Sort of Dead

72 - Nice To Win One

AAR's POV:-

Whispering. I can’t open my eyes.

‘. . . think you might be able to help us.’ Bee's voice.

‘How, Bumble-Bee?’ Es. Definitely Es.

‘You always thought you could talk to butterflies and rainbows, right? You think they listen to you. You’re always chasing them. Well, Goof is just a big butterfly!’

‘I guess so.’

‘Es, you’re all we got. Please.’

'I dunno. Where’s Marru-parru?’

'Marru-parru may have a shot at being saved if you help us get out of here. Can you do that?’

‘Only I call him that!’

‘Okay, Es. I'm sorry. Listen, Marra is in danger. We all are. So could you please - '

‘Fine. I’ll do it.’

I try to open my eyes. I fail. Can’t register a little of what they said.

‘-good, good.’

Some muttering. Flutter of wings. Silence.

‘. . . your powers have boosted ever since you came to Lakoswanion anyway.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. Remember how you could control the boat and tell Aar how those stones aren’t explosive. All that you have done . . . Es, you can do this. You will do this. Otherwise we die. All of us. All your friends. Do you want that to happen?’

‘I said, I’ll do it!’

‘Good luck, Es.’

Coughing noises. Humming. Flutter of wings. Silence.

Darkness.
_____________________________________

Water laps over my face, smashing the sensitive crockery of my dreams.

In front of me is Goof, the gigantic pink butterfly, her six legs twitching, her wings flittering and fluttering and beating air into my face. The patterns on those wings almost hypnotize me.

Scariest. Moment. Ever.

I recoil, but my back’s already pressed against a wall.

I hear a giggle. It’s Bee, standing barely inches left of Goof. She looks . . . rejuvenated. Enchanting. Beautiful. In other words, her usual self.

Her hands hold a glass quarter filled with water. Her face bears no signs of fear.

I almost scream as Goof moves toward me with great speed and agility – holy mother of God, she’s as big as a car! – but then a chirpy voice says 'Goofy-doofy! What did I say? Back off!’ and the demonic butterfly actually listens.

A second later, Es floats into view, passing through the cage bars like it’s . . . wait a minute. The door to the cage. It’s open.

It is frookin' open!

'Wha . . .’ I try to speak, then recognize the fact that I can’t.

Bee hands the glass of water to me, and although there isn’t much water in it, I feel like I could defeat Zeus himself if it came to that at the moment. Or should I say Poseidon, since water is involved? Who cares? The liquid races down my pipe, slick and smooth. Giver of life indeed.

I find my voice again, avoiding to look at the butterfly and puke the little hydration bliss I got. 'How?’ is all I can manage, however.

Bee smiles. It is an even better feeling to see her smile. Is this a dream? Am I going to wake up and bawl my eyes out? Or have I died already and am in heaven?

'Goof listens to Es,' Bee explains. ‘She was right all this time we made fun of her. She really can talk to butterflies.’

That still doesn’t explain the open cage and the water in Bee's hands.
She, of course, knows telepathy, and can tell what questions I wanted to ask. ‘Goof showed us around. Where the keys are. Where water and food is. Here.’

She bent over and got me a gruel-looking piece of . . . I don’t know, and I don’t care. It’s edible, is all that matters. I snatch it from her and eat like crazy.

Then I barf. Es giggles and hums. My head is rolling.

‘Imagine the odds,' I say, and Bee begins to laugh. I join her, and Es joins us, too, though I don’t think she realizes what’s funny. I don’t either, really; it’s just nice to win one.

It is so on. I would love to be spammed by comments here on out.