Meridian | The Second Life III [COMPLETED]

5 - Californication

- R O N N I E -

"Comfort Two, this is Comfort One. Do you copy?"

The voice of Zach from the radio cuts my thoughts short. I stand up from my dusty chair, walking to the radio. I catch a glimpse of the compound's leader- the one I captured- tied up in the corner.

"Hey Zach," I answer, adjusting the microphone.

"Oh, thank god," he exclaims. "You survived."

"They never stood a chance," I laugh hollowly. "Leader is tied up in the corner. Not sure whether I'll kill him yet."

There's a brief silence before he comes through again. "Do you, um, think that's going to help at all?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," I sigh. This man's not only the leader; he's the one who ordered the kill. What would Tori want? Would she want me to avenge her, or would she want me to let him live and not stoop to that level?

It's hard to imagine anything but killing this man and savoring it. He's the source of my most tremendous loss and the regret I'll carry for the rest of my life, however short or long it may be. He deserves death and nothing more.

"You still there?" I hear. Right, I was lost in thought again.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter.

"Ronnie, it won't change what happened," he crackles through the speaker.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I sigh. "You don't have to give me the 'don't stoop to his level' talk. I've already had it with myself a dozen times."

"I think you should come back," he suggests simply. I laugh a bit, laying my hand on the table. He has a point; nothing's left for me here but painful memory.

"I'll think about it," I say quietly.

"I won't be able to talk to you the next few days," Zach mutters. "I'm going on a mission with Rivian and Evan."

"Rivian?" I ask.

"Remember?" He states. "He got here a week after you left. Catey's brother."

"That's right," I recall. "It's okay. I'll set up some time after a few days."

"Sounds good," Zach sighs. "Be careful, Ronnie."

"Okay," I say with a sniffle. "I will."

"Bye for now," he says, and I hear the crackling disappear. Turning off the radio, I pick up my backpack and begin stowing it. I hear movement to my right; it's my prisoner.

"Pathetic little man," he laughs, his black eye shining against a sunbeam through the window. "Can't even kill me."

I stare him down for a moment. He had a smirk plastered over his dirty, squarish face. A gross, untamed mullet ran down the back of his head with shaved sides. A dusty leather jacket adorned his torso. I think his name was 'Manny' or something; I didn't particularly care.

"You know, it's just how it goes," he mutters. "You had gear we needed and a bounty. It wasn't anything personal."

"Well, this was," I counter, sitting down and staring at him with a knife in hand. "Your group is dead. I killed every single one of them. Now, just like me, you'll regret your failure in the moment for the rest of your life.

"You know, I've tried to drown myself in the two weeks since you did what you did. I'd decided it wasn't worth it. I locked myself to the bottom of a pier post and tried to die." He looks at me like I'm a psycho. Maybe I am. "For a bit, it's weirdly comforting; there's just silence. I couldn't do it, though. My body wouldn't let me. I saw that fight in myself as I struggled for life. It gave me hope."

He has no idea, it seems, how to respond. I know, though, precisely what to do. I reach into my bag, pulling out the alarm clock Eagle had gifted me on my way out of Manhattan. The same ones she used to distract the Z's in those tight city streets. I finish packing things in my bag as he continues to struggle.

"Can't even kill yourself, huh?" He laughs, spitting on the floor near me. "I'm so scared!"

I turn around, holding up the clock. "I killed your friends and made you my bitch." He looks at the clock, alarmed. "You should be fucking terrified."

"Wha- what are you doing?" he exclaims. He sounds like a frightened animal, realizing he's screwed.

"You have a debt to pay," I state matter-of-factly. I take the knife, sliding it toward the man. I activate the clock, giving it a ten-second delay. "We'll see if you have that fight in yourself."

"No! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!" He screams as I pick up my pack and run away from the building. The clock goes off, and I hear the collective shrieks of hungry Z's.

~ ... ~

I awake.

The room around me is perfectly square; a clock atop the nightstand beside the bed I lie in reads '11:11 PM.' I'm back in my Tulsa bedroom. Cracks tear through the walls of this room, an extremely faint blue glow emanating from within. Outside the window lies a small piece of lawn, which immediately drops into an endless black abyss.

I'm back in the dream. I hadn't been here in months. The last one was back during the Battle of Manhattan; I had declared New York City my home.

There's no noise, interestingly. It's like I'm in space, and even when I try to talk, nothing comes out. No smell exists, either. Why am I here?

I sit up and hop off the bed, stumbling on my feet as I catch my balance. This place is never the same whenever I end up here; something's always different and typically horrifying. Peeking out from the corner of my hall, the living room, kitchen, and dining room are devoid of activity. The cracks in the walls continue through these rooms, too.

Every room I check is devoid of any entities. Not even a shadow figure, who seems to be next to the back door every time, is present. That's when I notice the back table, which used to have the map, is smashed. Pieces of it float in the air, the blue cracks infecting them.

In the abyss, far off, is a figure. It's somehow blacker than the void it's enveloped in. The house and land it sits on suddenly crumbles, dragging me into the void.