh.
"Bazallon. That [static]"
"Who?" Daisy asked, moving to sit by Jackson on the couch.
He sighed again and let the microphone drop to the floor. "My boss. It's... a long story."
Daisy looked at the watch on her wrist. "I got time," she said with a shrug.
So Jackson told her everything. He told her about dying and becoming a ghost. He told her about how he tried to haunt her but wasn't able to interact with anything. He told her about selling his soul, becoming a radio demon, and traveling the world. He told her about meeting Alaster and how he fell in love with the shape shifting tv alien. Somehow that was the scariest part of all. Rural Nebraska wasn't exactly known for its accepting ways, but he told her and she nodded along and seemed understanding. He told her about how he found out Alaster had killed him and their fight. Finally, he told her about fighting with Bazollon, and that was all to tell.
Daisy sat back and let out a long whistle. She sat in silence for a few moments before speaking. "Dang." She said. "You've had a busy decade and a half."
"And you're telling me!" Jackson exclaimed. He sighed and looked at the floor. "I just don't know what to do."
Daisy shrugged. "Well you can't exactly blame him for your death, not entirely. He can't help that he crashed the spaceship."
Jackson sighed. "I know that. It's not the death part that i'm mad about."
Daisy raised an eyebrow, clear sign of skepticism from her.
"Alright so maybe a little, since it's death, ya know?" he replied. "But that's not really it."
"Why are you mad then?" she asked, letting her expression drop to something softer.
Jackson was quiet for a moment. He shook his head and said. "It's more so that he lied about it for so long I guess. It obviously wasn't his fault. So really what hurts more is that after 15 years of being friends and boyfriends that he never trusted me enough to tell me."
He sat back and threw his hands up. "And look what happened! I found out! It all blew up! A lot of good that did both of us."
Daisy thought for a moment before replying. "I know it isn't my place to interfere but, well, you know that doesn't stop me."
Jackson laughed. "No kidding. But go ahead, I could use some advice."
"If i were you, i'd take some time away," she said. "You could stay here if you wanted, or you could go somewhere else, but I would take a break then go and try to talk things out once you've had some distance."
"Yeah... we'll see if I get that far," Jackson said with a sigh. "my mic is broke," he gestured at his mic on the floor. "I can't broadcast without it and if I can't broadcast, i'm as good as dead." he paused a moment. "Well. double dead."
Daisy nodded. "Would another mic work?" she asked, glancing out the window at something.
Jackson shrugged. "I dunno. I've never tried it before."
"Well. Might as well try it, yeah?" Daisy said. She flashed Jackson a comforting smile before standing up. "I'll give you a moment, then meet me outside."
"Alright. Thanks Daisy."
"Of course." She got up and winked, throwing up a finger gun before turning and leaving the room.
And just like that, Jackson was left alone with his thoughts and feelings. An overwhelming burden, really, but that's just how it was. He wiped away the tears forming at the edges of his eyes and chuckled to himself.
If they couldn't find a replacement microphone, or if he couldn't replace his, then any day could be his last. At any point he could turn to static and never come back. The night before that might've sounded nice but it didn't anymore. He had so many more regrets than he thought. He had more regrets that he could go out and fix if he just had a little more time.
Well, there was only one way to get it.