Connecticut, Hartford: Unknown Location
Another cigarette sparks up and illuminates the dark alleyway in dim lighting. It had been Clyde's third one since we landed in the drop-off zone, not even returning to Adams with the mission results. He's stopped shaking after the first smoke was inhaled in three minutes, but he continues on, determined to finish the whole pack before the end of the night.
I lean against a wooden fence that borders a residential home from the public alleyway, staring at Clyde blow the smoke out. I really can't blame him for this onslaught of poor health choices. After all, I'd just told him that he was diagnosed with a serious mental illness.
"Clyde," I start while pushing off the fence, "look on the bright side. At least it wasn't diagnosed as terminal...yet. Also, that ghost version of me is extremely helpful."
He shoots a furious glare at me. "Yeah, that yet word doesn't help me feel any better."
"I'm sorry, Clyde. I really am sorry. If it makes you feel any better, the good doctor sent me an email about what was in that angel's lantern. I could show it to you, maybe get a better light on what we're dealing with."
He walks towards me, his intimidating stance fills me with caution. "You mean what I'M dealing with."
I pull out my phone and open up the email from Dr. Nivans and hand it to Clyde. He takes it with unnecessary force and begins reading on the tiny screen.
"In accordance with the sample and its experiments," he reads out loud, "we have determined that the substance is concentrated bio-luminescent molecules. Normally, these molecules would not have such an effect as it displays now, but the tests show that they have been modified to an extreme level. Rather than just illuminate in dark areas, these molecules have come to understand regeneration and life, somewhat protecting their organic host (Clyde Barker). In a chain reaction of unsupervised life forms, they have evolved into their own entity, portraying themselves to their host as a relatable memory from the brain (Troy Hearth). In order for the host's body to support two life forms, the body must adapt and change anatomy to suit the needs of both life essences (i.e. extra blood and blood passageways)."
There's more to the email, but I think Clyde gets the message as he hands me my phone and laughs softly to himself. "So, I'm basically pregnant?" he asks with a warm smile spreading across his face.
Oh my, I never thought of it that way. I smile too and nod in agreement, chuckling away at Clyde's clever joke. At least he's having fun with it.
"A couple more questions," he says, putting on a puzzled face once again. "Firstly, Jacob's box had the power to interfere with these...molecules. What was that box exactly?"
"The tech lab came back with it just being an ordinary radio. It was broken and could only produce a low-sounding pitch. The sound waves vibrated the molecules too hard, causing them to split apart. They wanted to scram from that pitch because prolonged exposure could crack their integrity."
"Smart little buggers aren't they. Secondly, why are you the image that they chose?"
"Now that, I don't know. Maybe they just went for the best-looking guy in your memory banks." I say while placing my hands behind my head in a generic modeling pose.
He laughs, "No, that can't be right. I've seen sewer rats more attractive than you."
I fake gasp, "How dare you! I'll have you know that my mother tells me that I'm very handsome!" Suddenly, Clyde's happy face turns to one of skepticism as he stops laughing and looks at me intensely.
"Just one more problem," he says, stepping closer to me. "You're not really here, are you?" He quickly raises his hand and slaps me right on my cheek; hard. It stings a lot, and I cower while covering the reddening skin with my own hand. He looks at me, bewilderment and regret in his eyes.
"Ow! I'm real, pup! I'm real!" I shout, rubbing the stricken flesh with one hand and pushing against Clyde's chest with the other.
"Whoops! Sorry about that, I just... you could never know, know what I mean?" A tear streaks down my face, but it's a manly tear; I'm no wimp! Clyde comes closer with his arms open for a comforting hug, but I grunt at him and turn away. "Aw, I'm sorry Troy." I'm not having any of it! "Wanna hit me back?" I turn around quickly and punch him right in his chest, but it hurts my hand more than it hurts him.
I turn away once again. "That's not fair! Now my cheek AND my hand hurt!"
I hear him stifle a giggle. "Wanna go grab a beer?"
"No."
"Want me to walk you home?"
"No."
"You want me to take you to the park?"
"I'm not a child, Clyde!"
"You wanna go get some ice cream?"
I face him again. "Can I get a caramel coating with a waffle cone?"
"Sure buddy, anything you want."
I sniffle, "Okay, you can take me." It's funny, I had given him bad news and he's the one who ends up comforting me. He's cold as ice, but compassion is in his heart somewhere.
*** *** ***
Connecticut, Hartford: Ice Cream Parlor
The place is nearly empty aside from an old couple who are sharing a milkshake at a table near the window. Clyde and I casually stroll up to the counter where a teenage human girl is standing, looking bored out of her mind.
Her mood immediately perks up as we reach the counter. "Good evening, what's that tongue asking for tonight?"
I look through the display case, licking my lips as I see Homemade Vanilla sitting in the corner. I point at it. "I'd like this one on a waffle cone, and could you cover it in caramel?"
"Sure thing, anything else?" she asks while looking at Clyde.
He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, "None for me, thanks."
"Alright," she says while tapping away at the cash register. "That'll be $2.37, I'll get your cone right now."
Clyde takes out his wallet and pulls a five-dollar bill from it, handing it to the girl. "Keep the change." He turns to me. "I've gotta use the bathroom, I'll be right back."
"Okay, try not to get lost this time," I call out after him. He looks back at me and mouths the word "what", but I don't bother to respond. He disappears around the corner, and I turn back to the counter to see the girl making my cone.
"You two make a cute couple," she says to me while scooping out the ice cream from the bucket.
Couple? Why does everyone think we're a couple? "Thank you! You know, he'll always deny that we're an item, but I don't blame him. He's only been out of the closet for a week." I lean on top of the counter, trying my hardest not to laugh.
"Aw, he'll come around eventually. I'm sure you'll bring out the best in him." She runs the caramel over the cone.
"Oh, he is totally bewitched! He says that he can't stop thinking about me."
She looks back at me. "You mean he sees you wherever he goes?" I almost lose it, but I bite my lip to hold it in a little longer. I nod, snickering quietly to myself. She hands me my cone, and I greedily wrap my tongue around it. It isn't very often that I treat myself to sweets, so when I finally do, it makes the experience much more satisfying. Clyde comes rounding the corner at a quick pace, then stops and looks at me with squinting eyes.
"Um, Troy," he says, making it sound more like a question, "we should get going already."
"Did you wash your hands?" I ask.
"Yes."
I turn back to the girl and give her a wink, "Looks like he's ready for some action."
She clasped her hand over her mouth. "You two have a wonderful night!" She winks too. Poor Clyde is so confused. He grabs my arm and pulls me out of the place roughly.
"What's the big rush, pup?" I ask, still licking my cone.
"Stop calling me that! Anyway, did you follow me into the bathroom?"
I shake my head. "No. I was at the counter the whole time."
"Okay, then it was Fake Troy that went with me. He talked about Archer, Troy! He says that he could help us track him down, even get the drop on him! Well, he didn't say that, but he implied it heavily."
This is certainly news to me. Archer hasn't reared his deceiving head in a month, making his trail colder and colder as time goes on. There was a brief moment where I thought about just letting him go, but I know that would've been the worst action to take. If there is a chance of bringing him in, we have to take it, but why does that chance have to be pushing Clyde's limits on his sanity?
"That's great," I comment unenthusiastically, "but... are you sure you're going to be okay working with this disease?"
He looks at me with confusion. "Sure, why wouldn't I be? It sounds to me like this illness isn't terminal and could only do good right now."
Well when he says it, it makes sense to me. I can't repress this feeling that there's some unseen consequence that comes with using a power like that, but I also can't prove it. If Clyde gives consent for Fake Troy to meddle in our affairs, I guess I really don't have a reason to worry, although I don't like it. I give another lick at my cone, but a strong push against my shoulder causes me to head-butt my own ice cream. It topples over on the pavement, and I'm left with a sticky forehead.
"Dude, what's the matter with you!?" I cry, wiping away at the caramel with a handkerchief I always carry around.
He looks at me with the most serious face. "Um, that wasn't me."
I whip my head around and see nothing. Just a dead parking lot with one streetlamp illuminating the two of us, nobody else is even remotely close. "Oh, real mature Clyde! Blame it on the ghosts!" Wait, the ghosts? Could it be that Fake Troy...
Clyde has already resumed his pace, walking off and leaving me in the dust. He turns his head at me and shouts, "I don't think he likes you!"
"Not like me!? He IS me!" I scream, throwing my empty cone at him. Great, I'm already starting to feel like a third wheel here! I don't care how helpful he is, that ghost has got to go!